The sun rose far too early.
Light shone through my eyelids and crawled through the crack between them.
My skin was glowing. My ring gave away the game before my eyes opened.
There had been a slight glow under the light of the Corpse in the Sky, but I thought that had been due to its presence. The glow was brighter now, nearly as bright as the sun. My skin looked like a forge’s fire, nearly but not quite painful to look at.
“Wonders never cease,” I whispered.
Attart was still sleeping. She was sprawled out in a very unladylike fashion and she snored like she was sawing down a whole forest in her sleep. My light hadn’t woken her.
It was as good a time as any to—
I yawned and stood to stretch. My trousers were still about my ankles.
—write yet another spell. It was far better than the days of delirium when I’d first escaped. I’d have a spell which could crush the beetles in no time. I pulled up and fastened my trousers.
Let’s see here...
_☼Push VIII☼_
Thankfully I didn’t have to carve my leg again. It was enough trace the—
I was lying prostrate.
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?
I’d heard that sort of anger before.
“I-”
The voice which spoke was not my own, and yet they spoke with my voice. I’d been having quite enough of that these last few days.
Silence! I speak not to one who is twisted and broken with dark magics. I speak to one who shines with their opposite.
“I’m not a warlock!,” said the other with my voice, “I was captured by them. I am seeking to escape.
The mushroom’s eyes widened.
Do you speak true? Warlocks are known to lie.
I activated my ring. Something had shut it off.
“I am a mage. A servant of nature. Like yourself.”
I recognized that desperation. I recognized those lips trembling in fear.
Servant? I am no servant! I am a king!
The man on the floor with the crude splint about his leg was myself. Myself before I’d been warped and controlled by the Mushroom-King.
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!
The man who looked like me I prostrated himself. His arms raised over his head to protect it as stones began to rain from the ceiling. I hardly noticed them.
“I meant no offence. Truly my words were ill chosen, oh king.”
The shaking stopped, though not before it had shaken something free in me.
If you are truly a servant of nature, then serve! You—
Piercing Shield
Fireball
Magic Swords III
Push VIII
Magic Swords II
Fireball III
Push IIII
Push II
Bite II
Flames of Revenge
Sword Storm II
Sword Storm III
Push VI
Push VII
Plasma Torrent
Hindering Claw
Fog Prison
Intoxicating Blood
I wasn’t taking chance. The resulting conflagration was bright enough to blind me. Judging by the shouts it also blinded a few more than me.
Just as my sight left me, at the same time all my spells came into being as one, the strangest thing happened. I swore I saw a skeleton enter through the door beyond on the mushroom king and to my right. The Dead King?
My vision was lost before I could get a closer look. I was reduced to my 15 foot sphere as I blinked the light spots from my eyes.
My other self was just close enough for me to make him cowering on the floor. Fair enough. I would have too. Especially with that leg. You don’t know how vulnerable you can feel until your body betrays you.
The Mushroom-King was silent.
“Dread lord of awesome majesty that was terrifying,” whispered Attart.
Twice.
“Attart? You’re here too? I can’t see you.”
“I am a spirit,” she said in that strange double voice. She sounded scared “Did you happen to murder me in my sleep? I just woke up like this.”
I knew what Oswic would say before he said it.
“By the storm-ed cliff, what was that? Who are...”
He trailed off as I knew he would. Because I knew too. We were one and the same with the same mind. Not similar. Not even identical.
One soul, two bodies.
Both my sets of eyes widened and I ended the Flames of Revenge. We’d been distracted by our revelation.
Oswic’s vision returned first, so I used him to look around. His vision was far worse than mine, but the light hadn’t been as bright to him, nor had he been staring directly into the flames.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
There was no one in the room with us but the shiny black spot on the floor where the Mushroom-King’s ashes had been flattened into a mirror-like patina.
“Attart? Where are you?”
“A spirit is not seen except to guide. Even a necromancer cannot look at them when the time is not right.”
There was the double voice again, but this time I was ready for it. I heard one with my own set of ears, and one as a memory from Oswic laying on the floor.
One soul, but two minds.
A dozen questions filtered through my memories like water through gravel and were answered just as quickly.
The glowing man was me, I was Oswic, we were one in two bodies. There was no further need for questions. His fear and confusion were my fear and confusion. My past month’s trails and tribulations were his past month’s trials and tribulations.
“Do you have any idea what happened?” I asked. I gestured to Oswic, still unable to stand for his pain, “This is me as I was a month ago. We share the same memories and the same soul, yet our minds are separate. It is as if I am a tree with two shoots, but the roots are the same. Like I am a stones player and my stones at the same time. I have full control of each piece, but each piece has its own rules.”
“I was asleep a few seconds ago,” Attart replied, “The first thing I knew was being blinded by the works of creation. The loss of my body came second. I have lost all my ghosts as well,” Attart sniffed.
A tinge of pain ran through me as I focused on Oswic.
I wonder.
Regenerate
The spots faded from both our eyes. My flame scorched skin cooled. Oswic’s leg began to heal.
“Earth shake the heavens,” muttered Oswic. (I was pretty sure I’d already used that one).
I checked my pouch quickly for one of the healing knowledge potions but found none. I’d have to do my best.
I crouched by him and studied his leg under the glow of my skin.
He pointed at his right knee, “My knee is in more danger than my ankle. Set it here.”
He gritted his teeth.
This was going to hurt.
I grabbed Oswic’s knee both above and below the break and began to pull. My arms combined were stronger than his leg. I could feel the bones and tendons shift under my fingers. As long as I gave them space to work the magic would do the rest.
The pain settled. It still ached and still hurt, but the sense of wrongness slipped away as I massaged Oswic’s leg.
