Riloth the 19th the 41st

Multiple Lights hovered around me as I made my way through the woods with the crossbow on my back and the large jug of acid in my arms. The foliage wasn’t nearly as thick here as down south by the harpy’s lair, and with Mage Armor and the Light, it was manageable, even after a day of training. With only occasional stops to put the acid down and rest my arms, the trip took forty minutes.

I fully expected my first experiment to fail. With my Willsight on, I loaded the crossbow using the windlass built into the stock to pull back the cable and opened the door. I surveyed the room. Nothing had changed as far as I could tell, aside from the continued fading of my corpses. Without stepping through the threshold, I took aim at Timothy and loosed the bolt. The release of the crossbow let out a loud crack as the cable hit the stop at the end of the stock. The bolt covered the distance between myself and the doorway in less than a blink of the eye, and shattered into splinters as it failed to enter. Where it had attempted to pass, the ward lit up once more with the same opaque sky blue brilliance as it had with my spell.

I hadn’t expected it to work, but all this would have been much easier if it had.

I knelt to examine the splinters and found the head of the bolt—now an unrecognizable lump of steel—in the grass before the door. The splinters themselves fluttered down to the ground, having been shredded into the wood’s component fibers from the impact. I kicked the head into the doorway, and it passed without issue. Testing further, I took a new bolt and gently tossed it into the room. The thrown bolt also passed without difficulty, but as it went through the threshold, the doorway glowed faintly, as if it were examining the object.

So, the ward protects against velocity, or maybe energy in general? Would the temperature of the object matter? How would a torch differ?

Without one at hand, I improvised by lighting another crossbow shaft on fire with a fire cantrip. Once the flame had taken hold, I watched with my Willsight and waited until my aura disappeared from the fire completely. After a handful of seconds, the fire’s color returned to normal, so I threw it gently through the door with approximately the same energy as my last throw. Where the bolt passed through the door, the blue aura returned, but much fainter. It extinguished the flame as it passed through, while not impeding the bolt’s motion at all.

That was... inconclusive. It blocks magic, fast objects, and fire. Could it be multiple wards? It must be.

Partially satisfied with the results of the first test, I moved on to the next. I had to resist the urge to experiment to determine the exact threshold at which the ward would activate. From what I’d seen so far, the ward was thorough enough that the information would prove little value.

I entered the door with the crossbow held awkwardly at an angle to fit through the frame. The announcement boomed through the room, and I took the time to aim at Timothy. At "two," I loosed the crossbow and the bolt struck him in the shoulder, breaking off the barest hint of stone.

Not waiting to see how they reacted, I backed out the door, struggling once more to get the crossbow through. Eventually, I gave up and dropped it. Timothy got to the door first and crushed the weapon in a single strike that only narrowly missed me. Once I was outside Timothy and Jimothy stepped back, each within striking distance if I chose to enter again. I nudged the glass jars of acid through the doorway, carefully watching the two golems for any sign of movement. The only sources of illumination were the Lights hovering behind me outside the door, which cast dim rectangles of light into the room.

Neither golem reacted visibly to the jars. Slime acid vial in hand, I stuck my left hand through the doorway and the golems immediately moved for me. When I pulled my hand out, the golems halted and returned to their previous positions just inside the door.

I was not looking forward to this next part. I stuck my finger through the doorway and cocked my right arm back, prepared to throw the vial. This time, when the golems attacked, I kept my hand in place until the last possible moment, but I waited a hair too long. I had hoped they would not be able to leave the doorway—I was wrong. The block-stone fist of Timothy reached through it and tore my hand off at the wrist. The pain was... I am not going to write about that. I don’t need to feel it again.

Shocked and in pain, I dropped the vial and fell to the ground, clutching my wrist to stop the bleeding. After some time and a lot of whinging, I recovered enough to notice that the two jars of brimstone acid had been shattered as planned. So had the crossbow. I attempted to tie my wrist with a strap from my bag, but it was too difficult with only one hand. With cold detachment, I summoned fire in my right hand and seared the stump of my left to stop the bleeding. That was also quite unpleasant, to say the least.

