by Lee Duckett
Fayne walked over, careful not to aggravate the wounds on her arms. “You’re just realizing this now?” she quipped, trying to smile, expression pained, “I shoot lightning arrows, and he,” she nudged the prone form being healed, “held a whirlwind down so I could stab it with a metal spike until it died. This place is nuts, but we’re here for a bit, so we might as well get used to it.” She poked the shallow cuts all along her arms, wincing at the pain. “How long would these take to heal back home?”
Aria peered at the wounds as her hands continued to drip gold into her son, a grimace across her face. “Weeks to heal completely, and they might scar, but the wounds are smooth, so they might not. Here, without magic it would only take a few days, and with the power of gods, a minute, less if I used up a higher order spell.”
Badger came over, shamefaced. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do and if I’d done it sooner then maybe-”
His wife held up the hand that wasn’t sparking with divine healing. “I don’t want to hear it!” she sighed at his hurt look. “I know how you hate to be surprised but. . . you need to do something. I would never blame you for trying to help.” At her husband’s incredulous look she amended, “Okay, I might have before, but I promise I won’t here.” His skeptical stare didn’t abate, making her response more heated, “What? Are you saying you don’t believe me?”
“We’ll see,” was all he said, turning to Fayne. “So, just wing it?”
Fayne nodded, ignoring Aria’s huff. “The really bad things you should already know from your schooling not to do, like mixing anything containing chlorine and ammonia, but if you’re not sure if you should freeze something or set it on fire we can deal with consequences.” At his raised eyebrow she hastily defended, “What? I like chemistry and it’s a good example!”
He chuckled and waved away her indignation, tension draining. “I get it, it just wasn’t the comparison I’d use. I get what you mean though. Try stuff and see what sticks.”
The elf nodded, “You miss 100 percent of the shot you don’t take! And-” She cut herself off as a deep rumbling growl echoed around the room. Wincing, she moved her rapier to a ready position, straining against her wounds. The growl petered off, returning a moment later, fading then returning rhythmically. With a look of incredulity, she found the source of the growls: the dwarf snoring by her feet. “Well,” she laughed, “I suppose I had that coming. The wolf skin wake-up was still funnier.”
◆◆◆
Aria healed the rest of the party working with Fayne to haul the sleeping dwarf into the locker room. Badger hauled his son’s bag and laid out the bedroll, cleaning the blood off of him and repairing his armor as the other two set up an ad hoc camp in the room. After rations were broken out, warmed, and flavored with Prestidigitation, they ate in silence. “I’ll take first watch,” the wizard announced.
“I’m tired, we can take second,” Aria practically whined.
“You think I’m not?” her husband asked, himself too tired to be upset. “I still have work to do.”
“You can do it later, have Fayne take the first shift!” his wife instructed.
The elf looked like she was going to say something, but stopped when she looked at him, seeing something in his expression. “I didn’t say we would, I said I would,” he informed her. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but just sighed as he saw her surprised and hurt expression. “Get some sleep, honey.”
Aria stared at him, before turning back to her food without comment. Fayne held up two fingers and pointed to herself, offering to take second shift so he wouldn’t have to talk to Aria when his watch ended, but Badger shook his head. The archer shrugged and nodded, replenishing her quiver and setting her weapons out in easy reach before settling in to sleep.
Badger’s wife went to bed without a word as well, turning off her aureole and dropping the room into complete darkness, effectively blinding her husband. He waited a few minutes until her breathing evened out before casting Light on a copper piece, putting his bag between it and the rest of the party so as not to disturb them, and used that to continue his work casting Mending on the party’s gear. Despite being a Cantrip, a spell that was so easy to cast it could be done over and over again, it took a solid five minutes to do so, magically repairing the gear bit by bit with every iteration.
It was halfway through his fifth cast when he felt the telepathic connection to the rest of the party fade. He was surprised that they’d only been here twelve hours, the duration of that item’s effect, which meant it was about nine at night. It felt longer, but without a watch he had no way to tell the time.
He made a mental note to get one, but his character’s memories told him that they, despite not being magical at all, were still priced like a magical item. By his count, it took an hour alone to fix Rurik’s armor, and he was thankful Fayne’s was magical. The dark green leather having already mended where it was slashed while she wore it, and the shredded sections were slowly growing back to full protection as well.
He was glad he didn’t have to cast that spell anymore, but that just gave him too much time to think. He’d choked, he knew it, but who could blame him? Magic wasn’t like a sword, an arrow, or a mace (not that she’d used hers), it was. . . complex. If all they faced were normal monsters, and he found himself forced to put those horrible mosquito things in the normal category, then everything would be fine. Even the roper was a known entity. Rurik knew about them, and Badger recalled them as well from his training. They were aberrations, but still generally made sense, following most physical laws.
While ropers, and even that giant snake had magical abilities, they were still living creatures. Elementals however didn’t have magic, they were magic, and played by entirely different rules. Water elementals couldn’t handle fire, but there was a reason he hadn’t tried to use a Ray of Frost on the one they’d found. Unless you hit it with an overwhelming amount of cold, enough to freeze it solid, all you got was a freezing-cold water elemental that wouldn’t hesitate to use the ice in its body to bash, crush, or impale its enemies. You didn’t use fire on earth elementals for the same reason! All you got was a burning-hot elemental that started to act like its damper cousin in the worst ways.
