Dawn.

My eyes snapped open. My sense of that invisible threshold had increased to the point where not only was I aware of the rising of the sun, it also woke me.

Will-o’-Wisp

I forced open the door to the hob room, pulled it shut again, and forced open the door to the footstep room instead. It was easy to get turned around here.

I hurried through the chamber, invisible footsteps chasing after me, through the hallway beyond, and into the room with spikes scattered around the floor.

It would have to do. I hurried over to one corner to wrap up a spot of urgent business.

Eliminate

The spell vanished from my book.

Thankfully, it had still worked and I was able to continue walking at a much more sedate pace back to my room.

It was unfortunate, but I’d used the lesser form of the spell for precisely this eventuality. The worse part was not the loss of the spell itself, but the fact that I’d have to waste the morrow recording a copy of EliminateII. More delays.

Nothing I could do about it. Feel the pain while moving on.

It took me another 5 or so minutes to return my room. Once their I broke my fast and drank from my waterskin. The skins were running low. I’d have to take care of that today.

I shut the fish cask and placed my journal and wax on top of it where I’d able to access them easily and quickly. Then I drew my sword in a double hand stance.

I swung it around a few times, getting the feel of it. I only had a little training with a staff, and even less than a sword. The principle was roughly the same, however. Hit the other guy with as much leverage as possible. My strength would make up for what I lacked in skill. At least I hoped it would.

I started swing the sword around, going through the motions, practicing imaginary blocks and strikes, stepping backward and forward, lunging and parrying. I dashed to the far side of the room, then spun around in a circle holding the sword at arm’s length. I danced back to the cask, ducked low with a sweep, and then jumped high for an over hand strike. I stabbed at the air as high as I could reach and even threw the sword as far as possible several times, running over to retrieve it.

All the while I was recording.

The lights went out. I was ready for that. With the darkness came whispers. Screeching, cloying, begging, demanding.

Lightning Cascade

Those I hadn’t expected. My concentration shattered. Another mark against dark magic. How was anyone supposed to get anything done with the voices in their head? It would drive you insane.

I shook myself, rolled my shoulders, and raised my sword up once more. I’d lost an hour, but only an hour. Spells could only be recorded once per day, but on the other hand, they could be recorded once per day. I still had my opportunity. Interruptions didn’t waste the attempt. It was annoying, but my day was normally too long as it was. Besides, I’d had an idea brought about by the loss of light.

I raised my sword and began recording.

Marshlight

Once more I danced with my blade. This time, two lights joined me, dim, but bright enough for my demonic eyes to see by. Again I pushed myself to the limit, this time with my concentration split between controlling both will-o’-wisps and sword, dashing and diving and weaving all around.

Magic Sword: An invisible blade dances and strikes with the base force of 484 lbs over the course of an hour. Two lights swirl about it, rising into existence just before the blade appears for the first time and dying an hour after it vanishes. All move independently following the whims of their master.

Those ticks wouldn’t know what hit them. Combining disparate spells in this manner was an old trick, but the practice of which was generally discouraged. It allowed for mages to garner far larger, more versatile pool of spells at a much faster rate, but there was a drawback to every blessing, just as their was a benefit to every curse.

I’d given myself another lightspell, and a new weapon, true, but the weapon could never properly be used stealthy, as it it would always be announced by my will-o’-wisps. Thus, it was considered good practice to keeps spells pure and clean.

But the standards had not been made by mages limited to a dozen or so spells by the forces of dark magic. Nor were most mages on such a pressing time limit. Patience was all well and good when it was warranted, but here it could get me killed. I only had so much food, and my water supply was running low.

I hefted my sword and spell book. I’d be changing that. Immediately, while light and confidence lasted.

I took one last pull from my waterskin, and began picking my way back to the cell where the warlocks had imprisoned me.

***

The ticks had yet to leave my stream. I wasn’t sure if they could at this point. Both were now bloated, swollen so large their rubbery flesh pressed against ceiling, floor, and wall. The bodies had all be reduced to shrivelled husks.

I was standing around the corner, peeking in at them. My lights hovered between us, a fact the ticks seemed keenly aware of.

Why could all these creatures from the caverns see light? I’d seen cave dwelling animals before, salamanders, fish, bats. All of them blind, or nearly so. So were the monsters I found here inhabitants of the dungeon itself, or had they all been brought here from the surface?

I remember the slurping sounds from the first tick last time I’d been to my stream. Even the warlocks wouldn’t tolerate such creatures to wander freely.

Perhaps, then, the caverns themselves were lit by some source. That would be a relief.

