The Labyrinth, page 16
part #2 of The Gods' Game Series
The most interesting items were the inferno staffs and the healing salves. The salves would heal their wounds, something which their own novice spells could not do yet. The staffs, while interesting, were of no immediate use. Gaesin didn’t have fire magic and Kyran had not invested in wands & staffs, nor was he prepared to do so for just one item.
Without further ado, the party packed up the loot, and set off. Two hours later, Adra found a defensible cavern where they could camp for the night. It was a little way off the main passage, the side tunnel which they had traversed to reach it ending in a cul-de-sac.
Wearily, the three assembled the camp. As they settled down for supper, Kyran looked at Aiken, wondering what jade great bears ate. And looking again at his size, wondered how much. He formed an image of their supplies and projected it to Aiken with a query, “food?” Aiken scrutinised the image, and honed in onto the one of the rock beetle meat.
Happy to finally rid himself of the beetle meat, Kyran offloaded it from his inventory and heaped it in front of Aiken, who hungrily dug in.
The rest of the party sat down and dined to a more refined meal from Adra’s supplies. As they ate, Kyran shared the cub’s tale with the others and then said, “Escape will be much more difficult now, especially with the kobolds alerted to our presence. I’m sorry that we had to abandon our plans but feeling the evil of that collar, I could not stomach leaving the bears to that fate.”
A heavy silence descended, each lost in their own thoughts of what this detour meant. Surprisingly it was broken by Gaesin. Gaesin, who normally deferred to the older and wiser Adra. “You chose correctly, milord. What has been done to the bears is an abomination and it is only right that we stop it.” He performed an awkward seated bow. “I am proud to aid you in this quest, Kyran.”
Gravely, Kyran acknowledged the youth’s gesture. He replied solemnly. “Thank you, Gaesin.”
Aiken lifted his bloodied nose from the beetle remains and huffed once in agreement, causing them to chuckle, breaking the awkwardness of the moment.
“Poor fellow,” murmured Adra. Following her gaze, Gaesin nodded, empathy filling his eyes. Aiken, picking up on their thoughts, huffed in sad acknowledgement.
“Thank you for your assistance, there at the battle’s end, Adra,” said Kyran. “If not for you, I would be dead.”
Adra shifted, uncomfortably, not meeting his eyes. “It was but my duty, lord.”
He chuckled softly. “Now, now. None of that. Remember, its ‘Kyran’.” Holding her gaze, he added more seriously, “I am grateful, Adra. Truly.”
Not wanting to discomfort Adra further—she seemed uncomfortable with praise—he turned the discussion to the battle itself. “The battle went well,” he said. “And we owe its success to the scorpions.” He continued, “Since my arrival in Myelad, I have depended heavily on beast bonding for survival. For all the versatility and power of my magic, without beast bonding, I would not have gotten this far.” Waving his hand at the roof of the cavern, he said, “I guess it is a popular skill in the world above?”
Adra and Gaesin looked at each other. Adra answered slowly, “I won’t deny that we have seen the power of beast bonding today, but tamers are not popular in Myelad. They are few and far between.”
Gaesin nodded in agreement, “Yes, it is only amongst Auriel’s followers that they are more common. Even amongst the elves, magic or the way of the bow is the preferred means of combat.”
“But why?” asked Kyran, confused. “It is clearly powerful,” he said, thinking back on the creatures he had bonded thus far.
Adra answered, “Perhaps it is, but only here in Crotana where there is an abundance of beasts. In the rest of Myelad, even in the jungles of my home in the deep south, elder beasts such as Aiken or even the giant scorpions are unheard of. Without beasts to tame, what use is a tamer?”
“A tamer? You both have used that term as a title. What do you mean?” asked Kyran.
Gaesin responded, “It is one of the least popular classes. It is the class of those who bond and befriend beasts.”
Classes, mused Kyran. He recalled mention of it in the handbook. He assumed it meant the same thing in Myelad that it did in Earth games. “What do you know of classes?”
