Room9ac
“Let me,” Safir says and reaches for the white mirror.
The surface of the glass rushes across them. Their images quadruple, quintuple and repeat to infinity in directions they cannot even name. Conrad collapses to his knees, disoriented.
The room returns to normal. Conrad kneels on the floor, dry heaving while studiously avoiding looking at the mirrors which still line the walls. The magic mirrors are gone as is the yellow door. Only the white door remains.
Safir is grinning as she hefts her staff.
“Shall we, Lamia?”
With a giggle, Lamia joins the younger girl near the mirrored wall. The girls draw back their staves and swing with all their might. The hard wooden weapons slam into the mirror. A sunburst of cracks radiates out from the point where the staves impact.
Both girls laugh aloud and begin swinging their staves rapidly at the wall. The girls’ laughter takes on a manic edge as they attack the wall. Glass shatters and flies across the room. Safir screams and drops her staff.
“Stop,” Jora shouts and rushes to her side.
A sliver of mirror, as long as Jora’s hand stands from the girl’s bicep. It quivers with each beat of her heart and a trickle of blood seeps from the wound and down her arm.
“Sit down,” Jora commands and then digs through his pack.
He pulls out a shirt and then uses his dagger to slice it into several strips. One strip is folded to make a compress which he sets on Safir’s knee.
“I’m not going to lie, this is going to hurt but I have to pull this out.”
“That’s all right,” she says through gritted teeth. “I was stupid.”
Jora grips the sliver of mirror between a calloused thumb and forefinger.
“I’m going to pull it on three. Are you ready?”
Safir nods.
“Here we go. One…”
Jora yanks the sliver free, eliciting a yelp from Safir. He immediately places the compress against the wound and applies pressure.
“You said three,” Safir says indignantly.
“Sorry, I lied.”
Jora binds the wound with the other strips of cloth and then impulsively bends over and kisses the center of the bandage.
“When I was little my mother would always kiss my cuts to make them better.”
“You could kiss me,” Safir says. Her eyes sparkle from tears of pain.
Jora looks into her eyes and wonders how he never noticed just how lovely she is. Safir is not a child anymore, she is a beautiful young woman. He blushes as he stares for far too long.
“Once we’re free.”
“I’ll hold you to that, sir.”
“Hey,” Conrad says, drawing everyone’s attention away from the awkward conversation. “There’s writing behind the mirror.
On the wall revealed by the broken mirror are crudely painted letters, three feet tall.
To w
“Tow?” Conrad spreads his hands in confusion. “What does tow mean?”
“I think there’s more writing under the next mirror segment,” Lamia says.
She leans close to the wall near the letter W and squints at the space between the cracked mirror and the wall.
“I’m sure of it. There’s more writing. We need to break the rest of the mirrors.”
“Well, we’re going to be more careful breaking the mirrors this time,” Jora says with a pointed look at Safir. “We don’t need more walking wounded.
“Lamia I want you to crack the mirrors while Conrad and I remove the glass.”
“I can still use my staff,” Safir says.
“Are you sure?”
The girl flexes her arm to prove her point and climbs to her feet.
Safir and Lamia strike the wall with more control than previously cracking the mirror. Jora and Conrad follow behind them using the points of their swords like chisels to lever the glass away from the stone.
Soon the room is bare of reflective surfaces revealing a phrase painted on the walls. The phrase stretches completely around the room.
To walk in the forest is the safest way home
“What does that mean?” Lamia says.
“Beats me,” Jora says. “But it must be important. Somebody remember it and let’s get out of here before anyone else gets hurt.”
What choice should the adventurers make?