Riloth the 19th the 78th-79th

I headed back to town after my day of musing interspersed with some training. There, I relaxed in the baths until it was time to leave for the Dahn. I knew Tilavo would be on the gaming floor around this time and elected to use the staff entrance to the baths to exit—much to Simon’s protestations. The rats were gone for the day, and no signs remained of whatever destruction they'd wrought.

At the appointed time, a disgruntled Simon waited outside the Parlor. I set off with Gretchen and the cart to meet Dagmar. The packed meal was Simon’s “I’m mad at you and complying as maliciously as possible while still technically complying” assortment of bread, cheese, and an apple.

Dagmar's right. I probably should have given him a tip. That's a lesson learned.

I gave Gretchen the apple and split the rest to save for Dagmar in case she was interested. The bread was stale, and the cheese was like a brick.

What does she eat? I’d mostly only l seen her drink. I guess I’ll find out.

Dagmar waited against the tree atop the Kituh entrance. I threw her the bag of bread and cheese. She opened it expectantly, but her forehead creased in a slight frown when she looked inside.

“Thanks, I suppose,” she said a little sullenly.

I guess bread and cheese are not dwarven delicacies.

I picked up my warpick and helmet, donning the latter, and we headed to the Dahn. The gear was subtly different from the one we'd used before. When I told Dagmar of the disintegrating effect of items that became duplicated in the Dahn, she solved the problem by simply selecting a different set of items each today. After a few resets the items in the Dahn would fade and they could be reused.

Outside the Dahn we began to stretch and after which, I chugged the spare potion of clarity. I’d not taken three potions of clarity since that fateful day of the first benchmark—for obvious reasons. It may have been mental, but as soon as I swallowed I felt unease build in my stomach.

Thankfully, I won’t live long enough to have to worry about that.

We ran into the room and took our places on opposite ends. Fortunately, whatever arcane mechanics governed the disintegration of our corpses saw to heading off the worst of the rotting smell. There were never more than two bodies in the Dahn at any time through our many, many attempts.

Each time we entered, I felt certain it would be the day Tim and Jim decided to do away with the countdowns, but each today they gave the same warning without alteration.

Jimothy ran at me when the countdown ended. While the golems didn’t fall into the same endlessly repeating behavior of those unaware of the resets, their intelligence was limited and they had yet to learn our tricks. He swung at me with an overhead smash. I sidestepped it narrowly with the aid of Wind Jump and followed up with a rune-assisted warpick strike. My attack landed on his arm—still-planted in the stone of the floor—and removed a satisfying, if small, chip.

Jim followed up his first attack with a punch from his other arm. Expecting this, I cast Wind Jump and hopped away from the strike. The spell assisted leap carried me a dozen feet back towards the door. I stumbled on the landing and by the time I’d regained my footing, Jimothy had already closed the distance. Arms spread wide, he brought both together in an attempt to crush me between them.

I didn't give him the chance. As soon as I saw him advancing I cast Blink, and found myself before Tim when the deafening boom of Jim's clap reverberated through my body and skull. I'd not thought to activate the runes in the helm that protected my ears, the need not having arisen this far. The room grew quiet as a piercing agony struck my ears.

Pain was quickly becoming a constant companion I'd learned to live with. I ignored it along with the blood I felt running from my ears and pulled back my pick to attack Tim, but found that the room was suddenly at an angle. I dove forward to prevent a tumble down the sudden slope, but where I expected floor I found only air. I spun my arms to regain my balance, but balance it seemed was the thing I lacked. The sound wave had ruptured my inner ear and destroyed my equilibrium.

I probably should have activated my helmet.

Tim struck me and the day ended.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of activity. Each morning Dagmar woke me, potions in hand, and I led her to the entrance to the Kituh.

On one of our trips, I asked, “Do all dwarves struggle to navigate the surface?”

I’d been trying to keep my questions to a minimum, and it paid off, for she answered with only mild irritation, “No, not all. I have lived my whole life in the Torack. Before this Torc cursed nightmare, I’d only been to the surface a handful of times. As bad as I am, some are far worse. I knew a man unable to bear a moment’s glance at the sky.”

