Teleporting up to the battlements? Easy.

Tying a rope around a merlon? Simple enough.

Rappelling down the inside wall? Not so hard.

Holding himself just above a deadly trap while studying it? Exhausting.

Stamina: 43/230

Time to get going again. He pictured the room, held the rope tight with his right hand, and cast with his left.

Blue swirls wiped away the stone wall. Wooden panels appeared, and the marble floor rushed up to meet him.

“Ow.” Pain swelled in his butt. He pulled himself to his feet and rubbed at it. “Exactly the same spot as last time.”

Cara chuckled. Glaring only made her laugh harder.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Her eyebrow raised. “I’d just climb up the rope.”

Yeah, of course she would. He shrugged. There wasn’t any winning that one. “I think I have what I need?”

“Awesome!” Her hands clapped together. “Let’s see if it works.”

Jake took a deep breath. “This might take a while.”

How hard could adapting an Enchantment aspect be?

***

“Are you done yet?”

“Working on it.”

As nasty as it had been to acquire, the wand that had neutralized Gramok was a perfect reference. Powerful, but simple enough to compare its Hold aspect to the spell version. The walls provided other comparison points, but they were much more complex systems.

That the wand’s Hold effect was linked to a Telepathy rather than Force aspect raised questions. His heart raced. Could effects take different magic types? He bit his lip and sighed. If there was a way, it would need more time and study than he could afford. Something to come back to.

One problem at a time. The internals of the aspects were vastly more intricate than the threads that connected them together. There had to be a structure to them, a pattern. Butterflies fluttered in his chest. He’d find them.

***

Blood pounded in his ears. Why didn’t this work? He growled and opened his eyes. “Time for a break.”

Cara stood at the doorway and waved.

Nice, long breaths. The pressure on his chest eased. “How’s Gramok doing?”

“He’s good.” She tilted her head. “How much food did he bring?”

“More to the point, when’s he going to share it?”

Their eyes met, and they both chuckled. Not a chance.

Back to work.

***

There. Warm tingling filled Jake’s chest, and he smiled to himself. Building a spell from scratch wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, but he had what he needed for now. The aspects themselves were built up from smaller components, much like functions.

They didn’t link together as cleanly as well written code, but there was a pattern to them. He plucked out another function, and it added itself to the growing list.

A quiver tugged at his stomach. Recalling the spell aspects, and now their smaller parts as well, was too easy. He’d always had an excellent memory for systems, sure, but this was well into savant-level accuracy.

At least it helped with Spellcrafting. He chuckled. Building a library in his brain to create magical spells wasn’t exactly why he’d signed up for the Computer Science program.

Earth. His shoulders slumped. What did people there think? He snorted. Would anyone but Tony even have noticed? How long before mom did? A knot twisted in his gut. All those years. She’d sworn dad was out there somewhere, and he’d told her to get a grip.

Fingernails bit into his palms. He sighed and unclenched his fists. He hadn’t made her reach for the bottle. There were more important things at stake here.

A slender arm wrapped around his shoulder. He jolted upright. His hand closed around his sword grip.

“Hey.” Cara’s eyes were soft, her voice softer still. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

The tremors slowed. His heart kept pounding. He let go of the hilt and turned away. “Sorry. I… I’m fine.”

She patted his back and nodded. “Okay. I’m here if you need me.”

***

Jake’s heart soared. The pieces of the Sight effect finally held together. “Got it!”

Spellcrafting skill increased 5 → 6!

For creating a spell effect from segments, you are awarded the trait Aspect Crafter. Aspects and segments created from scratch can be memorized automatically.

Segments? A decent enough name for them, and more accurate than functions. Good to have confirmation that they could be created from scratch, even if doing so safely was probably a long way off.

Cara smiled up, the silvery light of her orb glinting off her carving knife. “Awesome!”

“I got another trait, too.”

“Another one?” Her jaw hung open.

“Maybe they’re less rare for Spellcrafters? I’ll catch you up later.”

“You better!” She grinned, hopped to her feet, and held out her hand. “High five?”

Too early for that. The segments held together, but even the shittiest of code could compile. That didn’t mean it would work. “After I test it?”

“Deal!” She bounced from foot to foot, shuffling back out of the way. “Test, test, test!”

The spell still needed crafting, but first, the perk point. Where to spend it? He already had two in Power and Stability plus one in Efficiency. Another point in Efficiency was tempting. In theory, each point added more value, but only once you ran out of mana. In quick fights or without time pressure, it would be a wasted point.

Durable, maybe? Even if it didn’t help instant effects like Teleport or Ignite, 15% was a whole lot nicer than 4.5% to potency. When Cara’s Absorb had dropped running through the traps… His stomach hardened. It had been too close.

