Chapter 3.25 — Alone
Some people are more comfortable as part of a team. I was always more comfortable being on my own. I love taking care of people, but I don’t necessarily love people taking care of me. On some level, I probably feel I don’t deserve it.
Excerpt from the Journal of the Emissary
Sixth of Striving 1142, Evening (Three days ago)
Garne was getting tired. He’d been fighting for what seemed like hours. It probably wasn’t hours, but his muscles simply didn’t believe that. Maynor was a machine and could probably keep going for days if he had to. That’s what Tier 3 did for a man. He’d be happy to get to Tier 2. He’d be happy to get to the other side of this fight. He wondered how Dreek was doing as he thrust his sword into a zombie and then pulled it out fast enough to cut off a zombie’s head. Two down, ten thousand to go.
“Dreek, you doing okay?”
“Yes, I love being assaulted endlessly. Didn’t you know? It was on my bucket list.”
“Well, it’s always good to check off one of your life goals. Maynor, I suppose you’re not even breaking a sweat.”
“Nope, this is pretty easy stuff, even if there is a lot of it. I’m okay. You getting tired, Garne?”
Garne scoffed. “Me? Fresh as a daisy. Maybe a pressed daisy. Possibly a petrified daisy.”
“What the hell is a daisy?” asked Dreek.
“It’s a type of flower. Mostly found in Gloomhearth though. It was only discovered like twenty years ago or something like that.”
“Must be rare.”
“It’s pretty common, actually. I mean you see it in a lot of gardens, particularly in Lorelei. And we know some grow in Xarinos as well, from those who have ventured in there and returned.”
“So there’s a flower that’s common that wasn’t discovered until twenty years ago? How does that make sense?”
Garne chuckled. “You’re fighting what seems like an endless stream of creatures, and that’s what doesn’t make sense to you?”
“Actually,” said Maynor, “they’re not coming as fast. I think that grinding sound we’ve been hearing is doors closing.”
“Someone is out there closing doors?”
“Seems like it. Or they were on a timer of some kind. Or they close automatically after the room has been emptied of creatures.”
“Do you always do this?”
“Do what?”
“Figure out every angle about everything.”
“It’s a good habit to get into. You should try it.”
Garne grunted, having to kick a kalilope to get it off his sword after it got stuck in a bone. “Nah, I’m good. I prefer to take things as they come.”
“You’re making it a lot harder on yourself by living that way.”
“Maynor, I know you mean well, but trust me, if I had to analyze everything, I wouldn’t enjoy life. That’s why I’m part of a team. There are people in the Misfits who are much smarter than I am.”
“And smell better,” said Dreek.
Garne almost shot him a glance, realized there were still plenty of things to kill and resisted the impulse.
“You realize when this is over I’m going to punch you, right?”
“You’re not very bright, are you, or did you forget I can phase shift?”
Garne groaned. “I need a new team.”
“For once,” said Dreek, “we’re in complete agreement.”
*
They crossed the new bridge one at a time, not sure how much weight it could take. When they reached the new pillar, Ressssen immediately expanded her magic sense. She frowned.
“Merck, can you use your detect skill please.”
Merck complied, and didn’t speak for a full minute. “This one is…different.”
“How so?” asked Borin.
“I can’t tell.”
Merck closed his eyes and reached out with a magic sense he’d only just learned he could access. It was a heady experience. In some ways, it had always been there, or he’d always been using it, but not consciously. Or maybe not always. Maybe only since he’d started using sizzle, but he wasn’t sure that was the case. He thought it entirely possible that sizzle enhanced it, but that it had been there before that. He would probably never know.
“I think this one has five slots.”
“But there are only three of us,” said Borin.
Merck considered the problem. Borin looked around like the answer might be found elsewhere in the room. But it was Ressssen who broke the uncomfortable silence.
“Merck, can you tell when you’re getting close to filling a slot?”
“I think so, yes.”
Borin looked at him. “You can? I don’t think I can.”
“That’s fine, Borin. Merck, can you almost fill each channel, but not complete it?”
Merck thought about it. “Maybe? I’m getting pretty tired. This is exhausting, even though I love doing it.”
“Okay, we need to take a break.”
“Take a break!” Merck yelled. “They’re alone down there.”
“I don’t think three qualifies as alone,” said Borin.
“I mean they’re depending on us to close those doors.”
