Sovereign (The Gods' Game, Volume IV)

by Vider, Rohan M.

  Kyran raised his head thoughtfully as silence returned to the chamber. The necromancers’ conversation had given him a lot to think on and discuss with the party. Slipping through the darkness, he left as soundlessly as he had entered.

  ✽✽✽

  “The Reapers Guild,” growled Adra once Kyran was done recounting the conversation he had overheard. The party had retreated back to the forest while they discussed their next step.

  Kyran tilted his head and looked at Adra questioningly.

  “The scarlet scythe insignia,” she explained. “It’s how members of the guild identify themselves.”

  His brows drew down. “What do we know of them?”

  “Necromancy is not a popular art in Myelad,” answered Mirien. “There are really only two large bands of their ilk. The Reapers Guild and Plague Corps, both based out of the independent city-states. The gods don’t really favour the class—and not because they find the necromancers’ kind abhorrent. No, it’s the class’ vulnerability to the divine that makes their use in the domains impractical. Though somehow the Plague Corps, a mercenary unit that the domains employ occasionally, have found a way around that. They are the larger of the two groups and have an ominous—and well-earned—reputation.”

  “But thankfully we aren’t facing those monsters here,” said Adra.

  “Thankfully,” agreed Mirien. “Although, I’m not sure if taking on the Reapers Guild is any better.”

  “We are decided then that this a threat we must eliminate?” Kyran asked. While he addressed the party at large, his eyes rested upon Adra.

  The wolven sighed. “Of course, Kyran. I may have been reluctant initially, but given what you’ve seen, I agree we need to cleanse the forest of this scourge.” She paused. “Although, I still don’t understand what the necromancers’ are about.”

  Gaesin pursed his lips. “I think they are trying to create wraiths.”

  “Create wraiths?” asked Kyran.

  The youth nodded. “Wraiths are spirits born of pain and suffering. Torment a person enough in the moments prior to his death, and he will not pass through the Wheel of Life. Instead, he will remain shackled to the world as an undead spirit.”

  “But only sentient creatures have ever become wraiths,” said Mirien.

  “Correct,” said Gaesin. “Which is why the Reapers’ experiments are likely doomed to failure.”

  “They want to use the wraiths to feed their power?” asked Kyran.

  “Exactly,” answered Gaesin.

  “Kyran,” Adra said in the pause that followed, “I know you want to put an end to the necromancers, but how do we get to them?” Her tail flicked anxiously. “There is no way the entire party can pass undetected through the undead cordon, and if we attempt to fight our way in, it is sure to bring the entire force of both ghouls and necromancers down upon us.”

  “A head-on assault won’t work,” agreed Kyran, bowing his head in thought. “We will have to sneak through.”

  “Or attempt a distraction?” suggested Gaesin. Kyran looked up at him. “If we pull the ghouls away, it will leave the necromancers unprotected...”

  Mirien shook her head. “The ghouls are too fast—and the necromancers can call them back anytime through their mental connection. Besides, luring the ghouls away will reveal our presence, and in doing so, we will lose the element of surprise.” She frowned as she picked at the problem. “Kyran is right,” she said finally. “We have to sneak in and catch the necromancers unawares.”

  “There are fifteen necromancers in there,” objected Adra. “Even assuming we do manage to get into the Reaper’s camp undetected, there is no way we can slay all of them before one raises the alarm.”

  “What about your mass sleep spell, Kyran?” asked Gaesin.

  Kyran smiled. “That was my idea too,” he admitted. “I was even tempted to use it earlier to rescue the stag, but the spell’s area of effect would have been too small to catch all the necromancers within its influence.”

  Mirien shook her head. “That won’t work.” Removing her glove, she held up a simple ring for Kyran’s inspection.

  Slightly perplexed by what the whiesper was getting at, Kyran cast insight upon the ring.

  Found: Basic ring of shielding.

  Type: Item. Rank: Uncommon.

  Special Properties: Grants immunity to rank I and II mind-altering spells such as confusion and charm.

  Description: This ring has been enchanted to protect the user’s mind from hostile manipulation.

