The Labyrinth, page 6
part #2 of The Gods' Game Series
Over the week Kyran got to know the two vampires. Aveyad was the senior of the two and Tyeliss often looked to him for direction. Tyeliss was more volatile, and frequently lapsed into bouts of fury. He had come to realise that this was Tyeliss’s nature and not any particular animosity towards Kyran. Almost, he came not to fear the death knight’s anger. Almost.
Aveyad was a closed book. Kyran could not get a read on him. Prod though he did, he was unable to ruffle Aveyad’s calm demeanour. He was a canny one, a deep thinker, and at times Kyran got the sense that the vampire lord approved of his probing questions. That could not be right though.
Whatever the case, both vampires were clearly educated and civilized beings. In no way did they fit the undead stereotype. Kyran also realised that as much as he studied the vampires, so too did they observe him. Many a time he had caught Aveyad’s searching gaze or Tyeliss’s speculative looks upon him. He had wondered what the purpose of his release had been, and perhaps this was it—to provide the vampires an opportunity to study him. He did not understand why they would go through the trouble, though. He had not forgotten that he was still a prisoner. They had no need for this charade. Unless they desired something from him. Something that could not be taken without his cooperation?
He no longer believed that the undead would torture him. Somehow that seemed too crude for these two. Being turned, that he was not so sure about. He had tried bringing up the topic once. Casually inserting it into the conversation. Neither took the bait, and adamantly refused to engage on the subject. That worried him more than anything else.
✽✽✽
Near the end of the seventh day, while exploring a set of chambers near the keep’s heart, a sparkling aura from a small, unmarked room attracted his attention. Kyran stopped. “What is that?” he asked.
Both vampires turned to look in the direction of Kyran’s gaze. “Oh that,” said Tyeliss. “That is Eld’s idea of a joke. We call it Eld’s Jest. It is warded by divine essence. Eld configured it as a challenge.”
Even though the topic of Eld was always a sore one, the aura emanating from the warded chamber had sparked his interest, and he was willing to bear Tyeliss’s anger for more information on it. “Why call it Eld’s Jest?”
“Because it is impossible to get into. Over the years, every trick to pierce its wards has been tried and failed. An impossible challenge. That is the jest. Eld always had a strange sense of humour.” Amazingly, during this little speech Tyeliss displayed none of the anger he usually did around the topic of Eld. Indeed, he appeared quite wistful.
“So what is inside?”
Tyeliss shrugged. “No one knows. Knowing Eld, probably nothing.”
“Let’s take a closer look,” said Kyran.
Aveyad looked at him curiously. “Why? What interests you about the room?”
Kyran shook his head. He could not quite explain it but something in the aura surrounding the room piqued his curiosity. He was just about to mention it when Tyeliss interrupted, “Tomorrow perhaps. It is late and time for you to head back to your cell.”
✽✽✽
Over the next few days, Zarr studied the champion from afar. The daily reports he received from Tyeliss and Aveyad intrigued him. The player, Kyran, was in many ways guileless and seemed genuinely ignorant of much of the game. If it was a façade, it was one so expertly crafted that not even he and Aveyad, both well-acquainted with the deception and the wiles of the gods, could penetrate.
But how could he make use of the player when he was all but defenceless? His level was so low that unaided he was unlikely to escape the labyrinth. And his innocence was itself a danger. In the hands of the unscrupulous, the elf could be turned into a powerful weapon against them. Despite all this, Zarr realised he had made his decision. Now only to find the means to execute it.
But first it was time to meet the player again, for final confirmation. Zarr was nothing if not thorough, especially when the fate of his people hung in the balance.
✽✽✽
The next day began the same as any other. With breakfast done, he waited for the vampires to arrive. He intended on exploring the strange warded room today, but his plans were dashed when Aveyad announced, “The lich king wishes to see you now.”
Kyran swallowed nervously. He had grown familiar with the two vampires but the lich king still scared him. “Why?” he asked shakily.
