Page 67 of A Fable of Riddles and Redemption

If this thing has the same fighting skills as me, I’m in big trouble here.

Anala squeaked when a duplicate of herself appeared, though it looked more like a rabid raccoon than a red panda. It bared its teeth viciously, looking far more cruel than Anala ever had.

Herrick clenched his jaw and raised his sword, ready to defend himself against…himself.

The darker version of Herrick rushed him, proving itself to be faster and more agile than he was. When the crackly black blade struck his, the impact pushed Herrick backward a few steps before he could steady himself against the blow.

Great…it’s stronger, faster, and more agile than me… How in the Realms am I going to beat it?

For the first time in this horrific labyrinth, doubts washed over him. Herrick was well aware of his own prowess, thanks to years of training. But fighting an enhanced version of himself? How could he possibly win?

He parried against his duplicate for several minutes, hoping to find an opening while testing his strength against it, but its defense was ironclad. Sweat dripped down his brow as he fought, his thoughts buzzing with each clash of the sword.

Somehow, this battle felt more like a test of worthiness than any of the others had—a test against his own inner demons and the darkness still residing within his own soul. Was he strong enough—pure enough, good enough—to prove his worth?

Could he overcome his own dark weaknesses? The sins of his sordid past?

For Zorina’s sake, he hoped so. He would do anything to save her—or die trying.

Anala, on the other hand, seemed to have no qualms about her ability to defeat her dark double. She darted into his pouch, pulled out a clay vase he’d forgotten was even in there, and threw it at her foe. It smashed hard into the duplicate’s head, knocking it completely unconscious with a shattering of broken pottery.

Herrick chuckled at the sight. Anala’s actions gave him just the boost of confidence he needed. Steeling himself for yet another attack, Herrick repositioned his feet and held his sword firmly in his grip.

Nothing would stop him from saving Zorina.

Not any of the monsters he’d already faced and defeated.

Not the monsters he still had yet to face.

Not Caliban and his vile threats and treacherous labyrinth.

Not even a dark enchanted version of himself could stand in his way now.

Nothing could stop this rescue.

Nothing.

With a deep, cleansing breath, Herrick swung his sword with all his might, every ounce of strength in his body and soul pouring into this one blow. But instead of aiming for his darker self’s weapon, he targeted its chest—and rammed his blade right through its heart.

The replica cried out before melting into a crackling black puddle of magic.

“No!” an angry voice shouted, the masculine voice echoing through the chamber as if he were the best ventriloquist in the world.

Caliban.

If he was this upset, Herrick had to be close.

He took a moment to breathe, steadying himself for the next obstacle. Reaching into his infinite pouch, he withdrew a flask of water and quenched his thirst, then offered some to the intrepid red panda at his side.

At last, Herrick limped to the door, weary beyond all reason. But he had to keep going. He had to save Zorina. After running his fingers along the frame, he found the latch, and the door swung open.

This time, however, it was not to another mirror room, but to an opulent space with a massive chandelier dangling from its domed ceiling.

“No!” Caliban yelled, clearly outraged at his success.

Herrick whirled toward the sound, following it down a hallway where Caliban stood disturbingly close to Zorina.

“Herrick!” she cried, pushing Caliban away before she ran to Herrick.