  “That’s an impressive ring,” he murmured.

  “Not really,” said Mirien as she slipped her mailed glove back on. “While rings of shielding are not exactly commonplace, they are easy enough to obtain in any of the domain’s major towns, especially the basic variants. Most spellcasters will have one.”

  Kyran winced. It was a good thing he hadn’t tried to take on the necromancers by himself earlier.

  “How do we do this, then?” asked Gaesin.

  No one answered.

  Damnit, thought Kyran cursing to himself. It looked like there was no way to accomplish this task, not without putting the party at more risk than he was comfortable with. Perhaps, it was better if they—

  His train of thought was cut short as his gaze fell upon the forest serpents. Perhaps there is a way after all.

  “I think I have an idea,” he said.

  ✽✽✽

  The party split up again.

  Accompanied by the five forest serpents, Adra, Mirien, and Kyran slipped through the ghoul cordon while Aiken and Gaesin remained camped on the city’s outskirts. As much as Kyran disliked the notion of dividing the party, neither the jade bear nor the half-elf was up to the task of sneaking past the undead.

  In worg-form once more, Kyran led the others towards their destination. The wind howled through the city, flinging up eddies of snow against the blurred shadows of the buildings as the trio edged closer to the bathhouse. Kyran ducked his head and brushed away the wet and cold snow from his snout again.

  The storm’s picked up tonight, he thought. It should not, however, affect their plans. In the hopes of catching the necromancers unawares, Kyran had chosen to launch their ambush during the dead of the night. Appropriate, he thought to himself with an amused half-smile.

  Swiftly, he scouted the area. Nothing had changed since his last visit. The death ward was still active, and judging by the scents emanating from the bathhouse, all fifteen necromancers were present.

  “Alright,” he said to Adra across the battlegroup. “As planned, I’ll go in first. Once I give the signal, you and the others make your way inside.”

  The wolven nodded sharply.

  Using the same unsecured window he had gone through previously, Kyran slipped into the bathhouse. Inside, all was quiet. Thirteen of the necromancers were asleep, while two remained on guard.

  Damn, that complicates matters. He had rather been hoping the Reapers would be careless enough not to post any sentries. “Two necromancers are on watch, and the rest are asleep,” he reported.

  “Leave the guards to Mirien and me,” Adra replied. “Can you get to the wardstone?”

  Kyran slipped to the edge of the sunken pool and studied the necromancers for a moment. The mages had laid out their sleeping pallets in the most sheltered corner of the emptied pool. The two sentries sat on either end of their sleeping fellows, and with their backs resting against the pool walls. The wardstone remained where he had last seen it—unguarded next to the campfire.

  Noticing the bowed heads of the sentries, Kyran suspected neither was particularly vigilant, and that both might actually be asleep. “I can,” he replied. “Give me a moment.”

  He stepped delicately through the rubble and worked his way along the edge of the room until he had a clear, unobstructed view the wardstone. Once in place, he lay down on his belly and took a second to ready himself.

  This was probably the riskiest part of the ambush. He ran his tongue nervously along
his snout. The entire operation could all fall apart here if something went wrong now. It won’t, he told himself firmly.

  Reaching into his mind, Kyran prepared weaves of psi and gingerly extended them towards the wardstone. Here goes. Not daring to breathe, he pulled the wardstone through the mindscape and dropped it out a second later.

  Kyran has cast teleport (object) on a wardstone.

  With a soft clink, the wardstone dropped into the rubble at the room’s outer edges. To Kyran’s sensitive ears, the sound was startlingly loud. He held himself tense, ready to flee. It seemed impossible that the noise would go unnoticed by the two sentries.

  Yet it did.

  A soft snore from the closest figure was the only reaction. Kyran heaved out a breath in relief. “It worked,” he said. “You can come in now.”

  The leather flap over the window stirred and Adra’s dark form slipped inside, followed a moment later by Mirien. While the others made their way into the bathhouse, Kyran considered the wardstone pensively.

  None of the party could figure out why the necromancers had erected a death ward—it cut them off from their pets, after all—yet they had. And though not understanding the Reapers’ reasoning troubled Kyran, he was not opposed to exploiting the death ward’s existence for the party’s own ends.