Our forest trips soon became rote, during each we would share any progress we had made the today before in our respective tasks. I kept her abreast of my training and research, and she shared with me the state of the outposts found along the Kituh.

On the morning of the seventy-ninth day, after dropping Dagmar off, I performed the Lightning Bolt benchmark I’d been reluctant to do previously.

Alright, procrastinating.

I was happy to discover that the few Wind Jumps I’d performed off of a third clarity potion hadn’t induced Will poisoning. My benchmark showed that my Will had grown. Whereas before I could cast eight Lightning Bolts, now I could cast nine.

I drank a second potion of clarity and used it to benchmark Gust, the first of the modified air spells I’d learned of late. I’d never benchmarked this spell before, but it felt as if it used a comparable amount of Will as Gale, which it was partially formed from. I'd been able to cast Gale seven times, and that day I succeeded in casting it nine.

That answers the question as to whether my Will or affinity to air had grown. They both did.

With no Will remaining to use on training, I spent the rest of the day in the library hoping to find some texts on magic I may have overlooked. Books on sorcerers were exceedingly rare, but most magic uses Will to draw upon the Fonts, and I hoped to find anything that might shed light on my current condition. Jarreth—whose knowledge of the library’s inventory had been proved beyond reproach—pulled a few books when I asked what they had on magical theory.

“I’m sorry Mage Theral, but this is all we have. I’m sure you—as a Stormcaller—can understand that these works are quite scarce due to an—ahem—interested third party,” Jarreth said as he set down a dozen books.

I’d already seen most of them in my previous visits and they were higher-level texts that approached magic from a historical perspective with little substantial theory. I’d had little expectation of finding anything useful in a non-Tower library, but this collection was impressive enough that I had held out some small hope.

I found a lead in the creatively titled Persons of Note by Earnest Gavelrin. The book contained short, encyclopedic style entries of figures from the Age of Kings—also known as the Age of Adventure. After the gods left the realm, thus ending the Age of Wonder, and the demigods stopped ascending, ending the Age of Heroes—a new Age began. The people of Kaltis struck out into the vast untouched wilderness to seek adventure and lands of their own. The origin of the mad profession of adventurer can be traced back to this time, and many of the first adventurers became figures of legend still remembered after the Flood.

Galok Lightsmith was a wizard and Blessed of Tin Lan who lived in the late days of the Age of Heroes and early in the Age of Kings. Galok, of the orc Clan Deeptusk, was a friend and companion to Tin Lan during their pre-ascension life. Lightsmith was a wizard in the employ of Tin Lan’s acting troupe and specialized in illusions and light magic to bring the scenes to life. After Tin Lan’s ascension, Galok was one of the first to exhibit Blessings of the new god. Galok’s Blessings were seen as minor at the time—the ability to project his voice over a crowd and disguise his appearance—but his wizardly abilities also grew greatly in that time. He created a variety of new offensive light spells such as Light Lance, Burning Glare, and Guiding Bolt. They were unlike any Light spells that had been seen before. He also developed simpler means of creating more complicated illusions. Galok was unable to pass these spells onto his apprentices. At the time, it was seen as a sign of Galok’s genius that no one could learn them, but contemporary scholars believe his facility to create and cast these were an aspect of the Blessing he received from his one-time friend.

Reading this passage, I was reminded of the conversation Daulf and Trish had back on the original nineteenth while I slept.

Could this be why my facility with air has improved? Is this a Blessing? If so, from who? Waas? Riloth? One of the demigods? That raises the question, how do the gods see these resets? Can they? Are the Wardens trapped in this as well, unaware?

Does this account even apply to my situation? He was a wizard, but my unexplained affinity is related to my sorcery.

There were no answers in these books, only more questions, but at least they were better ones than I had before. I thanked Jarreth and left to meet with Dagmar outside the Dahn. That day, I activated the runes on my helmet, though Jimothy did not deign to repeat his clap.

