If we can help nature in her ultimate goal, that of bringing her products to perfection, then we are in harmony with her laws. Nature does not resent an artificial effort, or a shortcut, to bring about perfection. —Frater Albertus, “Alchemist’s Handbook”
I knew the theory, of course. The runes needed for spells could be carved in our minds just as easily as into stone. Easier, really. I didn’t even need a chisel. It would be impossibly dangerous, especially with all the dark magic around. But what choice did I have?
I was Oswic, Magi of the Sacred Order, Wise Man of Blackbridge, The Starcaller of Dawn, Master of Twilight, Voice of the Storm, Speaker on the Wind, Five Time Hoopstone Champion of Ravenhold, and I could not be bound.
I’d been fastened with iron cuffs to the wall, hand and foot. My right ankle and knee had both been broken and twisted. I’d already passed out twice from the pain. That had cost me a deep cut along the small of my back. A long blade protruded from the wall behind me, forcing me to curve my spine outwards at all times, and pull my chains taut, lest I wanted to suffer even more injury. A blindfold covered my eyes, and a gag stopped my mouth. Rags had been stuffed into my ears and my whole face wrapped tightly with cloth to keep them in place. A small stream ran over my feet, making my footing unsteady and slowly draining me of heat.
My imprisonment was bad, but the reason for it was worse. Typically, you didn’t capture a mage, you killed them. We were too dangerous, too hard to contain for long periods of time. Which could only mean one thing. A warlock. My abductors had yet to speak to me, but I had no doubt one would be coming in the next few weeks to dominate my mind.
Why they captured me I did not know. Warlocks could do everything a mage could and more. I had some influence among the common folk and my peers, but there were those with far more. Perhaps I was the only one they managed to capture or felt safe restraining. There would be time for speculation later. For now, I needed to get out of here.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell if anyone was in the cell with me, so I’d just have to assume I was under watch.
It took years to grasp the basics of magic, but once you were aligned with its systems it was remarkably simple. All it involved, more or less, was recording and playing back actions. And so, as I tugged on my cuffs, I wrote the rune in my mind that would record my pushing.
I pulled the chains towards me and pushed the cuffs around my wrist forward with all my strength. The position was awkward and far from ideal. I managed to keep my effort up for 5 minutes.
Push: Push two objects in parallel with 45lbs of force for up to 5 minutes.
I flinched despite myself, waiting for the end. It didn’t come. Instead, the rune flared in my mind; a blazing symbol before and behind my eyes, even when I closed them. I could ignore it, look past it to the fabric of my blindfold much like it were a floater or pair spectacles, but it was there, omnipresent.
I sagged in relief, aggravating the wound across my back before I pulled away again. I hoped I didn’t need a clear mind to write mind spells, because sleep was going to be impossible.
***
I woke blearily, a fresh wound throbbing on my back, and all my muscles screaming in protest. The stiffness was worse than my broken leg at this point. I had no idea I’d been standing on one leg in the darkness and silence before I’d fallen asleep. I’d have gone mad if not for the blue flame of the rune in my mind to occupy my attention. It was... mesmerizing.
I blinked. Judging by my ever growing thirst, a few hours had just passed.This was dangerous. The chance of burning a hole through your brain was one thing, but memorizing spells seemed libel to drive someone mad.
There was no helping it. Dawn had passed a while ago and all the energies of the Earth had been reset. I could write another spell.
This time I cast Push in tandem with my own efforts, nearly doubling my results. Unfortunately, I was clearly fading.
PushII: Push two objects in parallel with 80lbs of force for up to 3 minutes.
Once again, I braced for instant death, but once again, I came through unscathed. Mostly unscathed. A second rune now swam and burned in front of me, crackling with arcane energy. As far as I understood theory, that was my doing, not Magic’s. The memorization was just—something clamped onto my chin and forehead, something cold pressed into my neck, and then hands were fumbling at my face.
That was abrupt. My senses were so deprived it came out of nowhere, like being struck by an arrow out of the blue, or missing the last step on a staircase.
My gag and stuffed up ears were removed and I found myself gasping for air. I hadn’t realized how deprived I’d been feeling.
“You so much as speak and we’re going to slit your throat, understand? Don’t even try to nod, I’m just stating facts.”
I swallowed, which made the blade bob against my throat, and did nothing to calm my nerves. I considered talking anyway. They were taking a huge risk capturing and holding me after all, and so I doubted they wanted to kill me. But perhaps one more little risk was one two far and they would keep their word. I wasn’t brave enough to find out.
“Now get ready. I’m putting a mug to your lips, don’t want you to choke. Not after all the effort we put into keeping you alive.”
A wooden mug was bounced against my upper and lower teeth, and then tilted violently into my nose. I drank as much as I could, trying not to drown. The guy must have spilled half the water onto the floor. Given the stream, I suppose it didn’t matter that much. And indeed, a moment later the cup was taken away, and then I heard a faint splashing.