Adra shook her head, indicating her ignorance. He looked at Gaesin, who said, “I know a little. Every major city in the world contains schools for training candidates towards particular classes, the best of which are put forward for selection as vassals by the champions. The most popular schools are those that produce paladins, clerics, rangers, assassins, warriors and mages. I attended such a school—the Iltenial mage academy.” Gaesin shrugged ruefully, “Unfortunately, while I was considered moderately talented, I was not a diligent student. I skipped many of the lessons on the nature of classes—so I can tell you little else. Perhaps the champion’s handbook will be more informative.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Kyran, making a mental note to check on it later. He finished his supper and looked at Aiken. He was done too. “Ate enough, cub?” he asked. Aiken sleepily responded with feelings of fullness, contentment and a bone-deep weariness. “Rest, Aiken, we will watch over you tonight.”
Turning to the others, he said, “It’s time we turned in as well. We should not depend on the early warning system too much, let’s maintain a guard. Adra, will you take the first watch? Then myself, then Gaesin.” Adra and Gaesin both nodded in reply.
Standing up, Kyran said, “Good night then.” He was slipping into his sleeping pallet when Adra stopped him. “Pardon, Kyran, but…”
“Yes?” he queried, turning around.
“Gaesin and I increased in levels tonight, we would appreciate if you could assign our points.” When Kyran continued to stare at her in confusion, she clarified, “It is custom in Myelad for a lord to allocate his vassal’s points.”
Appalled, all he managed by way of reply was, “Really?”
The pair nodded in response. Gaesin added, “It’s bound up with the oath of fealty.”
Still repelled at the notion, Kyran asked, “Does this apply to champions as well? I mean, do they allocate their own points or must their god do so?”
Gaesin pondered this. “I don’t know but I would assume their pledge of loyalty operates in the same manner as the oath of fealty.”
He was more grateful than ever that he was not bound to any god. He would not be able to stomach having so little control over his own self. With that in mind, he said, “It may be custom in Myelad but I will not dictate your skills. Those choices are your own to make, but if you wish, I can assist with advice and my own little store of knowledge.” Gaesin brightened and surprised flickered across Adra’s face. They gratefully took him up on his offer.
He re-joined the pair at the fire. “Right, where shall we start?”
✽✽✽
An hour later, the companions finished their levelling. They had agreed that it was best for Gaesin to continue his specialisation in supportive magic, water magic and staffs. Likewise, Adra would focus primarily on her archery. They resolved as well to spend time studying the champion’s handbook, classes in particular.
The discussion with Adra and Gaesin reminded Kyran not to ignore his own levelling. He invested his remaining skill points into his prioritised skills and left the remaining two ability points unallocated.
You have used the ability, more skills, and converted 1 AP into 2 combat SP. Remaining combat SP =10 and AP=2.
Base skill in light armour has increased to 12. Physical defence: 14.9.
Base skill in telepathy has increased to 12. Psi damage: 24.5.
Base skill in fire magic has increased to 12. Fire damage: 30.6.
Base skill in psionics has increased to 12. Psicasting cost reduced by 4.9.
Base skill in spellcasting has increased to 12. Spellcasting cost reduced by 6.1.
Remaining: 2 Combat AP.
Before going to sleep, as tired as he was, he spent his remaining essence and will practicing his civilian skills.
✽✽✽
Adra was confused. It was nearing the end of her watch, and she had spent most of it lost deep in thought. Kyran kept surprising her, defying her efforts to cast him as a villain. After all, he was an enemy of her goddess and had befriended the undead. He had to be evil. Yet at every turn, he refused to fit the mould. He treated Gaesin and her as companions, spurning all forms of deference, laughably insisting that they treat him as an equal. And he had not used the bond to compel them. Not once. She could feel the oath of fealty, sitting within her, coiled and ready to compel. And yet, he never had. And it was this, she realised in hindsight, that had moved her to save him at the battle’s end—despite her conflicted loyalties.
