Riloth the 19th the 310th

"I need to get back to that spellbook," I told Dagmar when I woke. "If I can learn that Sending spell, I can send Tilavo a more detailed message. I don't know how the staff is alerting him, but I'm certain they are not conveying the urgency fully. What could keep him from this?

Getting to the Kituh was easy—physically, if not emotionally. When the demon realized I was not coming, he began to narrate the way in which he was torturing a defeated Daulf. To my relief, the magically enhanced sound could not penetrate into the Kituh and I navigated the tunnels with only my own memories of failed battles to taunt me.

The wizard and Fanos were still in their bubble when I arrived, and had at least four hours to waste until they left it. Or I would have, had the demon not started a forest fire. I found out later he did so when I did not show. I noticed the smoke first, the smell alerting me to the thin haze that had started to fill the woods. I turned back east and saw the distant glow of an approaching blaze.

I can use this, I thought to myself.

I left my hiding spot, and ran west of the bubble, placing it between me and the fire, casting Vortex as I went. It was a risk, but the smoke had grown too thick to manage, and if the spell didn’t give me away, my coughing would. My control with this spell had grown to match that of Gust in the preceding months. I could extend the bubble of air twice as far as before, while also increasing the intensity of the wind.

Either the bubble blocked their magic sensing ability, or that had not activated it, for when the pair left it shortly thereafter, they did not see me hiding in the smoke. They broke into a run away from the fire as soon as they left, not even looking around for signs of attack.

Sloppy.

I followed them at a distance, their own mad dash covering the sounds of my still-poor woodsmanship. They had no speed enhancing magic, and the smoke caught up to us in short order. When the it had completely obscured the surroundings, I activated Willsight and took a deep breath of my conjured air. Vortex’s magical winds completely obscured my Willsight, but I only needed to see for a moment.

I let the wind spell fall away, and the blue aura that filled my vision quickly dispersed to be replaced by smoke. All I could see was a haze of brown, and the glowing shapes of my quarries stumbling through the forest blindly. I focused on the green aura of Fanos and used my newest spell. The power of the Font of Space entered me, but I did not switch places with Fanos immediately like I did with Trish. For a brief moment, I felt him resist, but the surprise of the spell gave me a clear advantage, and then I was standing next to the wizard.

I stabbed him in the chest as soon as I appeared, and sent Lightning into him for good measure. When I knew he was down, I recast Vortex, grabbed the spellbook, and ran into the forest away from the fire, leaving Fanos to his fate. Seeing Daulf sacrifice himself both nobly and futilely had only fueled my anger towards the pair from the Tower. The wizard had correspondence, most of it of no relevance or concern to me, but he did have an unfinished letter meant to report on finding Daulf.

In the letter, he petitioned—not for the first time—for Daulf to be stripped of his rank for insubordination. He claimed that the tradition of elevating Illunia’s Chosen above the hierarchy of the Tower is an archaic practice of the past that should be done away with. Apparently, Daulf was not only Illunia’s Chosen, but the only member of the Tower to receive any sort of Blessing from Illunia. That knowledge reassured me, and went a long way to restoring some of the resentment I hadn’t known I’d held towards the goddess.

The letter had angered me when I’d read it those months back, but I’d sat mulling it over as I waited for them to emerge, honing my anger into rage.

My flight brought me to the ruins that had been the destination of the Tower members. I’d no plans for escaping the fire, and if the surface entrance or a building was still intact, I could weather the fire down below or with Vortex.

The sorcerer inhabitants of the outpost were awake and monitoring the coming flames when I arrived. They didn't ask questions before attacking, so I returned the favor. Three sorcerers had been living here, and judging by the robes, members of the same cult that killed my parents, supplied the forsaken raid at Edgewater, and summoned the demon that was my most recent horrible problem.

I planned to come back and interrogate them later, but that could wait. The cultists were poor excuses for sorcerers. They knew only a handful of spells from a single Font each. Vortex I learned was as effective as Shield against a—to borrow Tower terminology for sorcery, which I take particular joy in doing for both the irony and usefulness of the conventions—tier one Firebolt. One could have bested me easily in a straight sword duel, but I was not constrained to honorable combat.

Once they'd been dealt with, I went to the center of the outpost where I knew the door ought to be, only to find a collapsed pile of rubble. I was turning to find another refuge from the impending fire when I had a realization.

My new teleportation spell—name pending—had worked without being able to see my destination. I'd been able to see Fanos through Willsight but I knew that would not have made a difference for Blink.

Could I teleport into the base I know to be below me?

It turned out that I could. I drank a potion of clarity and walked over to above where I guessed the barracks would be. I closed my eyes picturing the bunk room and entered the Arcane Realm. I began to form the spell, disregarding the aspect that called for targeting an individual. This was not modifying the spell, only something I'd sensed was an optional aspect of it. This time, I drew the power, willing myself into the barrack, and then I was there.

I really need to name that spell. I guess Switcheroo is out of the question since that's optional.

I allowed myself the luxury of casting Clean to rid myself of the smell of smoke and made myself comfortable in the slightly undersized furniture. Then I got to work studying Sending.