“Second mug coming, get ready.”
Oh come on, really? Who knew what sort of horrible diseases would be attracted by that—mmplh—I managed to get a few more mouthfuls of water before I descended into a coughing fit. Thankfully whoever was holding the knife withdrew it from my spasming neck before I slit my own throat.
*WHAP*
Someone cuffed me on the side of my head.
“Enough of that. If you can’t drink properly that’s your problem. I’m not your wet nurse.”
And that was that. The padding was put back in my ears, and my gag was refastened. I waited, straining in the sudden silence for any semblance of sound, but heard nothing. What kind of cloth so completely blocked sound? Perhaps the rags themselves were magical. For all I knew, I was alone with naught but the swirling runes to keep me company...
Where had—I’d lost another couple hours. Or maybe days. Hadn’t the sun just risen? Damn. The warlock could be here any moment. I needed to get out!
PushIII: Push two objects in parallel with 160lbs of force for up to 3 minutes.
No.
No, that wasn’t right. I calmed myself. It couldn’t have been more than a day. I would have noticed if I’d missed more than one dawn. And now in my panic I’d wasted a spell. Not that I’d been planning to do any different, but I did now wonder if I was exploring the right options. Perhaps there was a combination of spells which would have freed me by now. It was so hard to think through the pain.
What was my plan, anyway? I didn’t know how I was fastened, but surely the bonds would bend before they would break. I didn’t even know how strong they were. If all I did was double the strength of my spells every time, I’d have no control over the moment I revealed myself. Perhaps I’d have to make a bunch of spells equivalent to PushIII and then combine them all at once. But that would take time, and time was not on my side.
And even if I broke free, what then? Even supposing my bonds didn’t splatter me over the far wall under the power of my spell, what would I have left to defend myself with? That had to be my next step. Before I worried about breaking free, I needed a way to fight back. There was no way breaking my bonds wouldn’t alert somebody.
I stared into the darkness of my blindfold, biding my time.
***
When I next awoke my head was pounding. Dawn had passed for the second time since my captors had given me water. Somehow I’d managed to sleep standing on one leg, avoiding yet another wound to my back, but I wasn’t in the mood to count my blessings.
I was coming to learn that there was pain, and then there was pain. Normal pain, no matter how it stabbed and throbbed and twisted could be born by a stalwart man. But pain, torture, even, was a different matter. It was more than a feeling. It was knowledge. Knowledge that you might never be better again. Knowledge that you would never be better again. It was losing something that would never come back. Unidirectional. Life only got worse. It was fear.
I knew I wasn’t being rational. I’d not yet received any permanent injuries. Even my leg could theoretically be restored by magic or a good enough chirurgeon. I knew that. Mostly. But some part of me didn’t. And my fear fed that part until it dwarfed all else. Time was ticking by and I wasn’t even writing a new spell. I was just panicking.
It was the guards who saved me, ironically. This time they only removed my gag after putting a knife to my throat. But even there, in the dark, half drowning as water was forced down my throat, the touch of the knife brought me back to myself. It was my way out. All I had to do was make a noise, or even just lurch forward, and it would all be over.
And having that option saved me. It brought me back to myself. I could kill myself, but not today. Maybe tomorrow. Today, I’d keep fighting. I’d find a way out of here, or die in the attempt. I sniggered despite myself. Either way I’d finally get to lie down.
The gag was strapped back on and the blade withdrew. It was time for my next spell.
I bit down on my gag as hard as I could. My arms may have become weak, but my jaws were as strong as ever. Stronger, maybe. The stress had lent an iron tension to my bite. The pain on my teeth didn’t bother me. In fact, it was a relief, a mild distraction from the pain everywhere else. I even continued to bite down at the end of the hour.
Bite: Clamp down with the force of 170lbs per square inch for an hour.
Reality twisted, the world spun. The runes spun. The world erupts with fire. The world is made with fire. I am made with fire. The runes dance. I am the world. I am outside it, and it is me. And we burn.
What was... Owwww. Unlike the other runes this one was hazy. Pale and fading. What did the spell do again? It... I couldn’t remember. It did something. Something to get me out of here? I focused on the rune, trying to read what had been written. Bite? I could bite things? Why would I... The guards! I had to bite the guards. Or... were they going to bite me?
Time slowed to a crawl. Minutes slipped by in seconds. Hours turned into days. Had my spell broken time? Or just my mind? Either was as likely at this point. Dark magic. It didn’t play well with reality.
Slowly, I came back to myself. That was happening a lot. I wasn’t in good shape. Maybe next time I’d leave and never come back. My Bite spell had been weakened. Faded, as memories fade. It made sense. Other media had the inherent weaknesses of their form. Spell books could be burned, runestones were heavy, tattoos faded. The oppressive dark magic suffusing my prison only exacerbated the problem.
