As it turned out, rubies did not burn. They didn’t even melt. At least not at any sort of reasonable temperatures. My Fireball III spell was twice the heat of the spells which had brought down the toad-dragon and the beetles treated it like it was only so much hot air. The light from the fire was more distracting to them.
Far more distracting.
The only saving grace of the entire operation was the fact that the light blinded the beetles, shielding both my approach and my retreat. It was that or my sneaking had been stealthy enough to entirely avoid their notice. I’d had a normal childhood. Hunted like anyone else. I wasn’t completely incompetent at moving quietly. My childhood instruction hadn’t included being stabbed in the chest with hot pokers while doing so, however, so I was still leaning towards the idea that the fireball had blinded them.
I returned back to the camp.
Conan still hadn’t arrived, which was fine by me. I still didn’t know what to do about the beetles. I could double down on the fireballs until they were hot enough to start my own personal volcano. Even the beetles probably wouldn’t survive that. The problem there was I might not survive it either in these close corridors.
An alternative was increasing the power of my push spell, but I didn’t have the strength to get that ball rolling.
I think healing was my best bet still.
I nearly slapped myself a few minutes later. I wasn’t alone here. I needed to start acting like it. I settled down to rest, my mind in quiet contemplation, staring at nothing, staring at the runes floating in my mind. I had a plan. Now I just needed to wait for sunrise.
***
Conan arrived during the night. Nobody sought to wake me. Apparently I looked like I needed the sleep. I’d have wanted to be woken, but I couldn’t blame them. I felt nearly as bad as I looked. My entirely green skin and clothing made the red wounds in my chest stand out all the more. I still hadn’t found new clothes to cover them. I probably looked like a dying tree.
I dreamed of trees too. Not dying ones. Forests. Saplings. All sprung from the soil at once, as if after a forest fire. Hungry grasping trees, branches stretching for the sky. Devouring the sunlight. An albatross flew overhead, swooping about me in dizzying circles, diving down at me, mocking me, clawing me, never once flapping its wings. Runes danced through the sky.
I slept poorly and woke with the sunrise. I took the time to drink and return upstairs for food. I didn’t want to risk losing out on the sunrise, but the others were still sleeping and I needed them.
Erin was awake by the time I returned though the others were still snoring. She was normally the first awake in Brace’s crew.
I motioned for her to join me over by the door to the hideout. We spoke softly in low tones, not wanting to disturb the others.
“You’ve looked like you had something to say since last night,” Erin began without preamble, “I take it isn’t an easy thing to say.”
I nodded, heart suddenly pounding. It shouldn’t have mattered that she was so beautiful. Beautiful even with the smoky mask about her eyes. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. I was afraid to hurt her. Like she was an ephemeral piece of art woven from mist and clouds. One wrong move and she’d blow apart, taking her beauty with her.
“I...” the word came out more of a whisper, inaudible even to myself. I cleared my throat and tried again, “I was hoping you could help me write a spell.”
Erin was suddenly very still. A grouse who thought it had been spotted. Her first instinct was to refuse, I could see it in her eyes. I didn’t try to convince her, nor retract my question. As hard as it was, I stood firm as the porcelain doll before me shook and threatened to shatter.
“I... yes I can do that,” she nodded to herself, “yes, I can do that. Yes.”
In that moment, a bit of that porcelain might have turned to marble. Not because she said yes. Fulfilling the requests of anyone who asked was just another way of hiding. Strength entered her because she thought about it. Thought about it and decided what she wanted.
I smiled at her, “Thank you. I’d appreciate it if you help me convince the others once they’re awake. The more the merrier.”
“Is time of the essence?”
I shrugged (By the rifts of the sea!), “Ah! Ow. It might be.”
I’d have thought I’d remembered to stop doing that by now.
Erin nodded once more, then a wicked grin took her, “I’ll wake them then.”