Riloth the 19th the 311th-337th

It took twenty seven days to learn Sending. Once I began to build it, I found it easier than it had been the last time I'd attempted a tier three spell. Easier, but not easy. If before I was trying to build a ship in a bottle too small for it, now I was just trying to build a ship in a bottle of the proper size.

This spell used the same somatic component as Mind Spike, so that part was easy, but the spell itself was vast and complex. My mental vault had grown along with my capacity to learn this higher complexity of spell, so I didn't need to make any hard decisions.

In those twenty seven day, Dagmar never once told me what had happened in my absence, and I never asked. The visions I conjured in my own mind likely paled in comparison to the acts that demon committed in pursuit of me.

Riloth the 19th the 338th

"I got it!" I shouted the moment Dagmar woke me. "Get the bell!"

We ran to the lobby, which was already packed with fleeing townsfolk and refugees. Dagmar vaulted over the reception desk and opened a secret compartment inside it, retrieving the bell, and throwing it to me. I caught the magical artifact and ran out the door and straight to Levar's where I broke through the window and downed a potion of clarity.

With a clear head, I activated the magical bell ringing it three times which signified an emergency. Then, I cast it aside and formed the spell for Sending. I pictured Tilavo as I sent it into the Arcane Realm, and as soon as I felt the spell's magic running through me, I spoke a message, "An archdemon is destroying the town."

I'd never actually gotten around to investigating the rank of the demon attacking us, but archdemon seemed like a fair guess and compelling argument for his return. And it was.

Moments later the demon's monologue was interrupted.

"Come out little sorcerer! I won't—what! You're ear—" and then he was silent.

Through the window I saw a brilliant white light illuminate the smoke of the surrounding forest fire.

"Whoop!" I shouted, unable to contain myself.

"Theral?" came a voice from behind. I turned to see Levar in his sleepwear, a two piece pajama set covered in embroidered alchemy glassware of different shapes and sizes.

"I'm sorry about the damage," I said quickly as I left towards the door. "There was a demon attack. I'm sure Tilavo will pay for the damages if you explain to him what happened, but maybe wait until tomorrow."

The door was locked when I reached out, and I needed the key to open it even from the inside. To avoid making the scene even more awkward by asking for it, or climbing out the window, I Blinked out into the street and made my way back to the Parlor.

A confused Trish was arguing with an irritated Dagmar on the Parlor steps.

"Do you know this filthy dwarf?" Trish asked when I arrived.

"I'm afraid so," I answered and began casting Clean on said filthy dwarf. "We met in the market."

Dagmar let out a laugh and then thanked me for the spell.

"When did you learn that?" Trish asked, in excitement.

"It was in the spellbook," I lied—fairly convincingly if I do say so myself. "I was going to surprise you when we left town."

Before she could further her line of inquiry I continued, "Have you seen Daulf?"

"Oh yeah. The handsome idiot ran to fight whatever that voice was. Do youto think he killed it?"

"I doubt it. Let's find him."

It was not difficult to locate the Chosen of Illunia. We found him outside the gate leading in the creation of a firebreak beyond the refugee city, but I could see they lacked the implements to complete the work in time.

"Stop digging! We need to move the tents! Get everyone to tear them down and bring them towards the walls." I told him when I found him.

No matter how far into the forest the refugees cut in their pursuit of firewood, the camp grew to fill it. There was only a few dozen yards between the new treeline and the tents, but the whole of the camp lay on grass long trampled to dirt.

"Good idea! That way everyone can help!" he quickly began to delegate the men to go recruit everyone from the town to assist.

Seeing Daulf alive and helping others went a long way in clearing my mind of the visions of his torture. It gave me hope that this wasn't a futile endeavor and that I had hope. It also gave me an idea on how I could help.

"I'll handle this side!" I shouted to him as he started to send crews in both directions.

I ran to the tree line, which had not yet begun to burn, the demon had lit the fire as he flew to the town and we had a little time to prepare. Reaching to the Font of Air, I cast Gust, centered on myself but blowing away—a simple modification by then. I'd drawn a new level of power just before learning the new spell. Tier three if I had to guess, but judging sorcery in such ways was difficult. I drew on that new level of power now, creating the largest Gust I could manage before the spell began to run away from me. In all the death spells I'd cast, I'd learned that I hadn't been pushing myself nearly to my limit when overcasting spells, but this time I went right to the edge.

The blast of wind that appeared before me was unbelievable. The tent city before me vanished in a moment as my spell carved a twenty foot wide aisle into it, ripping tents from the ground and throwing wagons end over end towards the city.

I ran around the town, wreaking destruction in my wake. After only ten minutes the spell collapsed and I had to cast it again. All in all I cast the overpowered Gust four times before I reached Daulf's team of soldiers, townsfolk, and refugees. By then, the fire had reached our starting point, and I could see that women and children had followed in my wake, further pulling back the debris and stomping out any stray sparks that took hold.

At the end of my trip, I found a comfortable pile of tents and laid down for a rest. My actions had not gone unnoticed and not a second after I'd collapsed a group of children came with a water skin and an apple for me. I had to do a double take, as two of them were Rail and Gil.