I had come very close to dying just now. Just... then. Whenever then was. Had dawn come and gone again? Had it only been seconds? I would remember the passing of dawn, no matter my state. Or I could have. Now... now I didn’t know what I knew. Maybe I’d been here my whole life. Maybe my life outside this prison was imagined. It seemed hard to believe anyone could be so carefree for so long. Relatively, at least. Perhaps I should try to record a spell anyway, just in case? I had to weigh the risk of death, vs the risk of missing a day of spell crafting and not escaping before the warlock returned.
They couldn’t keep me here forever, and they knew it. The warlock had to be coming soon. I had to risk it.
I bit down on the gag again, casting my Bite as I did so.
*CRACK*
My gag shattered under the force of my Bite. Bits of wood and cloth filled my mouth and nearly killed me in my surprise. I quickly spat out the remains of the gag, forcing them out with my tongue where they clung between my face and the cloth surrounding it.
That was a problem, but not an insurmountable one. Weakened as my spell was, I suspected a strong enough man could have also bit through the gag. Especially if they didn’t care about their teeth. The question was, would I get punished for it?
Apparently I was alone in the room, as no guards had come running (as far as I knew, anyway), so I turned my attention to my runes. No new spell awaited me. They hadn’t changed, save for Bite, which was even more faded than before. Dawn hadn’t yet passed. I still had more time.
Unfortunately, this did mean I didn’t have my Bite spell available to reinforce a new attack spell when it did rise, but it was a risk I’d had to take.
My pain was become unbearable once more. I had time. I wouldn’t miss sunrise. Even if I did, maybe they would execute me and it would all be over. I turned my attention to the ever demanding runes. Losing myself in their...
***
I was going to go blind wasn’t I? Or at least become a complete scatter brain with all these runes floating around me. I couldn’t afford to make many more of these things. The beginning of a plan was forming in my mind, but I needed to be ready for sunrise and I’d just missed it.
No matter. I needed a better attack spell first anyway. I could only hope the warlock wouldn’t return while I waited. I was expecting him any hour now.
I maneuvered the cloth remains of my gag back into my mouth with my lips and tongue to give me something to bite down on. Then, hoping I wouldn’t hurt myself, I bit down and cast Bite.
BiteII: Clamp down with the force of 260lbs per square inch for half an hour.
The new rune swam up behind my eyes with the others. That was more like it. It was a shame about losing some of the spell’s duration, but that’s what I got for messing around with dangerous, unexplored areas of magic. I was armed as well as I could hope for.
Mages didn’t have some supernatural ability to keep track of the time. What we could do, if we were paying attention, was sense the gentle swelling of energy as the sun prepared to rise. Five minutes before dawn. That was when I would make my move.
The hours burned down agonizingly slowly. I’d drifted off more than once. Not for more than a few minutes each time, but enough to put me on edge. My body was deteriorating rapidly. I was worried about the warlock, but even if I knew he was another month’s travel away I needed to get out of here as soon as possible.
Just a couple more hours. I’d made it this far-
Hello there, Oswic.
***
By the elements of the arcane!! Couldn’t he have waited just a few hours longer?
I’m afraid not. I’ve been in a rush all week. Didn’t even stop to take off my coat before coming down here. Wouldn’t want you to escape, after all.
He could read my thoughts. That wasn’t good. I’d have to avoid thinking about—I stopped myself just in time.
Thinking about what, sorry? I didn’t quite catch that.
The runes swirled in my mind. An image of freedom flashed to the forefront before—I focused on the pain of my aching limbs and broken leg.
Hmm... What a fascinating...
He drifted off. It took me a moment to realize what had happened. I’d hope to hurt him or at least distract him by focusing on my own injuries, but instead he’d noticed the spells. There was a chance he didn’t know what they were. Warlocks and the like rarely concerned themselves with true magic, seeing it as inferior to dark magic. Either way, he seemed as lost in thought as I’d been the first few times I’d seen the runes. I tried to quash the hope rising up inside me in case it would break him from his stupor. Calm breaths. I’d never been one for meditating, but now I wished with all my heart that I’d spent more time practicing. Just count the seconds. Easy does it.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6...
***
...3745, 3746
What is this? What have you done?
I jumped—I tried to jump—twisting my back into the blade behind it as I did so. After so long in silence, any voice, even a telepathic one, was like a sudden crack of thunder.
I’ve never seen such mental defences before. You’ll have to teach me. And here I thought I’d be teaching you.
Of course. Why do you think I captured you? Those with the talent for magic are rare, and those with the wisdom to give ‘dark’ magic a chance are even rarer.
You are young. Not, perhaps, as young as I’d like, but young enough to keep an open mind. With age comes the arrogance of certainty, the greatest disease against understanding. The black and white thinking of “dark” and “true” magic is an example of one such belief. They are merely different ways of approaching the field.