Tyeliss said, “His highness did not deign to inform us, but it is best not to keep him waiting. He can be a touch impatient at times.”
Kyran dusted himself off in an attempt to make himself presentable but it was a lost cause. He was still clothed in the same battered chitin armour and clothing from the day he arrived in this world. Giving up, he said, “Let’s go then.”
✽✽✽
This time the vampires did not take Kyran to the throne room. Instead they went to a room he had not been to before, a smaller, less formal receiving chamber. It was carpeted in a rich black rug and at its centre stood a long oaken table. The walls were decorated with oil paintings of imposing men and women, all crowned and bearing the insignia of a hunting owl. Zarr’s predecessors, he guessed.
Standing behind the table was Zarr and spread out before him was a map. “Come in,” said Zarr. Their errand complete, both vampires bowed to the lich king and left. This was to be a private audience, it seemed.
Accepting Zarr’s invitation, Kyran made his way to the table and looked down on the map spread out upon it. It was the Crota underworld. On the northern end of the map was the image of an imposing castle. The citadel. Directly below it was a maze of tunnels. The mines. Amongst them, Kyran spotted the spider’s cavern and the lake. Stretching from the citadel downwards was a red border for which he could see no explanation. The lake was on its boundary. Far to the south was another settlement, this one nestled in the mountain fastness. It was labelled ‘Durn Duruhl’. It too expanded far underground, and was connected to Crota through the tunnels riddling the mountain range that arced from north to south. It lay far outside the red boundary. Between the southern city and Crota were numerous notable locations, none of which Kyran recognised.
“Do you recognise the map?” asked Zarr.
“It is a map of the Crota underworld.”
“It is called the Labyrinth and it is not just of Crota, but of the entire kingdom of Crotana. The labyrinth stretches across the Skarral mountain range from Crota in the north to Durn Duruhl in the south, a honeycomb of tunnels and caverns. The labyrinth is ancient and dates back to even before the gods’ game. Most were dug out by the dwarven clans, whose ancestral home these mountains were. No more,” said Zarr sadly. “They were all eradicated or driven out during the invasion.”
Kyran did not miss the change in the lich king. He was calm, relaxed, controlled. A far cry from the furious, spitting rage of their first encounter. Kyran was more than a little disconcerted. Which was the real Zarr. Or were both real? What had changed between then and now, to so drastically alter the lich’s demeanour towards him?
Kyran nodded, unsure why the lich king was sharing this information with him. But it was valuable knowledge, assuming he ever made his way out of Crota.
“This is Durn Duruhl?” asked Kyran, pointing.
“Yes. In recent times it has become known as ‘The Dwarven City’. It protects the labyrinth’s southern entrance just as Crota guards its northern one. The dwarves, ever mindful of defence, created few entrances to the labyrinth, all of which are either well-guarded or hidden. Since the dwarves’ defeat, the monsters of the deep earth have crept back into the labyrinth. Chief amongst them the kobold hordes, whom I believe you have already encountered.”
Kyran nodded. “What is this red border?” he asked.
“That is the limits of Crota, the farthest extent which our curse allows us to venture.” Seeing Kyran’s confusion, he explained. “The curse which transformed us into undead also holds us captive in Crota, the citadel which in life we were sworn to protect. In death we remain bound to it.” Tracing the lake cavern with his finger, Kyran thought, So close. He had been so close to escaping the undead’s clutches. A little farther…
Following the direction of Kyran’s gaze, Zarr said, “Yes, you were almost beyond our reach. It may not appear so now, but you were fortunate that Aveyad and Tyeliss were able to retrieve you when they did. In time, I hope you will come to realise this.”
Kyran could not help but say, “But that was not their mission. You sent them to kill me.”
“I did,” said Zarr unapologetically. “And I was wrong. We are both fortunate that Aveyad chose as he did.”
An apology without the actual apology. He must want something, decided Kyran. Otherwise why all this polite talk. Deciding to be direct, he asked, “Why am I here?”