  By teleporting the wardstone out of reach of the necromancers, the party had gained the time needed to eliminate the necromancers before they could call down their ghoul pets.

  He hoped.

  There was still much he did not understand of the wardstone’s workings. What if the necromancers could recall the enchanted object as easily as Kyran had hidden it? Should he have placed the wardstone in his inventory? But no, Mirien believed that would have caused the death ward to collapse—which was the very opposite of what they wanted.

  Suddenly, he was less certain their stratagem would work. It’s too late to back out now, he reminded himself. The plan is already in motion.

  “We’re almost in place,” reported Adra.

  Kyran’s head swivelled in her direction. Adra and Mirien were concealed in the darkness near the entrance, while the serpents were slithering silently around the perimeter of the room and into their own positions.

  It was nearly time to begin.

  Kyran reached out to the beasts and gave them their orders. Then, drawing upon his will, he sent weaves of psi into his body and enhanced his worg-form’s physical attributes even further.

  Kyran has cast dancer’s grace (attack speed: +122%, duration: 15 seconds).

  Kyran has cast boxer’s grace (strength: +122%, duration: 15 seconds).

  This battle would be all about speed and stealth. They would have to take down their targets quick and quietly, something his repertoire of magical and psi attacks were not well suited to. His worg-form, however was.

  Kyran picked out his own target and leaned back in readiness. “Alright, Adra, it’s time. Take out—”

  Before Kyran could finish, misfortune intervened.

  The gently stirring leather flap, which the party had loosened during their entry, flew back, thrust aside by an errant gust of wind that had chosen that exact moment to howl through the bathhouse.

  The sentries startled awake. Damnit, growled Kyran. “Go,” he hissed and sprang forward himself.

  Neither Adra or Mirien had waited for his command, though. Both had already dived into motion—Mirien slipping into the shadows and Adra smoothly raising her bow and releasing.

  Adra has missed a necromancer.

  Mirien has shadow stepped.

  The first sentry’s abrupt motion fouled Adra’s aim and the arrow destined for his throat flew inches wide.

  Mirien had better luck. She stepped out of the darkness and plunged her twin blades into the second sentry before he had time to do more than blink.

  Mirien has killed a necromancer with a vital strike.

  But the damage had been done, and their surprise had been lost. “Rise! Rise, Reapers!” shrieked the first sentry. “We’re under—”

  Adra has killed a necromancer with a vital strike.

  His words ended in a wet gurgle as Adra’s second arrow buried itself in his throat.

  The other necromancers awoke groggily. Their slow reactions gave Kyran hope. The battle is not yet lost. Bounding quickly over the sunken pool’s cracked surface, he narrowed his focus onto his target. The mage was still clambering to his feet. His eyes swept unseeing over Kyran’s dark form as his sight failed to pierce the gloom.

  Two more steps and Kyran reached striking distance. Without hesitation, he leapt, paws outstretched. He crashed into the hapless mage in a fury of tooth and claw. Carried to the ground by the momentum of the attack, the necromancer was pinned in place. Kyran’s head darted forward, jaws snapping shut.

  Kyran has killed a necromancer with a vital strike.

  The Reaper gave a half-strangled whimper as the life drained from him. Trying hard not to think about what he had just done, Kyran raised his head and surveyed the chaos.

  On the periphery of his vision, he saw the tightly coiled forms of the serpents spring forward. Sailing through the darkness, they landed unerringly onto their own targets.

  5 necromancers have been trapped within the grasp of 5 forest serpents (debuff: strangled, damage: 30 HP per second).

  Eight of the Reapers had already been accounted for. No, ten, he corrected himself when the Game notified him of the demise of two more.

  Adra has killed a necromancer with a vital strike.

  Mirien has killed a necromancer with a vital strike.

  “Where is the wardstone?” screamed a necromancer. Kyran recognised the voice. It was Sivero. He measured the distance to the sadistic journeyman. Unfortunately, the Reaper was out of Kyran’s immediate reach. Sivero will have to wait, he thought with a grimace.