“We can probably wait another-”
She was already off, first making a straight line for where Brace slept peacefully on her side. Erin sunk a foot into her side, “Wake up! The Magi needs you.”
Only a beautiful woman could be persuasive in such a way. Even then, it was a close thing. Fionn was using his single eye to glare to great effect, and Stovepipe was muttering about throwing his lot in with the warlocks. Conan looked bemused, with Tadhg being the only one besides Erin wearing a wide grin.
Only Tadhg’s grin was focused on Erin. All other faces, grins and glares alike, were directed at me. The Magi needs you indeed.
I raised my hands defensively, “I’d like the record to show... nevermind, time is running out.”
I directed the group to a section of wall and got them all to push on it as one, making sure they kept it only at a level they could sustain for an hour. I didn’t add my own spell to the mix, as it was too short to make much of a difference in the long run. Instead, I waited and I recorded with wax and- whispers. Whisper filled the air, screaming, shouting, demanding:
Regenerating Form
I called for a break. I kept the spell, though I had mixed feelings about it interrupting my own spell creation. On the one hand, we’d just lost an hour of work and strength, and sunrise could be rapidly approaching. On the other hand, it sounded exactly like what I needed.
“We’ve still got four minutes to go,” Cillian said, releasing the wall with a frown, “Something happen?”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
I shook my head, though not in negation, “Bad luck, or bad timing. The warlocks’ dark magic stopped me.”
I clapped a hand on his shoulder, “You called the spell crafting to the minute. You missed a calling as a navigator. No ship would refuse you.”
Cillian shrugged at the praise, clearly not sure what to do with it, “I’ve always been good with time, ever since I was a kid. Just started counting one day and never stopped. Not even in my dreams.”
That would drive me insane. I kept the thought to myself.
I turned to the group as a whole, “I’m sorry, but I’ve lost the spell. Do you have the have the strength to go again?”
There was more grumbling, but it was of the good natured sort. After a few minutes’ rest my crew was arranged back against the wall ready to push with all their strength.
“Go”
They were undoubtedly weaker this time round, but not by much. Seven bodies moving as one was still stronger than anything I could do on my own. The hour passed without further interruption of the warlocks’ whispers or the rising of the sun.
Push IIII: Push an object with 700lbs of force for up to an hour.
“We’re done! You can stop pushing now, thank you.”
Fionn slumped to the floor in relief. He’d been going at it with more enthusiasm than the others, for reasons which weren’t quite clear, “Did it work this time?”
“Exactly what I needed. Though I might ask for your help again in a few hours to increase the strength of the spell if you’re willing.”
Fionn groaned, but nodded as he leaned back against the wall, “I look forward to it.”
Hopefully they’d be recovered by whenever the next sunrise was. I’d cast the spell just before sunrise to double its power if I could predict them, but that was me being greedy. It was already rising half a dozen times more often than it should.
Conan walked over to stand beside me.
“I hear you’ve been looking for me. Found a map of some sort?”
I nodded, “I think it is of the dungeon. The entire dungeon, if you can believe it.”
The sun rose.
“After all the effort I’ve taken to map this place out. After all you’ve done scouting ahead and marking what walls you can. Almost seems too easy, doesn’t it?” Conan replied, completely unaware of what had just transpired. I was barely paying attention to his words.
Health, or strength?
I wanted the Regenerating Form. I could record it in my spellbook, and never have to worry about injury again. Or I’d fail to record it, and answer the question once and for all about the nature of dark magic. Only the natural world could be recorded.
But to do so meant I’d need to cast dark magic. Man did not fall from grace with a single misstep. It was the repeated and conscious actions he took, day after day after day. I’d already spent some time developing my own healing spell, but the lure of instant success was strong.
Too strong.
Almost seems too easy, doesn’t it? Conan’s last words pulled me back to my senses. I’d stick to what I knew.
Conan had remained silent while I thought, a fact for which I was grateful. Too often I’d been faced with impatience when trying to work through an idea, an impatience which made everything take twice as long and still fail to be properly understood.