Ressssen put a clawed hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re concerned, Merck, but magic isn’t an infinite resource. Sometimes, you have to recharge. That’s just how it is. I’m a higher-level Mage than you, and I probably have a bigger mana pool, but you’d be getting spell fatigue now. I’m not sure about Borin, because salads have a completely different relationship to magic from most sentient species.”
“I don’t feel tired,” said Borin.
Ressssen nodded as if he’d confirmed her suspicions. “Just rest for a short time. An hour or two.”
“An hour! Do you think they can hold on that long?”
“I do. I have faith in my team. They will do what is necessary. Now, it is time for you to do the same. Sit. Rest. You too, Borin, just in case.”
“What about you?” asked Borin.
Ressssen shrugged. “I’m going to stand guard. No arguments. Rest, both of you.”
She watched until both Borin and Merck sat down on the pillar. A short time later, Merck fell asleep. She wasn’t surprised. This much magic use on his first attempt? It’s amazing he was able to do what he did at all. She looked over the edge and all three of them were still going strong, admittedly against a slower flow of enemies. After this was over, they were all going to need a nap.
*
Ninth of Striving 1142, Late Afternoon
Chari and company, including Kalutu, Sam, Zephyr, Sart and more minions than you could shake a stick at, all made their way to, then into the city of Trilsk. A small detachment of gate guards escorted them to the palace to prevent mishap. As they passed through the city, Chari was again reminded of just how different Trilsk felt when compared to Rish. The streets felt grayer, and she could feel the tension of the populace, a down-trodden people just waiting for the other shoe to drop. How had she not noticed it before?
She hadn’t noticed because it had been normal. It was what she had thought a city had to be. Even in the palace, it hadn’t been significantly different. People had more money, true, but the nobles and the royal court all tiptoed around her father, who wasn’t the nicest of men when he was in a good mood. Her mother was more liked but also less visible. Most probably thought Leonid kept Queen Rhea completely under his thumb. Chari knew it wasn’t like that, but her mother went to great lengths to make it look like it was.
Chari bristled when she thought about it. The kingdom’s success was as much her mother’s doing as her father’s. It was obvious to her, but who else knew? Probably not that many people. Queen Rhea had gone out of her way to remain invisible, allowing Leonid to, what? Have affairs? Act like a petty dictator? Have his own way? The kingdom would have been better off if her mother sat the throne, but of course, women didn’t rule in Melar. It made her angry.
No one in the cart said anything, perhaps sensing her mood.
“When we get to the palace,” she said, “I’ll seek out my father and figure out where he plans to put us up, or if he even has any plans for that.”
“Princess Chari, are you all right?” asked Kalutu.
The formality threw her off. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You just seem… preoccupied.”
He saw it. They all must have. Chari frowned, but she wasn’t mad at them, so much as angry at herself. Why must every stray emotion be visible on her face? Did that make her a better queen? Her mother wasn’t like that. Queen Treya wasn’t either. She had good examples to learn from. So why was she acting more like her father?
You could take one look at King Leonid and know exactly what he was thinking. Is that who she wanted to be?
“I’m fine, Kalutu. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Coming home must not be easy.”
She thought about that. “It’s what it is. Not easy, not hard. I don’t see Melar as home—just the place where I grew up. Those don’t have to be the same thing.”
“What’s home then?”
“It’ll be what I make with Eric in Rish when we get back there.”
She said when instead of if, because if she had her way, that’s exactly what would happen.
No one spoke after that, and the cart continued to the palace proper and then, because the guards there were expecting them as well, into the courtyard.
“Sart, would you find my father and let him know we’ve arrived.”
“Yes, your highness.”
Sart stood in the cart and bowed, the most respect she could ever remember him showing her. He’d probably bowed to her before, but this one felt different. Their relationship had changed. Good. There were a lot of things that needed changing. She had to start somewhere.
Chari felt bad no one was speaking. She knew it was because of her. Kalutu might have been naturally quiet, but Sam certainly wasn’t. When she looked up, Flapper stood in front of her, staring up.
Your highness, is there anything I can do to help?
Chari used her new telepathy ability. Really, Flapper, I’m fine.
You should remember that. You are fine. It’s easy to look at what you’ve lost. What you no longer have. What you never had. But you’re fine. You’re young, you’re healthy, you have Kalutu, and he’s wonderful, you have Zephyr watching your back, you have Sam (admittedly a mixed bag), and you have us. He gestured to the cartful of familiars. You even have Sart. You’ve made amends. You have a lot of support. We’re here for you.