Riloth the 19th the 80th-87th

From this reset on, the days fell into a rhythm. In the morning, I would escort Dagmar. Then I went back into town for breakfast, after which I would go visit Ren for training. Well, that was the plan, and the routine I eventually settled in, but I made a grave mistake the first day.

Excited to get Ren’s input on my new spells, I ran straight to her home after dropping off my navigationally-challenged ally. I knocked on her door and waited. And waited. I knocked again after five minutes. Still no answer.

After another five-minute wait, I took the pommel of my father’s sword and banged on the door, and shouted, “Ren, open up!”

The door flew open and Ren’s rapier was at my neck before I registered her presence. She was wearing a robe一only a robe一and looked disheveled. “I don’t know who the Flood you are, but you have three seconds to leave my lawn before I hang you from my minotaur by your gold pouch.”

Slowly I spread my hands wide away, sword pointed down and away, and walked back down the steps. Empty threat or not, I had no doubt she could make this reset miserable if she set her mind to it. As soon as my feet touched the street, she stepped back inside and slammed the door shut.

Not a morning person, I guess.

That bridge burned for the day, I went and got breakfast and then trained on my own in my clearing. I started with some Firebolt benchmarking that doubled as target practice. Recent experience gave me extra incentive to not miss the boulder. My benchmark confirmed what I had suspected when I cast eleven Firebolts. My Will capacity had grown, along with my Air affinity, but my Fire affinity was unchanged.

I spent my second potion of Clarity further practicing with Wind Jump. I’d grown better at gauging distances, but still needed to work on landing. Then一don’t tell Dagmar一I went back to my room and took a nap. I’d been going nonstop for a while now and needed to turn off my brain for a bit. The thought of doing anything while Will-drained filled me with dread. The trick to napping on a potion of forgone sleep, as I discovered, was to not take the whole potion. If I sipped the foul beverage—not something I recommend—until the worst of my exhaustion left me, I found I could take a nap in case the want arose.

On the next reset, I got breakfast before heading over to Ren’s and found her much more agreeable to my regular greeting.

“Hi, Miss Griffin’s Bane?” I asked when she opened the door—fully dressed.

“Who’s asking?”

She had a coy look which I’d come to identify as flattered. I’d quickly learned that the fastest way to get Ren to do what you want is to play to her ego.

“I’m Tal, I’m a sorcerer in hiding, and I was hoping you could train me so that I could one day live up to your legend.”

“Sure,” she said with a shrug after some brief contemplation. “Come in. I had no plans for the day.”

The contrast with the day before sent an unexpected pang through my heart. I was not particularly fond of Ren, but I’d spent a lot of time with her. We didn't talk much, and it was easy to forget about the resets while training with her. Her corrections were always repetitive within the resets, as I usually made the same mistakes, so when she repeated them across resets it was not noticeable. You may have noticed by now, but I am not the most adept at using words to get people to do what I want. But here, with limitless chances to try, even I can一eventually一find a way to get people to do what I want. It was tempting to do so with others, to gather an army and swarm the Dahn by force.

No. To do that would be to be no better than Tilavo. He saw that I had something he needed and he took it, disregarding the cost of my life. I can’t do the same and expect to return to my friends after this is over. There has to be a line.

She gestured to follow her inside and asked, “A sorcerer huh? What flavor?”

Her words pulled me from my reflection.

“Stormcaller, I think. To be honest, I think my mother knew less than she let on. I have a penchant for Air magic, but she did not.”

I’d decided to stop holding my cards so close to the chest. I don’t know where answers to my questions might be found, but so long as I revealed nothing of the resets, the worst thing that could happen would be my temporary death and the loss of an afternoon. Plus, Ren never believed my lies.

“I’ve known a few of them in my days. Decent folk, if a bit private.” We made our way to the training yard, and she drew her rapier and held it out in a guard. “Show me what you can do.”

