Dawn came silently this time.
I’d slept on the balcony on the first floor. I still didn’t have a way back, and didn’t want to explore back without access to my full suite of spells. Unfortunately I’d been needing them for finding Erin’s brother. I had my waterskins, but I’d be going without food for some time.
I drank and took care of business. I wanted to duplicate my EliminateII spell and remake my Transport spell – and make a time travel spell for that matter – but I needed those torches and again I’d made a deal.
Will-o’-Wisp
I sent the lights out before me as I headed back towards Brace and Erin’s band of would be heroes. I’d have to hide them before Erin saw them. Fortunately the light of their torches almost entirely drowned out their own.
The staircase was as long as it had been the previous two times, but I was moving with much more confidence now as I’d yet failed to set off any traps. In less than fifteen minutes I was back in the room of hostile and scared faces.
“Who’s coming with me?” I asked, “We’ll probably need at least four people to lift the portcullis.”
“We all are,” said one of the men. He’d introduced himself as Stovepipe and then refused to elaborate. He also had a strange, high-pitched voice like the other one had had. Were they all eunuchs? It might explain why they were travelling with two young women. “We don’t trust you splitting off members of our party.”
I didn’t complain. The more the merrier as far as I was concerned. It meant I was at less risk of revealing my supernatural strength to them, and that I’d need to use less spells to defend myself from threats. It also meant more eyes looking for traps.
I sent my will-o’-wisps careening up to hide on the first floor while they gathered their things. No sense scaring Erin again. Instead, I accepted a bundle of torches, one of them lit. Several minutes later we were off, myself and Brace leading the way, and Erin and another of the men taking up the rear.
It was another ten minutes before we arrived back at the portcullis. Moving with ten was far slower than on my own. We moved at the speed of the slowest person, and that person changed with every step as one person stumbled, slowed, stuttered, or stopped to look at something. It was kind of nice. Anything which reduced the amount of time I spent staring into the darkness at the end of the day was a plus in my books.
It couldn’t have been the first time they saw the mosaic, but as it came into view I could see several of the men pale. Erin flat our refused to look at it.
“Monsters.” That was another of the men. Also high pitched. The eunuch angle was looking more and more likely.
They didn’t trust me to help them lift the portcullis, so while six of the men worked I tugged free my hammer and chisel.
“If you lot don’t mind making a bit of noise I’ll lend you these while I’m gon-”
*WHAP WHAP WHAP*
Two of the men working at the door had hammers of their own, and were driving spike into the stone archway for the raised portcullis to rest on.
“Well then,” I pressed the hammer and chisel into Stovepipe’s hands, “You know what to do.”
He nodded, “It’s a sick thing the warlocks have done here. Why? Why would anyone create this?”
I’d been thinking about that while I’d waited for sunrise. It made very little to create a perversion at such a scale for no purpose, and I couldn’t imagine anyone actually enjoyed looking at the thing. Even truly twisted men would be turned off by at least half of the scenes depicted, if for no reason other than that a single mind couldn’t fit that many blasphemies.
I moved closer to Stovepipe and lowered my voice, with a significant glance in Erin’s direction, “Dark magic. It’s everywhere down here. Perverts the air, twists the natural order of things. This is probably an attempted anchor point of sorts. A way to purposefully warp things. I can’t say for certain if it works, or if destroying it will eliminate the dark magic in the air, but it can’t hurt. For the sake of decency if nothing else.”
Stovepipe put a hand on my shoulder, “We’ll see what we can do,” he tilted his head toward the room, “Let’s see how they’re getting on.”
The work crew had moved into the mosaic room and started working on a second portcullis there. From the looks of the six men struggling under the load, I wouldn’t have been able to lift that one either. At least, not without a spell. If I used my magic sword right I could probably effectively double my strength in certain situations.
I felt unclean just walking on the mosaic, but even besides it, the room was strange. The walls on two sides had several long square holes set into them, which acted as windows of a sort. They were narrow enough and deep enough that the light from our torches barely filtered through, but with my enhanced sight I was still able to make out the areas beyond.
Due to the length of the holes I wasn’t able to examine much more than directly ahead, but from what I could see the holes directly across from the initial portcullis all came out into a corridor of sorts. Assuming every window was showing me the same corridor, the corridor was at least 40 feet in length, probably more.
There were more holes set in the wall bearing the second portcullis. The portcullis clearly led into another corridor, but the holes instead appeared to show a room running parallel to the portal. From what little I could see the room appeared empty, and no sounds came from it. Beyond immediately finding Eric, that could only be a good thing. I didn’t fancy another encounter with some giant frogs.