He knew there was something else that was bothering him more, but he didn’t have the time, or the space, to name it now. If he did so, he’d have to address it, and they had enough problems without dragging out that issue. It wasn’t anything new, if he was being honest, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.
Focusing on the task at hand, he’d do like he was asked to, and try the spaghetti method. Even if it was messy, he’d try everything he didn’t know was bad and work with what stuck. If Maggie had a problem with that. . . well, that was her problem. He was just doing what she asked, no more, no less.
Ice could be reversed with fire, though the opposite wasn’t always true, and he wondered if he should switch to using the Ray of Frost spell as his default. After a few minutes of deliberation, he shook his head. Maybe later, he decided, there was a reason fire was the first response to most monstrosities. They were in a cave, which was getting noticeably chillier the deeper they went, and it was more likely they’d come across something resistant to cold than heat as they continued down.
He studied the Light spell he’d cast, and it was only halfway depleted. Given a three-hour duration, as he was level three, that meant he had at least half an hour left. He was tired, but he’d give the rest of the party an extra half an hour rest on top of what they planned on, they all obviously needed it. Trying to find something to pass the time, he opened up his character sheet, only to jump as the brass horns of his level up music played.
Looking back, Aria turned over, but the other three were still asleep. Definitely an extra half hour he decided, turning back to the rectangle before him that glowed, but gave off no light. He selected wizard as his class for his new level and saw that he gained an additional spell of the first and second orders per day, fe
eling his understanding of magic increase to accommodate the change. His base attack went up, his accuracy now on par with his wife, but he was sure that would only last until she levelled up as well.
The wizard sighed as he assigned his skill points, feeling himself gain awareness, knowledge of the arcane, and the ability to move more silently as he did so. He could spend a point to learn a new language, but the question was which to pick. Last time he’d chosen Goblin, because they’d been dealing with them, but that hadn’t helped at all here.
He was tempted to choose Orcish, because of the group they’d run into, but as he thought about it he realized that was silly. They were in a dwarven ruin, so he clicked on Dwarven instead, the knowledge appearing into his mind, as if it’d been there all along and he’d just forgotten that he’d known it. He hated the feeling, mostly because of what it might mean for their current. . . state in this world, but he couldn’t argue with the results.
Badger could now read the names on the locker: Belrik Bonestone, Melgrim Copperbeard, Nysva Darkforge, and so on. He could even remember the words of the map of this place he’d seen in the station near the roper, the previously indecipherable squiggles clear in retrospect. Nodding to himself he spent the rest of the points and selected the two free spells he could add to his spellbook. Again, he was tempted to choose something that would have solved a previous problem. The second order spell Elemental Speech would let him talk with any elemental or elementally aligned creature, but the chances they’d find a third elemental down here were slim.
As a wizard, the memories of both his character and of the conversations he’d had with his eldest son told him this: his strength was in preparation. Given time and resources he could take down practically anything, but that meant he had to know what to prepare for. He didn’t, and he hated that, to be going in blind, but making a plan without intel could still be done.
He needed versatility more than the one perfect spell, despite what all of Badger’s schooling tried to teach him. With this in mind he chose Flaming Sphere, which created its namesake and could be mentally controlled while he cast a second spell to attack enemies. Second was going to be Spider Climb, which would let him literally walk up walls and across ceilings. But he paused, finger an inch away from selecting it.
Picking options to solve problems passed was foolish, but an option to solve a current problem? Scrolling through the possible list, it took him a while, reading the details of each and every possible spell, but he smiled as he found the perfect spell, a plan already forming in his head.
◆◆◆
He gently shook his wife awake when it was time for her watch. She asked for five more minutes, but he was exhausted so he shook her gently again.
“I’m up, I’m up,” she groused, sitting up.
“Your turn,” he told her, laying down on his own bedroll.
He could almost hear her frown at him. “Honey, we need to talk.”
Of course we do, he thought. “Dear, I’m exhausted. Maybe when we’re all rested.”
“No,” she insisted, not taking the hint. “We need to- what are you doing?”
He’d gotten up and had started rolling up his bedroll. “I’m dead tired,” he informed her, voice carefully even, “and I’m going to get some sleep. If I can’t get it here, I’ll sleep in the break room.”
“There’s no need to be rude!” she chastised. He just looked at her blandly, before starting to walk out the door. “Wait!” she called, moving to block the door. “It’s dangerous out there!”
He moved to go around her, and she shifted to block his path. “Dear heart,” he addressed her, a frustrated growl creeping into his voice. “I need to sleep. We’ve cleared this area, and I need to sleep.” He wanted to comment that her demanding a confrontation while the others were resting, where she had gotten rest and he hadn’t, was neither fair nor likely to end well. However, he still loved her and didn’t want to hurt her, he just wanted to rest, so he said none of that.