I smiled and thanked them for both. As a sign of appreciation and thanks for their previous unremembered service to me, I sent them flying into the air with a very powerful Slow Fall, and watched them gently float back down to the ground.

They clamored for an encore, but I had no Will left to do so. Trish and Dagmar found me shortly after. They seemed to be getting along well. Too well for my liking. I saw them both laugh as they approached, only to laugh harder when they saw me.

Uh oh. Definitely not good.

We went to Daulf, who'd set up a makeshift hospital in the market square, and found ways to be busy. Word had traveled about my run around the city, and everywhere we went people tried to gift me things, but I was content with my apple and water. For the first time in a long while, I took a bite of an apple and wondered why it has been so long.

Oh yeah, the vomiting.

What followed was a nice vacation from the resets. I helped with simple manageable tasks, not having to worry about impending doom or torture, and for a time I sat with my friends as I lost myself in their company.

Tilavo returned around dinner. The Parlor had been opened to house the now tentless refugees, and Simon was overseeing the staff as they organized a large series of stew pots to feed anyone in need. I even saw the baker and Jarreth handing out baskets of pretzels at the end of the line. Jarreth it seems has finally gotten one for himself, and he ate as he assisted in distributing the food.

Trish, Dagmar and Roland sat on the outside of the square watching the commotion with food in hand. Being a hero had privileges, and we'd been brought the first bowls of stew along with a bottle of wine. Roland had shown up while I'd been running around the town and had assisted in the clearing. Dagmar and I secretly celebrated a hard-won victory, while Trish and Roland lamented the day's work.

I couldn't help staring at Trish as we talked. I'd seen her die too many times. Despite knowing the temporary state of each death, they haunted me. It was as if staring at her alive and happy would allow me to push out the memories of her battered forms.

"Why are you staring?" Trish asked with a smug grin. "Did you finally admit that you were in love with me?"

"Gross," I said, feigning a dry heave. "I'd rather date Dagmar. You're old enough to be my grandmother."

Trisha's eyes bulged wide at my comment. Her usually controlled mask dropping at the divulging of something she'd rather I'd not share.

"Don't worry, no one will remember," I said

I was saved from Trish's ire by the arrival of Tilavo.

"Can we talk, young wizard?" he asked once we all noticed his presence outside our gathering.

I'd anticipated he'd approach me after he finished whatever pressing business had kept him away and sent him right back after dealing with the demon. As such, I didn't need to tell myself not to think about dragons, or time prisons, or magical extradimensional doors.

"Sure," I said as casually as I could manage.

We walked away from the group and spoke as we went.

"I wanted to thank you for alerting me. I am told you and your dwarven—" he paused before forcing the next word out "—friend summoned me with that bell. I will not ask how you knew of it, for I am in your debt. I was dealing with urgent business and would not have been free for some time if not for your message spell. For the record, that was not an arch demon, but a Balor."

"There is no need to thank me. Anyone would have done what I had, had they the ability to do so."

"I'm not so sure, but if you would allow me one question, how did you know I could handle such a powerful demon?" he stared at me with piercing eyes.

I sensed no magical intrusion, only the keen insight of an immortal being at work.

"Daulf had mentioned that you and the Tower had an understanding," I answered, putting heavy emphasis on the word. "From what he said, I'd thought you were some powerful and ancient wizard with whom they were afraid to cross."

Trish would be proud, that wasn't even a lie.

I'd gotten better at these half-truths even before the resets in speaking with Daulf.

Tilavo smiled wide at my theory.

"A close enough guess. You are a smart one. I see why the Chosen has taken a liking to you."

He then handed me a purse, and told me he owed me a favor as well before he went back to overseeing the work.

When I returned to my friend, Dagmar and Roland were in a heated debate about whether or not the forest was a gods forsaken tangle of torture. Dagmar was for it, Roland against.

Trish ended the argument by asking, "What's in the bag?"

"I don't know, let's find out." I eyed Dagmar wearily and saw she had the same cautious look.

I turned the contents of the small bag over on the top of the barrel that had served as our dinner table. Out poured a shower of gold coins and gems, far more than could have fit in the fist sized pouch.

Everyone was silent for a moment before Trish said, "Well, flood me."

The curse broke the silence and everyone began counting the coins while I instead marveled at the bag. I'd had some small experience with dimensional pockets as of late, and this one had felt different. The bag had the same heft to it before and after I'd emptied it, unlike the wizards pockets which had felt slightly, but noticeably, lighter as you removed objects from it.

I looked at the object in my Willsight, and it shone with the same yellow glow as the rest of the magical items in the Parlor, which were themselves the same—if less intense —aura of Tilavo.

I stuck my hand in, and put it in up to my elbow, where the opening was no longer wide enough to fit it. Waving my hand around inside, I found no bottom or sides like the magically enlarged pockets of Altian.

"Guys," I said, drawing their attention from the pile of wealth. I held my arm up, which now ended at the elbow with a coin purse "I think this is a true extra dimensional space."

Their eyes all grew wider than even the deluge of coins had managed.

I definitely need to find a way to get this when these resets end.