Chari stared at the beaver. What he was saying made perfect sense. She was a warrior of Sheba, married to a prince of Twyl, not some pathetic teenager moping about what might have been. She may not like how her father ran the country, but she’d had very little control over that. Her mother did what she could with the hand she’d been dealt. She wondered what it was like in Zoloa, where her mother grew up. She wondered why she’d never bothered to ask.
You’re right, Flapper, thank you. What about you, are you doing okay?
She could see Flapper freeze as if he didn’t expect the question. Me, your highness? I’m just a simple beaver. I’ll never have the problems you have.
Chari scoffed. Simple beaver, my ass. You have some wisdom in you. I should start calling you Flapper the Wise.
Flapper studied her, perhaps to make sure she wasn’t making fun of him. But she wasn’t. What he’d said was exactly what she’d needed to hear. Before she could say so, the only voice in Trilsk she’d actually missed broke into her thoughts.
“Chari! You’re back!”
She turned, and he was there, her cousin Radcliff. “Rat! How are you?”
He’d grown since she’d been gone, which had only been what? A couple of months? He was taller now. Lankier. She wasn’t sure if he’d lost weight or if his increased height simply made it look that way. He still had brown hair that was too short to be messy, which didn’t stop it from happening. He still had a round face, but even that looked like it had thinned a bit. And he still had that curious, dark-eyed enthusiasm that she’d always loved.
“Better, now that you’re here. I heard you married Prince Eric of Twyl—and that you met King Terrence. He’s a great warrior. Did you see him fight?”
Chari thought back to the dungeon and the demon that had worn Terrence’s face then forced herself to laugh for Rat’s benefit. “No, sorry. There weren’t any wars in the palace where I stayed. At least not the kind fought with swords.”
“Oh wow. So there was a different kind of fighting?”
“Not exactly fighting. Politics. More like… fencing. More sport than battle. People don’t usually end up dead or injured on the other end of it. Not physically anyway.”
Radcliff seemed to think that over. “I think I know what you mean. It’s what your mother does, isn’t it? Politics.”
Chari raised her eyebrows in surprise. “What do you know about that?”
Radcliff grinned, probably happy he’d caught her off guard. “It’s not a secret, Chari. My mom talks about it sometimes with her friends, and even some of the men talk about it. Everyone knows who’s really in charge.”
“They do?”
“Of course. Your father is too busy being scary to run the kingdom. I thought everyone knew that.”
Chari chuckled. This was genuinely the best news she’d heard in a long time. The idea that her mother wasn’t simply dismissed as a woman gave her hope for Melar.
“Why are you waiting in the courtyard? And why do you have a zoo with you? Did you join a circus?”
Chari laughed. “No, silly. This is my good friend Kalutu, he’s a were-owl and these are his familiars. Well, not Sam and Zephyr.” She gestured to each in turn. “They’re just members of my team.”
“Your team? Like an adventurer team?”
“Yes, my team is called Lost Wisdom.”
Rat bit his lip. “That’s a weird name.”
“It is. I didn’t pick it. Prince Dahr is the guild leader.”
“I’ve never heard of Prince Dahr.”
“Not really surprising. He’s King Terrence’s bastard son.”
“Wait, if he’s a bastard, why is he leading the team?”
“Because he’s also powerful and smart.”
“But he’s a bastard!”
“Yes, he is. So?”
Rat didn’t have any answer for that. She was about to reply when she saw Sart returning with her Uncle Alexi.
She jumped off the cart and ran to him.
“Hey!”
She hugged him.
Alexi hugged her back, a bit awkwardly, but he had always been awkward. It was one of the things she liked about him.
“I guess my dad is too busy to come meet me.”
She wasn’t actually complaining. She’d rather see Alexi than Leonid pretty much always.
“Sorry, Chari, your father isn’t here at the moment.”
“What do you mean he’s not here?”
“He’s busy. I’m still sitting the throne.”
Chari studied him. “It’s a woman, isn’t it.”
Alexi had the decency to look embarrassed. “I think so, yes.”
“That’s so like him. Mom’s away, and he’s off rutting like a dog. Of course he is. Well, we need somewhere to stay, and we need the freedom to get around the city. Oh, and a beer for Sam.”
Alexi raised an eyebrow at that last request. “I don’t think there’s any beer in the palace.”
Behind her, Sam gasped.
“No beer? How is that possible?”
“Some servants, likely sympathetic with the brewer’s strike, moved them, hid them, stole them or destroyed them. We haven’t had beer in the castle in weeks.”
