Oz floated upon a sea of pain, sounds around him muted and dulled by the blood in his ears and the exhaustion running through his body. His perception of magic told him his back was feeling spicy, and then minty. The kind of intense mint that spreads like ice into your nose.

  The Other floated with him. Oz could feel it second-guessing every moment of the fight. Even hurt and wounded, the Other would not stop with its unsolicited advice. It seemed unable to shut up. It was the kind of soul that if someone said “I have got a knife to your throat, do nothing” they would explain the weapon was in fact a short sword.

  Oz could not hate them though, if for no other reason than when Chops had been taken down they had been with him every step of the charge. That brought a wave of grief over him. He had felt the connection go slack. His new companion obliterated in a moment.

  The Other tried to remind him of something, something important about the skill, but Oz was not listening. Something was happening.

  The mintiness was spreading, the pain around him crystallising, his skin going numb and freeing him from the pain. He could hear voices nearby, the kind voice of the Archchancellor, the woman Venna, and a third voice that was spitting acid, snapping at both of them.

  V, or Venna, who had only existed as a distant idea of a person, appearing as a minor note as one of the only people to send him a birthday card, was here. The woman to blame for him being dumped in this death run. Also the reason he was not dead.

  Right now, with his body feeling like he had been dragged across burning coals, he very much focused on the dungeon part.

  Her flippant tones were muted. If anything she sounded worried, asking a stream of questions to a third voice which was giving clipped, terse replies. The minty numbness took over from the fire, and Oz realised it was healing magic of some sort. It was different to the skills he had experienced before, more potent. He had been hit with it often enough over the years but never on this scale. How badly had he been hurt?

  “There, he is stabilised and will wake up shortly. If I ever have to come and clean up a mess like this, well… Let us just say I expect a proper explanation tomorrow.” That had to be the healer. They always had a particular tone of professional anger that you just did not find anywhere else.

  “I am sorry, Lily. This has been a nightmare of an evening.” The Archchancellor’s voice was gentle, and the Other reared its head. Oz had never been much for snark, but the Other was full of it.

  “Did something set you on fire too?” Oz grunted. He blinked against the light. His head was swimming, but given the sterile just-cleaned smell and the crisp whiteness all around, he assumed he was somewhere medical. It was a blessed relief from the endless black dungeon stone.

  As he tried to sit up he became aware he was shirtless before he was pressed back down by the person who had to be the healer. “Do not move, young Ozren. Now I bet you are proud of yourself for completing that dungeon…”

  “No, that was stupid. I knew it was dumb from the start and it only got worse from there. What the Nether is up with that, how is that a test? Has everyone got grit in their gears?” Oz wanted to rant more, but he was tired. He slumped further into the warm bed. It was nice.

  “Well that is a surprise. I am Healer Lillian. Now I need you to do some checks, the pair of you stay out of my way.” Oz finally saw the healer treating him. She was wrapped under a smock and gloves, but he saw a pair of jade eyes, beautifully made up, watching over him. After a minute of being asked to follow fingers and test his limb control, the healer nodded.

  “Hmph, well it seems we have avoided the worst situation. You will be staying with me till tomorrow. Your wounds were extensive. You two will get five minutes with him before he goes to sleep and rests. And young man, let me be the first to congratulate you on being a student of Noxarcer. You will have to forgive me for not complimenting your method of entry.” She stepped back. Oz clumsily looked around, finding the two figures moving closer.

  As they got closer a voice cracked out like a whip.

  “Five minutes, I mean it. That much healing will have exhausted him, ignoring what the dungeon took out of him, and whatever is happening to his soul.”

  The woman V nodded and slipped past as Brackham talked a moment with the healer.

  V was not like he imagined. For someone so brash she instead had the kind of serene elven looks. Oz was still fuzzy and confused, but then she grinned at him, and his mind became very focused. It was smug, like a pet had just done a particularly clever trick.

  “You did incredible, kid, that boss fight. Knew you could do it.” She smiled at him like it had all gone to plan. Like he was not cracked and broken. Like Chops had not exploded in a wave of fire.

  The fist moved on its own, but he did not stop it. Something in him needed to break the grin off her face.

  Oz was not even aware of his fist moving till it connected with the elf’s jaw. It was like punching a tree, she barely shifted.

  “No you did not! What kind of netherspawned idea was that? You do not even know me! It is a slagging miracle I am not Jackal food.” He cursed, flexing his fingers, as he felt his back scream in complaint, but he did not care. That had felt good. His head felt woozy and he flopped back into the bed.

  “No violence in my ward, even if people deserve it.” Lillian rushed over, healing magic surging from her.

  “Thank you so much, Lily,” V hissed at the healer, who smiled back without her eyes moving. Oz was fussed and shifted by Lillian. He felt light-headed and tired just from that movement. His [Trollish Regeneration] working overtime.

  “Can you give him some space, you are agitating him.”

  “I am not sure I meant to do that.” Oz looked at his fist. He had a temper and normally had better control over it. He blinked as the minty power flooded his back again.