Luckily, the vial was unbroken in the grass. I lifted the vial and examined the golems through the faint light. It was hard to tell, but it seemed like the gore-spattered block-fist of Timothy was wet from destroying the acid jars. Reaching through once more, the golems charged. This time I pulled out and took two large steps back long before they reached me. As soon as they turned their backs to return to their alert stations, I stepped through and hurled the vial at Timothy’s back, where it shattered with a violent hiss and emission of smoke.

Apart from the loss of a hand, I marked that day a great success. I spent the remainder of the night lying in the grass, trying to block out the pain. As usual, Levar’s potion kept sleep’s embrace from saving me from my pain, and I got up periodically to survey the damage the acid caused. I could tell that there was a very faint discoloration on his fist. Where before it looked like polished marble, now it appeared dull. His back too bore a mark where the more powerful acid had made contact. Where the brimstone acid had removed the polished finish of the stone, the acid slime concentrate had eaten away enough to create a visible divot on the stone surface. It hardly seemed like a fair trade for a hand, but it was progress.

Riloth the 19th the 42nd

The next morning I woke up, tasked Levar with creating the acid, and sent Simon to purchase the crossbow and arrange for lunch and a cart. Then I returned to the Parlor for an early lunch and then went to Ren’s home to get an early start on training.

As before when opening the door, her eyes scanned me up and down. Her hand went to the rapier at her side, and she said, "Good morning young sir, how may I be of service?"

This time I introduced myself differently, hoping to make a better impression, "Good morning. Do I have the pleasure of speaking to the Ren Griffin’s Bane?"

Her face set in a self-satisfied smirk I’d come familiar with from each time she had embarrassed my martial prowess.

"You do," she said with a nod.

"I am a journeyman Stormcaller on leave on the Continent as part of my training. Amongst my clan, they speak of your exploits and say there are none who combine magic and swordsmanship better than you. When I learned you lived in town, I had to come see you. Could you possibly humble yourself to train one such as I in the art of the rapier?”

I felt I had laid it on a little too thick and tried to disguise my nerves as the look of a starstruck fan as she contemplated her response.

After a moment of consideration, she laughed and said, "Flattery will get you everywhere with me. Come in, and we will see what can be done for you. Did you practice that speech?"

Embarrassed, I said, "A little, was it too much?"

"A little," she replied, "but too much is just right when it comes to compliments."

In the back, I demonstrated my spell repertoire, altering each sorcery spell’s effect slightly in response to her previous feedback. This day, I cast Gust as a powerful focused blast, just as I’d used to no effect against Tilavo. The today before, I’d cast a much wider and weaker version. Sorcery spells are not discrete constructs in my mind that I must scrupulously maintain like wizard spells. They are just things I know how to do when I try. If there is something that can change in the spell, like the destination for Blink, or the size of the flame for Firebolt, I am innately aware of how to change that. It’s like the spells are black boxes, with unknowable inner workings. Each has a few levers or knobs on the side, with which I can use to aim and alter the effect within some limit, but beyond that I have little insight to their workings.

Gust is strange. I shouldn’t have known how to do it, but yet here it is. The instincts I follow to cast it are the ones that I used to cast Slow Fall, but I’ve widened the range I can turn the knob that controls the spell's area of effect and power. This in itself is not strange, sorcerers become more adept at controlling their spells as they use them, learning to pump in more power or dial it back. The amazing thing is that I somehow took the directional control aspect of Gale and added it to Slow Fall. As if, I took the knob off of one black box and stuck it to another.

Could I do more? Could I move these levers of control around, or remove them all together to channel more power into a simpler effect?

I mused on this as Ren went over the same general advice on pairing spellcraft with swordsmanship as she had given the today before. The training covered much of the same ground as the previous lesson, but this time she provided more pointers on when Gust would be best suited over my other spells. She even let me use it on her. The torrent of wind drove her back a dozen feet, but near the end when she was about to fall, she performed a back handspring and recovered. Once she’d regained her footing from the initial force of the spell, the weaker sustained wind was not sufficient to drive her back.