His wife looked indecisive, obviously considering whether or not to try to press him. He made the decision for her by trying to move around her again. “Fine, but we’ll talk about it in the morning!”
He didn’t say anything that could be used against him later, moving back and laying his bedroll out again, lying down again to finally sleep. “Good night,” he wished her, dismissing the Light spell so his sleep wouldn’t be disturbed by the illumination.
She didn’t say anything, her glowing aureole coming on a moment later as he heard her get a book from her bag, despite her not needing it to see. Some things never change, he thought, casting a first level spell he’d prepared in the extra time he’d let her rest. He’d prepare a new set in the morning, and be back up to his full fighting strength, so he allowed himself this indulgence. With a quick incantation and a sweeping motion, his form was covered in shadow, darkening himself as if he were in shade instead of directly lit by her ability.
“What’s that?” she asked, sounding annoyed.
“Just something to help me sleep,” he reassured her, the comforting darkness allowing him to thoroughly investigate the back of his eyelids.
Chapter Twelve
The Cornerstone Of Magic
Aria woke up Fayne after a few hours. The elf had to blindly fish out her everburning torch as the aasimar turned off her light without warning, plunging the chamber into complete darkness. The elf started to worry when she saw the gnome was still shrouded in darkness, even when she brought her torch right next to him. “Badger?” she asked, rapier out just in case she needed it.
“Badger?” she asked again a bit louder. “You okay?”
“Hmm?” the gnome yawned. “Whadja want?”
“You’re covered in shadows.”
He waved a hand, rolling over, “Izza spell to help me sleep. Let me sleep.”
“Oh,” she blinked, sheathing her weapon. “Okay.” Moving back towards the door she settled down to stand guard, slipped the book on draconic culture from her bag, and started reading.
An indeterminate amount of time later she froze as she heard something. No, she thought, she didn’t hear something. “You awake Rurik?” she softly called to the no longer snoring dwarf.
There was a moment of silence before he gruffly whispered back. “Aye lass. The other two asleep?”
“Yeah.” She watched as Rurik pulled himself to his feet. “Your armor’s over here.”
He nodded, quietly picking his way across the room to the pile of leather and metal that sat by her, giving a grunt of surprise, “Thought that was destroyed.” Glancing over at the sleeping wizard he commented, more to himself than her, “Gonna need to thank ‘im.”
“Was it important, like your sword?” she asked, wincing as she realized that might not have been the best thing to bring up right now.
The samurai winced in turn, before shaking his head. “Nah lass, me dou was me clan’s and I left it with ‘em when I left me daimyo’s lands. I just didn’t want to fight in me undergarments.” He barked a laugh, then dropped his voice back to a near whisper. “I don’t think any of ya would want ta see that.” There was a soft elven chuckle in reply. He shrugged on the armor, taking a seat next to his cousin. “So, since we not be dead, ya killed that blowhard?”
“Yeah,” she told him, letting out a low breath. “It was close though. I stabbed it in the heart, I think?”
“Good on ye lass,” he congratulated.
“But you almost died holding onto it!” she replied, forcing herself to whisper. “Why?”
“Air elementals be ‘ard to take down, not ‘cause they be tough, but because they be slippery bastards, even more then water ones. Once I got hold of it, ya were hitting it most of the time, right lass?” She nodded, frowning. He nodded in return, “Exactly. I hadn’t done that, and it woulda shredded ya when ya got a blow on it. Even fightin’ it with me real sword wouldn’t’ve ‘elped.”
The elf frowned in confusion, “Why?”
She
received a raised eyebrow in return. “I thought ye be takin’ those smart people classes, lassie. What happens when ya give fire all the air it could need?”
“It’d explode?” she demanded, glancing back to the other two, but they didn’t seem to have heard her.
Rurik shrugged, “Maybe, maybe no. Elementals be fickle things, lass. If it saw the fire comin’ then it woulda used it against us. It’d be sacrificing part of itself like a bomb, and while your skinny ass could dodge, I ain’t that nimble.”
They settled into a companionable silence, Rurik reading his own book while they waited for his parents to wake. The dwarf frowned, looking around. “Ya feel that?”
“Feel what?” she asked, putting her book down.
“I not be sure, but it be like we’re forgettin’ to do something. Like. . . there. There it is again!” he whispered, hands going to his sheathed weapons as he stood.
“I. . .” the elf started to respond, trailing off. “You’re right, I feel the same thing. It’s not bad just. . .” she groaned, putting her face in her hands. “Stupid fungus! If I had my intelligence back I’m sure I’d remember what it is.”
“Did ye get any back?” Rurik asked. “Ye rested, so ya might’ve.”
Fayne groaned again. “Right, forgot about that. I hate being stupid.” She waved her hand, intoning, “Character Sheet,” only for the glowing white rectangle to play the rising strings of her level up music. As the music reached its climax, white light flowed from the window into her, causing an aura of light to gather around her head before fading into the darkness of the room.
She blinked, looking at the floating screen in shock. “I. . . can think!” she looked over her sheet, nodding. “The damage to my intelligence, it’s gone. Oh god, what was I thinking!” she cried, clapping a hand over her mouth as she looked over her actions with a clear head.