Lesser Heal II. Lesser Heal III. Lesser Heal V. Lesser Heal VI. Heal. Heal III. Heal IIII. I cast the spells as we walked. A pair of will-o’-wisps led the way as our only illumination. Gunhild was silent beside me. I’d explained what I could of spell crafting to her, and she had taken the “no distractions” to heart.

“Amber Cloud.”

Whispers grasped at my attention where Gunhild had failed, but they found no purchase. I let them yammer, acknowledging them without abandoning my task. And how could I deny such a miracle? The steps did not tire me. Instead, each step made me grow stronger. My chest, sore from enthusiastic farewells, loosened with every stride, the memory of pain forgotten. The twin injuries still remained, but I could sense the change.

Heal V: The caster’s body heals 710 hours’ worth of injuries over the course of an hour.

Gunhild had proved her worth almost instantly, scouting ahead to make sure the path was clear while I was otherwise occupied. It would be an inauspicious start to stumble over a loose stone or be taken completely by surprise by a horde of goblins waiting round the corner on our descent.

In her hands was our advantage on this floor. Two maps, both the one of the entire dungeon, and the map I’d been promised upon first striking our bargain. The second map, though less complete, showed me the paths they had followed; which routes were free from the locks and traps plaguing the rest of the dungeon.

The door directly at the bottom of the stairs was one such path. One we should be able to go through with little difficulty. Beyond it lay only two rooms and a hundred or so feet of hallways between us and the stairs we sought.

Said door came into sight long before I’d finished recording my spell. The stairs were not so long as to take the full hour of recording, even moving as cautiously as I was.

The room beyond the door was also visible, presumably left so by Brace’s party. Gunhild was not so foolish as to enter without my support, willing instead to skirt the edges while I sat on a higher step next to my fishbox to finish my spell.

The end of my recording announced itself with the extinguishing of my will-o’-wisps. I announced it had gone without difficulties and then joined Gunhild by the door.

“See anything in there?”

“No movement. Perhaps a weapons’ rack of some kind. And a chest? It looks to be a treasury or armoury.”

Will-o’-WispII

The renewed will-o’-wisps were brighter than the old. I moved them closer to the doorway to take a look.

Sure enough, I could spot the weapon rack next to a brazier of some kind as well as a chest and some dark lumps scattered about the room.

There was also movement near the door.

“Ware!”

I leapt back, spellbook flipping and cutlass raised. Gunhild stumbled and looked about wildly, more stunned than alert.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“The room is mine, Oswic. Find another path to your destination,” a woman’s voice. Melodious and high, sweet as a song bird’s.

Fireball II

I cast the spell on purpose, though not without some trepidation. The sudden light and heat might convince whoever had spoken to attack, but I needed to see her clearly. If only I had the time to improve the strength of my jack-o’-lanterns instead.

“Who are you that knows my name while I don’t know yours? I’ve not had pleasant experiences with any who hold that particular advantage over me.”

It was a man who replied this time. I craned my neck straining to see as far around the corner as I could without entering the room, but both speakers were hidden to me, “That is of no concern to me. Move along, or I shall begin speaking the truth. Both yours and Gunhild’s.”

I exchanged a glance with Gunhild. She had gone pale.

“Perhaps we should do as they say,” she whispered, “I have... things I do not wish to talk about it. Not yet. Not here. Not now.”

I wasn’t feeling too easy myself. I had secrets and secret vows. Embarrassments I’d rather not surface. However, none of them would cause me to flee from our only sure path to freedom. Perhaps there was a secret damning enough to destroy our burgeoning relationship, but even then, better we take the chance and overcome it while moving closer to victory. Right?

What was she hiding? Did I want to know?

“Do I have to be worried?”

Gunhild hesitated a moment, then shook her head, “You are safe. I fear instead the secret not coming from my own lips at my chosen time. It could shatter our trust in the mouth of another.”

What kind of secret was that? Still, I had the choice to trust her or not. And if I couldn’t trust her, I shouldn’t be journeying with her in the first place.

I called out to those waiting in the room beyond, “May we bargain for passage? Our destination is paramount. Not just for us but all who dwell this side of the warlocks’ rift.”

A third person spoke, another man. “Swear you will end the rift. Swear on the power you hold highest.”

“I so swear that it is in my nature to overcome. To seek the highest point in the depths where it dwells. To wrestle order from chaos and plunge back into chaos when order has failed.”

A fourth voice, a woman’s replied, “Your vow is insufficient, Oswic. Nature demands constant change. Given necessity, you too will change. Order is to be abandoned when it no longer serves, and yet, in this, order must serve regardless.”

“Then I swear on my honour. The rift shall fall.”

A fifth, male, “Even should the consequences become too great? Even should the benefits dim into nothing?”

Even if I could lie to the entity, I couldn’t lie. Times came where oaths needed to be ended, but making an oath you had no intention to keep corroded your spirit. It made you feckless and mean. Broken vows made for broken men. And a broken man could not overcome this dungeon.

“No. Should I learn my path is corrupt, or that it would do nothing to save us, that it would strengthen the power of the warlocks, or an infinitude of other evils, I will abandon it. I cannot promise not to change.”

“Then your word is worthless,” a woman said.

“I can promise to follow the path I think best for us all.”

“Until such moment we are revealed as an ill greater than that of the warlocks,” man, “and do not think to weasel away with actions done ‘for our own good’. You shall not pass.”

“Is there no other bargain to be struck?”

“Give us your minds. Every memory. Every thought. Every moment. Every desire. Every fear. Every shame. Give until there is nothing left. Then you may pass,” woman.

I was beginning to suspect there was not as many people hidden around the doorway as they’d have us believe. That only made whatever dwelled there all the more dangerous.

“We will find another passage.”

“Do not return,” said a ninth voice, this one male, “your secrets will be revealed immediately. There will be no time for bargains.”