Nine people, three women, six men cavorted, crept, and—in one case—cartwheeled into the room.

“An angel!” cried the king of the faeries. She fell to her knees and clasped her hands together, “We are saved!”

“A god, more like,” said another of the women, the one who had cartwheeled in, “Do you reckon gods bleed?”

“Of course they don’t,” replied one of the men, “They’re immortal.”

“Who says an immortal can’t bleed?”

“I just did.”

“Fair enough. What does Dave think? Dave?”

Another of the men (presumably Dave) squinted at me, and then at Erin.

“She’s a pretty lass, isn’t she?” leered the third woman. The others looked away uncomfortably. Her face fell, “Sorry. Don’t know what came over me.”

Dave pointed at me, “They’re the same.”

“Can’t be. The glowing one is taller and has a beard. And he’s glowing.”

Dave shook his head, “Look at their noses. They’re the same.”

“We should report this.”

“Can’t. Stairway is out.”

“Use a spell.”

“The time is not right.”

“It never is.”

Dave nodded sagely as though the complaint had been wisdom.

“It never is,” he repeated softly. He locked his gaze with mine, “We are looking for our waterskins. Have you seen any lying about?”

One of the men staggered forward, “He’s got my boots!”

Another gaped, “And my trousers! He stole them! Look!”

He pulled at his own, identical pair to demonstrate.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Erin, “You’re wearing your trousers. How can he have stolen them?”

“He stole your face and you are still wearing it. Why should trousers be any different?”

“Trousers ought to be easier, even,” said another of the men.

It was only then I realized it, though to be fair, it was more difficult than it should have been, “You’re standing upright. Easily. You’re not mad.”

The cartwheeling woman rolled her eyes, “Of course we’re not mad. Why would we be?”

There is a water source a ways from here. A Magus was chained there. Do you know it?”

“Naturally. It is where we’d fill our waterskins. If they weren’t missing.”

“The Magus escaped. The Shadowmaster is dead and the waters are tainted by his blood. If you drink down stream from him you’ll be driven mad.”

“How do you know this?” asked the cartwheel woman.

“Because he is the Magus,” said Dave.

I reactivated my ring. Erin’s body was as lovely as her face. The outside bits of her body at least. Her insides were much like anyone else’s. I tried to not let either distract me as I readied myself for spellcasting.

“You are actually a warlock, aren’t you?”

Dave nodded, “I said I was, didn’t I?”

I pointed at the kneeling woman, “And is she actually the king of the faeries?”

That received a number of blank stares, from Erin as well as the mercenaries.

“What gave you that idea?” asked the woman, rising.

“He’s from the future,” said Dave, “That is how he knows about the water.”

And warlocks could read minds.

I’d gotten very lucky last time I’d run into him. He hadn’t even resisted. What had he said? “I was a warlock yesterday, now I’m a king?” Something like that.

If we were unlucky he could kill us with a spell before we could react. I doubted I’d last long against lightning cascade or equivalent.

On the other hand, I could probably kill him with a spell before he could react, but he hadn’t done anything to offer me harm. Yet.

I’d sworn to the Dead King I was the enemy of the warlocks, but that didn’t mean I had to stoop to murder. I’d freed my mind from that compulsion.

The best I could do was give Erin a chance.

“Go back to the others. Find someplace to hide. I’ll talk with Dave.”

“Stay.”

There was something intense about how he had said that. Erin’s eyes briefly lost focus and then she blinked, clearing them. She looked at me for confirmation. I jerked my head to the door. She ran, screaming.

Not from fear, mind. The wailing corner was in the way.

A hail of black and green roared through the doorway, coming the other way. Erin stumbled back in fear and let out a shout entirely her own. It was green under my life sight. Moss?

The hail clung to the frame, lurched awkwardly past the doorway, and slapped off Erin’s face and armour. Where the substance hit armour, both leather and the cloth beneath shattered and dissolved, leaving patches of her skin bruised and bare. That was no moss I’d ever seen.

