One last thing about this marvelous sword confused me. “Your description mentions remembering runes and writing them. What does that mean?” It tickled me that a talking item could explain how it worked. It saved time hypothesizing and testing.

  “I’ll admit my item description is rather terse, but I’m happy to elucidate. I am endowed with memory and can learn and reproduce runes you wish to teach.”

  “Can you write your own runes?”

  “I’m afraid that’s beyond my purview.”

  I considered the scant few runes that I knew. I knew how to explode a Compression Sphere when someone Stealthing came near. The other rune I figured out how to script involved undoing items, a rudimentary function that reversed an item’s existence.

  “How do I upload a rune into you?”

  “You write it in the air and invest the mana. I’ll remember it for later.”

  “Write it in the air?”

  “Skywriting is my primary function and why my tip slices reality.”

  I pulled out a sheet of parchment that contained a rune that I’d copied from Winterbyte’s notes. I traced the rune’s delivery, the Compression Sphere. “Is that all I need to do?”

  “Is the Compression Sphere the only part of the rune you want?”

  After I nodded, the parchment ignited in flames. “I have it now. You may activate it whenever you want.”

  I pointed the sword into the drizzling rain outside the smithy. I mentally commanded the sword to cast the rune. A thunderclap of air sent the rain scattering in all directions like a fireworks burst. The short-lived effect left a puff of white vapor, which drifted over Hawkhurst Rock and into town.

  I waved and yelled to the construction crew, who stopped working on the temple to locate the noise’s source. “Sorry! I’m just testing Compression Spheres. Everything is okay!”

  I triggered it as an instant spell, which hadn’t drawn mana. I pointed the sword further away to test the range, but nothing happened when I gave the command. “What’s wrong? You can only do this once?”

  “Correct. You must refresh my memory with another rune.”

  I grunted at the limitation, but preparation seemed a minor impediment to having infinite Compression Spheres. I excelled at methodical, repetitive tasks.

  After thanking the dwarves for their efforts, I took Gladius to the manor to load it up with runes. In addition to uploading multiple Compression Spheres, I wrote a rune for destroying Rezan’s artifact. I had the name for the item, and a sword had more durability than a sheet of parchment.

  Each Compression Sphere came from a sheet of parchment energized by Inscribe Rune. Only then could I retrace it in the air with Gladius. “Since there’s no such thing as casting time or mana, does that mean I can ignore things like range?”

  “Technically, you’re not eschewing mana costs. You’re investing them when you empower the rune. The cast time remains the same for the same reason, but you’re front-loading it beforehand. But to address your question, no. Since I’m casting the Compression Sphere, and you’re holding me, the spell’s range is effectively unchanged.”

  “You know what, Gladdy? Despite your reasonable limitations, I like you. You’re better than my old weapon, Creeper, any day of the week.”

  “Why, thank you, Wielder Apache.”

  Preparing runes took all afternoon and evening. Instead of facing Rezan at night, I waited until the next day.

  As usual, the goblin king and his escort appeared at the tree line at nightfall, walked the grounds, and toured our shuttered town. His glowing eyes scanned our position. The recent rainfall and cloud cover changed nothing about his routine.

  Throughout the stare-down, I kept Gladius Cognitus hidden in case Rezan extended his divinity powers to the tower roof. The less time I gave him to react to my celestial weapon, the better.

  As they left town, Rezan looked upward again. Crooga, the Inquisitor, looked upward with him, and the king gestured to something. The Eagle Eyes revealed nothing. Perhaps Darkstep had improved his Improved Eye spell again, creating an invisible eye that only Rezan could see.

  After the enemy disappeared into the forest, I went to bed. I had a date with them tomorrow that I didn’t want to miss.

  Yula, Bernard, Blane, and eleven soldiers from Fort Krek waited for me when I climbed out of the Dark Room. Their posture and readied equipment told me they expected me to lead the motley assortment to the goblin’s bunker.