I jumped around the corridor, fingers ready against my spells.

“Boo!”

The ticks started, and tried to twist towards me. The lead tick – the smaller of the two – even went so far as to lunge at me. It was like watching a water droplet try to escape a pond. Its heads lunged forward, stopped, and snapped back, ripples spreading across its bloated body. I’d made my earlier observation half in jest, but it now appeared they had actually managed to completely wedge themselves in the corridor.

I still didn’t dare approach. Their bodies were malleable enough that the lunge had moved its head several feet. But I didn’t need to.

Magic Sword

It was almost anti-climatic. Creatures which had blocked my passage for days fell in seconds to my invisible sword. Blood – black, red, yellow and grey – erupted from sudden wounds along their bodies. It poured from their abdomens in a torrent. The stream beneath them turned dark as the creatures writhed in agony.

I kept most of my attacks focused on their heads and legs. I doubted they had much in the way of vital organs stored in those enormous sacks, and deflating them too much might merely allow the ticks to actually attack me.

A blade which your opponent couldn’t see, and one which you didn’t need to risk wielding was a powerful thing, even without my strength behind it. Beheading the ticks became trivial. They couldn’t see to twist away from my blows, and I didn’t need to risk an engagement near their biting jaws and flailing legs.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

With luck my Magic Sword would work as well against human foes. And warlocks.

With even more luck I’d never need to test it.

The heads fell to the ground and the ticks died. Neither their heads nor bodies knew it for several seconds, but die they did. Their thrashing slowed, then stilled. Their remaining legs collapsed under them and their abdomens began to slowly deflate.

Thankfully the stream was wide and their was still room upstream of the ticks on this side. I filled skins before the torrent of blood and bile overwhelmed the stream. Hopefully I’d be able to develop some sort of corpse removal spell at some point. The dungeon was turning into a charnel house. I couldn’t just eat every corpse I came across. I was still surprised I’d survived eating the first one.

Once my waterskins were full I hurried back to my room. I hadn’t thought much beyond killing the ticks and getting water, but now that I had a magical sword available to me for nearly another hour, ideas were beginning to flood my mind. I wasn’t about to risk fighting the other frogs. I doubted a single sword blow would fell them, and even if I got lucky, there was four of them, and they could jump far faster than the invisible blade could fly.

If I myself were invisible myself it might be a different story, but even then their panicked hopping would be enough to kill anything smaller than an ox.

Instead, I could take advantage of the opportunities a temporary blade I wasn’t concerned about preserving offered me. I had a shovel, saw, and axe all in one here. Plus it might be able to trip traps if I sent it before me, sparing myself the risk. I should have thought of it before- some sort of homunculus to take my place in the risks of exploring the dungeon. I’d add it to the ever growing list of spells I needed to record.

Once back in my room I oriented myself with the orcneas’s room. Then, I sent my magic sword to wailing away on the north wall. With my added strength behind the strikes it didn’t take long to carve a large, deep, and unmistakable ‘X’ into the wall. Hopefully I’d be able to recognize it even if the lights went out.

I moved into the room where I’d first met the ruby beetle and did the same to the north wall there. I wondered if the Mushroom-King could hear me on the other side of his wall. It created quite a racket, but he didn’t lower it so I continued into the room filled with statues.

I put the next one right between the path to the wailing room and the doorway I’d never opened. Until I had a reason to, I wasn’t going to bother. The doorways here had caused me more trouble than the monsters.

It took me three tries until I was confident I’d kept the angles straight after crawling through the secret passage, but I also put an X in the room with the large pool of water. I was careful to avoid allowing my gaze to move beyond the archway where the demon mirror lay. Unfortunately, that did turn out to be the north-most passage, but for the time being I had other options.

North of the statuary room was the wailing room. The northern wall was directly opposite the passage which had nearly crushed me. I marked it with an X.

The room had an exit set in the northern wall, which eventually led to the warlock’s altar if I remembered correctly. The other passage led to the west through where the teleport trap had been, but the passage beyond twisted a number of times, making it very possible that it too headed north.

By my estimation I’d been drifting slowly east, and the orcneas had said to go north, not north-east, so I decided upon the west passage for now to balance things out.

The passage turned to the right. I marked the far wall to keep my orientation. As I finalized my ‘X’ I began to make out a new sound over the din of scraping rock. Squealing. Squeaking. Like an army of rats. Thousands of them wouldn’t be so loud. The sounds was coming from everywhere at once. If I was unable to pinpoint its source, moving forward was as safe as retreating.

The corridor turned right once more, then left, ending abruptly against the south end of the room with spikes on the floor. The safe spike room.

