Sovereign (The Gods' Game, Volume IV)

by Vider, Rohan M.

  Kyran’s fury subsided as his eyes met the bear’s. He realised Aiken had not been collared again. While the bear was frighteningly absent from the mindscape, Aiken’s gaze alone told Kyran that whatever the collar around the jade bear was, it was not the same as the one Lesh and the kobolds had used to compel his obedience.

  Kyran relaxed. Letting the tension drain from him, he took in the rest of the scene. Mirien sat beside Aiken, her hands similarly leashed. And now that he knew what to look for, he saw Adra and Gaesin both also sported the copper-coloured manacles. Orichalcum? It would explain the block in their bonds.

  In the clearing with the party were twenty masked figures. All but one held a longbow loosely nocked in hand. Yet having seen how quickly Astran had aimed and fired, Kyran did not doubt the masked figures could skewer the party before he took more than a step into the clearing.

  The only figure without a longbow in hand paced before Aiken and Mirien. Abruptly, he swung around to face Mirien. “Will you still not talk, woman?” he demanded.

  Right on the verge of casting mass sleep, Kyran paused and let the weaves drop. If the party’s captors were talking, there was no urgency for him to act. The spell would have been a desperate gamble anyway. Perhaps this way he could find out what was going on.

  Mirien remained silent, her head bowed.

  “Tell us where the free agent is and we will let your party go,” said the masked man. “We don’t need you lot, especially not the likes of you,” he added, bitterness lacing his words.

  So, they are after me, thought Kyran. Which god had sent them? And what did the masked man mean by the last bit? Did he know Mirien was Brotherhood? Reaching out with his will, he probed the pacing figure with insight.

  Name: Talien. Race: Wood elf (elven).

  Level: 54. Health: 640.

  Stamina: 900. Will: 660. Essence: 300.

  Attack: 71 (piercing).

  Defences: Physical (68), psi (64), spell (64).

  Class: Forest ranger.

  Traits and abilities:

  Eagle eye: Boosts the caster’s perception and ability to detect hidden objects.

  Marksman’s shot: Increases the caster’s accuracy.

  Silent step: +30% stealth in wooded regions.

  Description:

  In eons gone by, the forest ranger was the backbone of elven armies. Even today, despite the elven nations being much diminished, forest rangers serve as the primary defence of most elvish settlements. They are feared not only for their deadly accuracy and impressive stealth, but also for the speed with which they traverse any woodlands.

  An elf, he thought, startled. That explained the longbows, but that also left him no nearer to figuring out why they were after him. And considering their levels, he realised defeating them here and now was going to be impossible.

  Mirien did not respond to the elven leader’s demands. Head still bowed, she let his questions wash unheeded over her.

  “We know he was travelling with your party,” Talien continued. “Our scouts saw him when you entered the forest. Where is he? Where did he go?”

  So the elves were also their mysterious stalkers. But they couldn’t have been watching the party too closely, not if they were unaware of his ability to take worg-form.

  “Tell me!” shouted Talien, frustration creeping into his voice at Mirien’s unbroken silence.

  The whiesper finally raised her head. Her face was scrubbed clean of emotion save for one eyebrow raised in mocking inquiry.

  His patience finally at end, the elven ranger strode forward. He unsheathed his sword and held it angrily over Mirien. “You will talk, woman, I swear!”

  Aiken growled threateningly. The elf ignored the bear’s warning and tightened the grip on his sword. From his position in the thicket, Kyran tensed. It was time to act.

  “Talien, stop this madness,” interjected another. The voice was female, sharp, and vibrating with anger.

  Kyran, poised to leap, fell back to his haunches. His gazed darted to the speaker. It was one of the masked figures behind Talien.

  Returning her bow to its harness, she strode forward. “You cannot strike her.”

  Talien swung around. “You will defend her, Gayla?” he asked, outrage clear in his tone.

  “No,” replied Gayla. She stopped next to Talien and folded her arms. “But neither will I disrespect her. She is of the forest. This forest,” she added, looking meaningfully at the trees. “You don’t want to anger the grandfathers, do you?” When Talien did not answer her, she went on with a reverential nod towards Aiken, “Besides, the guardian will rip you to shreds.”

  Almost against his will, Talien’s eyes were drawn to the jade bear. Finally seeming to recognise the threat lurking in Aiken’s gaze, he edged nervously away.

  Kyran was more than a little confused by the elves’ conversation, but it did appear they both respected and feared Aiken, which did much to soothe his fear.

  Of all the party, Aiken was the only one whose limbs remained unbound. At first, Kyran had thought it was perhaps because the party’s captors had no means to bind him, but now he suspected it was due to the deference the elves held for his kind.

  “Be that as it may, Gayla, we don’t have time for this,” growled Talien. “That goblin warband will be here soon!”

  As if to give lie to his words, two more masked figures entered the clearing.

  “What is it?” demanded Talien.