The men finished their work with the second portcullis and moved over to examining the door on the opposite side of the room. Looking for traps I presumed. I’d been too preoccupied with scouting the room beneath them.
Brace had also moved over to stand beside me sometime in the interim.
“See anything?”
I shook my head, “I’ll see if I can head into the room on the other side of this wall to begin with, but it appears empty. For better or worse.”
She nodded, “We would have heard him by now if he was that close. It’s best these first rooms are empty,” she pointed over to the men examining the door, “we’ll be exploring up that way while you’re heading the other way. We’ll meet back here or in the room you first found us once we’ve gone as far as we can for the day.”
She glanced down at the floor and grimaced, “Some of us might stay behind to deal with this if we have time.”
And if they didn’t I might smash it to smithereens with my sword when they weren’t looking.
I pulled away from the hole, “I guess I’ll be off then. Good fortune to you.”
Her face softened briefly, “Good luck to you as well.”
I couldn’t send the light of my torch running ahead of me – at least, not yet – but it gave off so much more light than my will-o’-wisps that I didn’t need to. Several steps down the corridor and already the whole thing was lit.
It was short (obviously, given that the torch lit the whole thing) and quickly ended in a dead end. However to my left was a side passage which I could only assume led into the room I’d been observing through the holes. And sure enough, the wall was set with a sunken archway with the room directly beyond. A quick glance back through the holes into the mosaic room confirmed it.
Unfortunately, the room was a dead end. The only thing of note in it besides the holes was a message scrawled on the wall opposite them. The king of serpents has marked this passage. Whatever that meant. It might not mean anything. Words void of meaning were what warlocks lived for. Literally. Trying to understand anything might simply drive me insane.
I gave the room a once over just to be sure, but nothing new revealed itself. I returned to the others just as they were opening the door. It was stuck in its frame (of course), but not nearly as bad as some of the others. On the second charge one of the men managed to knock it opening, stumbling through the exit.
Disaster struck.
“Goblins!”
That had come from the man who’d fallen into the room. He was still struggling to his feet as he’d called it, which was impressively selfless. Even if I’d wanted to put the safety of the others above my own, I doubted I’d have the presence of mind.
The others were still scrambling for weapons when the first cries of the (presumably) goblins started echoing around us.
I ran for the doorway, arriving just in time to see Brace and another one of the men pull the third man back through the door. The goblins were right on his heels.
I’d never seen a goblin before, but they were exactly what I expected. Small, horrible, twisted men, of the sort found all across the mosaic. Their skin, clothing, and beards were all the same greyish-brown colour, making it impossible to see where one ended and the other began. Their weapons were crude and wicked. Made from bronze, though so black it was more patina than metal.
At our ten versus roughly a dozen, I fancied our odds against the smaller creatures. It might not be pretty, but we were almost guaranteed to win. Part of my brain whispered to me (wholly free from magical influences) to let the others fight without my assistance. I’d be on a timer the moment I started using my spells, and Erin would probably freak out besides.
Another part of me felt like I should want to help, but I wasn’t sure why. I barely knew these people. Not that’d I’d neglect my duty. Even as I had the thoughts I was moving into position beside Erin, ready to stand in at a moment’s notice.
“Form up!” called Stovepipe, “Semi-circle behind Brace and Oscar. Catch anyone who slips through.”
Brace and Oscar (apparently) were holding the doorway. There wasn’t enough room for all of us in the semi-circle, but I found myself as one of the members after we all finished shuffling around. That was fine. From what I saw I knew how to use my sword as well as any of them, and I was better protected besides.
Even though we had a choke-point, the goblins were small enough to assault the doorway in pairs. The first goblin ducked under Oscar’s wild swing and aimed up with a twist, stabbing him in the armpit. The sword dropped form Oscar’s hands almost immediately, but he managed to stay standing as he stumbled back, left hand clamped to the wound. I was closest. I stepped forward to fill his place as Stovepipe ran to see to him.
Brace had fared better against the second goblin, though that wasn’t saying much. Her plate’s gorget had deflected an attack aimed at her throat into her face and she was bleeding heavily. She replied with a heavy stroke, but the pain must have gotten to her because she stumbled and swung into me rather than the goblin. Her sword bounced off my armour and tumbled from her grasp.
The goblin took advantage of her stumble and got her across the brow. He’d missed her eyes, but with the amount of blood pouring from her forehead I doubted she could see either way.
