The salty sweet smell of human blood assailed me as the door opened, underscored with a magic that was damn close to necromancy and about as friendly.

  The two Raven Hand cultists standing there on guard turned to greet or challenge us, it was hard to say which. Their eyes almost popped out when six skeletons in fine armor with really nice Weapons charged them.

  Their shouts didn’t get out before they were surrounded in Sound Bubbles, and they didn’t manage to get any spells out before they were bleeding out on the ground.

  It didn’t make much difference, as the flashes of light in this dark place were enough to draw attention, and I heard the shouts rippling past their Sound Bubbles as the other guards of the place raised the alert.

  Which meant I strode forward as the first spells were launched our way, and they vanished into my Graysphere.

  “Left! Find the source of the blood!” Master Ben Ten ordered instantly, and I trotted ahead, the skeletons closing around me in shades of black, white, and gray, and we made for the two cultists there blurting out spells and sending purple-black lashing tongues of Void Magic our way.

  Isparian Magic didn’t have any default protection against Void Magic, so the cultists were pretty confident of slamming the skeletons hard. Unfortunately, their magic drove into the Graysphere, went away, and we utterly ignored all the War Magic coming from behind us as it, too, vanished into the grayness around us and ceased to exist.

  Then the skeletons were on them, their magic ceased to be, and they were cut down with great speed, their blood flowing out to join those on the floor.

  Notably, they weren’t starting to degrade in whatever their custom Deathstone effect was.

  The cultists at the other end of the room and the back of it were still Casting on us from the distance, preferring not to engage, and Void and War Magic were sizzling through the air, to absolutely no effect.

  “Konrad! Chop the lock!” I ordered calmly.

  The adamantine Axe came up and down, its ability to cleave softer metals undeterred by the anti-magic around us. The stone portals there cracked audibly as Vernicht chopped whatever locking mechanism that was in place apart loudly, unerringly finding the seam between the stones and cleaving through the catch in place there. Asiko and Ugisko hauled them open, and the two undead Zharalim there waiting to lunge forward and attack paused when they saw a bunch of skeletons in armor there waiting for them.

  A second later the masters were on top of them, driving them back, disarming them, and following up with passing crosscuts that relieved them of arms and heads in smooth fashion.

  Ugisko pivoted quickly behind me, his Final Rest Blade plunging down once, twice… and then flicking out to cut through the thin stream of blood flowing past on the rivulet in the floor, which promptly ignited as well, spreading down towards the thick pool of the stuff in the middle of the room, drawing shouts of alarm from the cultists there.

  Then he and Arika were hurrying after me, belated spells came streaking in too late to stop them. He paused again to flick-flick across the bodies of the downed Zharalim as he let us get a step ahead, naked teeth clattering at the cultists who were finally abandoning their posts and running after us.

  There was a woosh as the pool of blood in the middle of the room ignited with vivic fire, a burst of unwhite flames fountaining up and spilling mist all over the floor, just like the corpses that had been set ablaze.

  The vivus wasn’t technically magical, except for the moment it was formed. It was an energy type that didn’t coalesce without magic, sure, but it wasn’t magical itself. It zipped right on ahead of us, undeterred by the Graysphere, leading into the room beyond, which was dimly lit by only a single torch.

  A very tall figure was splayed out on a slab against the wall there. Blood flowed down from gashes in his wrist, multiple scars indicating how many times they’d been healed and re-inflicted on him. The swirling ruby motes of regeneration magic were at play on him as he lay there powerless, and his blood dripped constantly from him, down the gutters in his slab, and along that line in the floor.

  “Brother Harlune!” Master Ben Ten roared in outrage, and the tall Empyrean’s eyes snapped open in astonishment at the voice.

  “Ten?” a hoarse voice broken by a lot of screaming rasped out weakly.

  “Konrad, destroy his manacles!” I ordered, stopping by the entry. “The rest of you, stop anyone from coming in!”

  The other five masters promptly flowed to join Ugisko and Asika behind me, in plenty of time to take on the cultists come screaming at them down the hall with blades out. Their opening fusillade of spells smashed into Grayness and was gone, and they slammed into the skeletons desperately, trying to push them back.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Well, that actually worked, which they were a bit surprised about, except for the Blades that cut them forward and back, and the Swords that thrust out to take the first pair of them right in the throat from the second ranks, who spun aside for the third rank to promptly crash into them and stop them from reaching me.

  Konrad raced up, Vernicht held high and gleaming with restored magic. He chopped down with unerring skill, not bothering to work at the bindings at all. Steel wrought with inner blades to work at the exposed flesh squealed and sparked and rang as it was sheared through rapidly and forcibly, the slab the Empyrean was bound to gouged and cracked by the force of the strikes as as the Axe came down.

  “Master Ben, carry him between you.” I pulled two Potions out of my Vest, useless while in the Graysphere. “Recall to the Evacuation Rune and give him the Potions. We will be along shortly.”

  “YOU DARE?!” screamed a voice from far down the hall, and there was a brilliant bloodly light there.