  “Sir,” said the first, panting slightly. “The goblin warband, it has turned back.”

  “What?!” exclaimed Talien, confusion clear in his voice.

  “It was a worg, sir. It cast some sort of spell on the warband, then killed their leader.”

  Damnit, thought Kyran. He had not sensed the two elves near the goblins, but obviously they must have been observing from nearby.

  “A worg?” said Talien, his eyes narrowing for a moment before flaring wide in understanding. He whipped up the sword he had lowered to the ground and held its tip steady at Mirien’s throat. “Free agent,” he called out, “I know you are out there. Come out!”

  The other elves, realising the danger, raised their own bows and swung them outwards.

  Kyran cursed. He had no choice now; he would have to risk casting mass sleep. Pulling together threads of psi, he began weaving the spell.

  Beside Talien, Gayla dropped her mask. Kyran saw she was young, nearly the same age as Gaesin. Licking her lips nervously, she called out, “Kyran!” Talien shot her a glance, but made no move to stop her.

  How does she know my name? Kyran wondered. Curiously, he sent tendrils of will to probe the young elf.

  Name: Gayla. Race: Wood elf (elven).

  Level: 31. Health: 340.

  Stamina: 880. Will: 660. Essence: 600.

  Attack: 42 (piercing).

  Defences: Physical (41), psi (31), spell (31).

  Class: Forest ranger.

  “Kyran, we mean you no harm,” she repeated. “Aveyad sent us to watch over you.”

  At the mention of the vampire’s name, Kyran stilled, and for a second time he let the weaves of his spell fall uncast. Aveyad? How did the elves know Aveyad? But if they did…

  Kyran made no move to leave his hiding place, but nor did he attempt to restart his spell. He waited, eyes fixed on Gayla, to see what else she might say.

  But the elf fell silent, her piece said. Kyran’s ears twitched in irritation. Surely the elves must realise the simple mention of Aveyad’s name was not enough. How did he get them to talk without endangering himself?

  “If you want Kyran to trust you, you will have to tell him more than that,” Mirien said into the quiet.

  Thank you Mirien, Kyran thought.

  Talien and Gayla’s eyes whipped downwards towards the kneeling high-elf before exchanging glances. Gayla opened her mouth again, but before she could speak Talien placed a restraining arm on the younger elf. “Don’t, Gayla. We don’t know who might be listening out there.”

  Gayl
a shook her head stubbornly. “She’s right.” Breaking free of Talien’s hold, Gayla shouted, “Kyran, Aveyad told us to remind you that: ‘only you are beholden to none and with the freedom to act.’”

  Kyran swished his tail, thinking. The words were Aveyad’s parting message to him the day he had left the citadel and re-entered the Labyrinth. Kyran rose to his feet and slipped out of the thicket, into the clearing. Immediately, twenty arrows sighted on him, poised and ready to fire.

  “Lower your bows,” ordered Talien. Sheathing his own sword, he studied the large worg on the edge of the clearing. “Free agent?” he asked.

  Kyran bobbed his head in response before padding slowly towards the party. The elves did not stop him. Reaching Mirien, he met her eyes. She nodded imperceptibly.

  He checked on Aiken next, butting his head into the great bear’s. Aiken huffed happily. He was fine, the gesture seemed to say. Satisfied with his inspection, Kyran swung round to face the elves, then shifted.

  Minutes later, Kyran in elf-form opened his eyes. Gayla was staring at him in wide-eyed wonder, while Talien clenched the hilt of his sword in a white-knuckled grip.

  Keeping his face an impassive mask, Kyran said without preamble, “Release my companions.”

  Talien lowered his mask, revealing a middle-aged face that was battered, scarred, and fixed in an angry scowl. “We will not—”

  “Of course, Kyran,” said Gayla interrupting the older elf. She gestured at two of the still-masked archers, and after only a momentary hesitation, they stepped forward. Talien’s face reddened, but he did nothing to interfere.

  Interesting, thought Kyran. He had thought Talien was the leader of this band, but it seemed the younger elf’s authority superseded the older ranger’s.

  Arms folded, Kyran remained silent while he waited for the two elves to free the entire party, including the unconscious Adra and Gaesin. As the elves worked, Kyran cast insight over the manacles.

  Found: Caster’s binding.

  Type: Enchanted item. Rank: Journeyman.

  Remaining charge: 1600 / 1600 essence.

  Special properties: This item contains a rank III containment ward and requires an effective magical or mental skill of 90 to overcome.

  Description: This item is formed from orichalcum, the only substance in Myelad resistant to essence and psi manipulation. Using the special properties of the ore, the manacles have been enchanted to disrupt the magical and psionic pathways between the wearer’s mind, body, and spirit.

  He had been right, the manacles were made from orichalcum. Freed of their restraints, Aiken and Mirien stepped forward to join Kyran. He glanced at the two on either side of him and assured himself they were fine.