Very well.

Regenerate

I charged the warlock.

Take him down fast. Take him down fast. Take him down fast. Take him down fast.

A second wind rose, blowing the other way. Just a gentle breeze. But the warlock was gone and the world was spinning. I was now facing the wall of... it was moss. Moss which now completely filled the doorway and continued to bulge forward into the rest of the room.

My ring oriented me a moment later, the warlock was outside my range, but I recognized my surroundings.

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Sword, Scorch, Scintillation

Both the mercenaries and the warlock were silent. They’d dealt with Magi before.

That was fine. My spells could move.

True Teleport II

I ended the spell the same moment it began, but now I facing the opposite direction.

Take him down. Take him down. Take him down.

Dave reacted first, despite my quick maneuver. He had already been moving. A wand was in his hand. Flame gouted out the end of the wand, clipping my right side.

Pain.

My armour and clothing burned away in an instant. My body didn’t last much longer.

Safe Teleport

I moved until I was a foot outside the cone of his fire. I couldn’t afford to take longer to travel. Not with Erin still in danger.

My chest, face, and right leg were in agony, my arm hadn’t hurt since the initial impact. It was missing. I had to shove away my ring’s image of melted flesh and bone, exposed ends of ribs and golden lung. I was a dead man walking.

I nearly made it.

Time Blade.

The wand in the warlock’s hand snapped. It had been broken hours ago. He’d only drawn half on me, unaware of the damage. His blow against me had never landed.

My own fireball enveloped his head a moment later. My sword bisected one of the mercenaries who had been getting close to Erin. She’d readied her club, but their fight against the goblins had shown me the Delta expedition had more courage than skill.

Soldier’s Swords II

The spell vanished as it was cast, but I still had the blades.

Kill any mercenary who doesn’t run. It was quicker to think it than say it.

It should have been, but it turned out the swords didn’t obey mental commands.

Dave was frowning in the middle of the fireball. It didn’t seem to be hurting him though his shoulders were on fire.

I’d slipped up, just for a moment. He didn’t know why, only that I’d had a moment of triumph hidden among my fear and pain.

Something shot through the room and pierced Erin directly above the heart. Two holes appeared in her armour, one in front, one opposite, exiting her back.

Her skin was unmarked.

Whatever had happened didn’t seem to slow her. Much the opposite even.

Erin raised her club and let out an ululating battle cry. Then she charged the mercenaries.

Winter’s breath turn stone to sand!

Transporting Disc.

A circle lit up around Erin’s feet and then she was gone. Darkness solidified around me. The whispers in my head did not lessen, but I felt my conscious expand. Much like a crowd moving to a larger room. The same amount of noise, but more space to contain it.

Dave groaned and then his flesh began to shrivel. The mercenaries nearest him startled and backed away. His skin tightened against his face until his head was almost a skull, his muscles withered and his armour sagged. His hand, still aloft and holding his wand became a gnarled talon.

The whispers were overwhelming. Dark magic boiled from every pore of his tortured flesh.

Heat blasted suddenly against my face, and the floor lurched suddenly underfoot. I staggered, catching myself, but then it lurched again, as though the room had been cast out to a stormy sea.

I caught myself again. And again. And again. The warlock and his minions didn’t seem to be having any such troubles.

“Kill them!” I shouted. I probably should have muttered it, but hindsight clears the cloudiest eyes.

My soldiers’ swords leapt into action at last. The blades were strong, untethered, and invisible. Any one of those could overwhelm even the most talented warrior. Together, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

I didn’t wait around though. My Sword, Scorch, and Scintillation blade clove another mercenary from shoulder to hit, and then leapt to pierce another before the soldiers’ swords arrived.

It missed the second mercenary. I was having troubles focusing, what with the ground swaying so violently.

Sword Storm III

I’d not used overwhelming force to end Dave like I had the Mushroom King, and it was time to correct that mistake.

