Our path was immediately barred by a stone door leading out of the room. This presented several problems. If I ordered my swords to destroy the door the knights might panic. If I spent the next half hour studying the door with my ring, the knights might get antsy. If I hastily pulled open the door, I might get bisected by a trap. If I teleported past the door, I’d be abandoning Attar.

  I could survive most traps, but I could also survive most fights. I was confident in defeating the knights if necessary, though the magicians might cause me trouble. I didn’t want to. I still remembered the dark elves I’d slain without cause.

  Given the unexpected nature of traps I felt it more likely that I survived battle than a trap, especially with Attar’s help.

  Therefore:

  “Please remain calm. The door bars our path, it is not an attack against you, but a precaution against the traps of the warlocks. Swords, open that door.”

  The first blow of swords did nothing more than make the knights flinch and finger their weapons. Attar and my ring were watching my back, so I kept an affectation of calm as I surveyed the door. No reason to set them off.

  “Strike as one.”

  This time the door cracked and fell apart into four large pieces which scattered themselves down the short hall past the door. Short being relative to the Bleak Fort of course.

  The howls had the mercenaries eyeing both myself and the entrances with fear, but none acted against me. Perhaps my newfound godhood had benefits.

  The hall was thirty feet in length, with another door set in the wall about fifteen feet down. Dead centre anyway, whatever the proper measure of distance.

  “Strike as one against that door as well,” I directed my swords.

  The door was simple wood, and yet the sentient swords barely managed to wrench it open. Something about how the wood was housed in the frame perhaps. Or the stone had already contained a critical flaw, weakening to the point where even my incompetent weapons could succeed.

  The mercenaries didn’t even quiver an eyelid at the more distant squealing. Neither did the denizens of the dungeon give it heed.

  “Thank you for your cooperation. May the sun shine upon you once more.”

  The knight commander was silent in response. Attar and I edged past our captive audience and into the hall.

  The room beyond was the pentagon with the proto-Magi prison. A large stream flowed East-West down the centre of the room, perpendicular to the northern door we entered by. The skeletons of the poor Magi were both still bound in their chains. A row of demonic faces, those matching the bone structure of the prisoners rather than my own, were carved into the southern wall.

  It was a sick place.

  I’d been visiting too many of them lately. But I’d been through worse, and I’d emerged stronger each time. I could handle a single day’s deprivations.

  My swords forced the southern door with nary a sound, allowing Attar and myself to wade easily past.

  We didn’t.

  “Can you do anything for them?” I asked.

  “Nothing more than you can. They’ve already moved on.”

  I set my swords against the chain, which failed to even shake the skeleton’s free from their bonds. I struck with my short spear then instead, and broke each one. The howls stirred by my first failed attempt were the Magi’s eulogy of freedom.

  “Down from the pine. Raised back by the cypress. Your staff of oak. Behind you the forest of palms. Before you the forest of ash.”

  I shivered. The prayer was a benediction in any other language. Only in the tongue of the Painted Lands did it sound sinister.

  “That sounds more promise than prayer,” said Attar.

  “There is little difference.”

  ***

  The far side of the chamber led to a branching hallway where I believed I’d met the procession of dwarves previously. They’d had their own secret chamber, the first branch of the hallway, meaning one of the two other doors was the one leading onward.

  I choose the furthest door, as it was most central to the direction we were headed given that the hallway doubled back on itself.

  The chamber was as I’d left it, even though I’d only come here days later than I now was. The wall had crumbled, down to the last splinter of stone, in the same manner as previously. I’d seen Shining Power’s destruction before. This confirmed it. Shining Power and the volcano were one and the same.

  Beyond the broken wall, waiting in the cracks and the hall beyond, were six dozen glittering eyes.

  The rats, despite having never met with me this time round the wheel of time, were already watching. To the extent of my knowledge, though rats were said to foretell the future, they weren’t known to see across time. There was someone else behind them. Warlock, sorcerer, king of the rats, whoever watched through their eyes was one I’d have to be on the guard for.

  “Are they safe?”

  Attar had noticed the swarm.

  “I do not know. Something other than their own intelligence animates them. Be wary, but do not attack them.”

  The room also contained three large patches of brightly coloured mushrooms at the far end. They set my nerves on end. Could it be the Mushroom King who watched through the rats? Or were those mushrooms his spies?

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Fireball III

  I couldn’t stand the sight of them.

  Green, blue, and purple mushrooms shrivelled in the flame. From the ashes rose a small cloud of purple smoke which blew towards the rats in a sudden gust. The cloud moved slightly faster than a man could run. Perhaps the rats could have avoided it if they reacted immediately, but they didn’t even act like they’d noticed it. By the time it hit, it was too late.

  Purple roots dug into the rats fir, mycillial tendrils spread through their skin, and new mushrooms bloomed in an instant, causing their hosts to shrivel and die. In a matter of seconds all but a handful of rats were twitching or still on the ground. The rest had fled.

  The cloud continued down the corridor through the broken wall, perhaps seeking passage to fresher air.

  A chill spread through me.

  I’d nearly gotten us both killed.

  My fear of mushrooms was justified, but not my reaction. And now I’d blocked off the corridor to the rest of the second floor. There was no way were we squeezing through that crack full of the purple mushrooms.