I drew my father’s sword一my sword I suppose I should say now一and went straight in for an attack, which she easily parried and followed up with a cut to my throat which she stopped short of drawing blood.

“Not terrible, but what can you do?” she asked with a lift of her eyebrow and gesture of her hand.

I gave her a rundown of my spells, demonstrating those she requested. To make the best use of my time, I told her about all the uses I already knew from previous sessions.

“That's an impressive array for one so young. And no gestures. Not bad,” she said after my demonstration. “I am going to try to hit you. Short of teleporting away, do what you must to not get stabbed.”

In the months of constant battle, I’d overcome the small dependency I still had for hand gestures while casting all but my aimed attack spells. Ren, it seemed, appreciated my progress even if she didn’t remember it.

She lunged forward at the word “stabbed” and went for a thrust straight at my chest. Reflexively, I cast Wind Jump, throwing myself back across the yard, where I managed to maintain my balance. Triggering memories of Jim, Ren was quick to close the distance. Now prepared, I activated Mage Armor and parried her second thrust, which she had made no effort to disguise. Without the spell, her attack would have pierced my side due to its sheer speed and power, but my magic made up for my too slow and too weak parry and the thrust went wide.

Quick as a viper, she pulled back and thrust again, but I couldn’t bring my sword back in time to deflect it. I couldn’t match her speed of arm, but my Air spells could be cast at a thought. I summoned a Gust, causing my Mage Armor to lapse and sending her tumbling back. I still couldn’t cast a second spell and maintain concentration on another, but Air spells in particular were not slowed noticeably when I cast them with Mage Armor on. Ren recovered from the tumble with a back handspring and ran into the wind of my spell. Her progress was slowed, but still she advanced. She attempted to strafe outside the line of the spell's effect, but her being the target, the wind moved with her. When she was only two paces away, my Gust disappeared with a quick flick of her wrist, and I found her sword tip at my neck.

Breathing heavily, she said, “Not bad. Obviously, I could have killed you a dozen times had I not limited myself to thrusts, or made any attempt to disguise my attacks, or simply dispelled your Mage Armor from the onset, but not bad. Accounting for the great disparity of our abilities, your only real mistake was trusting too much in the wind spell. Always plan for your spells to be disrupted and let it be a bonus when they aren’t.”

Why do I surround myself with women who have mastered the art of the backhanded compliment?

We practiced the sword for another half hour, with her providing feedback. During this time, it didn’t feel like she was actively trying to kill me.

During a lull in the sparring, I asked, “Do you think you could help me find a combat application for the Vortex spell I told you about?”

“I’ve never heard of one like that, but I’m sure I can find some use for it. Let’s see what you got.”

I cast the Vortex and the wind of the spell lifted sand up from the ground into its torrent, filling the area with a dusty cloud.

“Well, isn’t that pleasant,” said Ren, in between sneezes.

The sand heavily obscured my view, though it didn’t seem to enter my lungs, eyes, or even touch my skin at all.

I stepped back out over the edge of the sandpit, and once robbed of ammunition, the dust cloud abated.

Ren approached and threw a fist full of sand at my face. The spell easily swept it up and sprayed it in all directions around me, including back at her own face.

Wiping the sand from her eyes, she said, “Well, there’s one use I suppose. I’ve known an adventurer or two to throw sand, though I think it’s a stupid trick. Why throw sand when you could just throw a knife?”

Next, she took a stone and threw it at my chest. When the projectile entered the domain of my spell, the wind took it off course and sent it up and over my shoulder instead of into my sternum where it had been aimed. I hadn’t flinched at the sand, confident the spell would protect me after experiencing the dust cloud, but the stone was a different matter. My developing instincts made me want to attempt to bat the stone aside, but I restrained myself.

Ren watched the stone’s path, contemplating, and picked up another. This one she threw at my right hip, where the wind redirected it into my left shoulder. The shock of the impact caused me to lose concentration on the spell, though I succeeded in holding back a cry of pain.

“Cast it again,” she said, her tone devoid of sympathy,

I obliged, and she pulled some small throwing knives from some hidden pocket.