Sam couldn’t help himself. “It’s a conspiracy. A gods-damned conspiracy. This is fate laughing at me.”
Chari tried to hold back a smirk, with mixed results. “Sorry, Sam. I had no idea.”
Sam dropped his head. “This is just wrong. What have I ever done to deserve this?”
At once, Chari grew serious. “You haven’t done anything, Sam. Sometimes, life is just hard. But look at the bright side…”
“And what would that be?”
Chari favored him with an exaggerated smile. “You have me.”
Sam shook his head, wistfully. “I think I’d trade you right now for a mug of beer.”
Alexi’s eyes hardened. “Careful, manamal. That’s the Princess of Melar you’re talking to.”
Chari held up a hand. “Lighten up, Alexi. Sam is a friend and a member of my team. He can talk to me as he wishes.”
Alexi bowed his head. “My apologies, your highness. But it does set a bad example when done in public. People should show respect to royalty.”
“I’m not sure most royalty deserves respect.” Before Alexi could protest, she continued. “So where are you putting us?”
“Well, you can sleep in your rooms, obviously. I was thinking the east yard for your… friends.”
“We’ll stay together,” said Chari. “If the others are sleeping in the yard, then I’ll stay with them.”
Alexi looked alarmed. “Your highness, that’s most irregular.”
Chari was about to answer, but Kalutu cut her off.
“Sir, I highly suggest you get used to irregular if you’re going to spend any time in the vicinity of Princess Chari. I’m pretty sure that’s her default state.”
Alexi looked from Kalutu back to Chari again and shook his head. But Chari shot him a warning glance and whatever he was about to say died on his lips.
“Better,” said Chari. “I won’t have you disrespecting my team.”
“Yes, your highness.”
In the minutes that followed, Alexi started making the preparations to get the yard guest-ready, while Lost Wisdom chatted amongst themselves.
Chari watched with amusement and affection. She’d much rather be with the team than inside the castle looking out. She’d already done the princess thing. She was an adventurer too, and she’d damn well act like one.
*
Sixth of Striving 1142, Evening (Three days ago)
The flow of creatures had definitely slowed down. Maynor had more time to rest between attacks and though he wasn’t tired yet, he could see himself flagging eventually. Dreek, a phase-shifter, probably received energy from the Other Realm and didn’t fatigue as easily, or perhaps at all. But now that he had time to observe Garne between attacks, he noticed that the warrior had started to drift.
Garne’s strikes weren’t landing with the same precision, his footwork had become sloppier, and he definitely was making things harder on himself than he needed to.
“Garne, you need a break.”
“I’ll take one when you take one.”
Maynor had expected that response, or one like it. “I know you see yourself as the consummate warrior, but you’re still Tier 1. If you try to keep up with me, you’ll die in the attempt. It’s simply not possible. Get back to me when you’re Tier 2, and I’ll let you try. You’ll still fail, but you’ll probably survive it.”
Garne grunted as he put his sword through a strange glowing wolf-like creature that Maynor had never seen before.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. And you will rest if I have to knock you out myself.”
“Maynor, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re still surrounded. Do you expect me to just take a nap?”
“Actually, I do. We move the battle closer to one of the columns. You rest against it and Dreek and I defend you.”
“So you’re saying that I not only can’t keep up with your Tier 3 ass, but I can’t keep up with a guy who’s the same level as me. That’s positively insulting.”
“Dreek’s a phase-shifter. This has nothing to do with level and everything to do with species. I don’t even know that Dreek can fatigue.”
“I can’t,” confirmed Dreek. “I have all the energy I need.”
“That must be nice,” said Garne. “And look, another reason to hate you.”
Dreek chuckled. “Happy to oblige. But Maynor is correct. You need to rest. You look like shit.”
“I always look like shit. It’s part of my charm.”
Maynor had had enough. “Okay, get ready to move. Dreek, we’re going to make our way toward Garne. There’s a column past him in that direction.”
“I see it,” said Garne.
“Just move slow, keep your guard up and do what you can.”
“You mean kill stuff. I’m tired, not dead,” growled Garne.
No one spoke as they maneuvered as a group toward the column. Earlier this wouldn’t have been possible, but there were few enough creatures now for two members of the party to defend one.
When they reached the column, Garne started to lower himself against it, but fell the rest of the way to the stone floor. He really was exhausted.
“Just rest. We’ve got you,” said Maynor.
“I’m never going to live this down.”
Dreek laughed. “I won’t tell—for a price.”
