The pool room had a chest hidden in the waters. It had held a potion Master Tom had claimed was his. Given the results of the holy man’s cards, I left the chest where it lay.

Instead I crawled down the tunnel which led to the back of the tapestry hung in the long room of statues.

There was a door across my path.

I’d travelled the way enough times to know I hadn’t gotten lost. Had there originally been a door barring this path? My ring sensed a complex lock holding the door shut.

I crawled backwards down the tunnel and ducked behind the raised pool. The room was much easier to navigate when I no longer feared my reflection. She was comforting more than anything now.

Magic Swords II

The door blew apart as if it was made of paper.

Maybe it was made of paper. I wouldn’t put it past the Architect to save on costs.

It also tore through the tapestry like it was made cloth, which it was. That was a shame. I’d been hoping to keep the passage somewhat secret this time.

I crawled back through and into the room full of statues.

I focused on my skin, letting it grow brighter and brighter until the room was illuminated by the shine of my face alone and my armour glowed red like an oddly shaped curtain at dawn. My gaze was the beam of a bulls eye as I weaved my way around the statues and over piles of rubble.

I wasn’t quiet as bright as the sun, but in the darkened caverns it felt like it. Though my light was weak by the time it reached the far corners of the room, with my eyes I could still make out every last detail. Anyone or anything adjusted to the dungeons would be blinded if they stumbled across me.

So it was close to noon.

I’d noticed the night before that the intensity of my glow matched the rising and setting of the sun. The Watcher hadn’t followed the same rules to the end, which was why I’d noticed the discrepancy. I couldn’t have glowed with more than the moon’s faint light if I’d wanted to.

There were two exit on the far end of the room. I took the path to my right which was not the doorway which had teleported me off course. It was an open archway as opposed to the sealed door which would lead me back to my original prison.

The source of the warlock’s darkness might still be there if I was interested, but food and a swift return weighed more pressingly on my mind.

The beetle wasn’t in the room this time. Herbivores needed to be constantly on the move. Perhaps it had only been passing through when I last saw it.

The door to the frog chamber hadn’t caused me any troubles back when I’d been blind and crippled, but I saw no reason to risk trying it. I had my swords already out after all. I stayed behind the pile of rubble while they got to work.

The iron door squealed open inch by inch. The material itself held firm as my swords pounded it open. If the light shining from my body hadn’t already alerted the frogs, the sound would.

They attacked immediately.

Seeing as there was no one in the doorway, the end result was two skewered frogs sliding down the length of invisible blades in the air.

They’d nearly killed me the first time we’d met. They’d still managed to knock my swords to the other side of the room with their jumps. The were immensely strong for their size, and that was saying something, given that they were nearly as tall as I was.

They were light though. A single of my swords could lift one. It didn’t move fast, but I could raise them, meaning the were close to the 484 lbs limit.

The chest was where I remembered it, behind the pile of boulders I’d cowered behind the first time I’d met the frogs.

I used one of my magical blades to pry the lid of the cask as I no longer had claws. I didn’t miss them.

I didn’t quite remember all the cask had contained.

The woman’s pants and tuttenseck I hadn’t been able to forget, nor did the overwhelming smell of fish surprise me, but I’d completely forgotten about the onion.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I didn’t remember the flower petals either, but one of the objects I’d been counting on wasn’t there. I’d thought I’d found my anti-infection ointment in this chest, but it was nowhere in sight.

I eyed the large frog pellet next to the chest. I’d found something in there, hadn’t I? But it couldn’t have been the ointment, that wouldn’t have been sanitary.

I sent my sword digging through it just in case. It was mostly dust and crumbling bones. Nothing else of value revealed itself.

I threw the women’s clothes and the onion back into the chest. Someone might have a use for one of them. Especially given that Tom’s place currently held eight women. Women loved onions.

Rapture

The chest began to glow. I commanded it to rise with a thought and sent it before me back the way I’d came. There was more I could do up here—re-visit the statue of the dwarf goddess, give the dryad a proper burial, gather more water, see if whatever commanded the darkness remained on the warlock’s corpse—but I didn’t want the women chasing after me, and I’d promised to deal with the mural on the second floor first thing.

***

Back through the room of levers and dials where I’d first met the ruby beetle, down the long chamber of statues flanking me on both sides.

I was in front of the door which had sent me into the mirror room instead of the statuary where I now stood. My ring found the teleportation rune set in the frame faster than my eyes could.

Like the door to the screaming room I sent my swords at it. Like the screaming room I lost my first pair of swords. Unlike the screaming room, I only had two swords to begin with.

I wondered if there was some poor frogs somewhere who had been skewered by a bevy of teleporting swords.

They were about to get skewered by a bunch more.

Magic Swords III

Four swords this time, though these were the strange swords which autonomously obeyed my commands rather than my direct control.

“Pry out the teleportation rune please?” I ventured.

It worked first try. Maybe it was the please that did it. It didn’t hurt being polite.

Back through the Mushroom King’s lair and past the fried rat corpse.

I didn’t remember which door I’d come through, but only one of them had been smashed to splinters. It was handy, that.

Transversing the two rooms took ten minutes on its own.

I’d just reached the hallway when I heard the scream.

Attart. The thought struck me at the same instance the sun rose in the inky waters of my mind. Light swelled but never broke from the depths, instead spreading like oil underneath the surface.

It was only with a supreme force of will that I let myself move slowly down the hall. I was approaching the screaming corner. Odds were Attart had gone looking for me and ended up there. She’d been through it before. She wouldn’t panic.

The answering screams did little to calm me.

Even if she wasn’t in immediate danger, the noise might attract something. I’d met the mercenaries in that room before.

I quickened my pace.

The screaming stopped before I got there. That was good. Right?

I burst into the room and started screaming myself.

It scared me more than Attart.

She was far to my right, struggling against one of the stuck stone doors.

I started crossing toward her and called out the moment the room permitted me to stop screaming, “What are you doing?”

“I...” she stumbled and caught herself against the stone. She’d started changing the moment I’d caught sight of her once more. My eyes had a mind of their own and locked on the fabric tightening around her breasts before I was able to look away.

I was grateful she didn’t mention it. My cheek were probably be glowing enough to see by even if I’d never met the corpse in the sky.

Attart frowned at the doorway I’d just come through, “My memories are all a jumble. I had thought we had gone through this door.”

I deliberately turned to face the door myself, though some part of me begged me to keep my eyes on Attart. She’s half Tom, you fool! I admonished myself. Shame flooded me a moment later and my whole body stiffened. Every change must have been a reminder of the incongruity between who she was and what (not who) I wanted her to be.

I barely managed to reply through my clenched throat, “You can generally tell where I’ve been by the broken hinges and splintered doors,” I croaked.

“You can look at me.”

My heart lurched. Where was the toad-dragon when you needed it?

“I do not mind. It makes me happy,” I felt a hand on my shoulder blade, not my shoulder, it was too high for her, “And it makes me happy to look at you. You saved me.”

I looked down at her, placed my own arm around both her shoulders. She’d been trapped in more than a physical prison. It was a miracle she was still going. Especially now given Tom’s assault on her soul.

Solitude was one thing.

Isolation was another.

She smiled up at me, “Attart—” she made a face but her smile returned. A real one, not the ones which had been forced on her, “Attart is with you. Never look away.”