Even when the extra time wasn’t needed, the base duration could be shorter, freeing up more stability and mana for extra potency, anyway. With how useful spells like Absorb were, Durable was the right choice.

“Test, test, test!”

He sighed. At least creating the spell would be quick. After taking it apart and putting it together so many times, he knew Sight’s requirements back to front. He hooked it up to the Telepathy and Target aspects and minimized the potency and duration.

The spell held together first time. Warmth tingled in his chest. “Let’s do this.”

He buffed them both with Absorb and retreated to the far corner of the room. He closed his eyes and pictured a point in the air a foot ahead.

A gentle tease at his mana. It didn’t need much. Careful, mirrored hand motions. “Enmokajona!”

Brown and gray blurs flashed by. The spell was already over.

Cara bounded toward him. “Do you see anything? Did it work?”

“It worked.” Did the potency control the clarity or the distance? Or both? He cranked up the potency and duration. “Let’s see what’s underground.

How do you focus on a place you’ve never seen? His chest tightened. It couldn’t all be for nothing. It was a test—there had to be a solution. Would merely thinking a direction be enough?

It was an orc temple. The ceiling below had to be at least nine feet high. A good distance to start. Nine feet down. He closed his eyes and cast the spell.

Nine feet down. “Enmokajona!”

Flickering red light. A torch. Cobblestone walls. Marble floor. A stone ceiling, very close. He turned his head and the vision moved with it. His stomach churned. The distance from each object flickered back and forth. Needle stabs drove into his temples.

Skewed perspective, monocular vision, sight without eyes. Why wouldn’t it take a moment to get used to?

“What do you see?”

“A stone room. Small. Four exits, open doorways in the middle of each wall.” His sense of depth settled down, and the pain in his temples eased. “No enemies I can see.”

“Traps?”

Weight crushed down upon his chest. Discern Magic gave him nothing. “The spell only picks up light.”

“You’ll be fine.” She took his hand and squeezed. “Take care.”

“I will.” Jake upgraded several of his spells to take advantage of Durable and buffed up. Armor, Absorb, and a weak Heal. It probably wasn’t a trap, but if it was, he’d be ready. “See you soon.”

Farsight first. Thirteen feet down. “Enmokajona!”

Pain pricked at his temples. Still no visible threats. It was a good target destination, midway between ceiling and floor, with ample room to the side. His chest tightened, and he started the Teleport spell.

Thirteen feet down. “Raka-fa!” His breath caught in his throat.

The world lurched. His Farsight went black. Gravity tugged down, his feet hit the floor, and he stumbled. An icy chill bit at his skin. He opened his eyes to the stone room.

No explosions. No battlemages jumping out. Breath rushed out of his lungs. Cold, stale air replaced it.

An upright metal pole in the middle of the room held a torch. A magical orange-red flame flickered above it. The torch itself was pointless, purely decorative.

Was it? Besides the torch and its holder, the room was empty. Each of the four corridors led away to similar rooms, complete with their own magical torches. No other decoration, just a torch.

Jake shrugged. Orc battlemage interior design wasn’t the most pressing issue. Four passages—which one first?

A raspy voice echoed through the halls. “Prepare to be tested.”

Adrenaline surged. Jake drew his falchion and dropped into a wide stance. He’d pass their test of prowess.

His heart raced. Which way would they come from? He checked each passage in rapid succession. No Cara to watch his back now. Where were—

An orc! Right in front of him, axe raised. Jake lunged and swung. His blade passed straight through without resistance.

Blood pounded in his ears. A ghost? The orc smiled and shimmered away. An illusion. The tightness in his chest loosened a few notches. Not ideal, but better than ghosts.

That was too easy to be the test. He bit at his lip. A warning of what was to come. No more had appeared yet, but he wasn’t waiting around for them to show up. He gripped his sword tight and picked a corridor at random.

Aside from having only three doorways, the next room was identical. Both the new corridors led to similar rooms. How far did these go? It would be all too easy to get turned around and lost in them. Farsight and Teleport could get him out, but both required time, mana, and closing his eyes.

Could he mark his route? There weren’t any Cleaning enchantments on the walls, but his pack was above with Cara. Retreating from a test of prowess to get writing material? That had to be an automatic failure.

The torch! He sheathed his sword and took it. The magical light kept flickering, completely unaffected, but the torch itself was real and unused. Some soot or charcoal would be more than enough.

“Enkir!”

The torch ignited. It burned easily, giving off a wispy acrid smoke. How old was it? How long had it been here, a pointless decoration? Unless this was its purpose. There wasn’t anything else decorative in the room.

A few stomps put out the torch, leaving it coated in a black residue. A crude writing instrument, but enough. He marked the passage he’d come through with a one and proceeded down the next, keeping to the same direction.