If the law the absolute, then why is dark magic possible? Either it is itself natural, as I believe, or—all the worse for your position—the natural law does not exist at all.
Why would Nature, she who governs us all, permit such a violation? Does she secretly wish to see us fall? I doubt it. Who could envision a world so cruel?
Now was not the time to let doubts enter my mind.
Does this figure have a name? A face? I’ve never heard of them. And is not the definition of dark magic simply that it breaks the laws of nature? Being defined by nature would suggest it originates there. Otherwise there would be some overlap.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
Is that so?
The methods are indeed unfortunate, but an unfortunate necessity. Had I the opportunity I...
I was no longer listening. The sun had begun to rise.
Timing would be everything here. I immediately cast BiteII on my blindfold, and then PushIII on the BiteII spell itself. Worried that the cloth might hold, or that the spell might tear my head off, I also cast PushII on the cloth opposite the blindfold binding my face.
The wrappings about my face tore themselves in half before flying away from my head at speed, pinning themselves against opposite walls. Light and sound flooded my senses, costing me precious seconds as I adjusted to the sudden stimulation.
Fortunately, the other occupants of my prison, two men and a woman, took even longer to adjust. Their clubs dangled forgotten in their hands as they stared at me in surprise.
I took a deep breath and grinned. Bluffing time.
“What? You thought a mage could be captured by a couple common ruffians? Don’t be ridiculous.”
Taking advantage of their surprise, I cast Push, disarming both of the men simultaneously. The warlock’s voice had been male, so I perceived them to be the bigger threat until I could figure out which one he was.
“I’ll admit, my wounds were inconvenient, and I’d hoped your warlock would arrive sooner so I could dispense with this charade, but all’s well that ends well.”
The male on the right spoke first. Was he the warlock then? “What do you want from him?”
I made my grin grow wider, “Would you like to find out?”
He took a step back, but his eyes weren’t focused on me. Instead, they kept darting to a corner of the room. Strange.
“N-no. No need for that. I just meant... why didn’t you come to him directly?”
I took a moment to think about my answer, hoping my silence would convey how little I was concerned about answering his question. Why wouldn’t I have simply attacked the warlock head on? The defences of his base perhaps? Did his base even have defences? I still didn’t even know who he... aha!
I raised an eyebrow at him, causing him to flinch, “Hmmm? Very well, I suppose there is no harm in telling you. Because I didn’t know who he was. I wanted to see who dared send their minions to kidnap mages.”
The guard on the left spoke up, “Hey now, minion is pretty demeaning. We’re his servants. Payed for like anyone else.”
“You’re not mercenaries then?”
He shook his head, “There’s more to life than money you know. Loyalty, honour, upholding a cause.”
“Would you like to be?”
He rubbed his chin, “What’re you offering?”
The air swirled visibly around man, spiralling inwards. At first I thought he had revealed himself to be the warlock, but that was quickly dispelled. The guard’s arms were suddenly pinned to his sides, his legs were forced together, and his clothing flattened against his skin. Then his eyes burst and his helmet began to buckle. His bellybutton touched his spine, and then his lungs burst and his ribcage collapsed. The guard’s crushed remains crumpled to the floor and began to ooze a colourful mix of fluids, which were slowly swept away by the stream.
Disloyalty will not be tolerated.
“Weren’t you trying to convince me that you were the good guy here?”
Loyalty is vital in any organization. My actions are not unique to those of a warlock. And even if you disagree with my methods, good tools may be used by evil men.
Before I could reply the sun finished rising, and it was time for stage two of my plan: even more bluffing.
I cast BiteII on the remaining male guard’s neck on the off chance he was the warlock. He collapsed to the ground, screaming and bubbling through the hole in his neck.
I turned to look at the woman, “Well? You going to save me some time and let me out of here, or do I have to kill you as well?”
Her eyes darted to the corner of the room as well. Now wasn’t that interesting. I’d already been studying it out of the corner of my eye, and it appeared completely empty. Except... except for a light impression in the dirt there. In the one corner of the room high enough to avoid the stream. Now wasn’t that suspicious.
I cast PushII at about hip height above the impression in the earth, aiming toward myself. Something large splashed into the stream an instant later. I still couldn’t see the warlock, but now the water swirled around several large holes, outlining a man pushing himself back up from his knees. Water dripped from the air as the warlock stood.
“Well now, isn’t that interesting? And how are you doing that?”
I cast PushIII driving him into the ground so hard jets of water shot out from under him, leaving a comical sketch of a man in the stream.
Maybe that was pushing it a bit. I certainly had a sick feeling in my stomach after the words left my mouth, but what else was I supposed to say? ‘Dear god you have a tool for exploiting one of a mage’s greatest weaknesses, that being their inability to cast spells on what we can’t sense?’.