My goblin tried the same ducking under manuever it had on Oscar, but I was ready for it. I stepped back as I swung. My sword cleaved straight through his raised arm and buried itself in his side. He fell back with a howl and collapsed to the floor. Even before he finished dying one of his companions darted past, avoiding my backswing as I tugged my sword free, and began attacking someone in the back line. I could only hope they had my back, because a third goblin had also rushed forward to meet with me.
Brace had been replaced by another of the men I didn’t know and he was wailing away on the goblin, keeping it on the back foot. Despite his success, it was unfortunate Brace had been taken out so early. She had by far the best armour of anyone here. All of us, goblins included, were wearing simple gambesons and leather, whereas Brace had somehow managed to acquire a full set of plate.
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My goblin tried to parry my swing with clever little trick which might have worked against an ordinary man, but my extra strength deflected both our swords back, tearing off his ear and a good portion of his face in the bargain. I managed to keep my cool, but only barely. I’d been trained with a sword, but not in combat. Even after killing those mercenaries I... That had been the dark altars influence hadn’t it? That bloodlust hadn’t been-
Later. I needed to press my advantage. The goblin side stepped my second attack and followed up with one of his own, a lunge against my left leg which drew a red line down its entire length. From the sound the impact made another man might have lost his leg. The goblin’s arm was trembling with the reverberation.
What was I doing? I couldn’t afford these risks, even if I lost Erin’s favour. I simply wasn’t skilled or prepared enough, and from the looks of it, neither was my party.
I tore the goblin’s throat out with BiteII and used PushIII to send his companion flying back into the others. The force didn’t let up once he hit them, of course, causing them to pile up behind him. While they were still tangled I retrieved my spellbook and summoned my Magic Sword. I felt the spell vanish as I did so, so I immediately started recording, leaping forward with my mortal sword to join the fray as my magical one smote the goblins where they lay.
“Get back!” I shouted, “Close the door and leave me to it for at least two hours. Don’t open the door unless I knock!”
I couldn’t afford to check if they had obeyed. I was too busy recording myself commanding a pair of swords whilst fighting a horde of goblins.
It wasn’t much of a fight.
The goblins were small enough, and my sword strong enough, that it could actually lift them through the air, or cut them in half if they were unlucky. Skill didn’t even matter here, on my part or theirs. There was only so much you could do against an invisible blade, especially one striking with the force of a bear. It was trivial to line up my blade to cleave through their necks or line up the point with their hearts and punch through both armour and rib cage. They were all dead in seconds.
Sounds of combat rang out behind me for far longer than I would have liked, but I ignored them. I couldn’t afford to lose my spell.
Naturally, that was when the whispers started. A susurration as loud as thunder, a scream as soft as falling rain. Promises of dreams unkept and a reality made of lies. By the time the swirling voices faded I’d forgotten I was doing anything at all.
Hasting Stasis
There was a pressure there, I realized. More than just the confusion at trying to decipher that nonsense. Each spell added to it. It was the first time I’d noticed. What was more, I could feel the new spell, pushing into my mind, waiting to be remembered. I could just... leave it there. Let it drift away if I wanted to.
I held onto the spell. The goblins had been a wake up call. My leg was still bleeding slightly from the wound. Oscar was probably dead. Brace might die of an infection. I might die of an infection if I couldn’t figure out how to get back to my poultice. I needed whatever help I could get, even if I had misgivings about them. The warlocks had proven themselves immeasurably corrupt, but that didn’t mean their magic was. (It did heavily imply it, but I did my best to push away those doubts.)
I’d lost my recording, but the magic sword remained. It had only been about fifteen minutes. The door was shut behind me, and the sounds of fighting had faded. I’d theoretically bought myself two hours when I’d called back to the others. I was going to use it.
I swung my magic sword around opposite my mortal one for as long as it would last. I continued on with the mortal sword for the rest of the hour, unmarked by interruptions. At the last moment I cast Marshlight, bring the swirling lights to bear in a final flourish of glory.
Magic Swords: Two invisible blade dance and strike with the base force of 484 lbs. One for 45 minutes, the other for 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. Two more lights join in at the end of the first hour, and end an hour after the first lights fade, providing 3 hours of light total. All move independently following the whims of their master.
It was a mess of a spell, but it would more than do. The one sword had been easily enough to slay a band of goblins. With two of them I might even be able to deal with those frogs should it become necessary.
My bevy of lights revealed that this room had probably been the goblins’ lair. A small mound of treasure was heaped in the centre. The wall to my left also bore the text “It is awake”, but that was par for the course at this point.
