My first instinct was to jump into the clearing and do whatever I could to save Nimbus. It was clear that these men, whoever they were, had captured Nimbus and were planning to harm, or even outright kill, him if I didn’t do something.

  But then I caught myself and took a quick breath to steady myself.

  As noble as it was to want to save Nimbus, running into that clearing without a plan would be a really bad idea. Every single one of those men was armed and dangerous. They also outnumbered me six to one, and seemed like the kind of guys who didn’t fight fair. How they captured Nimbus, I didn’t know, but I doubted they did it nicely.

  It was true that I was a Codexer now, but I was only Chapter One, which meant I was the weakest possible Codexer I could be. I only had 15 Words for casting spells, which didn’t feel like enough in the face of so many enemies.

  Fortunately, I had a handful of spells that didn’t require Words to use, so if I ran out of Words, I wouldn’t be left up a creek entirely. But they were very weak and definitely not useful for fighting so many enemies at once. I also couldn’t tell if any of those men were Codexers themselves. None of them seemed to be wearing portables, but portable Nodes could look like pretty much anything, so that didn’t mean much. They could also be hiding their portables in their clothes, which was another thing that experienced Codexers sometimes did.

  Logically, there was no way I could pick a fight with these men and expect to win.

  But I also couldn’t turn away and abandon Nimbus, even if those men hadn’t noticed me yet. I wish I’d linked with Miriam earlier. Then I could have messaged her via NodeLink. I also regretted not linking with Isaac. He might have been a drunk, but he was also the strongest Codexer in North Forest and the surrounding area, not to mention the closest one other than me. Plus, I vaguely recalled that Isaac was a war veteran, so he probably had way more combat experience than I did.

  If I survived the night, I’d make sure to link with both Miriam and Isaac tomorrow. That way, I could avoid being in this situation again later on.

  For now, however, I needed to figure out a way to save Nimbus without fighting those men.

  Crack. The men erupted into mocking laughter again, and it took me a moment to realize what had happened.

  That sound came from the red mana bubble encasing Nimbus. The poor cloud rabbit sat on his behind with a dazed look on his face. Either he had tried to brute force his way out of the mana bubble, or he had tried to teleport out and failed. Regardless, he was clearly injured.

  “What a dumb bunny!” one of the men shouted, his voice rising above the laughter of his fellow criminals. “And here I thought Codex Beasts were supposed to be smart.”

  Codex Beast? They knew that Nimbus was a Codex Beast? Then at least one of them had to be a Codexer with an active portable, though I still couldn’t tell who.

  That did not bode well for my odds of beating them or saving Nimbus. Unless the Codexer among them just so happened to be a Chapter One, Page One Codexer like myself with an even weaker Discipline than mine, though I knew I wasn’t going to get that lucky.

  Another one of the men, taller than the first one, lashed out with a kick that struck the red mana bubble and made it wobble and shudder. Nimbus immediately leaped up and darted to the side, only to run into the other side of the bubble and get sent rolling backward across the grass. Another round of mocking laughter came from the group of men, one of the bandits doubling over with laughter.

  As for poor Nimbus, he had come to a stop in the middle of the red mana bubble, shaking and making that weird snorting noise from my trial.

  My hands shook.

  I had to do something, but what?

  I couldn’t beat those guys in a straight fight. Even if I made a sneak attack, what would I hit them with? My stylus? I suppose that it could be a makeshift knife or something, but its tip wasn’t nearly sharp enough to kill a man. Besides, even a successful sneak attack would only take out one of those guys at most.

  That would then leave five undoubtedly pissed-off bandits who would have every reason to want me dead.

  No, I needed to be smart about this. I needed to trick them, maybe distract them long enough to free Nimbus and get out of here. I had some spells that could help with that.

  So I drew Inkwyrm, my stylus, from my robes and started figuring out my plan. Perhaps I could summon Arcane Light as a distraction, then use Ink Ward or Splinter Glyph to attack the group and sow confusion, sneak in, break Nimbus out of the mana bubble, and get both of us the heck out of here before those dumb bandits even knew what hit them.

  But to do that, I needed to access my Inscriptionist Console first.

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  As part of my unique Inscriptionist Discipline, I got a second user interface on top of the normal Codexer interface called the Inscriptionist Console. As far as I could tell, the Inscriptionist Console let me take the glyphs of any spell I knew and modify them under certain parameters, which I was still trying to figure out myself. I would have asked Isaac about it, but, well, you know how Isaac is about a Chapter One Codexer asking him questions about things he doesn’t know the answer to.

  I raised my fingers into the air to trace the glyphs for Arcane Light, then stopped. I had my stylus now. I didn’t need my fingers. The description of my stylus mentioned that the tip could change colors depending on what kind of spell I was casting. Blue was for utility, I think. Did Arcane Light count as a utility spell?

  As if in answer to that question, the tip of the stylus glowed a soft blue color. Not bright enough to attract attention from the bandits—who were all too busy tormenting Nimbus to notice such a dim, mostly hidden light—but enough to show that it was active.