Before he could reply I ended the recording I’d been doing this whole time, that of the BiteII on the poor guard’s neck—
BiteIII: Clamp down with the force of 260lbs per square inch for 10 seconds.
—and immediately cast BiteIII on the now dripping neck of the dazed warlock as he struggled to his feet once more.
Blood erupted from the air. As if that wasn’t a weird enough sight on its own, the blood quickly turned clear and viscous and began running down the warlock’s invisible robes. Lightning and thunder flashed, water flew from the warlock in a rapidly expanding column, and then the world went dark.
.
.
.
Well damn. I think I might have won.
I listened to the retreating footsteps of the final guard as I hung there in the darkness. I wondered what they warlock had done. Had he blinded me as his final act of vengeance? Had he thrown shadows about the room? I’d heard some could do that. At least he wasn’t moving. I was pretty sure at this point that if he’d survived, I’d be dead. I was safe, at least for the moment.
Unfortunately, I was still bound to the wall, and still couldn’t see. At least the blasted blindfold was gone. I’d been starting to get a rash. My plan had been a complete and utter failure, entirely botched by the sudden arrival of the warlock. On the other hand, I had killed him, which was so far out of the bounds of possibility I hadn’t even considered it.
What now? I didn’t want to keep risking mind magic—I’d already been getting lucky as it was—but I might not have a choice. How much time did I have at this point? Did this place have any more warlocks? Would the guards come down with reinforcements to finish me off their selves? I would—
*THUD*
Whoa. A wave of dark magic, the strongest I’d ever felt, washed over me. The world began to spin. It lurched, as if it had flipped upside down, and stayed there. More thuds echoed throughout the prison accompanied by loud grinding sounds. Then everything went still.
As the echoes faded away, a new sound rose to replace them. It wound down the corridors, and reverberated up through the ground beneath my feet. Moaning. Wailing. Clawing. Scraping. It was coming from all over. It was coming from very far away. And it was coming closer.
***
Had I been imprisoned in Bleak Fort‽The grinding of gears, the disorientation, the wailing, it would make sense. The builders of Bleak Fort, whoever they were, hadn’t been ones to go for half measures. The dungeon they’d built beneath had been designed to imprison a small army, or house one, as needs demanded. Living quarters, cells, barracks, kitchens, libraries, it had it all. And it wasn’t just the one floor. They’d excavated an area beneath the fort which dwarfed it by comparison. Down and down, level after level, until they’d finally run into the caverns. The beings in the caverns, whatever they were, hadn’t been pleased, and that was the end of Bleak Fort.None had survived to record what had happened.
Years later, a group of warlocks had led an expedition to reclaim the castle. They succeeded, driving back the invaders and sealing off the caverns. The castle had changed hands several times since then. At some point, a warlock had implemented a fail safe for the castle. One that could not only cut off the dungeons physically, but also tore a rent through time and space, completely eliminating the possibility of the denizens of the deep overrunning the fort.
If I was in Bleak Fort, and I had just felt them activating the fail safe... I wouldn’t be leaving here any time soon, nor would anyone be coming to get me. They’d left me here to die.
On the plus side, I could now work without the worry of a guard taking offence to my actions and slitting my throat. It’s the little things in life that make it all worth living.
Now, how to get out of here? My original plan had been to simply break my bonds, gaining my freedom in one explosive burst. In retrospect, that had been a pretty bad idea. The amount of force needed to tear through iron would have taken me weeks to build up. If it wasn’t for the darkness, maybe I could have popped the bolts on my cuffs, or at least the hinges.
Could I make a light somehow? Why was it so dark anyway? From the brief glimpse I’d got of the room, there had been both torches and lanterns lit. In fact, I could still smell them burning. Was smoke build up going to be a problem? If I died here from suffocation after killing the warlock I’d never live it down. All the other ghosts would make fun of me.
Another moan, louder than the others, reverberated throughout the dungeon. Right. Ghosts. Maybe they did exist. I’d have socked it with a spell on principle if I could, but I was pretty sure I was only hearing echoes.
Echoes. Hearing. That gave me an idea. Could I hear the hinges? Might as well try.
I began rocking my arm back and forth in its restraint, flailing my elbow wildly. The bolt rattled in its housing and the cuff scraped and squealed as I bounced it about. And under it all, sure enough, I could just make out the squeak of the hinge.
I cast Push along it’s length, hoping it it slid out upwards. The pin hopped upwards and pinged against the ceiling, held in place there by my spell. Pressure eased suddenly on my wrist as the restraint popped open. I was free!
I forced my hand between the gap of the wall and the restraint, scraping off quite a lot of skin in the process, but I didn’t care. My back, neck, shoulder, and elbow sighed in relief as I moved my arm for the first time in five days.My left leg took the full weight of my body as I shifted over, taking yet more strain off my still bound left arm.
