I emerged twenty minutes later in a cloud of smoke.

  The mage, name still unknown, and Attar didn’t look like they’d moved. Attar leaned at the ready against the dungeon wall while the mage stood in the centre of the hall, glowering.

  “You didn’t come this way,” I said, by way of greeting.

  She shrugged, “What of it? You never asked.”

  “Where did you come from?”

  She pointedly turned on the spot and faced away from me.

  “How can you be sure she isn’t lying?” Attar asked.

  “Is she?”

  “No.”

  “She was surprised by the room full of spiders. And there is clothes in the room. She’d not be dressed as a witch if she’d found them.”

  “So we’re looking for a secret passage?”

  “Not yet. Let’s go to the room. Our magician needs clothes.”

  She’d refused the robes, but the magician didn’t refuse as I led the way through the teleportal to the centre of the spider’s lair. There I selected a large fouta which lay folded next to three pairs of shoes. The place had the look of a boot room, which suggested we might be on the first floor of the dungeon or even in the Bleak Fort itself, but the invisible teleportal was very reminiscent of the fourth floor.

  The magician took the fouta and wrapped it about herself like a crude toga, covering both chest and waist, though both poorly. She was unable to tie it off, forcing her to grasp at the edges of the fouta to stop it from unravelling.

  But hey, I’d offered the robes.

  The shoes were all her size so I slid them over. The first pair she tried fit. Attar tried the others and found both boots and shoes agreeable, but something about the shoes caught his attention after trying them on.

  “There is a blessing in them. I can feel it.”

  I crouched down, “Try walking around.”

  Attar took a few quick steps in a circle around me. Whatever senses Myrra’s soul had bestowed on me didn’t reveal anything of their nature, but it did cause me to tunnel vision because Attar noticed the effect before I did.

  “My feet are completely silent!”

  I could see the relief clearly in the way his kā?āya sagged around his shoulders.

  It might not be a perfect way to hide from the gnomes, but combined with his amulet, he would be far more likely to take them by surprise than be taken by surprise.

  The boots were too small for me, but hadn’t revealed anything when Attar had worn them.

  Next to the boots were a branding iron, a cask of dried blood, and a small pile of animal skulls. Whether 1st or 4th floor, we were clearly still in the warlock’s abode. Who else would store such things in their porch?

  I’d almost consider some no-shoes-allowed torture chamber instead, if it wasn’t for the fouta and the small collection of riches and tools:

  A paint pot, a grappling hook, a mortar and pestle, a large chalcedony and an equally large lapis lazuli (the lazuli carved into the shape of a hideous lizard), two wooden shields, an hourglass I couldn’t keep my eyes off of, two potions, a set of silverware I couldn’t bring myself to touch in case the owner came wandering back in and found it missing, a chisel, a book whose title I wasn’t even going to read for fear of another mental attack, a broken earring, and a single human tooth.

  Perhaps a six legged paranoid wealthy librarian bit a sick statue painter’s ear so hard he shattered his tooth causing him to drop his shields, book, and gems and flee the scene, forgetting his shoes, while the painter, who had been timing her ability to paint a carving of silverware using the paints she’d made in her mortar and pestle from the plants she’d had to gather via grappling hook high on a mountainside, tossed her medicines aside in order to pursue the villain.

  It was the best I could come up with on short notice.

  Maybe the warlocks enjoyed shoe arranging in abandoned rooms.

  Each was as likely as the other.

  I tested every item except for the book, which I kept only to my peripheral vision.

  The tooth was the last item I studied, yet also the most exceptional. The world faded to a smear when I raised it up to study, suddenly it was a magnification bead, like those used by weak eyed scribes to read.

  I couldn’t make out specific details through the bead. Everything was blurred, lit by dim lights and ill-defined lines, yet it was also somehow brighter than the dungeon had been a moment ago.

  Rather than lowering the bead, I felt myself move through it. Through it and past, and my arms were suddenly, without moving, back by my side.

  I recognized the motion. I was in a dream.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  Trees grew all around me, nearly choking out the smeary light, yet bending at my will to allow the forest floor to still receive what was needed.

  An albatross flew high ahead. Passing through the trees in my vision, yet never going out of sight.

  I’d seen that albatross before.

  Why?

  Now that I focused on it, it was circling one of the trees. The main tree. The trees were all one tree. The trunks were their branches—no, the trunks were one trunk, I’d been standing at the wrong angle. I shuffled widdershins three rotations and trunks all came into alignment. It hadn’t been a forest at all. Just a single tree.

  Tom’s dreamseed.

  I walked closer to the trunk...

  I tried to walk closer to the trunk, but the albatross caught my eye.

  Why?

  There!

  The albatross was guarding the tree. It made me question instead of act.

  I shuffled closer, trying to focus on the trunk. The albatross never left my view.