  “Just try and stay still. You might be healing very quickly, but you cannot afford to have things heal in the wrong places. I would rather not flood you full of healing energy right now, as your soul is not in the best place to guide it.”

  “Whatever you say. Dad always says… said to listen to medical professionals.” Oz huffed.

  He saw the man who had to be the Archchancellor sweep up beside him. He had the sort of warm paternal energy that spoke of a mentor who died in the first act, or betrayed everyone in the third. Then again, given his pale skin, red eyes and fangs, it was possible he could manage both. Vampires were notoriously good at playing dead.

  “A pleasure to properly meet you, Oz. I am Aldomere Brackham, Archchancellor of Netherston. While I would love to spend time congratulating you on passing the test, I think the critical question is how your soul is feeling?”

  “Better.” Oz squinted, then rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm. The dull throb in his skull—present since he had woken up—had faded into something quieter. “Yeah. Lots better. It is just a dull ache now. Like… background noise. Still annoying, but better than the burning-soul-crunching when I woke up.”

  “I suspect you have gone through another threshold,” the Archchancellor said, exhaling like he had been holding his breath. “Hopefully that will be enough to stabilise your soul fully. How is the bleed?”

  Oz blinked. Then blinked again, slower. He remembered something about bleed issues being a bad thing. You could not guarantee the ideas coming through were all that pure. Even if his experience was mostly a voice that would not shut up, and had weird ideas about ‘pretty boys’.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  “I trust Lily. There is practically no one I trust more,” the Archchancellor added gently, misunderstanding his pause. Behind him, the healer blushed faintly at the compliment.

  “I have this voice. I know it is not me, but thoughts from it keep slipping in. Most of the time I know which thoughts are mine, but it keeps slipping things in, like it knew what Mimic was and also goes on about stupid stuff.” He stopped himself before mentioning the flashing images, the computer, the fire, the hell, because that felt like something you told a therapist, not a wizard.

  “Is it telling you to do anything? Does it control you?”

  “No, it is like having someone looking over my shoulder, offering a critique. It did mess with my movements at the beginning of the dungeon. It did not want to move forward and would not let go of the door. But I kind of pushed past that. It has never been that strong since then.”

  “Still a significant bleed, but manageable. As your soul stabilises, it should quiet down.” Aldo nodded, then glanced over his shoulder at Venna, who had her arms folded and one impatient eyebrow raised.

  “Can I speak now?”

  “For what it is worth—I am sorry.” Her voice had an unexpected softness. “This was the only way we could keep you alive. I am Venna. A long time ago, I promised your dad I would protect you if anything happened to him.”

  Oz blinked slowly. That name tickled some memories. Now that he was not lost in a dungeon he had time to think, too bad he was sleepy.

  “You know the medal your dad got for the Battle of the Dozen?”

  “Yeah, it is in my jacket, please tell me you—” Oz’s hazy mind sharpened as panic set in.

  “All your stuff is safe. Even grabbed that mountain of paperwork you had on the table. Look, this needs a better telling, but... I was one of the people your dad saved. After his final respawn, right as reinforcements arrived, his soul was unstable, and he had only recently got word your mum was pregnant. That is when I promised. I did not know about the madness and everything that has happened since then. I am sorry I was not there sooner. Your mum did not like me much, thought I was too violent. Told me to stay away, she did not want you growing up like me.”

  “Well, that plan is going great.” Oz grunted. He was so tired. Too tired to be angry. He fought off a yawn. “Sorry for punching you. It was not... I am not trying to be violent. It is just... Chops is gone and I—”

  “Wait,” she blinked and turned to Aldo, “Chops is a familiar, right? Cannot we just—can we summon him again?”

  “We can,” Aldo said warmly. “He is likely reconstituting himself as we speak. He will be back.” He glanced at Lily. “And that is a good place to pause. You need rest, and Lily might actually kill us if we keep talking.”

  “One last question.” Venna turned to Oz, forcing him to rally his fading consciousness. She raised a finger and stared at it like it might help him focus. “And know, depending on your answer, I will unleash a fury that will have people begging to plunge into the Nether rather than face me. About that Ambrosia, final question, any chance you—”

  “Did not take it,” Oz interrupted. “I do not remember ever seeing it, I do not even know where to get it. Last thing I knew, I was filing the papers to join the Ranger Corps.”

  That had seemed so important yesterday, but now it was just another thing. Oz slumped back onto the bed with a weary groan. Now that the Chops situation was handled, and the poisoning was someone else’s problem, the edges of sleep started crowding in.

  “I did not even know I pissed anyone off that bad,” he muttered. “And who even has access to Ambrosia in the slagging Scablands? I am tired.”

  Oz yawned. He had barely even thought about the poisoning, and right now he was not in the mood for any thinking at all.

  “Leave it to me,” Venna said, her smile all teeth and promise. “I will ask questions. Loudly. From great height. They will regret ever breathing near you.”

  Her grin flashed tusks behind delicate elven features. Oz blinked, unsure if he imagined that.

  “We will talk more tomorrow,” Aldo added. “Rest up. Welcome to Noxarcer.”