Three of my limbs were still bound. It was still dark. Moans still filled the darkness. A blade still pressed into my back. But it was enough. I could last another day.
***
Sunrise came slowly in the darkened dungeon. The wailing moans prevented any attempts at sleep, and I dared not lose myself in the runes. My thirst and hunger too was still growing. The pain hadn’t left either. It hadn’t really gotten better either. In many ways, it had gotten worse. Only my newfound hope allowed me to bear its burden.
I wondered if I’d ever run again, once I got out of here. I imagined myself, watching my friends or children run far ahead of me, as I slowly hobbled along behind them with a cane. In my imagination, I wore a gentle smile, a man who had accepted his injury, and did not resent his peers for their health. It would be their pity I could not stand. The thought horrified me. Sad glances. Whispering behind my back. Abandonment. Not because they hated me, just the opposite, because they cared too much. Because they couldn’t bear to see me fall behind.
Such were my thoughts as I waited, anxious, eyes dancing and darting through the darkness. Rumination was deadlier than any poison. Poison could only kill you once. Thankfully, sunrise did come, and it came before I’d lost myself. I’d seen men stuck on the same thought for months, or even years, their bodies, their lives even, become bitter shells to house their rage.
I shook my left arm to locate the hinge as I had for my right, and cast Push on it. Once more the pin flew free. Without the support of my bonds, and the blade against my back, I fell forward, wrenching my ankles against their bonds.
My screams took a while to fade as they echoed about the dungeon. The sound emboldened the creatures in the darkness. They began to moan with renewed vigour, and some took up screams of their own. My right ankle was aflame, a pyre of agony. I should have freed my legs first. Never mind that I couldn’t possibly have located the pins. I should have found a way. Better to die here than—
It was possible I wasn’t thinking clearly. Compared to the sweet relief of finally moving my back and knees, the pain wasn’t even that bad. I felt around for the hinges with my fingers and freed them both with a single spell.
I was free. Completely free this time. A laugh escaped my lips unbidden. I was FREE!
“I’m free!” I shouted, my disused voice sounding raw and foreign to my ears. I didn’t care.
Cackling, hooting and hollering returned my cry and I didn’t care. Even if they killed me, tore me apart, or ate my while I was still alive, I’d die a free man.
Speaking of which, there was something I had to do before anything else. Despite my reservations about mind magic, there was one spell I needed to commit to memory. In fact, if I ever made it out of here, and ever had any students, I’d force them to do the same. I’d never been bound again.
I started recording, crawling toward the dry patch in the corner. I impacted the warlock’s body and just crawled over him. So he was dead. Good. He could wait. I curled up in the corner and rested my aching limbs whilst I finished memorizing my final spell.
I crawled from the place where I had hung for nearly a week to the far corner of the room. The water was cold, and my limbs weak, but I got there in the end.
Teleport: Move yourself 20 ft over the course of a minute.
The rune flared and swam into view along with all the others. It was beautiful. The most beautiful one of all. I was safe. I pressed my head into floor and slept.
***
My head was pounding when I woke. When was the last time I’d had water? I struggled onto my knee began to crawl upstream, right leg dragging straight out behind me. The room was still dark, and I still had no idea why. Dark magic. I hugged the wall. I didn’t want to touch the remains of the guard the warlock had... collapsed.
My circuitous route took over a minute to traverse the small area, but I managed to avoid all three bodies I’d been sharing the cell with. Thankfully the surviving guard hadn’t barred the door as she’d fled or I’d have to risk even more magic escaping.
It was dark in the (presumably) hallway as well. Had the warlock removed light from the whole dungeon, or merely blinded me? Couldn’t blind people still sense light? I didn’t know for sure.
First things first. I needed water. I didn’t even bother scooping the stream with my hands, I just lowered my head and drank. It was surprisingly clean and pleasantly cool. I suppose any algae or moss might allow a mage to write spells in the sludge. Where was the water coming from? Did the magic rift have an exception for the stream, or did the stream originate from dungeon itself? I’d have to follow it if at all possible, it could be my ticket out of here. Once I was ready.
I needed to tend to my leg, figure out this darkness, get a spellbook, and get some food first. In that order. Tending to my leg meant getting a knife, which meant going back into my cell and searching the two untangled bodies. I wasn’t looking forward to this.
I managed to find the body of the guard I’d killed while avoiding the other. My hand had sunk through something squishy at one point, but I told my self it was a patch of mud, or maybe rat droppings. Not that rat droppings would make any sen—mud it was.
I bumbled around with the body for a moment, figuring out which end was which, and then maneuvered my hands to the man’s waist. A quick pat along his belt found me a knife in a sheath. A little bit more fumble around his arm netted me his club. It was just as I remembered it, a straight and study piece of wood with a small metal cap on one side. It would do.
