Sovereign (The Gods' Game, Volume IV)

by Vider, Rohan M.

  Kyran dismissed the Game messages, and despite his instinctive desire to struggle made no attempt to shy away from the grey tendrils of essence reaching out to him from Cilantria.

  The weaves settled onto Kyran and wormed their way deep into the core of his being. They felt unnervingly like fingers running through his spirit. He repressed a shudder of unease. Trust Cilantria, he told himself. Anchored into place, the weaves stilled.

  A moment later, Kyran was wrenched apart and his spirit and consciousness were yanked from his body.

  Cilantria has successfully possessed Kyran (debuff: fraying spirit bonds, duration: until deactivated).

  Fraying spirit: The bounds between your spirit and body will decay over time. 30 seconds remaining until your spirit is unmoored.

  Kyran’s world exploded. The fullness of the ‘real’ disappeared, and with it conscious thought. Then Kyran knew no more as the grey-blankness of the ether claimed him.

  ✽✽✽

  Cilantria gasped.

  Clasping her hands to her stomach, she rocked forward, overwhelmed by sensation—oddly familiar yet strangely new sensations. She bit back a howl and blinked clear, wet eyes.

  She had no time for this. The Bearer, she cried. The Bearer needs me.

  Ignoring the avalanche of information cascading through her vision, Cilantria squeezed her eyes shut and called upon her essence.

  Tendrils of gold heeded her call and flooded her new body. Instinctively, she wove the threads of spun gold, the gestures as smooth and natural as the day she had last performed them.

  Cilantria peered into the spirit realm and spotted Kyran’s fast dwindling form as he was borne away by the ether winds to be reborn in the Wheel.

  She flung out the weaves.

  Lines of amber raced away and caught the helplessly drawn spirit before he could disappear.

  You have cast spirit trap and have imprisoned the spirit, Kyran Seversan (duration: 6 hours).

  Cilantria heaved a relieved sigh. She had done it. She had captured Kyran’s spirit and prevented him from being pulled to the Wheel. She gulped in a deep breath. Now, she had time to do what needed doing. But first—

  Cilantria paused. Then rubbed her eyes. The Game message remained. She was not imagining it. The message was real, just like the earlier ones had been.

  A hysterical laugh escaped her.

  She couldn’t help it. It could not be, but impossibly it was. It made no sense, not according to everything she understood of the Game. But against all reason, Cilantria was still receiving Game notices.

  I am still a player.

  She didn’t know what to make of it. It was an impossibility. It was so unexpected an event it left her shaky and bewildered.

  What do I do?

  Spirits could not be players. She knew that. Six hundred years ago, with her death, all her Vows had been severed, and she had ceased to be both player and champion. She paused and looked down on herself.

  But I am spirit no more.

  She was clothed in mortal flesh again. She stared down at her hands—male hands. The jarring sight forced her back to the present. You have a mission, remember. A Reaper to kill. Both Tia and the Bearer were counting on her.

  The thought calmed her. Taking stock, Cilantria peered into the ether again and saw that Kyran was safe. His spirit, trapped in a golden cage, was tethered to her. He would remain that way for the next six hours.

  Six hours. That was how long she had.

  After that, Kyran’s spirit would be carried away by the Wheel, leaving her in possession of his… She shied away from the thought. No, that is a betrayal too grave to even contemplate.

  Rising to her feet, Cilantria flexed her limbs tentatively. She grimaced as she felt the gracelessness of her movements.

  Her new body was clumsy and weak.

  No, that wasn’t fair. It was… adequate, but a far cry from her former self, and it possessed none of her previous body’s power and speed. All her old knowledge and reflexes remained, but in the Bearer’s body she would slower and many times weaker.

  Nonetheless, she had a job to do, she reminded herself. One I will have to perform wielding only divine magic and my own store of essence. She turned her sight to the ether and inspected herself.

  Her spirit was unchanged and overflowing with the same familiar pathways of gold. Her binding to the Game— a multihued ley-line that disappeared into the ether—was also present. Which she found unsurprising now that she knew she remained a player.