Each room was the same, varying only in the number of exits. He marked each doorway and corridor he passed, incrementing the number with every room. The twentieth room had four doorways, the furthest marked by a one. The torch in the room beyond was gone.

Shit. He hadn’t gotten turned around. Illusions? Portals? His jaw clenched shut. He hadn’t seen any magic, but here he was. If it were portals, was the magic disguised, or covered by illusions? Or was space itself bent back on itself?

Movement flittered at the edge of his vision. Orcs wielding axes, slowly advancing up one of the corridors and groaning loudly. More orcs in the second, third, and fourth. They filled every corridor, advancing at a slow but unyielding pace.

Were any of them real? His sword had gone straight through the first illusion and dissipated it. A rapid-cast, low potency Blastbolt might do the same.

“Ronka!” The bolt shattered a dozen illusory orcs and burst against the wall behind.

“Ronka! Ronka! Ronka!” The same happened in the three other corridors.

More orcs pushed up behind them. How many were there? His heart sank. There didn’t have to be a limit to the number of illusions, unlike his mana. Staying put wasn’t an option.

He dropped the torch, drew his sword, and charged. “Ronka! Ronka! Ronka!”

Illusion after illusion disintegrated under the pitifully weak spell, but even more advanced from the corridors around the new room. He needed a new plan.

What did he know about illusions? His Discern Magic showed nothing. They looked identical. He sniffed the air. No scent. How could that help?

He saw them. He heard them. They affected specific senses. He needed to see without sight. The weight on his chest lifted. He sheathed his sword, imagined a point a foot above his head, and cast Farsight. “Enmokajona!”

He kept his eyes open, watching both scenes at once. Tingling discomfort swelled behind his eyes, but he couldn’t afford to miss anything.

Three empty corridors, and a fourth empty but for an ambling skeleton. An orc’s stature, but no longer anything but bone and the axe slung over its shoulder.

Skeleton

Level: 9

HP: 535/535

Stamina: 278/380

Status: Undead

His heart leaped into his throat. About as many hit points as a level 40 gorilla?

Why was its stamina going down? He chuckled. This was its version of running, slower than even his walking speed. All its stats were probably dumped into Strength and Endurance.

Strength—the stat that made physical hits hurt. Slow or not, getting hit by it would hurt. A chill ran down his back. He was stuck in a maze, and there had to be more of them out there.

Blasting it down would leave one less enemy, but also cost a whole lot of mana. He shook his head. Not until he knew what he was up against.

He cast Farsight down one of the corridors. The next room was clear. He sprinted through a crowd of orcs, each one dissolving away in his wake.

Three doorways, lots of illusory orcs. Another real skeleton rounded the corner of the far passage. Two out of three ways blocked. Would they be more vulnerable to Fire? Lightning? What was best against animated bones?

He swallowed and stilled himself. Who knew how many skeletons there were? Pure brawn wasn’t the answer. The message had mentioned five disciplines a battlemage needed—tactics, insight, evasion, farsight, and prowess.

Was this a test of all five? Didn’t Sun Tzu say the best victory was without fighting? Whatever the final objective here was, it wasn’t the skeletons sprinting toward him at a snail’s pace.

Never get caught without stamina. Jake smiled. No stamina, sitting ducks.

***

1,350 XP received!

The last of the three skeletons crumbled to dust without having taken a single swing. Walking ahead of them while they ran themselves into helplessness was cheesy, but better than getting his head chopped off.

An amulet glinted in the bone dust. He nudged it out of the pile and kneeled on the marble floor. Some kind of Telepathy enchantment was woven into the amulet. The trigger aspect was new, definitely not sight.

Cursed item, trap, or clue? There was little mana in it, but how much power would it take to mess with his mind? There was far too much of that going around already.

He kneeled down, coming closer without touching it. What did it do? Several segments in the trigger and effect parts were strikingly similar to those in the Alert effect. Alert triggered off of contact. Was this the same?

None of the segments connected outside the amulet the way Alert did. Not an alarm then. There was an internal connection, though. No, not internal—it resembled the contact trigger but in reverse.

Information transference through touch. A message? A greeting? A warning? Or just a way to give orders to the skeletons? They had clearly been mindless automatons, both figuratively and literally missing brains.

One way to find out for sure. He buffed himself up, took a deep breath, and grasped up the amulet.

An image. A circular room. A cave? Too regular to be natural. Twenty-five robed and hooded figures in a ring. One steps forward.

A diagram. The temple. The courtyard. The wooden room. The stone room below it. Distances; 120 yards down, 90 yards forward, 60 yards to the left. A cave, deeper still.

A message. Your duel awaits.