Trish and Ren would probably get along great.

She threw the first knife at my left shoulder, and the spell sent it in a high arc over the garden wall. The next knife came in straight at my chest and I couldn’t resist the urge to block. My block was too slow, but the spell swept up the blade and threw it high in the air, not allowing it to come close.

Ren attempted to repeat the hip-to-shoulder throw, but the spell was very effective against the throwing knives, and it was deflecting them to just over my shoulder.

Frustration crept onto her face and she held her last knife up to her lips as she contemplated her last throw. Without warning, she flicked the knife low to the left on a trajectory straight to the ground to the right of my feet. The spell hardly altered its course, and it hit the stone paver near my feet.

“It looks like you have yourself an effective defense against knives. Let’s see what else it can do.”

What followed was terrifying, but thankfully Ren proceeded with some measure of restraint. Vortex was about as effective against throwing axes as it was against stones. Arrows and javelins were too fast and too heavy respectively to be reliably deflected, and I finished with some new injuries on the left side of my body.

Ren seemed genuinely remorseful when a javelin cut deep into my forearm, but I assured her it was fine.

Nothing a time-traveling prison can’t fix.

After that, we went back to sparring—but with Vortex active. While nowhere near as effective a protection spell as Arcane Armor, the spell disrupted the aim of her thrusts and slashes. Ren was able to compensate for the effect, but the first few attacks were noticeably easier for me to defend.

Stepping in close proved to be the best use of the spell when active in combat. I learned this when I successfully parried one of Ren’s thrusts, and she came in with a dagger in her offhand. Her hand entered the Vortex and the wind sent her arm wide. When I saw the effect the wind had on the thrust, I stepped in closer and watched with joy as the wind threw Ren to the ground.

“Not a bad spell you have there,” she said as she regained her feet. “I don’t recommend trusting it to save you from an attack you didn’t block, but in a melee I can see that being very useful. Well, I’m done for today. You can go now. That was pretty fun. Don’t be a stranger.” The last part she said with a wink.

The following weeks were spent mostly in sparring. For some reason, she never assigned me the tedious task of trying to cast cantrips with a spell active. Instead, I continued to practice this on the road to the Dahn on the back of the cart.

One thing that stayed constant every day was her opening thrust. The next day when she made the attempt, I was ready with a parry instead of a spell. Unfortunately, the thrust was too quick to fully deflect and I ended up with a nasty gash on my side. On my third confrontation, I Wind Jumped back as before and was ready for her follow-up attack. Dismissing Wind Jump midair, I had Mage Armor ready before I landed and succeeded in parrying her thrust. Just as I felt the Will drain cease off Mage Armor’s deflection, I summoned a Gust and threw Ren back.

She charged through the wind just as before, but this time when she dismissed my spell to come in for a thrust, I had a Lightning Bolt partially formed, ready to unleash at the collapse of Gust. While I couldn’t complete the construct for a spell while concentrating on another, I’d made some progress in the homework assigned to me by a past Ren. I learned to form a spell construct in my mind while another spell was active, so long as I didn’t attempt to send it through my bridge and unleash its power. This was a task I could only perform with wizard spells, but Lightning Bolt was just what I needed in this situation. When she dispelled Gust, I sent the construct through my bridge and completed the casting. From her perspective, Lightning Bolt shot from my waiting hand the instant she dispelled the wind.

It worked!

The Lightning Bolt shot from my palm and Ren intercepted it with her sword. The white energy traveled down the blade and disappeared into the hilt, as I had seen Dagmar do with my own blade. I watched dumbfounded as the blade stopped in front of my nose.

I need to learn to do that.

“You’re dead, but nice try.”

The next day, I repeated everything up to the Lightning Bolt. At the point I’d cast the bolt, I instead cast Mage Armor and successfully parried the thrust.

“Not bad,” Ren said, stepping back and looking me over with new eyes.

That day she went much harder on me in our sparring, and I left her home riddled with cuts and bruises.