I still theoretically had well over half an hour left before the others presumed me dead and came to check on me. More than enough time to take the treasure for myself. Maybe it seemed selfish, but they had been very clear that they didn’t trust me. As such, I didn’t trust them. And I didn’t need people I didn’t trust to have even more leverage over me. I went over to examine the treasure.
The goblins had gathered themselves quite the hoard. The first thing I noticed was that it glowed slightly, even when I hid my jack-o’-lanterns behind myself.
I poked through the mound carefully with my sword. Given how filthy the goblins had been, and how rusted their swords, I didn’t dare dig though it with my hands. Not unless I was very careful.
I pushed aside several scraps of leather and a pile of broken glass as well as several scatterings of coins. Beneath them lay a strange powder blue object, shaped like a handful of flickering flame. Its base was roughly tear drop shaped and its top had four curled points. It was translucent like quartz, but with the lustre of something like a sapphire or ruby. It was obviously the source of the light, perhaps two or three times brighter than a torch now that I had it uncovered. A frozen flame.
Cautiously, I removed a glove and reached my hand out to it. It was quite warm, hot even, but obviously the goblins had managed to store it here without the whole thing bursting into flame. I put back on my glove and snatched the flame with my hand. The heat quickly radiated through my glove, but didn’t burn me or crack the leather. As I brought it closer to my face to study I noticed that it had cooled significantly.
Without really thinking I pressed my bare cheek to it. It was warm, but not unpleasantly so. It was quite comforting even.
I transferred it with my belt pouch and wedged my bar of wax between the pages of my spell book so it wouldn’t melt. This would be immeasurably useful. Who had made such a thing? How had the goblins found it? It couldn’t be warlock work. It felt too pure. Too harmonious. Too right.
The next items of interest were three small vials, bound together by a net of sinew. Each was sealed with wax and had a wax seal on top. Each bore a separate pictograph stamped in the wax in the style of the magi. Health, Breath, and Ascension.
Potions.
Those I strapped to my belt. The seals appeared untampered and I doubted goblins could or would forge magi marks. I wasn’t exactly sure how they worked, as they wouldn’t have actually been made by a mage, at least not one using true magic, but anyone they trusted enough to give their marks could probably be trusted to make their potions in accordance with nature. You got a sense for these things.
I hoped.
Next was a magnifying glass (that went in the pouch) and beneath it an invitation to meet with some village elders addressed to one Eric Ó Briain. That went into my pouch as well. I was sure Erin’s crew would want to see it. The goblins had to have gotten it from somewhere. Hopefully from his confiscated possessions rather than his corpse, but either way it was a sign we were on the right floor.
Broken glass, scraps of leather, dried meat, a giant egg, a dirty handkerchief, stale bread, hardtack, all things I had little use for. Under other circumstances it might at least be the starts of a feast, but not from a goblin’s filthy pile.
There was also a skin full of a dark liquid which smelled like wine which I attached to my belt. I wouldn’t be drinking from it, but if I could wash it out thoroughly I could always do with more waterskins.
Underneath the wineskin I found a mangy fur hat next to a pair of candle clocks. I didn’t need a hat, but more wax and/or a source of light was always welcome. The wicks were stilled joined at the top, so I looped them over my belt and secured them. It was a guarantee they were going to break, but it was the best I could do given the circumstances.
The hat had been lying on top of a leather glove, and after a bit of digging I found its partner on the other side of the pile. They were clearly woman’s gloves like mine, and upon closer inspection, their makes was so similar that I was almost certain they were made by the same person. I couldn’t be sure, due to the fact that the hob had changed the size of my gloves, but they might have been the exact same size originally, and therefore made for the same person.
They were too small for me and, after a moment’s testing, of a non-magical nature, so I left them on the floor as well. With that in mind I went back and tested the hat, placing the filthy thing gingerly on my hair, but nothing happened.
The rest was a smattering of smaller materials. Gold, silver, and copper coins. A chunk of quartz filled with tiny black stars. Two runestones, one clearly druidic in nature, the other carved in the jagged style of the warlocks.
I had little use for currency, but the coins themselves might prove useful so I gathered what I could find. Quartz was always useful, whether or not the stars signalled a supernatural quality. Mindful of my magnifying glass, I wrapped the quartz in a few of the leather scraps before putting it in my pouch atop the coins.
The coins were heavy, I was pretty sure most people would find them too heavy, but unlike the frozen flame and magnifying glass they didn’t take up much space, and my extra strength could handle it.