  So I raised Inkwyrm and traced the glyphs for Arcane Light into the air. Unlike when I cast a spell using my fingers back in my trial, using Inkwyrm felt smooth and natural, like writing with a nice pen on fine paper. I instantly understood why this item stood out to me among the rest of the junk in the equipment pile at the Codexium earlier. It really did feel like it had been designed for me.

  A pale, shimmery UI—the Inscriptionist Console—floated into my vision, showing the familiar glyphs for Arcane Light:

  Arcane Light()

  Would you like to modify Arcane Light or use the modified version stored in your glyph reservoir (1 out of 3 modified spells stored)?

  The first time I saw the above syntax, back in my Arcane Simulation, I’d been extremely confused, but I now understood that the blinking cursor and the empty brackets at the end of the spell’s name represented the parameters of the spell I could modify. The second part asking me if I wanted to modify Arcane Light was also similar to the notification in my trial.

  But the second part about my glyph reservoir was different. It looked like I could store modified spells in my glyph reservoir, which made sense, though it looked like I could only store three at a time. That was good. I’d already modified Arcane Light, so no need to modify it again. The version I modified in the trial, with blue light and fifteen percent brighter than the normal spell, would probably suffice for distracting the bandits.

  What I really needed was a way to attack the group without them noticing me. Splinter Glyph, a weak spell designed for combat, would probably do the trick, but that would mean having to cast it myself and draw attention to myself. I needed a distraction, not to pick a fight I couldn’t win.

  As if in response to my thoughts, a new notification suddenly appeared in my vision like an unfurling scroll:

  Splinter Glyph()

  Throws a glyph that shatters on impact, dealing area force damage.

  Casting time: 1.5 seconds

  Duration: Instant

  Cost: 4 Words

  Would you like to modify Splinter Glyph and give it an ANCHOR and DELAY function?

  I blinked. I didn’t know exactly what ‘ANCHOR’ and ‘DELAY’ meant in this context, but it sounded like I could bind Splinter Glyph to a location and then inscribe a time for it to go off.

  I agreed, mentally:

  MODIFY/ANCHOR/DELAY(Splinter Glyph, {Location: ???, Timer: ???})

  I assigned Splinter Glyph to my current location behind the bushes and then set a delay of a minute.

  Or tried to, but then I got a warning notification telling me that I needed to be at Page 5 or higher before I could set a delay on a spell for more than 15 seconds. That was frustrating, but I could move to another part of the trees in fifteen seconds if needed.

  So I finished modifying Splinter Glyph and the modified syntax flashed into my vision:

  MODIFY/ANCHOR/DELAY(Splinter Glyph, {Location: Caster’s Current Location, Timer: 15 seconds})

  There. If this spell worked the way I thought it would, once I cast it, I would have 15 seconds to move to another location, wait for the spell to go off, and then go in and free Nimbus after the bandits got distracted by my attack. I wouldn’t even need Arcane Light, which was fine. More light would make it easier for the bandits to see me, which was not my goal.

  With my plan firmly settled, I raised my stylus, its tip now red to indicate I was about to cast an offensive spell, and readied myself to set the delayed spell before moving on. It would be tricky, even dangerous, but again, I couldn’t abandon Nimbus. I didn’t know exactly how I would save Nimbus after distracting the bandits, but I’d figure that out along the way.

  Then the tip of a knife, colder than the night air, touched the back of my neck, and a rough female voice said, “Try anything with that stylus and I’ll make sure you live long enough to write your will with your blood.”

  I froze. I wanted to look over my shoulder to see the woman speaking to me, but I couldn’t. I was afraid that if I did, she might slit my throat or stab me outright.

  A hand grabbed the collar of my shirt and yanked me to my feet roughly. “Up. Go.”

  Before I could react, the woman shoved me out of the trees and into the clearing. I fell flat on my face, dropping my stylus and getting a nice mouthful of dirt. I coughed up the dirt, which tasted gritty and foul in my mouth, before I realized that all of the mocking laughter had stopped.

  I looked up and noticed two things:

  One, all of the bandits were now staring at me. Most of them looked surprised, which was understandable, as they hadn’t even noticed I was there until I appeared.

  And two, this notification popped into view:

  SPELLCASTING INTERRUPTION DETECTED. MODIFIED SPELL SPLINTER GLYPH DISSIPATED. NO MANA FEEDBACK DETECTED.

  I didn’t have time to think about what that error notification meant because I needed to escape.

  Now.

  So I tried to rise to my feet and run.

  A foot in a heavy boot slammed down on my back, pinning me to the ground and making me gasp for breath. I finally looked over my shoulder.

  A woman stood on my back, a cruel look on her rough features. She looked even rougher than the men, with thick scars shaped like tears running down both sides of her face. She wore pitted leather armor and a black cloak that covered much of her rotund body. She also smelled like pipe smoke and sweat, her raggedy blue hair hanging like old curtains off either side of her face.

  More importantly, however, was the earring in her left ear. It glowed a soft red color, the same shade as the red mana bubble imprisoning Nimbus.

  She was the rogue Codexer who had captured Nimbus.

  The Codexer who was going to kill me next.

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