  Motion drew Kyran’s attention. A mage to his left was raising her staff in Adra’s direction. Dashing forward, Kyran pounced onto the unsuspecting caster’s back, and with two quick jerks of his head he snapped the unfortunate’s neck.

  Kyran has killed a necromancer.

  Four more. The necromancers were easier to kill than he’d expected, and at this rate the battle would soon be over.

  Another necromancer stumbled within range. Not bothering to build momentum, Kyran leapt from a standing start.

  And rebounded off a shimmering curtain of grey.

  A necromancer has cast death shield (shield strength: 335 HP).

  Kyran has hit a necromancer for 0 damage (74 blocked by death shield). Remaining shield: 261 / 335 HP.

  Dancer’s grace and boxer’s strength have expired.

  Kyran lowered his head and shook himself to clear his head of its sudden ringing. He looked up to see protective shields encase the other three necromancers—just in time to foil Adra and Mirien’s next attacks.

  Adra has hit a necromancer for 0 damage (32 blocked by death shield). Remaining shield: 328 / 360 HP.

  Mirien’s dual strikes have hit a necromancer for 0 damage (132 blocked by death shield). Remaining shield: 180 / 312 HP.

  Kyran snarled. The battle had just gotten harder. “Adra, focus your attacks on the Reaper in front of me. We will have to wear down their shields one at a time.” It would leave the necromancers all the time they needed to prepare their own counterattacks, but there was no way around it.

  His gaze slid to Mirien. The whiesper was not part of the battlegroup, so Kyran had no way to easily redirect her in the midst of battle. But she was doing well enough on her own.

  Mirien wove a deadly dance around one of the necromancers, never standing still long enough for the mage to focus his attacks. Her blades darted forward and sounded out a near-constant staccato against her target’s shield as she found her mark time and again. With esper’s fury, the whiesper was more than capable of whittling down her target’s shield all on her own.

  Leaving her to it, Kyran turned his attention back to his own target. He bounded forward
again and attacked simultaneously in both the ‘real’ and the mindscape.

  Kyran’s 2 strikes have hit a necromancer for 0 damage (71 blocked by death shield). Remaining shield: 190 / 335 HP.

  Kyran’s mind shock has hit a necromancer for 60 damage. Remaining: 220 / 280 HP.

  Adra’s 2 strikes have hit a necromancer for 0 damage (60 blocked by death shield). Remaining shield: 130 / 335 HP.

  Kyran grinned a doggy-smile of surprise as the mind shocks penetrated the Reaper’s death shield. He had not expected that. It seemed that like his own magic shield, death shields did not stop psi attacks. Finally, a bit of good fortune, he thought in relief.

  The necromancer staggered backwards; the spell he had been preparing was forgotten as he turned eyes rounded with shock upon Kyran. “Sivero!” the necromancer screeched. “Help! This one is no true worg. He is a psionic!”

  Sivero whipped around, his face a frustrated mask of rage. “Deal with him yourself, Simone, you fool!” He spun to his left. “And stop toying with that elf, Fuvio! Kill her and be done with it!”

  “I’m trying,” growled Fuvio, even as another of his magical projectiles failed to hit Mirien.

  Sivero scowled, but didn’t pester the beleaguered mage further. He turned his glare to the only other necromancer alive and unbound. “Luteria, find the bloody wardstone,” he snapped. “Now!”

  Luteria blinked in disbelief. “What? Why! They need my help,” she burst out, pointing over to the necromancers slowly suffocating in the grasp of the five serpents. They did not have much longer to live, Kyran saw with in savage satisfaction.

  “Just do it, Luteria!”

  “But—”

  Kyran stopped listening. “Adra, change of plans. Keep—” He broke off as a line of frost expanded from his opponent’s staff.

  Simone has cast ray of ice (buff: ice shard).

  Simone’s mage staff has been enhanced with ice shards (+300% water damage, duration: single attack).

  The necromancer brought down his staff in a sweeping arc, seemingly trying to cut his foe in half. Kyran leapt in the air. Contorting his body, he narrowly evaded the summoned blade of frost.