My cluster of lights went before me, while my magic sword hovered above my head, ready to defend my from either side. As the marsh lights spilled out into the safe spike room they split apart and multiplied, turning into a winking glimmering sea at the far end the room.

Reflections.

Reflections of dozens of eyes.

I recoiled and brought both my mundane and magical sword in front of me. The squeaking and squealing intensified at my sudden motion. Without a doubt they were its source. The sea of eyes roiled as the creatures startled from the sudden light. It was too weak to properly illuminate them, even as the will-o’-wisps moved directly above them, but I could make out their forms.

Small scurrying figures, perhaps two feet in length with long tails dragging behind them. They were covered in a thick fur, but it was too dark to make out the colour. Not disturbing on their own, but the way they scampered and surged, the way they clambered over one another, and in such numbers, my my stomach churn.

Miniature rats, going by the standard of everything else in the dungeon. A whole pack of them.

This was unfortunately the situation where my magic sword was at its least useful. If I attacked them I couldn’t guaranteed I would kill them all before I was overwhelmed. Even a single bite could be deadly. Normal rats were bad enough. Who knew what kind of diseases a dark magic dungeon rat carried?

I would probably win if I attacked them. Their constant motion made it hard to tell, but I could only make out a dozen or so beyond the north doorway. They also appeared to be afraid of me and my light. Perhaps I’d startled them. Perhaps the warlocks had hunted them for spo...

Warlocks.

As if the twisted whispering in my ears had read my thoughts (and perhaps they had) they spoke in synchrony with my thoughts.

Lightning Cascade.

If any spell was designed for dealing with a pack of rodents, this was it. I didn’t truly know what it did, but the name alone filled me with confidence that it would be spectacular.

How important was it to me to continue this path? I could still return to the room with the dark altar, or travel beyond the demon mirror instead. That was just the paths I knew. There were plenty of doors I’d ever opened. Which was greater? The risks of traps, or the risk of dark magic?

Dark magic had yet to live up to its reputation, whereas three of the four traps had nearly killed me.

I didn’t want those rats creeping after me, or devouring me while I slept.

I backed up, recalling one of my jack-o’-lanterns as I did so. The lantern drifted back down the corridor, past the ‘X’ I’d carved there, until it was almost out of sight. My fingers were already bookmarked throughout my spellbook.

At some point I’d gone from wondering if I was going to cast the spell, to preparing to cast it. There had been no conscious thought leading from the one to the other. Normally I’d call that decisive. In the context of dark magic, it worried me. But there was no time for hesitation, the rats would recover any second.

Lightning Cascade

It moved almost like a cylinder, striking down, rolling forward, catching against the ground, falling, and striking down anew. An endless wave, bright as the sun, tumbling over itself again and again and again.

I triggered my other spells, barely able to seem my destination through the corner of my eye. The rest of my vision was taken up with glowing spots of fire.

Transport

Safe TeleportII

Deafening booms still rocked the corridor once I arrived. My feet went out from under me. I landed on a heap atop my gear, thankfully without the further injury. Scorching air rushed overhead so fast it formed a howling gale.

I desperately burrowed under my armour hoping the thick leather would protect me. I fumbled for my waterskins and emptied two of them in desperation on top of the pile, soaking them through. My shirt too I soaked through, draping it over my face and ears. I was pretty sure I had to be careful not to put water directly on my skin, but I couldn’t remember why. Couldn’t think straight.

Steam maybe?

I couldn’t see. Lightning danced in front of my eyes. My ears were ringing. The only sound was the ringing and the beating of my heart in my ears. My back was on fire, burnt between the gaps in my armour. I could barely breathe. My impromptu cloth was hot against my face. I blindly found another water skin and emptied it over my back and face.

Eventually, the ground stopped shaking. My clothes began to cool. The air became breathable. I wasn’t going to try my sword or dagger for a while, nor was I going to risk blindly searching though my gear for them.

I sat. The stone all around me was hot. Higher up on the walls it was still too hot to touch. My sense of life was dimmed. Whatever mosses and fungi had dwelled between the stones of the walls and floor were gone. Even some of the roots beyond had shrivelled.

I was shaking. I was nearly a hundred feet from where I’d summoned the lightning and it had almost killed me. So this was dark magic.

Random. Unpredictable. Power without reason.

The Ice Cloak had been tame by comparison. Even the warlock’s crushing spell hadn’t been a cent as devastating. The only thing stopping them from ruling the world was the inherently chaotic nature of their magic.

And now I knew why they wanted to capture a mage.