  Captain Jourdain sounded off louder than necessary. “Governor on deck. Alpha Company, ten-hut!”

  Eleven humans stiffened and formed a straight line. The dwarves stared at them as if wondering if their formation kicked off the beginning of a line dance. Yula showed no reaction whatsoever. She scanned the tree line in a relaxed pose.

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  This Alpha Company looked anything but alpha, and it seemed unlikely that I could spontaneously lead them into battle. I hadn’t practiced with them and hadn’t planned on their involvement. They probably favored different tactics.

  Beaker rested on a battlement behind them. Though he wasn’t part of the cabal, he looked to be. My griffon sensed the energy and wanted to be nearby to see why everyone gathered. He sent excited telepathic messages, proving he hadn’t entirely missed the point of the congregation. “Everyone is together to greet Apache! It’s time to wake up!”

  Before I could explain that my plans didn’t involve a company of mismatched warriors, Bernard spoke. “We know you’re aiming to flatten the king with your new blade, but Alpha Company thought ye could use backup heals.”

  Yula thumbed the silencer on her bow. “Deestraction ees good tactic, no?”

  Their arguments made sense, but I couldn’t protect anyone if things went south. I gave Blood Drinker to Bernard yesterday, and he proudly hefted it as if the weapon hadn’t already failed to slay Rezan. “What if my new sword doesn’t work? All of us can’t scramble into the Dark Room at once.”

  Bernard flapped his hand. “We can outrun a bunch of gobs. And Yula, I mean, the commander, can make things difficult for pursuers. Eh, Yula?”

  The huntress counted off her escape mechanics. “Fleetwalk. Wall of Thorns. Sundew Trap.”

  “Sundew Trap?” I’d never heard of Sundew Trap.

  “Ees trap, but great flower. Pretty, but steecky.”

  I nodded in resignation. Having fourteen extra warriors provided an excellent distraction. Every person from Fort Krek except Thaxter volunteered for this odd company of comrades. They could be valuable assets to my mission.

  “Okay, Alpha Company. Let’s give ‘er a go.” I explained my plan to assault the goblin bunker along the way there.

  I channeled 840 mana into my sword using Refresh Mana and Imbue Weapon. The arcane magic glowed blue with energy. My minimum damage amounted to more than the king’s 500-health point Halo and 380-health pool combined. I’d hit for over 900, more than enough to smite the king in a single blow—and I wouldn’t need a critical hit to one-shot him, either.

  If Rezan fell, I could Whirl his guard to pieces.

  Digging goblins out of their bunker had been the first step I tossed out the window. When we arrived, Rezan and 34 goblins awaited by their hole. Despite the canopy’s shade, each wore a wide-brimmed hat. Their eyes had probably adjusted to daylight by now. Rezan’s Improved Eyes must have warned them of our coming, so they mustered to full readiness.

  Rezan stood in the center wearing his opulent garments. General Sturm and Inquisitor Crooga flanked him on either side. Two hobgoblins, Dol and Pommer, protected the king’s flank. Even though the king levitated, the pair stood taller and seemed to enjoy their stature.

  Many eyes went to Bernard’s weapon, Blood Drinker. The honor guard knew it well.

  Inquisitor Crooga spoke in a dialect called Red Rags, an obscure cant used by the soldier caste. Red Rags wasn’t a language I studied with Greenie, so it surprised me to understand her words—all thanks to Gladius Cognitus. “Human has new weapon. Defend the king—he is assassin’s only target.”

  Secrecy was hopeless, so I stopped trying to hide Gladius. The blade glowed with mana energy, and its tail of blue light hung in the air, visible even during the day.

  Part two of my plan, my Familiar, looked as ready as I could guess. Beaker wailed at the goblins from his perch in the trees, far above bow range. He seemed incapable of shutting his beak about them. His racket had even gotten to Captain Jourdain, who glared at him.

