I ducked out of the room the way I’d came and sent my swords of power the other way to open the far door. This door was also heavy stone, but my sword didn’t care.

  I set out amidst the howls and hollers. I wasn’t going to waste the limited timer on my swords fretting over a bit of noise. I’d already spent most of my time playing with the bag and tent.

  The door led to a hall, and after fifty or so feet, the hall led to a door.

  A dart pinged off stone wall where I would have been standing if I’d opened the door by hand. Thankfully, I’d elected for the delicate touch I’d shown the other doors.

  I carefully stepped over the pieces of the door in order to avoid standing on any needles which hadn’t been fired. My hearing was still a little off from the explosion this morning, I didn’t need to be dealing with poison as well.

  Naturally, the room contained two demon spiders.

  Except these ones were made of lava.

  All my reservations about dark magic fled my body. Some things were anathema to sense itself, and prejudice was the only answer. Flaming arachnids crossed that line.

  Sadly, I’d not been bestowed with Annihilate Unreason.

  My ten swords of powers flew (literally) forward while I flew (figuratively) backward. The spiders were starting to shift in hue, though not brightness, taking on a nearly translucent appearance. Invisible flaming spiders.

  Burn them! Burn them all! We will grant you whatever you need!

  For once the dark whispers were speaking sense, but I had no idea how to call a specific spell to mind.

  Both spiders exploded into a shower of molten sparks as my first swords hammered home. The next set of swords did for the merely giant spiders which poured forth from the corpse.

  My heart calmed to the pitter-patter of lava raining down from the ceiling, and dripping down the walls. I’d never heard a sweeter sizzle.

  The room was a rotten acorn in April. It would take a team of stone masons years to replace everything.

  Only a small corner survived, one auspiciously and suspiciously containing a lump of glowing metal.

  Shining, not glowing. The light from the lava was causing the glow.

  And it wasn’t metal either. Some sort of crystal. But smoother. More liquid.

  It reminded me of the deadly glass.

  The bookcase to my left was on fire. A portal stood ready behind it. To my right was the other exit of the room, closed by a wooden door.

  The door was also on fire.

  All in all, a successful defence of my person.

  ***

  I took the path concealed behind the bookshelf on the logic that it led to a hallway rather than another room.

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  The hall ended in a door, which my swords turned into a doorway. The clang as the adamant iron exploded free from its housing was loud enough to set my damaged ears ringing all over again, to the point that I couldn’t hear the other denizen’s howls.

  The room was empty except for a small stage at the far end. A wooden portcullis to my left revealed the room directly adjacent whose wooden floor shone in my light and contained but a single scroll.

  The portcullis exploded in a shower of splinters with a quick direction. The passage was the last thing my swords of power created. They vanished before the howls faded.

  I crept forward with a bit more caution than I had before, now that I didn’t have my swords of power to protect me from the Bleak Fort’s abominations.

  The floor, it turned out, was waxed, but my bare feet found easy grip on its surface. My ring quickly found a hollow under one of the floorboards containing a locked wooden chest.

  I levered it up and severed the lock with a strong tap from the Dead King’s lance.

  In the chest was:

  A pair of socks (they fit).

  A pencil (pencil; in the bag).

  A hunting horn made of moonstone of all things (in the bag).

  And a gem containing the power of the sun.

  Five objects in all (socks were two), and with no relation to each other except that all were useful. Had another of the Magi been this way? I’d come across another stone containing the sun’s power before. Its use was obvious even if its make was arcane. Either it allowed me to refresh a single spell in my repertoire, or to write a spell out of turn. I would hold on to it. If another opportunity like the swords of power appeared, I’d be ready.

  The room had only one exit apart from the one I’d entered by, but the door was made of heavy stone. I’d try my regular summoned swords, but I expected I’d soon be retreating back the other way. Still, I’d need to summon my swords either way, there was no harm in rolling the dice.

  Scorch, Sword, Scintillation II

  The door held.

  I returned back to the room with the remnants of the lava demon spiders. It held the unique advantage of the unexplored exit not needing to be destroyed on account of it already having burnt down.

  The room beyond had also burnt down. It appeared to have been another house in the dungeon, like Myrra or Tom’s, but this one had been built for a giant. What remained of the furniture was three times as large as any I’d ever seen. The charred legs of a chair went up to my armpits and table was as tall as I was.

  Only a mirror in the room at the back of the mansion was unscathed, but though it reflected my surroundings it didn’t reflect me or my clothes. Even the Watcher was no where to be seen.

  A chest had be cached in one of the walls, but it was obvious even without my ring now that most of the walls consisted of billowing smoke and gaping holes. If anything, the fire was growing.

  The chest itself was still cool enough to touch, so I grabbed it and retreated back into the lava spider room with the glowing crystal.

  It was a step toward greener lands, but I still felt far adrift. No room this far into the dungeon could truly be called safe. Still, the room further on with the stage at least didn’t contain any traps in the floor, strange glowing crystal, flaming walls, choking smoke, or giant spiders. Not quite Elysium, but I’d take it.

  I used my magical sword to pry the lock on the chest free. I’d already seen with my ring that the box contained food, four days worth of food which quickly went into my purse. Also into the purse after testing all, and finding all non magical went an ear trumpet, a crossbow without bolts, a veil, a pot of paint, and an hour glass.

  Two objects remained. The first, a bottle labelled scotophobia, which I apprehensively and carefully lowered into my purse. I wasn’t going to drink it, but a bottle of nightmares would be useful against certain foes in a place thousands of feet below the surface.

  The second was a bit of porcelain shaped to look like a handkerchief. It was convincing enough I’d tried to wipe my eyes with it, even though my ring had told me from the moment I’d found the chest it would be unyielding. My watering eye could confirm the ring and my fingers were correct, and the handkerchief was indeed only a sculpture.

  I should have known, as upon my touch the text ‘embroidered’ on the handkerchief changed to the Painted Language.

  “This handkerchief, and this chest as a capsule, commemorates and celebrates the purchase and installation of 1,300 doors by X. Gunhildrson.”

  I now had the name of my enemy.