by Deck Davis
He’d used most of her essence by artificing them into arrows for his old friend, Jon, to use in the last dungeon he’d faced. Now, he had enough psychic essence for one use. The problem was, he needed something to artifice them into.
“I used to have a guide orb who I’d send in ahead,” he said, thinking of Bee, and feeling surer than ever that he’d seen her earlier. “But we’re going to have to improvise. Has anyone got a long-range weapons?”
Rolley and Etta shook their heads in unison. Only Barnard spoke. “I can try a spell. Of course…”
“We never know how it’ll turn out,” answered Tripp. “No thank you.”
Rolley glanced at his friend. “He once tried casting a fireball at a snow-bear. Ended up conjuring this giant tree that grew forty feet into the air. It had golden leaves and glowing, golden fruit. I thought we were rich. I climbed up and plucked fruit from a branch, and the god damn tree grabbed me and ate me. Forced me into its trunk and started crunching. It didn’t hurt much, obviously, but it was terrifying.”
“This place is unpredictable enough as it is,” said Tripp. “I’ll have to use something else. It won’t be as good, but it’ll help.”
They heard footsteps coming from the staircase now. Four sets of footsteps each walking in perfect unison. Tripp had already come to recognize them. It sent a shock of fear through him as if the steps were part of a Pavlovian conditioning.
“Monks? I thought they’d left us alone?” said Barnard, with a trace of fear in his voice.
“Looks like whenever we delay, our pale-faced friends come to give us a gentle shove.”
Etta nodded. “One of the rules, remember? There are places to rest after we beat a room. It means we don’t get time to prepare beforehand.”
“Have we all got our potions ready?”
“Etta shared them out,” said Rolley. “Thanks, by the way.”
“Good. And we all have our weapons handy?”
Barnard grinned. “You sound like my mom when I was a kid and we were going on a trip. She used to run through a checklist. A real, paper checklist. Are the windows looked? Is the oven off? I’m the same; I can’t leave my apartment without checking everything. I need order. Which makes it difficult not knowing which spell will fly from my fingertip.”
Tripp nodded at Rolley. “I guess we’re ready. Do the honors.”
Rolley didn’t delay. He pushed the door open, letting out a flood of white light that dazzled and blinded them all for a moment.
It washed away like water down a plughole, revealing a narrow corridor that opened into a room ten feet away. It was only wide enough for single file. Rolley was the first to go, followed by Etta, Barnard, and Tripp, whose frame brushed against the sides. It stirred a little claustrophobia in him.
Soon, all four of them reached the end, and the first room in the Tower of Windborne lay before them.
CHAPTER 18
The room was suspiciously bare. Four walls made from stone, dotted with fire torches sending out soft light. The floor was made from marble, with the odd black, green, and red tiles set in no particular pattern. It smelled of chalk, reminding Tripp of one of his old school classrooms. On the wall opposite them was another door.
“This is it?” asked Etta.
The door slammed behind them when they had all entered. The room felt small with four of them in there.
“Rolley, do you sense any traps?” asked Tripp.
“Give me a minute. My trap skill is only tin-5, so it sometimes takes a while to pick things up. Other times I have to get close before it works.”
“Nobody move until Rolley tells us we’re safe.”
While the rogue got to his knees and inched his way around the room in a crawl, Tripp focused on the walls.
“I have the Underlay skill, and it might be worth trying. Anyone heard of that?”
“It’s what miners and crafters use, right?” said Barnard. “I believe herbalists, potion makers, and alchemists also have it a secondary ability. You can learn it by-”
“Great, you’ve heard of it. I’ll cast it and see if I can find anything.”
There was nothing special about the stone. No markings, nothing. To make sure there was nothing hidden out of sight, Tripp readied his Underlay ability.
This was something he’d earned along with his armorer and artificery skills. When he used it, Underlay spread light over whatever he focused on. It would tell him what a certain structure or item was made of.
Back in the labyrinth of Godden’s Reach, he’d used it primarily for mining. He used to cast it on mine walls to see where there was iron or steel beneath rock. It had also come in handy for finding hidden switches.
As he spread the light over the walls of the room, this is what he wanted to happen. His manus, which decided how often spells and skills could be used, depleted with each casting. Notifications tried to edge into his vision. He made them wait until he’d used Underlay on every part of the walls, floor, and ceiling.
Now his manus bar was empty, but it would recharge in time. He let his notifications appear.
Underlay analysis – Tower of Windborne Room
Granite
Brass
Manus essence
There wasn’t much to ponder on. The granite came from the walls, and the brass must have come from the torches affixed to them. But what about the manus essence? Were the torches magical ones that were fueled by manus? Or was the manus essence woven into the room itself, into its walls and floor and ceiling?
Tripp knew that some artificers learned the building skill. Using it, they made houses with manus-fueled barriers. They created trebuchets that shot fire and ice at creatures stupid enough to assault their homes. In a tower filled with puzzle rooms and illusion, it wasn’t a stretch to think the tower itself was artificed.