Garne looked outraged before breaking into laughter. Then he leaned back against the column and almost immediately fell into a deep sleep.
*
Merck opened his eyes. He had no idea that far below him at the foot of the same pillar, Garne had just closed his eyes. He might not have believed it had he known. Who takes a nap in the middle of armed combat?
Merck stretched painfully and blinked until he was able to focus on Ressssen, standing over him, looking down. In a previous life, that would have been the stuff of nightmares. Serpent lords were scary. But Ressssen wasn’t some random reptile chick, she was the leader of his team. She’d been fair to him. No, better than fair. She’d been downright kind. He wouldn’t forget that.
“How are you feeling?” she asked. He had no idea how she knew he was awake, considering she’d been looking over the edge of the pillar.
“Bit of a headache, nothing I can’t deal with.”
“Take a few minutes.”
“No. I can start now.”
Borin had been in a meditative state, but now came out of it. “We’re on?”
Ressssen nodded. “It’s time. I wish they’d picked a different pillar to move to. It’s almost impossible to see them straight below us. I liked it better when I could keep an eye on them.”
“Why did they move?”
“I don’t know,” said Ressssen. “Perhaps one of them was hurt. Perhaps for strategic reasons.”
Merck didn’t want to think about one of them being hurt, so he stood up and closed his eyes. He began with his breathing exercises, then reached out with his senses. One toy, five slots. All he had to do was not fill them too far.
“After Merck gives the signal, you and I will join him in topping off the slots,” said Ressssen.
Borin nodded. “How do we know we’re not filling the same slots?”
“I don’t know,” said Ressssen. “My guess is they’ll all have to be filled within a certain time frame, but I don’t know if that’s actually true.”
“Testing it is the first step,” agreed Borin.
Merck stood there for many minutes, silent and focused. His face was strained, and sweat began to appear on his forehead, but he never stopped.
“Go,” he croaked. “Finish filling.”
Ressssen and Borin immediately went to work, feeding magic into the open channels.
“Dear gods!” yelped Merck.
“What is it?”
“The channels are draining if I don’t keep it up.”
“Understood. Do what you can. We’ll help.”
Merck groaned. He had thought he just had to fill a slot, but he had to continuously fill all of them, or they started to drain. And though he had rested, he didn’t think he’d been asleep long enough to fully reset his mana, or whatever it was he’d been resetting. He really needed to ask Ressssen about that later.
He pushed with all his considerable will, well aware that those on the ground were depending on what he did now. He could almost see them in his mind. He had called it a toy because it looked like a toy to him. A game. And that’s what kept him going. He wasn’t fighting for the survival of his team. Merck was simply playing a game—and he hated to lose.
He kept pushing, keeping the levels up while slot by slot, Ressssen and Borin filled them. And when he was done, he heard grinding, not one stone door moving but several. He sincerely hoped those doors were closing instead of opening. When it was done, he dropped to his knees, not just spent, but sick.
“You’re completely out of mana,” said Ressssen. “You feel it when that happens.”
“Gods. Is this what it’s like for you?”
Ressssen chuckled. “I would imagine it’s at least similar. Are you nauseous?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if you’re going to vomit, do it up here not over the edge. They’re below us somewhere. I don’t think they’d appreciate that particular contribution.”
Borin looked uncertain. “Was that a joke?”
“Yes it was,” said Ressssen.
But Merck wasn’t saying anything. He looked up, suddenly remembering that a pathway usually appeared when they’d finished filling one of the devices, but that hadn’t happened this time. He was about to comment on it when the entire pillar shuddered and began to slowly descend. He looked around and the other pillars were doing the same.
Distracted from his misery, he stood and watched as the pillars slowly descended into the ground, until they were flat, and standing at the bottom of the one they were on stood Maynor, Dreek and Garne. Garne looked as though he’d just woken up.
“Well met,” said Maynor.
Ressssen didn’t have time for greetings. “Is everyone all right?”
“We are,” said Garne. “No thanks to you. What were you doing while we were fighting off half the monster population of Andara?”
“Saving your ass,” said Merck grumpily. “Honestly, you martials think you have the hardest job.”
Garne blinked, then broke out laughing. “This sounds like a story we need to hear.”
Maynor nodded agreement. “Let’s rest for a bit. I think we all need it.”
They sat on the ground near where the pillar had disappeared into the ground and told their stories. Merck started, but Borin kept interrupting and occasionally Ressssen would join in to define a point. When they were done, Merck looked at Garne.