We spent time sparing, and she taught me how to integrate cantrips into my combat style.

“Not all practitioners of magic can learn to cast a second spell while maintaining a first, but it should be within the grasp of any suitably dedicated Blessed or wizard to learn to cast a cantrip while maintaining a full spell,” she said, putting a strange emphasis on the world wizard.

Her words brought me back to the fortress outside Edgewater, where I’d found the golden sphere in the ashen remains of the dragon. My mind had been so clear, and I’d been able to maintain two cantrips without even trying.

Could I have cast two spells with the aid of that strange object?

My thoughts were interrupted by a burst of colorful light from Ren’s offhand, and I stumbled back in surprise. She advanced on me and I tripped, landing on my butt—for neither the first nor the last time that day.

“An unexpected cantrip can be as effective as a spell, while not requiring you to expend any Will or drop your defenses,” she lectured my fallen form. “If you could cast spells while maintaining that Gust spell of yours, I could see a lot of potential, but for now we will focus on integrating cantrips into combat. The same principles we go over will apply to spells. Learn to rely on your cantrips to enhance your sword play, but don’t miss opportunities for a well-placed spell to take out an opponent.”

Ren went easy on me as we sparred with our rapiers. She followed her attacks up with bursts of colorful light from her offhand, and instructed me on how to do the same. Glow wasn’t as useful as her own light cantrip at disorienting enemies, but she assured me it would be quite effective against feralkin and the Forsaken.

During one bout, I recalled my previous use of the Lightning cantrip in the fortress to stun an enemy I’d struck with my short sword. In a moment of inspiration, when Ren’s blade met my own, I cast the cantrip Shock through my rapier, and watched with smug satisfaction as it traveled from my weapon to hers, and then down into her hilt where... it disappeared into a gem set there.

She jumped back from the cross with her own self-satisfied grin—which was her usual resting facial expression.

“Nice try!” she congratulated me. “That was a good instinct, and it would have worked had I been wielding a different blade. I was going to go over that later, but you seem to have a good head on your shoulders.”

The mentioning of heads brought Willsight to mind.

It helped me see the golems in the dark, could it help me in fighting a spellcaster?

During the next pause in sparring, I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing to send part of my awareness to my mental vault and will my bridge open. I’d found I could do so without the need to meditate and fully enter my vault, but it still took a moment of concentration. When I opened them, Ren stood before me, her aura glowing the vibrant red of a setting sun. Yellow wisps swirled through her aura, much like the darker blue lines swirl with my own. The yellow further reinforcing the image of a sunset. Her aura was brighter than my own, but not nearly as brilliant as Tilavo’s had been before he... We don’t need to go over what he did again.

Another swirling aura! So, it seems I'm not unique in this. Could she too have an ensouled item? Or is she under the effect of some spell like the ogres?

As soon as I thought to look, I saw that Ren’s sword had an aura identical to her own and it was as bright as hers. The other magic items I had seen, while bright enough to stand out in the fog before I’d refined my vision, had been pale compared to the brilliance of a person’s aura.

“Are you done starring?” she asked, after—in hindsight—an uncomfortably long amount of time.

“Uhhhh,” I stammered, turning red while trying to think of a way to explain what I was really thinking about and not what she thought I was.

No, it’s not like that. I was just staring at your aura. Sure, she’ll buy that.

Before I could speak, she continued, “It’s alright. I don’t mind, but if you keep it up, I’ll have to charge you. Training is free, a show is not.”

We resumed training, and I quickly forgot about my embarrassment when I saw her cast her first spell with my Willsight active.

While we sparred, she went in for a slow thrust, giving me the opportunity to parry it. Before I could follow through on the move, my eyes were drawn to her face, where a purple light had taken root in her sunset complexion. The purple light appeared, for less than a second before flowing down her arm and into her hand where it manifested into one of her cantrips of colorful light. In the past, the lights could be any color, but the purple aura present in the spell made it hard to discern its current one.

Then, having become completely distracted by the sight, Ren’s slow thrust pierced my chest.