  The tree had a calming presence, even as young as it was. More of a sapling, now that I was closer. Had Tom said how long it would take to grow? It had stopped those nightmares from hounding him. Or had they been hounds nightmaring him? Hadn’t Tom said the exact same thing?

  I studied the light. It was made of hope, wonder, and growth; dreams. The tree had been choking the positive from my life until I’d taken control.

  I studied it with my dryad sight. The branches were even and spaced, and let the light land around them. A glade in a forest of one tree. And somehow, the ground was all the warmer for it. Perhaps for the same reason deserts were hot rather than warm.

  I raised up the tooth once more, and suddenly I was awake, as if I’d never left.

  “Oswic? Are you alright?”

  I dropped my hand, “Fine. The tooth is a gateway to dreams. I suppose I dreamed for a moment.”

  “Less than a minute.”

  “That is about as long as I studied the place. In the Elysian fields it was longer.”

  The mage’s head shot up, “You’ve seen Elysium?”

  The sun rose. Brilliant and warm as it had first broken against those green shores. I could hear the smile in Oscar’s voice as he laughed and embraced me once more.

  “I have.”

  The mage’s eyes widened. She’d seen the sunrise too.

  “You are Magec. Thus I name you. Mother of Light, be gone from this place.”

  Attar must have known I could feel him smile. If only he could see me glower.

  “Very well. We are heading to the second floor. Will you come with us? Other knights are there.”

  This took the magician aback. Most banishments didn’t include an escort from the banisher.

  “I...” she looked at the ash stains that were spiders less than half an hour ago, “Yes.”

  ***

  The ascent was much quick than the descent. All I had to do was release the brake and let the weights do their work. Even with three people there was no other effort involved. The lift was clearly made for more people. Besides the magician the only extra weight we’d taken were the pair of potions and both the shields.

  Voices greeted us near the apex of our journey. The party of the emperor’s knights had returned to the chamber and were arguing about what to do about the rising lift. Our magician, who had finally revealed her name as Marian during the rise, shouted hastily out to them and was met with cheers in return.

  Upon reaching the summit, Marian nearly threw herself into the arms of her superior. It was a wolf’s whim on how that would benefit Attar and I. On the one hand, we’d saved Marian from the depths. On the other, we’d killed her companions and been responsible for her stranding. That was not something easily forgiven. I didn’t think I myself would ever be capable.

  It was a fifteen minute walk back to the second floor map, and I didn’t dare risk a second of it. When I’d fought the toad-dragon the sun had risen two or three times in the span of several minutes. Thought the celestial cycle seemed to have slowed, what had changed before could change again.

  “I ask that you leave us this lift, that I may better free all of us from this place.”

  The lift would make for a fantastic spell, given the opportunity.

  ***

  Both Attar and I approached the final doorway with trepidation. The memory of the violet mushrooms was burned firmly in my brain, and no doubt his. The path, thankfully, was clear. The mushrooms had not moved.

  I readied my crayon while I studied the map. My eyes traced the paths I’d taken over the last few months, both in this life and the previous one. The map did not reveal what was in each room of the dungeon, but did give the shape of each of the rooms. With one of my makeup brushes I began adding notes of my own to the stone map, to better reflect my exploration. With my dagger I scraped off those same notes where I realized any mistake.

  Mental Map: The caster sees a map of the first six floors of the dungeon. He may add and remove notes at will.

  Evening was falling, or would be falling soon. It was time we returned to Brace’s room.

  The lift was still there an hour and a half later. The knights were nowhere in sight. Hopefully it was a sign the women had listened to me, and wanted to at least keep out of each others’ way, if not work together—

  A lance of fire—literal fire, not pain—shot through my right leg with a sound of malicious laughter.

  The wood still embedded in my leg deflected the shot, but robes caught fire on both ends and my calf felt strangely warm. The attack had penetrated without leaving any damage.

  The pixie’s amulets had a clear flaw in regards to my own durability. Few initial attacks against me would be fatal, meaning I was easier to trap then someone more in tune with their mortality.

  Before I could discover the source of the lance, another wave of fire enveloped me, this one moving laterally, in a pattern reminiscent of the stars. The fire contained no heat, but was so bright the whole of my senses, and those sense provided by the ring, were overwhelmed and I was struck blind.

  Aether; the breath of the gods.

  Which turned out to be ironic, but it was only then I realized I’d stopped breathing.

  And blinking.

  And my mouth was hanging slack.

  I tried to clear the light from my eyes with a series of rapid blinks and succeeding in blinking but not removing the Aether. My breath flowed freely and my jaw closed.

  Yet the moment I stopped focusing on any action, my breathing stopped, my eyelids held still, and my jaw fell back downward.

  In the time it took me to figure that particular development out, the lance of fire struck again, this time striking my weaker left leg, and leaving a stinging burn across my thigh.

  My robes gave up on smoldering and fully caught fire.

  It was pretty clear at this point I was being attacked by magicians.

  I hated magicians.