But it was the great bear’s rescue that finally convinced her. She still could not believe he had chosen to aid the bears over certain freedom. It was a stupidly virtuous choice. And one worthy of her respect. No, Kyran was not evil. Whatever he was, he was not that.
For now, she would withhold judgement. She would fulfil her duties as vassal, but she would watch and wait, before deciding where her true loyalties lay…
✽✽✽
It had been six weeks. Six weeks of hard travel through Crotana’s Elder Forest. With Falsin’s team of experienced rangers to guide them, the brotherhood had managed to avoid any significant conflict with it’s denizens and had made good time, even with numerous detours to skirt confrontation.
Despite the evil reputation garnered by the forest in recent years, Mirien had found the journey soothing. It was not often that she travelled the wilds. Almost all her life was spent in the divine cities, on one mission or another. As a young elf, filled with fiery purpose, she had abandoned a tranquil life in the forests to fight tyranny and oppression.
In these last two weeks she had come to realise how much she missed the forests of her youth. A longing and emptiness within her that she had steadfastly ignored was finally filled. Within the forest, she felt calmer and more at ease than at any other time she could remember.
And the Elder Forest was special. As home to the oldest trees in Myelad, it had especial significance to the elves. But it was more than that to her. This forest was her ancestral home, one that her family had been forced to abandon at Crota’s fall. She was the first Tolyrandil to walk it in hundreds of years.
After all this time, a Tolyrandil had returned.
Almost, she imagined, the forest celebrated her coming. The sense of history and the crushing weight of responsibility she bore returned. Her ease vanished, reminded once more of her duty.
Beside her, Deegan cursed as he stubbed his toe on a concealed rock. Again. The forest did not agree with Deegan. Born and bred in a city, he thrived in its environs. Outside of one, he did not do so well. Mirien cast him a sidelong glance, gauging his temper. It did not do to notice his struggles. Deegan hated failure. He always had to stamp down his authority.
And that was exactly why he failed so miserably now. Instead of following the natural contours of the land, he attempted to carve a path through it. Advice didn’t help either. He took even worse to that.
Sensing Deegan’s frustration build, Mirien attempted to diffuse his anger and distract him with conversation. "How much farther do you think?”
With a taloned hand, Deegan slashed away a low-hanging branch irritably before answering. “Falsin thinks we will reach there in a week.”
“And then what? Will we enter? You have been playing your cards too close, master. It’s time you shared your plans.”
Deegan bared his teeth and his forked tongue hissed out in displeasure. Not that it fazed Mirien. She was used to his antics. Failing to intimidate her, he answered grudgingly, “We will scout the citadel’s surroundings for signs of the player.”
Mirien frowned. That could not be the sum total of Deegan’s plans. “And if we don’t find any? What then? After all it is hardly likely that the player can escape the clutches of Crota’s subterranean world on his own.”
“Then we go looking for him—in the labyrinth.”
Mirien stared disbelievingly. “You will take us into the citadel and risk the undead’s wrath?”
Deegan snorted, twin plumes of smoke rising from his draconian snout, warning of his ire. “I’m not that foolish,” he snapped. “No, if we find no sign of him outside, we will head to the dwarven city.”
“Durn Duruhl? Why?”
“Because there is another entrance to the labyrinth there. With the undead barring the one at Crota citadel from us, Durn Duruhl is our only option. We will enter the labyrinth at the city and make our way through its subterranean tunnels to the world portal’s vicinity—around which we are sure to find the player.”
Mirien frowned doubtfully. It was not much of a plan. There were too many variables, too many things that could go wrong, and above all would take too much time. And its odds of success were dismal—at best. But from the first, this mission had always been something of a goose chase.
Her pocket buzzed, interrupting her thoughts. She missed her step and almost fell over—much to Deegan’s amusement. In an almost impossible feat of acrobatics, she contorted mid-air and recovered, instantly halting her fall. Ignoring Deegan’s hissing laughter, she peered into her pocket.