  But there was also another ley-line connected to her. It was so changed that it took her long seconds before she recognised the ley-line for what it was.

  Her conduit to Eld. It was a pale, lifeless thing. Like her god.

  She ignored her sudden upswelling of grief and sorrow. Her god’s death was a centuries-old tragedy and not one she had time to relive now. She banished thoughts of her fallen deity and dead conduit, and then returned her sight to the ‘real.’

  As hollow as the sight of her spirit had made her feel, it had also driven home the reality of what she faced. She was on her own and without divine aid to call upon.

  Cilantria winced. She was doubly hampered then, bereft of much of her physical superiority as well as her god’s support. The task she had set herself would be even harder than she had first imagined. She closed her eyes. Sula will still die, she vowed.

  Turning her attention inwards, Cilantria finally opened the Game messages blinking for attention.

  Welcome back, Cilantria Dechalan. You have re-entered the Gods’ Game in the year 2603 AB.

  Your Vow of Binding has been restored.

  Your player data has been updated to align with your new physical attributes.

  Name: Cilantria. Race: Elf.

  Level: 82. Health: 820.

  Stamina: 500. Will: 540. Essence: 980.

  Attack: 161 (divine).

  Defences: Physical (92), psi (82), spell (82).

  Player type: Advanced player.

  Class: Paladin (rank V, master).

  A new message received has been received.

  New Message from the Overseer:

  To Cilantria Dechalan, former champion of Eld.

  You have performed an action that up to this point has been unseen in the Game. By rights, your spirit should have returned to the Wheel six hundred years ago, but by circumstances most unusual it has remained shackled to Myelad.

  Now, you have found a living vessel to house your spirit once more.

  I have consulted with the Spire, and I judge that according to the Rules, you remain a player. Since you never left the Game, and are once more housed in flesh, there can be no doubt as to your status.

  As to Kyran Seversan, given your actions to keep his spirit tethered to Myelad, he will retain his status as a player for the next six hours. Thereafter, his Vow of Binding will be forcibly rescinded and his spirit returned to the Wheel of Life.

  Choose your next course of actions wisely.

  Signed,

  The Overseer.

  Cilantria snorted as she read the Overseer’s message. His advice was as opaque as ever. What did he mean by ‘choosing her course wisely’? Was he advising her to retain this body? Or did he warn against it? She shook her head. There was no use trying to parse his words.

  She turned her attention to her equipment and grimaced again. Barely adequate. The sword has potential, though, she thought, loosening it in her scabbard.

  Cilantria made for the room’s exit, then paused, struck by another thought. What about her inventory? Did she still have one? And what did it contain?

  Turning her gaze inwards, she considered her inventory. It was filled to the bursting with… junk. A moment later, her eyes widened as she spotted one particular item that was most emphatically not junk.

  The owl lockbox.

  Cilantria’s fingers trembled as she considered her next move. The artefact had never been destined for her. Tia, perhaps, one day. But her? No. She would never have succ
eeded Zarr.

  But I need all the help I can get, she argued. Dare she put the artefact on? It doesn’t matter anyway. Eld is no more. Setting aside her doubts, Cilantria willed the lockbox into her hand.

  Then opened it.

  The amulet gleamed, as blinding with enchantments as the last day she had seen it. She reached inside with still-trembling figures and put it on.

  You have equipped the Amulet of the Prime.

  1 / 6 enchantments activated: Chosen One (+30% divine magic).

  Your effective divine magic skill has been increased to 185.

  New trait gained!

  Chosen One: As one of the gods’ favoured, your skill in divine magic has been boosted by 30%. The trait remains in effect as long as the amulet remains equipped. Note: this is a trait and can be stacked with the bonuses received by other items.

  Cilantria sighed, not sure what bothered her more: the fact that the amulet worked, or that it had activated only partially.