The lich king eyed him speculatively and responded in kind, “I have a choice to make and I have called you here to learn what I can of you before making it.”
“And is that what the last week has been about? Learning about me while I wandered aimlessly about the citadel?”
“It was,” answered Zarr truthfully.
Kyran nodded. At least the lich was being open with him. “Then ask your questions please and I will try to answer you as honestly and fully as I can,” said Kyran.
Zarr waved this aside. “That is not necessary. I learn more from your questions. So ask of me what you will. Anything, and I will answer as I can.”
This was an unlooked-for opportunity to plug the gaps in his ignorance. He hesitated then asked bluntly, “What do you want?”
The lich king shook his head ruefully. “That I will not answer now. All in good time.”
So, he would not quite get all the answers he wanted. Disappointing, but not unexpected. He thought awhile, then asked, “Can you tell me about the Game’s Balance?”
“The balance? Where did you hear about that?” asked Zarr, arching an eyebrow in surprise.
“It’s something Aveyad mentioned.”
The lich nodded. “The Balance is a widely accepted game theory which postulates that so long as each god holds only one essence well, the game will remain locked in stalemate, as it has since its inception. The theory—and note that it is only theory—is that when a god achieves control of two wells, the balance will irrevocably be broken, and the game’s completion inevitable. All of the gods subscribe to the theory, and for long centuries have bent all their efforts to one goal: to capture a second well and tip the balance in their favour.”
“Ah, the mysterious essence wells. The Overseer mentioned they were the key to completing the game but elaborated little further on what they actually are. And there is one in the city, is there not? Tyeliss and Aveyad barred me from even approaching it. What are they?”
Zarr gestured, and Kyran detected the essence flow as the lich expertly wove it into a three-dimensional holographic map of Myelad. Pointing to the map floating above the table, Zarr said, “This is Myelad. And these are its essence wells.”
Twelve golden dots pulsed gently into being on the map, one of which was located in what Kyran recognised as Crota. He gazed hungrily at the map, trying to absorb and understand the wealth of information displayed in it.
“There are twelve such wells, each located in the heart of a god’s demesne. The wells are divine artefacts constructed by Eld when he fashioned the gods’ game. The wells gather and store all naturally occurring essence in Myelad. They are the foundation of this world’s civilisation and power all its technology, from communication arrays, city shields, champion’s towers to world portals and much more. Without an essence well, none of this is possible.”
Kyran’s brow furrowed in thought. “I see. So they are an energy source but how do they keep the game locked in stasis? Or am I missing something?”
Zarr nodded. “A pertinent question. There are two aspects to consider. The first is that the essence each domain receives from its well is the same. The second is that as powerful as players can be, their strength pales in comparison to defensive essence structures and the bonuses granted by cities.
“Which means that as a domain expands and gains more cities, its defensive strength decreases even as its offensive power—the size of its armies and number of champions—increases.”
Kyran stared at the hovering map, thinking through the information. The three largest domains—those of Iyra, Kharmadon and Xetil—spanned dozens of cities, whereas the smallest—Zarayla’s—consisted of a single city. If what the lich king said was true… “That would make a small domain such as Zarayla’s difficult to capture?”
Zarr nodded approvingly. “But not just difficult, almost impossible. The more an empire expands, the greater the number of cities it must defend, and the more vulnerable it is, with its natural essence being spread over the defence of multiple cities. To some extent this can be offset by garrisons, fortifications and city upgrades but the dependence on natural essence for defence can never be completely eliminated.”
Zarr pointed out Zarayla’s realm. “Whereas a domain such as Zarayla’s with only one city can dedicate all its natural essence to the capital’s defence, drawing out any potential siege into decades, if not centuries.”
Kyran shook his head in objection. “But surely an empire as large as Kharmadon’s can muster enough men to overrun Zarayla’s capital faster than she can replenish her defences.”