It was the communication crystal. It buzzed again.
Mirien’s face clouded over with worry. The crystals were rare artefacts used by the brotherhood for relaying messages. Outside of the essence communication network controlled by the divines, they remained the only other means of long-distance communication.
The crystals were exceedingly difficult to come by, their usage outlawed by the gods. Even the materials used in their making was considered contraband. To be caught in possession of one was a death sentence and it was in only the direst of circumstances that the brotherhood authorised their use. This one had been given to them by Elasien. The fact that it was buzzing now could only portend trouble.
Sensing the change in her demeanour, Deegan quietened. “What is it?”
“It’s the crystal. Elasien is calling.”
Deegan blew out a long hissing breath, no doubt having surmised the same as Mirien. “Come,” he ordered.
They both peeled off from the brotherhood column and found a secluded spot within the forest brush. They crouched down, placing the communication crystal—still buzzing impatiently for attention—between them. Deegan activated the crystal with the command words while Mirien channelled a scrying barrier around them. The communication crystals were noisy. When in use they broadcasted loudly in the ether and if left unshielded, were liable to attract unwanted attention.
The crystal pulsed to life and strands of essence raced away from it into the ether, homing unerringly onto its paired partner. Partway, it met the essence emanating from Elasien’s crystal. The strands intertwined and the communication link snapped into place, forged by essence conjoined through the ether. A holographic image of Elasien formed above their crystal and wherever Elasien was a projection of Deegan and Mirien likewise appeared.
The magister was not her characteristic cool and self-possessed self. Her hair hung loosely, having escaped its normally intricate bindings and her clothes were ill-fitting and poorly matched. Her breath was expelled in short gasps as if she had recently been running. Taking in Elasien’s careworn and harried appearance, Mirien’s brows furrowed in concern, wondering what was going on.
Without ceremony, Elasien began speaking rapidly. “Deegan. Mirien. The crystal’s charge will not last long. And I have much to tell you. Don’t interrupt. Just listen please.
“You are not alone in Crotana, there are at least two other parties in play. Three weeks ago, Xetil sent the champion, Lesh, north from Wazrak. I have not managed to uncover the details of his mission, however it is safe to assume that he is after the free agent.
“The second party is from Iyra. It is a company of paladins led by a newly chosen champion, Sara. They set sail from Durham four weeks ago and should have made landfall in the dead cities by now. Their mission is to capture the player.
“It is imperative that the free agent does not fall into the hands of either god. I cannot stress this enough. I repeat. Do not let the player fall into their hands. It could spell disaster for all our plans. How you accomplish this, I leave to you. A lot of brotherhood blood has been spilt obtaining this information. Put it to good use please.”
Elasien’s strained demeanour eased momentarily. “I realise it is asking a lot of you, but I have faith—”
Her image dissipated and the communication link cut off abruptly as the enchanted lattices within the crystal ran dry. It would take weeks of consistent channelling to recharge the crystal. Weeks during which no further communication would be possible.
For long moments, Deegan and Mirien remained silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Mirien set aside the mystery of Elasien’s haggard appearance—the magister was more than capable of taking care of herself—and contemplated the latest complication to their mission. Elasien’s request was no easy task. Stopping a champion was well-nigh impossible, especially for a party as small as the one they had with them. And the magister wanted them to thwart not one, but two champions.
Never mind the consequence of such actions. The brotherhood had not been in open conflict with any of the gods in over a decade. Such was sure to bring down reprisals. The last witch-hunt had been ten years ago and still haunted those that had lived through them. But Elasien knew all this and her orders for them to act despite this, drove home the seriousness of their business here.
“So,” said Mirien.
“So,” echoed Deegan, chewing meditatively on a piece of bark while he thought through the problem. After a moment he said, “If Elasien’s intelligence is correct, Xetil’s champion is well ahead of us and either already at Crota or within the labyrinth. There is little we can do about him, at least not yet.”