  She had rejected the amulet already, and had feared it would not work altogether. As it was, only one of the enchantments activated. But for her purposes, it was the most important one.

  She studied Kyran’s inventory more closely. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted a few more useful items, which she withdrew and equipped.

  You have equipped a champion’s starburst wand (+10% starburst damage).

  You have equipped a divine master’s ring (+20% divine magic skill). Your effective divine magic skill has been increased to 202.

  Where did Bearer get these items? she wondered idly. Both items were as useless to Kyran as they were valuable. She shrugged away the mystery. It didn’t matter, but she already felt better equipped to face the Reaper.

  Cilantria heaved in a deep breath. She was now as prepared as she would ever be. She scryed the floor. Sula, Tia, and the other spectre were still in the audience hall.

  Weaving her protections around herself, Cilantria set off for the hall.

  Chapter 13

  02 Novo 2603 AB

  The Game is a hierarchical system. When a higher-tiered entity falls, so too do those bound to them. Pawns only remain players while the champions they serve are alive. Likewise, champions and lesser Powers only retain their status while the Power they have sworn allegiance to, remains undefeated. Nowhere else was this Game principal more clearly demonstrated than during Crotana’s fall. When the Betrayer was defeated, all the champions and divines that served him lost their Game-given player gifts. —Kel Maldax, Game scholar.

  Cilantria walked boldly down the corridor leading to the audience chamber, a master divine shield gleaming golden around her. She had the mageblade in one hand, and the starburst wand in the other.

  Sula’s back was turned when she entered. Casting piercing divine sight, Cilantria analysed the Reaper’s defences. The necromancer was wrapped in interlocking layers of protections, all set to trigger cast the instant Sula sustained damage.

  Cilantria’s eyes narrowed. Burning through Sula’s protections would take too long. In a split-second, she adapted her plans. Instead of leaping at the necromancer as she had first intended, Cilantria turned her attention to the twin threats of the Sula’s spirit-slaves.

  Tia, she would not injure. The other, however, she had no compunctions about banishing back to the Wheel.

  At Cilantria’s entrance, both spectres reacted instantly and raced aloft. Prepared for the tactic, Cilantria waved her wand. Golden weaves shot out and wrapped around Tia.

  Cilantria has trigger cast sanctuary on Tiara (buff: in stasis, duration: 120 seconds).

  In stasis: Cannot be attacked or take any action.

  Encased in impermeable bubble of amber, the spectre fell back to the ground, both sheltered from attack and prevented from participating in the battle. Cilantria repressed a relieved sigh. Her sister was safe.

  At the edges of her vision, Cilantria saw Sula spin about and raised her own wand. The paladin ignored the Reaper and turned her attention to the second spectre.

  It was rushing forward and howling fit to wake the dead. Raising her wand, Cilantria released the weaves she held at bay.

  Cilantria has delay cast concentric rings of divinity (radius: 20m, damage: 100 - 600 HP per ring).

  Successive pulses of amber radiated out from the paladin. The pulses built in strength, growing larger the farther out they travelled.

  Sula was thrown back and her spell interrupted. Her defences triggered and a miasma of black protectively shrouded her. Tia, likewise, was thrown back, but since she was encased in the sanctuary spell she sustained no damage.

  The second spectre was not so lucky. Caught by the first blast, the undead was thrown back and into the path of a second larger wave. Then by a third.

  Six concentric pulses hammered into the hapless spectre in quick succession. It proved too much for the spirit, and with a wail of despair it disappeared.

  Cilantria has banished the spectre, Tulkarmar.

  Smiling grimly, Cilantria turned her attention towards Sula. The Reaper was picking herself back up. Even though she’d been hit by the same six pulses, the necromancer’s defences had barely been scratched.

  Cilantria’s face hardened. She had used her most powerful spell in the opening exchange, and while she had gotten rid of a dangerous opponent in the spectre, she had barely made a dent in the defences of her true nemesis.

  Sula’s gaze jerked from the trapped Tia to the spot where her second spectral-slave had disappeared. “That was foolish,” she said.