“So, saving your ass. And I didn’t hear you say thank you.”
“I mean technically you were also saving your ass. Otherwise you’d have been stuck on top of those columns until you solved that particular puzzle. Hey, Ressssen, does this make Merck a mage now?”
Ressssen shook her head. “No. This just means he can access magic, not that he knows how to use it. That said, he has a head start in that area, should he want to learn.”
Merck’s eyes lit up. “Want to learn? Of course I want to learn. Will you teach me?”
“I will. Slowly. And you’re going to hate it.”
“Bet me,” said Merck.
Dreek laughed. “I’m not sure I’d be brave enough to bet against Merck. He seems to continuously surprise. A few hours ago he was a warrior fighting a fraylian, now he’s a mage solving puzzles and using magic. Is there anything you can’t do, Priest?”
Merck looked surprised. “I don’t know. I didn’t know I could do any of this.”
“Oh,” said Dreek, startled. “I think I sensed a door appear.”
Merck tried to use Detect Suite and doubled over. Ressssen was on him in a second.
“No skills… you have no mana.”
“I forgot.”
“It’s a painful lesson. You need to rest before you cast.”
“We should do that before we proceed,” said Maynor. “I’m sure we can all use it. I’ll take first watch.”
“Are you sure?” asked Ressssen.
“Of course he’s sure,” said Garne. “The bastard can survive anything.”
Maynor raised an eyebrow. “That’s not only factually untrue, but a dangerous belief to hold. Just because I’m more powerful than you, doesn’t mean there aren’t things out there more powerful than me.”
“Well, I haven’t met any.”
“That’s probably good, because if you had, you’d likely be dead,” said Dreek. “Maynor is right. We should rest, eat a bit and sleep if we can before we move on. Who knows what this place will throw at us next?”
No one spoke again as they settled down, but the question lingered on every mind. This was like no dungeon any of them had ever heard of.
*
They rested without incident, shared an abbreviated meal, sipped water periodically and tried to recharge. Maynor himself refused rest or food, saying that he was fine and that his level allowed him to draw energy from ambient magic, much like Dreek’s connection to the Other Realm.
Since neither Dreek nor Borin actually slept, they stayed alert to back up Maynor, even though he assured them it was unnecessary. Ressssen, Merck and Garne slept. Garne, still exhausted but slowly recovering, slept fitfully. Ressssen and Merck barely stirred at all, which was normal for mages recharging their mana, and apparently for Merck, who suffered a condition that most non-mages had never had to deal with.
No one slept for more than a couple of hours, in spite of the fact that they really needed it. When everyone woke, it was time to move on. They all climbed wearily to their feet and lined up in their normal marching order. Dreek moved off to scout ahead, Garne took the lead and Maynor brought up the rear. They set off slowly, conserving energy, considering three of them had only just woken up.
Dreek had no trouble locating the door he’d sensed earlier, and Merck, who was again able to cast Detect Suite, also was able to place it.
For once, it seemed like a normal door with a handle you could just pull open. Of course, in a place like this, where nothing was what it seemed, that meant very little. Garne gripped it and pulled. It opened. Behind was a stairway leading down to the third level of the dungeon.
They descended slowly, each of them well aware that Soulsplit wasn’t going to get easier.
The stairs opened into a small room with a door on each of the remaining three walls. Each door had a sign above it, two of which contained text that blazed with blue energy—Tier 1 and Tier 3, respectively. The sign above the middle door, which read Tier 2, wasn’t glowing at all. The dungeon was about to separate them again.
Maynor looked at the doors then at the rest of them.
“Well, folks, looks like this is where I get off. See you on the other side.”
Ressssen nodded. “You’ll be okay alone?”
Maynor shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out. It’s not like we have much of a choice. At least the rest of you get to stay together.”
Ressssen chuckled. “I never thought I’d be saying this, but I’m glad I didn’t hit Tier 2 yet. Let’s go.”
She walked to the door on the right, pulled it open and gestured for the rest of the party to join her. Each of them glanced back at Maynor as they entered, but no one spoke. He could see it in their eyes. They were terrified for him. He was terrified for them. He’d be much happier if he was there to protect them.
As soon as they entered, the sign above the door stopped glowing. Maynor looked at the door on the left wall. Tier 3. He thought about the skill Sheba had given him before he’d entered—I Stand Alone. Somehow, she had known he would end up here. He walked to the door, took one last look around the room and pulled it open.
Beyond, he suspected, Soulsplit would finally test him properly.