He sighed as his pain released, “Better than I could have hoped for. Even my ankle is aligned.”
I prodded the side of his ankle. He’d be able to move it in ten or so minutes, half an hour at most.
“Are you a chirurgeon outside these halls or a warrior?” Attart asked, “You could right any—
The sun rose. My spells returned. Those which remained. The attack had cost me Push VII and Sword Storm II. Something was also wrong with Push VIII.
“—wrong with your spells.”
I smiled. Both because she’d inadvertently echoed my thoughts, though with a different intention, but also because of the sentiment. If only the Magic could do what I’d demonstrated here without a thousand lifetimes of study.
“I can’t heal others. Only myself in most circumstances. Spells can only record that which I have control over, and I don’t have control over another’s actions unless they have total trust in me and obedience to me.”
“Do you have any spells to return us to where we were? I am concerned for my body.”
“No spells, but I’ve been here before. I remember the way, more or less.”
“What about him?”
I nearly asked “Who?”. It should have been strange having two bodies, but it felt so natural I forgot that to the outside it would appear someone else was there. I didn’t even need to think about it. My brain controlled my actions, his brain controlled his.
“He is coming with us. Think of it as me having two bodies. If one dies the other retains everything. Every memory and every spell.”
Mostly. There was some things missing. Oswic should have had a number of Push spells stored in his brain, but all we had was the false rune the waters had burned into my mind. I also had a feeling of a memory which had been lost. A memory of the memory, but no clue as to what the memory was. Hopefully it would come back in time.
Once Oswic could walk we’d head through the door at the top right of the room. The skeleton had left it open when it had entered.
Speaking of which.
It was still there, now laying on the floor. It had evidently toppled over after I’d lost sight of it, but the bones had stayed together, bound with sinew and bits of flesh. The skeleton’s wrists were bound with rusted manacles. Its ankles had also been fastened together with mana—
Ankle-acles.
Talacles?
Trammels?
Fetters?
The fetters had broken or rusted away long ago.
“Did you see the skeleton walk into the room?”
“No. I was watching you. When did you start glowing?”
“Aren’t you more interested in the walking skeleton?”
Attart giggled, “Not really. I see those all the time.”
I suppose she would.
“My skin started glowing after I met with a being who calls itself The Corpse in the Sky or The Light Underground. Something like that. It wasn’t this bright earlier, however.”
I moved around the skeleton to see where it had come from. My light flooded out into a large long chamber full of statues. So that was where that door led. I’d had my suspicions, but I’d been rightfully afraid of the Mushroom-King and avoided it. The demon mirror was just across the corridor.
The door also had a familiar rune set in the doorway. I had an identical rune in my pouch. The teleportation rune. Perhaps it had something to do with our reason for suddenly appearing here.
I backed away from the door. The skeleton hadn’t set off the rune, but that might have been because he was a skeleton. I’d investigate that later.
Oswic crawled over to watch the entrance.
“I’m going to write while we wait for Oswic’s leg to heal,” I said out loud for Attart’s benefit, “can you watch the grill and other door for me Attart?”
“I shall.”
The biggest threats on the first floor were the Mushroom-King and the demon mirror. I’d already dealt with the Mushroom-King and I didn’t have a spell I was willing to try on the mirror. That left the frogs and beetles as the main obstacles to look out for.
So I needed more swords.
Sword Storm III. “Storm” was a misnomer at this point. The spell had been reduced to a single blade. If anything it was a light storm, for it contained both a fireball and a will-o’-wisp which lasted for three times the length of the rest of the spell. It was a straightforward matter to record the spell. The majority of my brainpower during the casting (not that I’d admit it) was dedicated to naming it.
Scorch, Sword, Scintillation: An invisible blade dances and strike with the base force of 1936 lbs. The sword lasts for an hour. A fireball appears in the centre. One light, twice as bright as a candle, swirls about it, rising into existence just before the blade appears for the first time and dying an hour after it vanishes. Another light joins in at the end of the first hour, and end an hour after the first light fades, providing 3 hours of light total. All move independently following the whims of their master.
I didn’t alert Attart that I was done right away. I had other pressing concerns I’d put aside while I wrote my spell.
For one, I had a new spell carved into my leg which I hadn’t written. Or maybe carved wasn’t the right word. Right beside☼Push VIII☼was a glowing rune set in my leg. It glowed a slightly different colour than the rest of my leg; warm yellow, like a gentle candle flame. My ring sight picked up the meaning of it at once.
Return: Return to the physical point of your previous death.
☼Push VIII☼ itself had changed (Push an object with 7700lbs of force for up to half an hour. The nearest (non-living) skeleton arrives just in time to immediately casts the spell again at the same time and same target.)—which explained the skeleton—but I didn’t care.
1. I’d somehow recorded myself returning to the point of my “previous” death.
2. I had a previous death to record.
3. “Return to the physical point of your previous death” rather than “Return to the physical point of your death” suggested could die multiple times. And perhaps suggested that I already had.
Death is a luxury I will not grant.
I’d died.
When my bite spell had failed and a hole had been torn into my brain I’d died and the Mushroom-King had saved me. That is what he’d meant.
I shared a glance with Oswic.
The spell had vanished from his mind when I’d appeared. For whatever reason the spells had been bound to my mind and body, not his. If I hadn’t acted when I had, and our bond hadn’t established when it had, the distraction I caused the Mushroom-King might have killed Oswic.
Since the destruction of the mural that wasn’t as terrible a fate as it appeared, and even then we shared a soul—
I could feel the weight of the mural.
Oswic had only just escaped. There were no gaps in his memory separate from my own experience of capture.
We’d gone back in time.