“Ahh!” I screamed, in a totally dignified and gallant manner.

“What the Fauell is wrong with you?” she scolded. “Why didn’t you parry, I was moving at a snail's pace.”

Her thrust had pierced my chest, just below the collar bone, and blood poured from the puncture wound. I fell to my knees, clutching at the wound.

She walked towards a chest at the side of the training yard, speaking as she went, “I know it’s difficult, but do try to not let my beauty distract you from my blade.”

I didn’t attempt to explain, and let her once more think me an awestruck adolescent. She returned from the chest with bandages and as she tended my wounds I thought over what I’d seen.

I could see her begin to cast the spell in her head. But what was that new color in her aura? It infused the spell just like my own aura infuses mine, and the harpy’s aura infused her voice. She is Blessed, could that be the Will of her deity?

When she’d finished tending to me she said, “It's not too bad. You’re lucky I pulled back on the thrust. Practice cantrips with Mage Armor active.”

Without waiting for my ascent, she walked into her home, leaving me to practice. I activated Mage Armor, wishing I’d had it active before my distraction.

I began my practice with Glow, building the simple spell construct in my mind. I’d tried this before, back when I trained with my mother, and had been close to success back then. But now, with all the growth of these past months, I couldn’t even begin to form the simple shape of Will.

What’s wrong? I should be able to at least form the spell in my mind.

As I tried, my Willsight induced headache grew worse.

Headache? Could that be it?

I closed my eyes, and focused on my bridge, picturing the door closing to a crack. As soon as it had, my headache faded. Trying once more, I began to construct the cantrip Glow in my mind. My Will traced the lines saved in my mind from years of trial, and I completed the cantrip with ease, and held it ready before the narrow opening in my bridge. I sent the contorted ball of Will through, and as soon as it passed the threshold into the Arcane Realm, a ball of light appeared in my hand. For the briefest moment, I had a grasp of both my Mage Armor and Glow, before both fell apart in my mind.

I almost did it! It looks like my Willsight makes casting harder.

Ren returned while I was practicing with two iced beverages in hand.

I rose from the sand and took one from her, saying “Thank you.”

She never brought me a drink before, does she feel bad about the stabbing?

I took a sip and coughed. The drink was extremely alcoholic. I had only just gotten over my aversion to drinking, but hadn’t gone near anything stronger than wine.

Between coughs I managed to ask, “Where did you get the ice?”

She took my glass from my hand and muttered something under her breath. The drink on the glass froze before my eyes, the crystalline lattice growing from where her fingers gripped the glass.

“You sure are a lightweight. If it was a real drink, I wouldn’t have been able to freeze it with a cantrip,” she teased, in what I was beginning to learn was a playful tone.

Why do all the women in my life torment me? I wondered idly.

“To answer your question, Tin Lan is the god of mischief and entertainment, and what is more entertaining than entertaining a guest? I gained my Blessings from the stories I told of my tales as much as from the acts of which I recounted, and few things go better with a good tale than a cold drink.”

She dismissed me after that, and told me I was free to come by again if I ever passed through. I thanked her and promised I’d definitely see her again. Due to my early start, I had time to relax in the bath for a few hours while waiting on Levar to finish the acid.

I nearly decided to pass on my assault on the door that day, due to my chest wound, but I didn’t like the idea of waiting any longer—besides, it wasn't like the wound was going to make my chances of survival any lower if I went toe to toe with the golems.

Now more worldly and experienced, I was able to more or less repeat the feats of yesterday without losing a hand. After firing the crossbow, which hit Timothy square in the chest, I dropped it and stepped out. Once more Timothy punched the ground outside the door, shattering the acid jars, and as he retreated I threw the small vial of acid slime concentrate at his back. The ward of the door didn’t prevent me from throwing the vial through it, confirming the hypothesis I’d formed from my experiment with the crossbow bolt.

Tasks completed for the day, I returned to the wagon where the same bottle of wine I had shared with Levar was waiting—along with a nice warm blanket and a camp chair. I sat out the rest of the reset drinking in silence, reflecting on the day’s events.