  I telepathically scolded him. “Beaker, be quiet. What hunter are you that makes so much noise?”

  I distanced myself from the Alpha Company to split the goblins’ attention.

  Beaker cawed again.

  I turned to Yula. “I don’t think Beaker likes me being so close.”

  The huntress drew her bow and Imbued it with mana. “Many warriors make noise before battle.”

  After I nodded to the orc, her glowing blue arrow set everything into motion.

  Two dwarves and Fort Krek guards attacked as Yula’s glowing arrow sliced through the air. Primal spells popped off like miniature fireworks on both sides. Cries and orders issued in goblin dialects and the Common Tongue carried across the battlefield. Lines of humans, dwarves, and goblins advanced, attacked, and retreated.

  The jumping maneuvers the Deathless performed caught our soldiers off guard and delivered early wounds. Rejuvenates among Fort Krek’s personnel supported our cause, but their effects produced weak heals. Fortunately, everyone enjoyed a 50 percent health bonus from being part of my militia and supported one another with Merciful Touch.

  The air whistled with missiles. Yula sent arrows at enemy archers, who returned fire.

  Beaker extended his wings and dropped toward his quarry below.

  I pointed Gladius Cognitus the Scrivener to a location behind Rezan and planted a Compression Sphere. The blade whirled in front of me at an impossible speed, leaving a glowing blue contrail in the configuration of a rune in less than a second.

  A thunderclap sent goblins flying in different directions, leaving a thin white cloud. The shockwave bounced Rezan into a group of charging goblins. Levitation did him no favors as he landed in the well-tracked mud, dirtying his robes. General Sturm ricocheted from the king’s side. Crooga flew in the opposite direction, landing hard on her back. The blast merely tossed the hobgoblins’ shaggy hair, but the cloud of vapor momentarily blinded them.

  At that moment, I searched the obscuring mist for my target, who only had regained levitation after two goblins stopped to help him to his feet. Lengthy robes made it difficult for Rezan to stand, and he stumbled in them like a child wearing adult-sized clothing. If everything else in our plan failed, at least we soiled the king’s costume.

  Activating Slipstream whooshed me behind the king, and I performed a Charge maneuver. I wouldn’t regret wasting extra damage if I could critically hit him from behind and end this standoff.

  I brought my blade into Rezan’s back with a critical hit for only 168 damage.

  I checked my combat log to see what had happened.

  /Inquisitor Crooga Dispels Imbue Weapon.

  /You critically hit Rezan for 168 damage (0 resisted).

  What was Dispel? I hadn’t unlocked it by taking Counterspell, and the game offered no hints on how to do so. Nearly every RPG had a Dispel magic mechanic. As a high-ranked arcane caster, it should have been available to me unless only monsters had access.

  Regardless of Dispel’s position in The Book of Dungeon’s power tree, the first part of my plan had failed.

  My blow to the king’s shoulder threw him forward again, and he turned to face me. Rezan called out in the Bonepit dialect to the goblins for help. Those nearby helped him up once more. He pointed upward but had no time to issue commands to shoot the oncoming griffon.

  Beaker flattened himself into a dive, a feathered letter V with talons extended. When he struck the king, his claws dug into the muddy monarch and pulled him into the air.

  Crossbow bolts from General Sturm’s direction struck my pet, who disappeared in a cloud of green fog. Rezan, jostled considerably by my Familiar’s impact, landed amidst the battling soldiers and goblins.

  The second part of my plan had failed.

  Ten sparkling Rejuvenates streamed toward the ten most injured goblins. Rezan’s robes, laden with filth and mud, impeded his ability to stand, and he rolled forward onto his hands and knees. Fighting gravity, he pushed against the earth to stand—ignoring the blows given from Hawkhurst’s finest as the Halo did its work.

  Despite the chaos and mayhem surrounding him, Rezan’s yellow eyes narrowed in my direction.

  The time had come for the third phase of my scheme.