That left the runestones. The warlock rune was clearly magical. Dark magic swirled about it with such force I could feel the disturbance in the air without touching it.
The druid stone on the other hand appeared entire inert. Just a simple rectangular slab carved with a single large rune on each face.
It wasn’t.
The moment I touched it, even with my gloves on, it felt like I’d been struck by lightning. My back arched and I keeled over stiffly to the floor where I’d been crouching. Power rushed through me, thrumming in sync with my heartbeat and the beat of the green core within me. It wasn’t painful, just overwhelming. Like the early stages of a limb falling asleep, or a powerfully involuntary stretch.
I felt like I was falling, rushing, and flying all at once. The core of my being, that place of gentle satisfaction deep within my abdomen swelled all at once, growing until it encompassed my entire being in a blinding flash of brilliant green.
It filled me utterly. The core was me. I was the core. It had filled me entirely, there was nowhere else to go, and yet the feeling continued to grow. The current running through me strengthened like a storm surge without end.
Even as it grew, even as the beating of my being filled my limbs so strongly I thought they would burst, or sprout leaves, or tear themselves from my body, my strength grew faster.
I could not stay the feeling, could not prevent its boundless growth, so I mastered it, almost without thinking. I leapt on the back of the bear and made him my steed.
I stood, thrumming with energy, as light pulsed through me and out into the world. I could sense the flora around me without concentrating. Green lines running out from me, running back into me. Down here it was simply moss and lichens, the occasional pool of algae, and what few roots had wormed their way this deep into the earth.
They were mine and I was their guardian, even more than before. It was as if I had become the vessel for a magical ocean, where every drop of seawater contained its entirety without diminishing the whole.
Normal sight returned to me. It had never left, but my strength was now firmly in control of the ever swelling sense of being within me. Instead of green lines and an endless of ocean of life I saw the dungeon and the bodies and the looted heap before me. I saw them both, dungeon and infinity both. Somehow one didn’t obscure the other.
While I was focusing on my sight, my hair floated before me. I’d gotten so used to it curling and dancing around me independent of the wind that I immediately knew something was different. Not off, different. For one thing, the locks themselves had separated. Silken wisps blew about me like a silk banner in the breeze, rather than angry clouds in a storm. And silk was an accurate word. The acid and the altar had left my hair patchy, jagged, and brittle, but now it was whole. It was still white, but even the nature of the whiteness had changed. The colour of moonbeams rather than a corpse.
I took off my left glove to feel it (the right still held the stone) and all thoughts of my hair left my mind.
My hand was restored. The thick, black, dog-like, nails were once more pink and clear and thin. My skin was no longer pale and waxy, but hale and smooth and brown. It faded rapidly as it dissipated up my sleeve which I tugged back to get a better look. Sure enough my skin (save for my hands) had all become a ton which, while still technically pale, I could only describe as fair. The delicate glow of a maiden, rather than the underbelly of a fish.
It was the same story tugging back the hem of my tunic and armour to look at my chest. What was more, the sinews and tendons no longer stood out. I’d filled back out, no longer taking on the appearance of a flayed man.
I ran one of my delicate new nails across my softened skin. The hard leathery feel from the blessing of the dwarves was gone. It tingled from the slightest breeze, as sensitive as a newborn’s and yet...
I pulled drew my dagger from my belt and ran the point across my skin, slowly increasing the pressure. My skin dimpled gently, as though it were a finger running across it rather than cold steel. The blessing remained.
I returned my dagger to my belt and stared at the runestone in wonder.
It had restored me.
It had more than restored me.
And yet at the same time it had left me who I was. My left leg still had the long gash clotted with blood. My right leg (upon tugging up my trousers) still was brown and woody from where the Mushroom-King had healed me, though even then it was soft and smooth and supply, skin and joints both. I could fully bend my knee for the first time in weeks.
Two treasures remained in the goblins’ hoard. The warlock rune and my very own flint and steel. Treasures I might have been ecstatic to find only moments ago, but they paled in comparison to this stone of the druids.
I feared to even release it, in case the changes reversed, but I had to know.
Breath held in anticipation, I put the stone into my pouch along with everything else.
Nothing.
Still, it had worked through my glove. I had to be sure. I removed the rune and placed it back in the goblins’ horde before stepping away.
Again, Nothing.
The power still swelled within me, my hands still remained human and whole. Tears sprung suddenly to the corners of my eyes. I was no longer a monster, a demon. I could leave the dungeon. I could walk among the townsfolk without seeing them flee in fear. I could-
The thought escaped me, but it didn’t matter.
I was human once more.