I withdrew the knife and began cutting away at his tunic. I’d considered taking his less bloodied clothes for my self to wear, but there was something unsettlingly macabre about that, blood or no blood. I’d have to remain naked for now.
I wasn’t the main healer in Blackbridge, but I knew enough in a pinch. Setting a broken leg, at least temporarily, was a fairly straight forward operation. At least, I thought it would be. Turns out, doing it on yourself is another thing entirely. I managed to bite back my screams, but I was mildly surprised my gasping and groaning didn’t set off the creatures of the dungeon anyway. Once my leg was as straight as I could reasonably manage I used the strips of cloth I’d cut free to bind my leg to the club.
I tried bending my knee gently, and was rewarded with a sharp, sparkling pain, all down the left side. With it were the first sick twinges of something bending out of place.
Storm and Starlight!
I’d need the second club as well. I hadn’t known he was going to be crushed, so I praised my good fortune I’d disarmed him ahead of time.
A few more moments in the dark found me elbow deep in another man’s ribcage before finding the stick. I’m not squeamish, but there is a limit. Even after scouring my arms with the sand beneath the stream they felt dirty. It had been the texture anyway. The short resistance before punching through what was left of him, and the gritty remains of his bones. Shame I couldn’t let my memory be washed away with the blood and bile and bits of clinging fle—I needed to stop before I made myself sick. I was in bad enough shape as it was without emptying the remains of my stomach.
I reset my leg and tied the second club into place. After tentatively flexing my knee a second time I was met with a reassuring solidity. It wasn’t moving anywhere. If I had a staff I might even be able to walk.
Perhaps the warlock had had one? He’d been invisible after all. Who knew what his was wearing. It was worth checking.
I splashed and crawled my way over to where I’d last crawled over him and felt around. He was wearing robes over some kind of armour. Feeling around his chest I noticed that the robes were more of a wrap, really and covered in some sort of pungent sticky substance I couldn’t wash from my fingers. I sniffed them. Spruce sap? Strange. And not a species I recognized. Was that the clear substance he’d been bleeding?
There was a knife at his belt, which I took -belt and knife both- and a small flask of some sort. I attached that to my belt as well.
A separate wrap bound his head, some sort of hat, I presumed. I otherwise avoided his face. Teeth, lips, eyes; those were for the living, and sacred to the dead. It would not do to touch them.
His pants and shoes seemed normal enough, though the shoes were so pointed they ended in little curls, but again I left the clothing to the dead.
I’d resolved to leave his hands be, but as I searched about for a staff, I accidentally brushed into one lying at an angle I hadn’t expected. I jerked back in surprise, heart pounding. I’d done enough here. Time to leave.
I began following the water upstream as I’d resolved. I didn’t plan to leave the dungeon just yet, not ‘til I got my bearings, but it didn’t hurt to see if there was a way out of here.
Light suddenly assaulted my vision and I stopped. I could see now, albeit dimly. The torches had mostly died, but a few lamps still burned in their recesses on the wall. The stream I’d been following ended abruptly, disappearing through a grill in the wall. Peering between the bars, the path was clearly too narrow to follow.
I turned back toward the cell, determined to see if there had been objects I’d missed, and was met with one of the strangest sights of my life. A sphere of pure darkness emanated from the cell, stopping abruptly just in front of my nose.
I tentatively put my hand in, and then my face, and was once again struck blind. I retreated, and could see clearly again.
So the warlock had done something. He must have panicked, casting the spell of darkness in his last moments.
It hadn’t faded either. Nature usually restored itself after black magic had been cast. Its will could not be denied forever. But this had lasted. Either the warlock had been far more powerful than I’d thought, or he’d somehow changed the nature of light in a sphere around him.
He could have also used a magic item. I hadn’t found anything, but I’d also not checked his face or hands. He could have been wearing a ring, earring, or even nose piercing. He was a warlock after all. Whatever the case, I wasn’t so ghoulish as to rob a dead man of his jewels. Even if I was, I could think of little use for a darkness generator in an already dark dungeon.
There was nothing more for me here. It was time to move on.
I was in a dim, stone lined hallway, parallel to my cell. To the left of the cell the hall ended abruptly, presumably flush with the edge of the cell. To the right, the hallway bent at a right angle, heading in the opposite direction of the stream.
Crawling round the corner revealed that the hallway immediately split; one path going straight ahead, and one to my right. A quick glance to the right showed that the stream had disappeared somewhere under the wall’s ten foot width, presumably down to some sort of fresh water spring.
I took the forward path at essentially random, perhaps the fact it led further from my cell weighing slightly in its favour.Unfortunately, I picked wrong. My path was blocked by a stout iron door which did not yield to my strength.
I sighed, turning back to the other path. I’d be scraped and bloodied by the end of this it seemed. Delays only exacerbated the problem. Fortunately the other corridor’s door swung open easily at my touch. It hadn’t even been latched. This must have been the way the guard had fled. Though with the castle’s defences activated it may not matter. Food was more important than egress at this point.