But he couldn’t answer that now. His Underlay had told him nothing, but sometimes nothing was exactly what you need to hear.
“I can’t find any levers or traps,” said Tripp.
“I can’t see any either,” said Etta. “Rolley?”
“Give me a second,” said the rogue.
While they waited, Tripp saw another notification begging for his attention. He allowed it to appear.
Underlay skill leveled to Nickel 5!
Chance of finding secret doors increased by 15%
Chance of finding rare minerals increased by 10%
Nickel rank 5! That put him one more Underlay level-up from upgrading to the tin rank. Every time you earned another metal rank in a skill, you got a big boost. He wondered what it would be this time. He guessed he didn’t have to wait long; he was so paranoid about the tower that he’d need to cast Underlay in every room.
Then again, his manus had only recharged to 5 points out of 290. It was slow going. Could he afford to deplete his manus every time they went somewhere new? That would leave no points left to use his armorer or artificery skills. He was going to have to be patient about reaching the tin rank in Underlay, and balance out his manus use.
Finally, Rolley got to his feet, having searched every nook and crevice. “We’re clear,” he said.
They all looked around now, waiting for something to appear. Barnard inspected a wall, as if he might uncover a secret that Tripp and Rolley had missed.
“A bare room, two doors,” said Etta. “Well, we know which door we used to come in. I guess there’s nothing else to try.”
She marched over to the door on the opposite side of the room and reached for the handle.
“Etta, wait a sec-” began Rolley.
But it was too late. Etta twisted the handle, and the door clicked and then opened.
Tripp braced for a trap. He held his breath, ready for monsters to be conjured in the air.
Nothing.
Rolley glared at Etta. “You were lucky this time, but you shouldn’t open any doors without all of us agreeing. We’re a party, and we need to think like one. No acting rashly.”
Tripp sense
d that if he or Barnard had said this, they would have earned a sharp rebuke from Etta’s minotaur lips. Instead, she looked a little pensive, but said nothing.
Barnard walked to the doorway and peered through. “Another room,” he said.
The unlocked door opened to another room, a copy of the one they were standing in. Bare walls, a marble floor. Tripp sniffed the air and smelled the same waft of age.
“Do we go in?” asked Barnard.
Rolley, behind them, tugged on the handle of the door they’d use to enter the first room. “We can’t go back, so I guess we have to.”
“That’s right; it’s one of the rules. Once you enter a room, you can’t leave until you solve it,” said Etta.
“There’s something wrong here. I suspect a trap,” said Barnard.
Etta gave a good-natured smirk. “A trap? In the Tower of Windborne? Surely not.”
Tripp took a few of the stones he’d collected near the mines from his inventory. He pitched one into the new bare room, where it landed in the center of the marble.
Nothing happened.
“No lasers, no bombs, no monsters,” he said. “We might be okay.”
“Lasers? In Soulboxe?”
“Trust me. Paces like this, you prepare for anything. I learned that the hard way in the Godden’s Reach labyrinth.”
“As our most experienced labyrinther, you nominated yourself to go first,” said Rolley.
Tripp shrugged. He guessed someone had to go first; why not him?
He stepped through the doorway, holding his breath as he placed his feet in the new room.
He held it in his chest, waiting for something to happen, his nerves tense and his pulse beginning to pick up.
Finally, he breathed out. “You guys can come in.”
He made room for them. When the four of them were in the new room, the door slammed shut behind them, and a lock clicked into place.
Tripp felt a flinch of pain across his chest. It was muted. This was Soulboxe, so any pain a player felt was a simulation of it rather than the real thing. It was still unpleasant.
Words appeared in front of him.
25% hitpoints lost!
This was worrying.
“Did everyone else get that?” he asked.
“What the hell?” said Rolley.
Barnard took a health potion from his inventory and drank it.
“That was a waste,” said Etta. “I only bought enough for four each. You could have waited.”
“I can’t stand my health bar being empty. I need it full. It gives me anxiety when I see gaps.”
“Rolley, can you check for traps again?” said Tripp.
“Sure thing.”
Tripp used some of his regenerated manus to cast Underlay again, but he could only use it three times now. It didn’t level up this time, and it returned the same results as before.
Etta paced the room. “Same as before. Same walls, same floor, and another door. Let me try something.”
“Etta…” said Tripp, guessing what she was about to do.
Sure enough, she opened the door ahead of them and stepped through it.
Then she was gone.
Only for a second, though, before the door they’d used to enter the room opened. Etta emerged from the door behind them.
She flinched, then waved her hand as if to disperse text Tripp couldn’t see.
“Lost 25% again,” she said. “The room is a circle, kind of. We go through one door, we come back in through the door we used earlier.”
“Perhaps you should drink a potion,” said Barnard.
“I’m still at 50%, and I put plenty of level points into boosting my power stat. I have plenty enough HP.”
“I can see your health bar, and it’s making me tense.”
“Then this might be a good way to get used to not being in control,” said Etta. “Immersion therapy. God, isn’t that why you choose the dice mage class in the first place?”