I created the new sword right beside the warlock, and struck in the same moment.

Turns out there was a reason I’d been holding back.

Light flared. A star, as bright as my namesake appeared before Dave. My swords vanished. My lights winked out. My fires were smothered. The warmth of regeneration cooled. The star winked out.

The warlock’s own spells remained.

That wasn’t fair.

Magic Swords III

I cast the new spell experimentally.

Four more swords stood at the ready. Three above mercenaries, one above Dave.

They stayed. His spell had been a one time thing.

Dave’s eyes widened just as my mouth began to open to give the order to strike. His head spun, literally spun a full 360◦ and then he vanished beneath a black... something.

“Kill them.” My sword scraped along the substance cloaking him. It wailed like glass. Obsidian. Half the remaining mercenaries died. The other half came close enough to strike at me. None were running.

Something wrapped around my face as they struck. Black, weightless, as dark as the Shadowmaster’s own darkness. I’d have been blinded if not for my ring.

Fast Teleport

I reappeared behind Dave. I did not want to be hit by those swords.

The shadow didn’t come with me.

This close to his obsidian shell, the light from my face illuminated Dave’s own, staring back at me. His body was still facing the opposite direction. He’d appeared somewhat affable before, but now he was like a shrivelled owl carcass preserved in a corrupted egg.

Disturbing, to say the least.

It wasn’t half as disturbing as the next instant, when the shell suddenly unfolded and leapt at me, wrapping me in its embrace.

It was a unique kind of torment, and given what I’d experienced in the dungeon, that was saying something.

My ribs cracked, my skin split where my blood and fat had no room to flow, my bones all bruised at once—which I could see—my spine cracked as I lost nearly half an inch of height, my shoulders and elbows speared my side with nowhere left to go. It was a wonder I hadn’t passed out from the pressure alone.

I tried not to cheer, but victory soared in my heart nevertheless.

Clothes’ Hanger

Safe Teleport II

I reappeared fifteen feet behind myself, next to the stack of candles. The floor was still lurching, and my legs were too weak to save myself. I coiled into the ground like a dropped rope.

That also hurt. I didn’t think there was a bone I hadn’t broken.

Greater Heal IIII

Greater Heal III

Greater Heal II

Greater Heal

The mercenaries were staring at Dave’s body. Or, they were when I reappeared, but the flash of my light got them to focus on me instead.

Wonderful, couldn’t they see I was busy bleeding?

“Kkkrr...” I tried to speak to order my swords to kill them as well, but my jaw wasn’t working. Dislocated. Dislocated somewhere into the roof of my mouth. Stupid literallist swords. I’d meant kill all of them the first time. Obviously.

Magic Swords II

It was a wonder I’d only lost the one spell so far. Someone out there care about me. Wish they’d cared enough to stop my teeth trying to interlace with my other teeth.

I guess I’d take what I could get.

With the floor still bucking up and down like a stallion on a catboat during an earthquake it was hard to aim the swords. Only one hit, but it hit the king of the faeries right between the eyes, killing her instantly.

Now they looked nervous. Generals worldwide would have killed to have soldiers with their courage.

The man whose trousers I had stolen lowered his sword a fraction, “Look, let’s call it even, eh? We’ll take the warlock’s things and you’ll never see us again.”

I was healing at a rate of nearly a week’s worth of healing in a minute, but a week in which I didn’t sleep or eat or drink throughout. And it had only been 30 seconds.

“Lrrrrbv..”

Trouserslost edged toward the body of the warlock. I flung the body of the king of the faeries at him.

He cursed and leapt back, “Alright, alright, we’ll go. Have you no sense of the profane?”

I made my face glow brighter until he could see my raised eyebrow. He worked for the warlocks. We were in the largest dungeon on earth. The source of the mosaic which profaned the relationship of life and death itself.

Some of my thoughts must have carried into my expression because he sighed, deep and weary, “We all have our reasons,” he murmured.

They left.