The room beyond was large, 50 by 100 feet at least, perhaps more. Broken statuary littered the room, a testament to the complex history of these dungeons. Two doors stood on the far wall, and an open archway to my left. The choice was simple, made all the simpler by my aching knee and wrists. Here I was, adult and mage, and I was crawling about like a child.
I passed through the archway into a smaller room, smaller still from the rubble of its collapsed ceiling. The left wall was taken up entirely with levers, wheels, and other mechanisms of unknown purpose. Most had been buried or crushed.
The centre of the room was dominated by a large ruby statue of a beetle, some three feet in length. The detail was exquisite, and such was its lustre that it appeared to glow in the dim lamp light. Fascinated, I drew closer. The statue was useless to me as a material prospect, but the workmanship was it’s own reward, surpassing even the rumbling pains in my stomach.
The nature of the statue’s detail soon became clear, for as I drew near, it growled. It was alive. It’s mandibles moved, producing a clicking growling sound like pebbles falling down a hill. I backed away hastily to the wall of levers, and the door I’d spotted there.
“Whoa lad. Easy does it. Don’t mind me. I’ll be going.”
The beetle immediately calmed as I withdrew, and settled into its unmoving dormant state once more. Was it a natural creature from the caverns below the dungeon, or was it some sort of warlock’s guardian beast? I might need to find out, for the door behind me failed to open.
On the opposite side of the room (and on the far side of the beetle) was a second arch, leading out of the room. I began crawling toward it, hugging the wall to my left. As I drew near the beetle it began to growl again.
My pain was growing and my patience was dropping at an equal rate.
“Easy boy. I just want to slip by here. I’ll be out of your hair-er, carapace, before you know it.”
The beetle continued to growl, swivelling to track me as I crawled. Just as I drew near the arc, it lunged at me, mandible’s flailing.
PushIII
The beetle flew away from me and slammed into the opposite wall. The wall chipped, as did part of the beetle; a little ruby shard flying from its shell to clatter against the floor. By the raging sea that thing was tougher than it looked. I’d excepted it to splatter into pieces. Thankfully my spell kept it pinned in place as I hurried through the archway.
I’d run (crawled) from bad to worse. The archway opened immediately into yet another room. Standing in the room, directly in front of me, was a giant... thing. A mushroom, but more so. It was over 10 feet tall with a wide cap that glowed with golden light. The light was uneven, jagged even, like a crown about its head. Beneath the cap the mushroom possessed large brown eyes. Such was the depth of pain and wisdom contained within them I could barely stand to look at it. Its body, or shaft, was covered in shimmering green scales, completely at odds with its fungal shape.
It noticed me instantly. The creature bent towards me, gesturing, as a human might with an arm. A rumble sounded behind me. I twisted to look over my shoulder and my heart sunk. The archway I’d just crawled through was gone, filled so completely with dirt that it was if it had never been.
Why have you come? Why do you intrude upon my domain?
The voice rang in my head, and I’d never heard such anger.
“I-”
Your dark magics are not welcome here. Twisted and broken. Ruled by ambition. You have broken the world. You still dare show your face?
“I am not a warlock!” I said hastily, “I was capture by them. I am seeking to escape.”
The mushroom’s eyes widened.
Do you speak true? Warlocks are known to lie.
“I am a mage. A servant of nature. Like yourself.” The last one was a complete guess, but based on what the mushroom had said, it was a safe one.
Servant? I am no servant! I am a king!
Oops. The ground began to shake. The Mushroom-King’s eyes narrowed.
The earth trembles at my command. The stones listen and obey. I am not one with nature. Nature is one with me!
I prostrated myself, covering my head as stones began to rain from the ceiling, “I meant no offence. Truly my words were ill chosen, oh king.”
The shaking stopped, though did not cease entirely.
If you are truly a servant of nature, then serve! You are mine!
I reeled as images of earth and rotting matter invaded my mind. The lamp light about us flared until it was brighter than the sun. I cowered and hid, seeking to return back to the soil.
If I am your king, than you are my slave! Kneel! Bow! Grovel!
I flattened myself further into the ground and put my hands over my ears. It didn’t help. The Mushroom-King’s voice permeated everything. Just as he permeated everything I realized. This was but one head, one avatar, of a far greater being. One who dwelled in all soil, beneath all rocks, between every stone.
I am all and everything. Every morsel, every speck of dust, contains a spore. Every patch of earth is mine. Every drop of rain falls to feed me. Every death is in my name.
The Mushroom-King was vast, impossibly vast, but this avatar, this budding fruit was not. I could resist him and his efforts. Perhaps I could even fight him.
BiteIII...
The rune erupted. Pain blossomed. Everything went black.