  A wall of flame as thick and heavy as blood erupted down the corridor. It was powerful enough to snuff the vivic trail, and looked just like an incoming flood raging our way, hissing and eating at the stone as it did so, and certainly enough to sweep us out of the way.

  It smashed into the Grayness and faded away to nothingness in front of Ugisko and Asika, who clattered their teeth in mockery, holding their positions in front of me, just inside the corridor.

  Master Ben Ten snatched up the Potions and raced for his old friend as Konrad chopped through the second to last of the bindings upon him. Withered and weak, the Empyrean could barely flail as the swordmaster came up on him, skeletal face looking down at his old comrade.

  “Ten,” Harlune whispered, looking up at the naked bone of his old friend’s face. “What happened to you?” he whispered sadly.

  “Nothing I cannot overcome!” the swordmaster replied firmly, as Vernicht smashed down, and the last leg binding screeched and bounced away with more force than it should have possessed. “Konrad, take his arm. On three, recall to the Rune.”

  The axeman hung his Axe off his girdle instantly, ducking and spinning to bring a long arm across his armored shoulders. “One, two, three!”

  The air popped as the magic in the Weave took them and their passenger along with them, and they were gone.

  “Gentlemen, it takes one minute for the Graysphere to fade once I dismiss it,” I said quietly. “I am going to begin that process now.”

  An outraged scream echoed down the hallway, a figure outlined in purple-black visible at the end. The beam of Void Magic that came streaking down the hallway was almost solid, shaving shards of stone off walls just scored by acidic blood-flame, energies enough to kill an unlucky paramount straight off raging for us.

  The swordmasters didn’t even flinch as it vanished inches in front of them, soft chuckles matching the chattering of their jaws.

  “It appears my old teacher hasn’t really learned anything effective, has she?” I called out bitingly down the hallway.

  There was a shocked pause from the other end. “You! You miserable brat!” came the cursing a moment later. “What manner of magic are you playing with, that you can stop my mother’s arts?” she snarled at me.

  “This? Please, a mere Valence V. Was that some Incantor-level magic? No, it wasn’t, it was a different paradigm. You actually got up to the Empyrean level so soon? Your mother must be very proud of you. Of course, you had all that practice with Blood Magic already to get you started. Such marvelous talent, teacher!”

  The Graysphere was fading, and in thirty seconds wouldn’t be an absolute null anymore, more of a Dispel… which was fine, as her magic could then wipe it away for us.

  “Gentlemen, when the Gray goes down, we are Recalling out instantly. I don’t want her seeing us leave,” I whispered, raising my hand. Jaws clacked in acknowledgment, but their Swords, dim yet gleaming in the torchlight, didn’t move a millimeter. “Come now, teacher! Why don’t you try something with a little more kick to it? Surely you’ve something more impressive in your mother’s arsenal!” I shouted back at her with a verbal sneer.

  “Impudent child!” she hissed, and magic both blood-red and purple-black swirled up on two hands coming down the hall, illuminating the woman who’d forced me to flee to this world down there, and at least a dozen cultists behind her, keeping a respectful distance. “See if your barrier can stop this! Quenzael Mishraak!”

  Void and Blood Magic blew towards us, swirling and weaving together like a corkscrew, drilling right for us.

  Nice, a Heavy Magic technique. That was actually pretty clever, instinctively binding one of the magicks inside the other so the anti-magic wouldn’t null them both.

  Unfortunately, a collapsing Graysphere was more like a Dispel Magic waiting to happen. As the spell slammed into the Graysphere, the Void Magic was indeed suppressed… and the Bloodfire raged out into the rest of the Gray, just in time for me to force all the dissipating anti-magic full into it and cancel it out with basically a superior Caster Level.

  Oh, she wasn’t going to like that. The fires blew over and past us, doing nothing, and I tugged at the Evacuation Rune and brought everyone out of there.

  -----

  We snapped out of the short-range Teleport effect, the sudden jolt of fresh air almost dizzying to me after the stench of the blood there. I looked around sharply as the undead masters were all around me in hex formation, blades out and ready for signs of trouble despite their disorientation, but there was no one threatening us.

  Konrad and Master Ben had Harlune on a Disk against a tree, a Potion bottle in each hand. He looked dangerously thin, cadaverous, and his nearly naked body was covered with deep and repeated scars from where arteries and veins had been cut to bleed him out.

  “Make room. There’s incoming,” I told the men, planting myself. The six swordsmen hopped away instantly, and arcane blue flames swirled around me.

  Princess Kristie Rantha walked out of the shadows of the light, while Commander Briggs seemed to take a step from infinity and was there. The Mick had his hand on the hilt of Quaver, as Kris had recalled to the side of her Bondmage. From the ground the arcane fires leapt up and resolved into the Roaches and the Skeeters, all of them with Blades out and deadly looks in their eyes.

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   Ebook Series: The original Power of Ten: The First Day, The First Week, and finally The First Month, Vol Five and Six!