It took her less than a minute to get to the bottom. She called for me to stop when she was only a small light far below, presumably a small ways above the midden.

  “Left!”

  I obliged and she vanished from view.

  My spell was ready for the—

  *Clatter*

  True Teleport II

  Attart was hovering above me and to my right when I reappeared. My very own shoulder angel.

  I lowered her to the ground.

  I could see the chasm from here. She’d lowered us down on the wrong side of the refuse.

  That said, I’d been looking for a path around it when I’d been sent back in time, so I didn’t know the path from the right side anyway.

  The question was, should I try another route, teleport us to the far side, or face the King of the Dead once more? I carried myself well the first time round, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t mess up something this time. Especially with a necromancer in tow. Would that make him happy or sad?

  “What is your relationship with the Dead King?”

  She didn’t need to ask which dead king.

  “We have met, both inside the book and out. I insulted him. We do not get along.”

  “He travels?”

  She shook her head, “I entered the dungeon in an attempt to free myself. It did not work.”

  She hesitated, then added, “I looked different then. Very different. It is possible... He may not recognize me.”

  It was still a risk. Our other options were across the ledge above the chasm to the unexplored door, or through the mound of waste. With my strength and my new height I could force my way through the second option, but Attart was at risk of suffocation. The ledge brought with it the risk of the unknown, and would require spells or nerves of steel to cross every time. I should have prepared for the obstacles, as well as the ogre.

  I needed a mantlet I could push through the mound like a shovel, and stretch out like a drawbridge as needed.

  I picked Attart up with my spell.

  The path across the chasm was open, no door barred passage.

  Soldier’s Swords

  “Scrape along the edges of that archway.”

  The swords flew to obey.

  No trap was found, no trap had ever been found in archways so far as I remembered. And the sound would attract its own troubles. If the troubles were akin to the ogre, perhaps it was time to stop searching. But I’d be sending in Attart first, and I couldn’t use her like that in good conscience.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Steel yourself. We’re going across that chasm.”

  She smiled, “I am ready.”

  I floated her across the fifteen foot gap. It was narrow enough I could jump it, trivial with a bit of a run up.

  Fast Teleport

  Judge me and find me wanting, I was afraid of heights.

  I was also running out of transportation spells.

  There was an alarm set up in the room. A large bell attached to a simple trip wire. For once without my ring I learned about the trap before I set it off. I pointed it out to Attart while I was lowering her to the ground.

  I needed to find a way to resize the ring.

  There was a door straight ahead and a portcullis to the south on our left. The portcullis was the way we wanted to go.

  “Lift the gate.”

  My swords flew to obey.

  The gate noiselessly opened. It was nice to occasional change things up.

  I approached the gate, letting my light flood into the circular room bey—

  ?Push X?

  The giant mushroom exploded into a cloud of blue of and red chitin.

  Green under my life sight.

  I’d reacted to the apparition before I’d realized it couldn’t possibly, be the Mushroom-King, for I could control it.

  Three cloak figures stepped out of the shadows as one. That alone should have been an anomaly. My light shone bright enough to dispel all shadow.

  Neferhi the Shadowmaster lowered his hood and smiled at me, “Oswic, I’ve been looking for you. We have much to discuss.”

  ***

  Attart hurried to my side, “Oswic, that is a soul, not a man.”

  Neferhi turned his gaze on the little necromancer, “Attar, there is no need to be so rude. Perhaps you didn’t finish your lessons?”

  The Shadowmaster held up his hand. In it was the etiquette book in which she had been bound.

  Attart flinched, “Attar died. I am Attart. That book is not the book which killed him. Leave us be before I bind you.”

  The other two figures shed their hoods. They also bore the face of the Shadowmaster, “We are already bound. But you may stay. We could use the company.”

  Neferhi had been nothing but polite and reasonable with me, as loathe as I was to admit it. These creatures, bound souls, whatever they were, were as evil as a theatre villain.

  “What are they?” I asked.

  “I do not know. They are not ghosts, but neither are they corporeal beings. I have no sway over them.”

  Perhaps I would.

  “Let us pass. I am a Magus seeking the downfall of the Bleak Fort. If you wear the Shadowmaster’s face then you know already I am the Darkswallower. I’ve slain two warlocks and will not hesitate to destroy your pale imitation.”

  My skin began to glow with the brilliance of the sun. Their robes and skin turned faintly translucent in the glare.

  Neferhi returned the book to his robes.

  “Go in peace. Head south. The left hand path will take you there.”

  I softened my light to a more comforting level. My own eyes had been starting to hurt. The walls of the room were run through with veins of what looked like gold. The reflection had been blinding.

  The room held to exits, both to the south. Two doors, one iron, one wood. Ours was the path through the wood.

  “Is the door safe to open?”

  “It is safe.”

  “May I use force?”

  “Destroy it, if you wish.”

  Clearly they cared for the home of the warlocks as little as I did.

  “Tear down that door,” I pointed for my swords’ benefit.

  They went to work.