  “Well, that could have gone better,” Aldo muttered as they stood in one of the other rooms of the infirmary. He was already working out how to hide his most recent addition to the student body. Rathbone and the committee would be incensed at the idea that a “scholar” and not one of their precious dynasty students had passed the gauntlet. If he did not get on top of this at next intake they were going to be hosing privileged blood off the walls of that dungeon.

  “He has got a decent punch on him.” Venna worked her jaw. She was far too sturdy for the student to have done any real damage.

  “I feel it should be evident that his combat skills are exceptional. The way he took down that boss.” Aldo did not enjoy watching his students get hurt, and preferred to see tactics that carefully and elegantly took down their opponents. Oz’s approach had been uncompromising, visceral, and magnificent in its fury. It left him with a sense of appreciation for why others enjoyed blood sports.

  “He is a total beast, and some fuckers tried to kill him.” Venna ground her teeth, looking over her shoulder back to the room they had just left. “You think he will be safe here?”

  “Noxarcer is the safest place he can be, as long as he does not damage the library books. Plus we are a whole realm away from whomever tried to kill him. Then there is the fact he is being looked after by a woman who can remove your arms and sew them back on before you can blink. He is safe.”

  “You know, you really need to properly ask Lillian out on a date.”

  “What?” Aldo spluttered, shocked at the sudden change in conversation.

  “I am just saying you call her late at night, and she comes running in makeup. I mean—”

  “Stop changing—wait, you really think so? I—” Aldo arrowed his eyes at his long-time friend. “You are trying to distract me. You had better not be running off somewhere.”

  “I am going to go ask my wife to help you out with your ‘board’ like we agreed, and then I am going to hunt down whoever gave him that Ambrosia and stamp them into paste.”

  “No you are not.” Aldo grabbed his friend on the shoulder before she could move.

  “What do you mean? Do you not want help?”

  “Of course I want help. I very much want that. What I mean is you are not going on a cataclysmic murder spree.” Aldo sighed. He really did not want to have to explain to anyone why the Colossus was stamping through a barely developed frontier realm.

  “Everyone loves my murder sprees!”

  “The sanctions from the council beg to differ. The point I am trying to make is this. Does you disappearing help him right now? Yes or no. Would you being here help him more? An anchor point for a young man with no parents, no friends, in a place he will undoubtedly feel uncomfortable.”

  “I am not sure he is my biggest fan. Were you not there when he punched me in the face?”

  “Yes, and he apologised. While lashing out is not the healthiest coping mechanism, I imagine it helped him immensely. Tomorrow he will want to talk to you. He will have questions, he will be angry, and you will have to see it through.” Aldo watched as the woman fidgeted, her fists clenching and unclenching.

  “If he even wants to see me.” She deflated.

  “I will talk to him first. Now if you do not mind I have some fairies to speak with and a minion to berate. They went way off script, escalating their aggro like that and taking out the familiar,” Brackham sighed, “and then I need to think of what I am going to say to Lily.”

  “Oh will you,” Venna purred.

  “Yes, to make sure she does not hand in her notice tomorrow.” Aldo very professionally focused on that, rather than trying to unpick his thoughts about the beautiful Kitsune healer.

  “You should offer her an apology date, go to the…” Venna paused as the lights in the room began to dim as Aldo stared at her, his eyes beginning to glow, “Alright, I will shut up.”

  “I am just glad it worked out. My heart was in my mouth for a few moments there,” Aldo muttered.

  “Tell me about it. Why do you want to even keep this job? I have one kid that I have been worried about for one day and I am already making a pig’s ear of it. Seems stressful.”

  “Are you suggesting I abandon the aggressive, borderline feral young man you just dropped on my lap?”

  “Oh great Archchancellor, I am so feeble-minded as to be unable to understand how you have endured such arduous hardship!” Venna bowed low, and they both chuckled.

  “That is better. Look, you know what I have told you about the reforms the government and their ‘board’ are trying to push you, and remember that people used to think the gauntlet was an acceptable test. There are even people insisting I reintroduce it, that and a thousand other evils. Keeping them out is what keeps me here.” Aldo’s smile flipped to a frown. “That and the fact the school tends to eat people if I am not around.”

  “Why are they still alive, by the way? I would have assumed something instructively awful would have happened to them by now?”

  “Noxarcer is being unusually sly. If the diaries I have read are anything to go by, normally much of the job is stopping it from attacking. I am not certain if the fact it is biding its time is a good or bad sign.”

  “Well, you will get your help soon enough. I have your back.”

  “Thank you, I will look after Oz. Keep an eye out on him.”

  “Thank you, Aldo, I do not know how this day would have gone without you,” Venna said, before taking a deep breath and letting her head slip into her hands. “Now I just have to go apologise to Fern for disappearing without explanation for a whole day, and explain I signed her up to more political shenanigans.”

  “Well, assuming she does not flay you alive, I will be seeing you here tomorrow.”

  “Oh I am in for such a scolding.” Venna had a wide grin on her face. Aldo just ignored his old friend and moved on.

  “Well, for any scolding you do not want, just find a way to make it Rathbone’s fault, launch her at him.”

  “Only if you promise to take notes of how it goes down.”