“I’m going to need to record another set of spells. Not the push spell for now, don’t worry, you can keep resting. I merely ask you don’t interrupt me while I’m sitting in that corner there.”
I lowered my voice back to conversational levels and turned back to Conan, “Good fortune does happen, but I think you are right to suspicious. Everything here bears the warlocks’ taint.”
***
Lesser Heal. Lesser Heal II. Lesser Heal III. Lesser Heal IIII. Lesser Heal V. Lesser Heal VI. There was few wounds left to heal. I’d cast the spell enough times that all minor injuries had faded, and even the aches in my muscles and joints had turned to strength. The gulf between a day’s exertions and life threatening burns was wide. Even now the difference before and after the hour’s end was small, but it was there.
Heal: The caster’s body heals 62 hours’ worth of injuries over the course of an hour.
The whispers let me be as I finished my spell, a balm which soothed the burn of retreading old ground. I’d already created this spell once before and lost it nearly as fast. This version I’d do my utmost to use carefully, and only when needed.
I stretched what limbs I could as I stood. The sudden rush of blood and nitroaereus wrapped me in a warm blanket in front of the healing’s gentle fire. It was almost as if the warm light of Elysium was shining on me once again.
I was ready to head back out into the dungeon. Not to the beetles, not yet. But sitting around waiting for the next sunrise would drive me mad. I had spells. I had time. I could explore the doors beyond the pit of spikes, or...
I could sneak around the beetles by using the lift from the first floor.
My fireballs could deal with the rats if they remained in the way.
“Conan! Are you ready to capture a map for me?”
The man had been resting next to Erin underneath the holes in the wall. He leapt to his feet at once at my voice, “It would be my pleasure. I can set out at once!”
“I too. Come. We head for a lift on the first floor.”
That was for the others as much as Conan. Both Erin and Tadgh caught it and acknowledged me with nods.
“How long will you be?” Erin asked.
“If all goes well we should be back before nightfall. Though if things go too well we may be back later if we need to camp by the map to give it the full amount of study it deserves.”
“A week, then,” Erin said with a smile, “Time enough for the two of you to disappear mysteriously again. I should quite like to accompany you one of those times.”
“I would like that as well,” I replied, and meant it. She was pleasant to be around if nothing else, but there was more to it. That she’d come such a long way in such a short time in regards to her fear of magic spoke greatly of a character with which I wished to be more acquainted.
“A moment, Oswic?”
Conan grabbed me by my arm and pulled (stone made of sand!) me out the door.
“A gentle touch will do,” I panted, hand over my chest, “These wounds are far from healed.”
Conan winced, “Apologies, it won’t happen again.” He didn’t let the apology linger, much to my annoyance, but there was no time to be annoyed either, his expression became serious at once, “Erin’s with Brace.”
I blinked my befuddlement at him, “Is she now? What of it?”
He grimaced, “It’s not conducive to maintaining the royal bloodline, for one thing.”
I got it at once, “So rescuing Eric is her way out of-”
“Don’t get your hopes up for another. She desires Brace and no other.”
There was that strange Delta turn of phrase again.
“I have no intentions on her,” I reassured him, “Dreams perhaps, but I can hardly be blamed for that. I have greater things on my mind than base pleasures.”
“There is nothing base about desire,” Conan said, “Even us eunuchs can see that.”
This conversation was treading ground I wasn’t comfortable walking at this time, “I merely mean to encourage her sudden spell of bravery.”
Conan’s expression softened, “Yes I’ve noticed as well. More so. It is even more extreme if you have known her your whole life. I suspect much of it is feigned. Putting on a brave face.”
“You can’t feign bravery. Facing your fears with open is bravery. Perhaps she is not at ease, but if she is willing she doesn’t need to be.”
“Can she come with us?”
I smiled at him, “I don’t see why not.”