Zarr waved his hand dismissively. “He can, but the cost in men and armies would be ruinous, and crucially would leave his flanks exposed. Which without doubt his fellow gods would be sure to exploit.”
Kyran frowned doubtfully. “Then it is as much the gods’ distrust of each other as the essence wells that holds the game in balance?”
“Exactly! You have seen to the heart of the matter. That is the second pillar on which the game’s balance rests. As long as the gods are unwilling to ally, the game will be locked in stalemate. But when they do…” The lich king’s face turned grim. “Well, Crotana’s fate is evidence enough of what occurs then.”
Kyran nodded slowly in understanding. The game was balanced precariously by the gods’ distrust of each other and the single essence well each held, which begged the question… “So why have none of them claimed Crota’s well?”
Zarr grimaced, reminded of unhappy memories. “It dates back to the invasion. The question of Crota’s essence well was the biggest deterrence to the gods’ alliance. None was willing to let another have it. It was only through centuries-long politicking and manipulation by Lok and Kharmadon that the gods reached consensus.
“In the end, to seal their alliance, the gods agreed to a pact—not a vow—that after Eld’s defeat the Crota well would remain unclaimed and that any who sought to do so would feel the wrath of the others. However, it has not prevented some from at least trying but always by subterfuge. None are strong enough to risk the wrath of the others by openly invading Crota. And then there are the undead of course; we are well-entrenched here, and would require a concerted effort to dislodge.”
Something else puzzled Kyran. “But the citadel remains in a state of disrepair. I’ve seen no sign of the essence defences of which you spoke.”
“You are correct. Crota has no essence defences, not any more. To use the well requires it to be bonded to a player—and there are no players in Crota. None except for you.” Zarr’s eyes pierced Kyran. “And this is why you are dangerous, free agent. Because only you—an unbound player—could place Crota’s well outside the grasp of the gods, and create of it, a heretic city that they could not easily capture. It was an unaccountably foolish risk they took in sending you here.” Zarr shook his head. “I cannot imagine what spurred them to such a decision.”
Kyran was surprised at this revelation. Its implications were startling and explained much of the gods’ concern. And there was an opportunity here. But before he could speak, Zarr continued. “And it is why I will not allow you to go anywhere near the well. The gods will never let such defiance go unchallenged. If you bond the well, they shall know of it and will surely ally once more and fall upon Crota with all their might.” He stared hard at Kyran and said frankly, “Believe me, elf. I have considered it. And if I thought any hope existed in such defiance, I would wholeheartedly embrace it.”
Kyran swallowed his objections and accepted the lich king’s assessment. Changing the direction of the conversation, he asked, “Do you believe in the Balance?”
“The theory is sound, however I do not hold with its assumption that holding two wells would spell the beginning of the end. The gods have allied twice before to destroy a threat. I suspect they will ally a third time against whoever gains two wells. And I doubt that even Kharmadon or Iyra are strong enough to survive against the combined might of the others.”
And from there the conversation moved onto other topics. Kyran queried Zarr further on the essence wells, life in Myelad and the nature of the game. Zarr spoke freely on it all. It was only on matters that touched directly on Eld that he refused to speak. Surprisingly, Kyran found himself enjoying the discussion. The lich king turned out to be a thoughtful ruler, knowledgeable over a wide range of topics. By the time the vampires fetched him, Kyran had learnt much. But the lich king, he suspected had learnt more.
✽✽✽
Lesh’s party had finally reached the ancient dwarven city where the feral tribes squatted. The trio had been forced to traverse a maze of tunnels to reach the city. A journey that had stretched infuriatingly into days of discomfort.
From the moment they had entered this dark underbelly, Lesh’s world had been filled with horror. He had thought the journey through the mountains had been tough. But this. This journey into the bowels of the earth, Lesh was doing his best to forget. He was starved and bedraggled, his beautiful robe torn and little more than rags. Oh, what he would not do for a delicious haunch of deer right now. Or a bath.