“That was rash, Etta,” said Tripp. “Thought we agreed to run decisions by each other?”
“Sometimes you have to take a risk. A camel is a horse designed by a committee.”
Although he couldn’t argue with what she'd discovered, he was a little concerned that Etta might be a problem. One thing you couldn’t afford to do in a place where you only got one life, was to make rash decisions.
Rolley stopped his circuit of the room now. “Nobody move.”
“Found something?” asked Etta. “I knew you would.”
“Four somethings. There are levers set in the floor this time.” He pointed out four seemingly random spots. “There, there, there, and there. Looks like you have to pull them up.”
“Four of us, four levers,” said Etta.
“It looks obvious,” said Barnard. “Thanks to Rolley’s trap skills, of course.”
Rolley smiled at hearing his friend’s praise. “It was nothing. Any rogue would have uncovered them.”
The three of them looked at Tripp now.
“You want me to decide?”
Etta folded her hairy arms. “If we’re deciding by committee, someone needs the deciding vote. Otherwise, we’ll get deadlocked in indecision. By our nature, humans need a leader. They need someone willing to bear the results of their choices. If one of us has the final say, the rest of us can think without the weight of consequence on our shoulders.”
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“You’ve been in a labyrinth before. You know how they work better than us. And if this is Boxe or something like him designing this…you know how they think.”
“Nobody knows how Boxe thinks. Trust me.”
“I do trust you, actually. That’s why I think you should make the decision.”
Although he felt flattered, Tripp couldn’t help but think this wasn’t all due to his experience. He got the sense that it would be easier for the other three if he made the final decisions. That way they were absolved of some of the blame. Or was he being cynical?
Either way, they were right. Someone needed to have a casting vote for when they got stuck.
He pointed at the ceiling and walls. “I can’t see anything else to try. When we pull the levers, get ready for something to spawn. They usually come from above or the sides. Weapons out, watch your backs, watch each other’s backs.”
“Got it,” said Rolley. “Barny? You ready?”
The mage nodded. “Yes, I think so.”
“Show us the levers,” said Tripp.
Rolley walked to each section of the floor and pointed. A he did, the illusion was uncovered and Tripp saw four depressions in the marble, with metal levers set in place.
After taking their respective places, they looked at Tripp, waiting for his command.
“No point messing around. Do it,” he said.
One lever after another gave whining sounds as they pulled them up. There was a noise like gears clanking. As much as Tripp listened he couldn’t tell if it was coming from above or around him.
But then nothing happened.
His party looked at him as if his sudden election as leader had bestowed him with the secrets of the tower.
“Beats me,” he said. “Maybe the levers are a red herri-”
Movement stopped him midsentence.
Four shapes had emerged from the walls, two on either side of them. At first, they looked like four solid columns of fire. Tripp could feel the heat coming off them in great wafts, and he worried for his beard in case the fire would singe it.
The fire changed into skeletal forms shorter than Tripp, but taller than Rolley and Barnard. They held scimitars that were blunt and burned red.
Enemy information tags floated above their heads.
Fire Scourge – Level 32
Fire Scourge – Level 31
Fire Scourge – Level 35
Fire Scourge – Level 30
“Fire scourges,” he said, thinking aloud. “And they’re all a higher level than us. Can you three hold them of
f while I figure something out?”
“We’ll try. What choice do we have?” said Rolley.
“Here,” said Etta. “This might help.”
Her eyes changed color now, glowing a deep red. Smoke seeped from them, washing over each scourge and then dispersing within a second.
Now, the information tags above their heads had changed.
Fire Scourge – Level 32
Affinity: Fire
Affinity 2: Undead
“I have the Enemy Soulsee skill,” she said. “It’s a paladin skill. Mine’s only copper-rated, though. At least it tells us something.”
“I can work with this. Hold them off,” said Tripp.
Etta, Rolley, and Barnard bunched together in the center of the room, back to back and weapons drawn.
Etta held her hook-shaped sword. Rolley wielded a set of twin daggers with gems set in their hilts, while Barnard held his staff in his right hand. The chicken head on top of it had opened its mouth now, and an unmistakable clucking sound came from it.
“It, uh, it does that when there’s danger,” said Barnard. “Only when the danger is already here, though. Quite useless, actually.”
The scourges advanced on them now, each having selected a different player to attack. When one came toward Tripp, Etta struck outwards with her sword and slashed its arm.
She drew her hand back, wincing as fire teased over her fur. The smell of burned minotaur hair filled the room.
Distracted by a new target, the scourge turned toward Etta now, leaving her with two to deal with.
“Switch to long-range weapons if you have them,” she said. “The fire is quite hot, surprisingly.”
She cycled through her inventory, replacing the sword with a bronze-cast, battered-looking spear. Holding it in two hands, she used it the way a lion tamer would a chair, jabbing it forward in the scourges’ chests. It didn’t hurt them much, but each strike kept them at bay.
Barnard, his face flushing red with panic, followed suit with his staff. His jabs were clumsy and lacked power, and only one in two strikes pushed the scourge back.
