Andrew Rowe - Sufficiently Advanced Magic

I threw the rope a second time, missing again.

The tile that I had stood on when I entered the room broke away from the others, plunging into the darkness below.

Oh, resh me. I have a time limit.

I finished reeling in the rope, tossed it lazily over my shoulder, and pulled the dueling cane off my belt.

The shadow mirrored me. If I fired at him, he’d probably fire something back at me. I didn’t know if the shadow cane would produce a projectile, but if it did, it might be more dangerous than my own.

I aimed at the mirror instead, pressing the button.

I felt a familiar tingling as the cane syphoned mana from my arm, channeling it into the weapon’s core and expelling it as a blue-white burst of arcane force. The bolt slammed into the mirror and — predictably — bounced right back at me.

I didn’t have time to dodge. I raised both arms in a defensive stance and the blast crashed into my forearms. The force of the burst knocked me backward, leaving one of my feet dangling just over the edge of a fatal fall.

I leaned forward, falling on my knees and elbows to avoid a descent into the pit.

It was only at that point that I processed what my duplicate had done: its own projectile had been silent and nearly invisible. Tracing the path from the creature’s dueling cane, however, I could see a hole in the wall, burrowing nearly three feet into the stone.

That was a dozen times more force than I could muster, and more than enough to overwhelm my dueling vest’s protection.

I couldn’t take this thing in a blasting fight.

Breathing deeply, I pushed myself to my feet.

Another tile fell into the darkness. I marched forward, following the path toward the central door, my eyes following the shadow.

It mirrored me, but the room wasn’t symmetrical.

When I neared the middle of the room, I found the spot I was looking for. A space where I could move forward safely, but a single step would plunge the shadow into the darkness below.

I stepped forward.

My duplicate didn’t. Instead, it raised its cane toward me.

I ran.

Gah. Stupid shadow, not following the rules.

The blast ripped through the air behind me as I rushed for the mirror, taking cover behind it. I could see three options if the shadow fired at me — the mirror would reflect the blast, the mirror would break and destroy the shadow, or the mirror would break and the shadow would be fine.

Two out of three options led to my survival, and I was good with that.

It was, unfortunately, impossible to see what the shadow was doing if I was fully concealed behind the mirror… and I had limited time to act.

I raised my cane, listening. The creature made no sound.

I can’t outfight this thing. I need to outthink it.

I might make it if I rush for the door, but I might not.

I could try to hold out here until the shadow falls, but there’s a good chance it would come around the side of the mirror and annihilate me before then.

Maybe I could fire a distracting shot one way, and then go around the other?

Too risky.

High odds it’s tied to the mirror somehow, given the theme of the room.

What am I doing here? I can test one hypothesis right now.

I pressed my cane against the wooden back of the mirror and hit the switch for the spring-loaded blade.

The blade pierced through the mirror, splintering wood and glass.

And the creature wailed in agony.

Apparently, it could make sound.

I grabbed the cane with both hands, dragging downward as my shadow circled around the mirror.

As my weapon tore through the mirror, the shadow’s chest was torn apart.

I stood, yelling as I ripped the weapon upward, cutting through the top of the mirror.

I bisected the shadow.

It fell to the ground, inert. I shivered as I watched it, trying to push the guilt from my mind.

It wasn’t real. It’s just an illusion, a figment created by the mirror.

I wasn’t certain of that, but I tried to convince myself as best I could.

I slammed a shoulder into the mirror, but it didn’t fall. That was fine.

I retracted the blade, rushing for the golden door. Maybe I had time to explore, maybe I didn’t. I didn’t like my odds if I waited.

I touched the golden gem, revealing a room with a glass table and two glass chairs in the center. There was a board on the table with glass figures atop it. Valor, if I wasn’t mistaken.

Good enough.

I stepped inside.

The door vanished behind me, of course.

I pondered the significance of the door’s color for a moment. Was the golden gem just representing a more challenging version of the same style of room? Or maybe these colors had some sort of cultural significance. The room could represent the Tyrant in Gold, for example. If it did, I was probably in a great deal of trouble.

I carefully inspected the floor before I made my way forward. The square-shaped grid wasn’t present here, and I didn’t see any runes or indentations. There were, however, four small grates in the corners of the room. They looked inert for now, but I didn’t like the look of them.

The Valor board was the most obvious set piece for a puzzle. I ignored it and headed straight toward the three doors in the back of the room: green; gold; and orange. Just like the last room. I didn’t know how many rooms I’d have to complete in total, but I’d plan to stick with gold unless I saw a good reason to switch.

Especially if I could skip the puzzle entirely.

I moved my hand toward the golden gem, but pulled it back at the last second. There was a keyhole above the gem. I frowned and checked the other doors. They were all set up in the same way.

Okay, I could deal with that. Maybe. I had a key, but I didn’t know if it would fit. I headed back to the gold door, unslung the rope that was still awkwardly hanging over my shoulder, and set down my backpack.

The first thing I noticed was that the rope was a lot shorter than when I had started. I’d lost the looped section, as well as over a dozen feet of length. Maybe it’d been nicked by one of the blasts from my shadowy rival, or maybe it had been bisected when I stepped through the doorway into the next room. That was a scary thought.

I had known the doorways were actually teleporting me, but I hadn’t considered what would happen if I trailed something behind me. Could that be used to my advantage? Maybe I could use the doorways offensively in later challenges somehow. A good thing to keep in mind for the future.

I undid the knot around my waist and folded up the rope, emptying out my backpack to put the remaining rope back on the bottom. When I was removing the book, though, I noticed something odd.

On the cover, “Trials of Judgment” was now written in an antiquated style.

I flipped the book open and gawked at what I saw. The first two pages had been written in.

This is the Room of Reflection. Move swiftly; any tile you stand upon too long will fall into the void below.

The mirror poses a grave danger. Avoid showing your reflection.

I really wished I had seen that earlier, but honestly, I wasn’t sure I would have had time to read it even if I had known the hint was there. Was that the book’s function? Hints for each room? If so, it was incredibly valuable. I flipped to the next page.

This is the Room of Valor. Complete the game to advance.

Beware the rising mist.

I frowned. Mist? What mist?

Oh, the stuff that was rising from the grates on the side of the room. I knew I hated those.

I dug for the key and kept it in my left hand while I buried the other items in my pack. I considered trying it on the doors immediately — maybe it was a way to bypass the puzzle. If it was, however, I suspected I’d only be able to use it once; according to legend, at least, the goddess didn’t like people reusing the same solutions. I would rather save it if I could.