  Attar had every right to be angry, but he took the incident in stride, only reacting when it first appeared the cloud was heading our way. He didn’t even comment on the disaster.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have acted so hastily against the mushrooms. I’ll... I’ll show more restraint in the future.”

  “Don’t. If that was the Mushroom King, you shouldn’t show any restraint whatsoever. Destroy them on sight, but prepare for surprises. Can you create a wind spell?”

  Easily. In fact, I was a fool for not having one already. I’d dealt with enough poisonous gasses.

  “I will do so. Thank you.”

  “Of course,” Attar pointed to the map carved into the wall on our left, “Is that it?”

  It was as I remembered it. All six floors of the dungeon laid out before us. We’d already found our way to the sixth, but time had shown a certain amount of back tracking was necessary.

  “This is it. How are you at cartography?”

  “Terrible. Yourself?”

  “Passable for the desperate. Conan is the best map maker among Brace’s crew, but he is not much better than me.”

  “What about Astra? Nobility is trained in all sorts of things.”

  He had a point. I wanted to record the map as a spell, but I couldn’t record a spell until a false sunrise, and they’d slowed significantly since the last had been devoured. As long as the knights allowed us passage, we’d cleared the way for the princess.

  “Let’s go ask her.”

  ***

  The knights were gone by the time we returned. I was expecting that, as it had happened last time I’d encountered them.

  What was different this time was the lift. It still remained.

  I walked over to the winch and studied it. It seemed secure enough.

  “Care for an adventure? There is no rush for the map.”

  Attar stepped on to the platform by way of answer.

  I grabbed the crank and began lowering us into the pit.

  ***

  It took two hours for the lift to run out of chain. There must have been some magic in the structure somewhere, or the warlocks had sourced a material for their chains stronger even than steel. We’d descended hundreds of feet, if not thousands before the winch refused to to move further. At the edges of the platform I could still make out a deep pit descending far below. The pit was ten feet by ten feet all the way down, and smooth besides; too wide to climb.

  “Thank the emperor you’re here, I didn’t know what...”

  A naked woman was waiting for us in the small chamber at the bottom of the lift. Her eyes wandered to my robe—her robe a few days before—then up to my face where only light shone.

  Will wonders ever cease? It was so nice meeting old friends.

  ***

  A magician could still be dangerous without her spells, but this had been bested before. Still, she had spirit in her. She raised her hands as though they were weapons (which they probably were) and demanded, “What have you done to the commander? Where are the emperor’s chosen?”

  “We’ve done nothing but peaceful discourse. Your commander seems to have gotten it in her head that I am Magec despite my dissuasion, and they have wandered off elsewhere. Tell me, are we still on the fourth floor?”

  “You’ve taken my dignity, you’ve even taken my clothes, but you won’t take that. I’ll die before another word passes to your traitorous ears.”

  Now what? We could explore and determine our location for ourselves, but if we left the lift unattended the woman would surely steal it. It rose easier than it descended from the looks of it.

  “Very well, you’re coming with us until we’ve determined it for ourselves,” I nodded to the sole door in the room. The only other feature was a bookshelf on the opposite side, “After you, back the way you came.”

  She walked over to the heavy iron door and unlatched it with a simple bar. It swung open easily at her touch.

  Was it only me the dungeon hated? It would certainly explain how all these none Magi were surviving down here.

  The door led to a hall. The hall led left, left, right, and then the magician vanished.

  A moment later she reappeared, stumbling back and screaming. She was covered in spiders.

  The wind spell would be very useful right now. The spiders were clearly biting her and every bite increased the chance that whatever venom they possessed would be fatal. I was starting to feel guilty about taking her clothes.

  Intoxicating Blood

  I admit, I wasn’t thinking straight. I had thought the glass aura might save her, but I was worried she would suffocate. Spiders began to drop off her body and fall to the floor, unconscious. It was a great plan for dealing with the spiders after they bit her, but nothing to stop the rest of the swarm.

  Each spider fell in turn, until there was none left, a fact I confirmed by moving within range with my ring.

  Eugh, I felt for her. Spiders crawling everywhere was enough to make me want to shut down my tactile sense, but I kept my vigil. She was clear.

  “How do you feel?”

  She glared at me, “Bet you get off on this, don’t you?”

  I needle struck my heart. She’d been trying for bravado, but there was fear in her voice, and pain. I made my choice at once.

  I shucked free from my robe and tossed it back to her, “Here. To protect you and keep you warm.”

  She threw it back at my feet, “How generous. Perhaps you will release me from my enslavement next time I get bit?”

  I donned the robe again, “Well, at least you don’t seem to be poisoned.”

  I only had so much sympathy to spare. I wouldn’t try to comfort her with any future apologies.

  Sword Storm III

  I sent the fireball component of the spell to scour the floor around the mage, who flinched back from the heat. Spiders shrivelled where they lay.

  I girded my loins to prevent easy access to the spiders, then squared my shoulders and set myself in close pursuit of my fireball down the corridor.

  “Keep an eye on her Attar, remember that she is a magician, don’t let her run off.”

  Both necromancer and mage vanished behind me, and I found myself in a large rectangular room surrounded by spiders.

  I was a Magi. One of the wise. The Starcaller of Dawn.

  I could scream if I wanted to.