  “We’ll see,” Cilantria growled. Not waiting for Sula’s reply, the paladin leapt forward and dived through the ether, building a radiant torrent of amber in front of her as she went.

  Cilantria roared out of the spirit plane behind Sula. Crashing headlong into the necromancer, she struck out with a flurry of blows and starbursts.

  Thrown back by the force of Cilantria’s celestial charge, the Reaper flew back and crashed into the chamber’s far wall. “Amusing,” Sula laughed as she laboured back to her feet.

  Cilantria struggled to keep her own face impassive. Once again, her attack had barely troubled the necromancer’s defences. The black-hearted wretch can’t hold out forever. Keep hitting her and she will fall. She has to.

  Wand outstretched and pointed squarely at Sula, Cilantria leapt forward once again. An unending torrent of starbursts spewed forth.

  Seeming unconcerned in the face of the incoming fire, the Reaper made no attempt to duck. Lowering her wand, she launched her own attack. Violet tendrils of energy slipped out of the wand’s tip and wove sinuously through the air as they searched for their divine prey.

  In the face of the incoming attack, Cilantria didn’t break off her charge or attacks. Pounding forward, she fed a continuous stream of essence into her wand and sent more projectiles hurtling towards the Reaper. Already, she had dozens of starbursts in the air.

  A grim smile slipped onto Cilantria’s face as the first of her divine projectiles struck the Reaper’s black shield. The bite of each starburst was insignificant, but taken together, they claimed a hefty toll. Sula staggered back, the black miasma around her noticeably weakening. Ignore that, witch. I dare you. She kept running.

  By the time Sula’s first violet coil reached Cilantria, the necromancer’s defences had been drained by a quarter of their full strength. The paladin leapt nimbly over the blindly seeking tendril. Rolling to her feet, she dodged left and evaded the second coil, all the while keeping her own wand thrust at Sula.

  A third coil struck at Cilantria. She ducked, avoiding its grasp. Sula’s shield had been drained to half. That’s it. Just keep going. A fourth tendril crashed down, liquifying the ground the paladin had just occupied.

  Gathering herself, Cilantria leapt sideways. Only a little longer and the necromancer’s shield would collapse. But maintaining her own unrelenting stream of attacks distracted the paladin, and at a crucial instance she mis-stepped.

  A violet coil wrapped itself around the shi
mmering gold of her shield. Her sword snaked out, but before she could cut the tendril free, a second latched onto her from behind. Then a third. Then, a veritable mass of them.

  Gods! swore Cilantria furiously. Forced to change tactics, she ended her slew of starbursts and cast holy leap, choosing a location at random. The paladin flew through the air.

  And the purple tendrils went with her.

  What is this magic? Cilantria had never seen its like before. She wasn’t worried, though. Not yet. As numerous as the coils were, they had inflicted nearly no damage to her defences.

  More coils wrapped themselves around her divine shield, until her sight was completely obscured and her movement halted. Cilantria decided Sula must be trying to hold her in place with them. She couldn’t let that happen. Reaching within herself, she prepared to cast divine inferno.

  It was too late, though.

  In a sudden explosion of power, Sula sent essence rippling through the coils. Soundlessly, the magic raced from the wand-tip to the tendrils’ leechlike ends wrapped around Cilantria’s shield. The paladin’s head whipped up, abruptly realising what Sula intended. Then the coils burst open and a torrent of necromantic fire poured down onto her.

  In an instant, Cilantria’s divine shield was burned away. Then she began to burn. Cilantria gasped and dropped to her knees. Molten fire seeped into her armour, ignoring the mithril scales entirely to eat at her flesh.

  Cilantria tried to rise back up, knowing that staying still meant death. She had to move. But her limbs had been weakened and trembled uncontrollably.

  She knew then there was nothing normal about the black fire. It was alive. Siphoning life, it left death in its wake. Life drain. Cilantria bit back a scream and tried to hold to her concentration.