  “Now that your companions are free let’s get moving,” said Talien with a tight-lipped smile. “But put these on first.” He held out five amulets.

  Making no move towards the amulets, Kyran asked brusquely, “If you were sent to watch over me, why did you imprison my companions?”

  Talien’s brows lowered, and his face hardened. “I don’t answer to you, boy.”

  “Then we are done here,” said Kyran, turning his back on the elves. He didn’t really think the elves would let them go, but he was not inclined to heed anyone who threatened his companions’ lives.

  “Kyran, wait,” said Gayla. When he didn’t turn around, she added desperately, “Please. We need your help.”

  Unable to stop himself, Kyran swung around, moved by the plea in the young elf’s voice. “My help?” he asked and eyed the twenty archers again. Other than Gayla, the rest of the elves were a higher level than even Mirien.

  “Yes,” replied Gayla, nodding vigorously. “But it is not safe to talk here,” she said, eying their surroundings with trepidation. She took the amulets from Talien’s unresisting hand and stepped forward towards Kyran. “Please put these on first. Then we can speak further.”

  Kyran looked down in suspicion at the amulets Gayla held. Each contained a single large gem—an emerald, by all appearance—clasped within a silver pendant looped through a thick chain.

  “May I?” asked Mirien, holding out her hand.

  After a moment of hesitation, Gayla dropped the amulets in the whiesper’s hand. Mirien turned them over, studying each carefully. “These are enchanted,” she said. “They block divine scrying?” she asked a moment later with one eyebrow raised.

  Gayla nodded.

  Reaching out and casting insight on the amulets, Kyran confirmed Mirien’s assessment for himself.

  Found: Divine anonymity.

  Type: Enchanted item. Rank: Adept.

  Remaining charge: 1600 / 1600 essence.

  Special properties: Masks the wearer’s unique divine signature.

  Description: All spirits are unique. Entities capable of reading divine and magical signatures can exploit this uniqueness to find and track an individual. This item has been enchanted to obscure the bearer’s spirit, protecting it from all forms of divine scrying.

  Kyran exchanged a quick glance with Mirien. The items were benign. More than that, given Kyran’s suspicion that at least one god was tracking them, the amulets were of particular interest to the party. But he was curious how the elves knew the party was in need of them. “Why do we require these?” he asked casually.

  “The amulets will mask your divine signatures. It is how the gods and their champions track those they hunt.” Seeing Kyran’s carefully bland look, she added, “We have to assume that by now the divines have learned your identities.”

  “We will not speak further unless you put them on,” Talien said abruptly. “Already you endanger us with your presence here.”

  With an effort, Kyran kept his eyes from narrowing. Gayla’s and Talien’s words implied the elves also had cause to fear the gods. Was that why they were in the Elder Forest? Were the elves hiding from the gods? And what is their relationship to Aveyad?

  “They’re right,” said Mirien. Kyran glanced her way. So Mirien advised complying with the elves.

  Gayla looked at Mirien curiously, but did not ask any of the questions that seemed to be bursting within her. Instead, she held out the amulets. Mirien put on the one she held in her hand. At Kyran’s nod of acquiescence, she placed the other two around Adra and Gaesin while Kyran took another and clasped it around Aiken’s leg.

  When they were done, Gayla held out the last amulet. “The last one is for you,” she said.

  “I have no need of it,” he replied. “I have no divine spark.”

  “Oh… right,” she said, momentarily at loss for words.

  “Now tell me, why do you need my help?”

  Before Gayla could respond, Talien stepped forward. “That is a matter for the dowager to explain,” he said. “Now, we have done as you asked and freed your companions. I trust we have demonstrated sufficient goodwill for you to accompany us to our leader?”

  “Where is your leader?” asked Kyran.

  “Back at our camp, a few days north of here.”

  Kyran glanced at Mirien, seeking her advice.

  “I admit I am curious to find out more about these elves,” she said, eying Talien and Gayla with a troubled look. “They should not be here.”

  Talien scowled at Mirien’s words, but said nothing.

  “And, we were headed north anyway,” added Mirien with a shrug. “It would be safer to travel with them.”

  That much is true, thought Kyran. Mirien’s words reminded him of the difficulty the party had had in advancing even this far into the forest. His gaze slid to the unconscious Adra and Gaesin. Perhaps they needed the elves’ help as much as the elves seemed to want his.

  He turned back to Talien. “Very well,” he said. “Take us to the dowager.”

  ✽✽✽

  They set off immediately.

  The elves fashioned stretchers for the comatose pair and relieved Aiken of the burden of carrying them. Four of the masked archers took up the stretchers bearing Adra and Gaesin, while Mirien, Aiken, K
yran, and the two elven leaders walked beside them. The rest of the archers disappeared into the forest depths again, presumably to maintain a screen around the party.

  There was little talking.

  Since Kyran had agreed to accompany them, Gayla and Talien had been tight-lipped, refusing to answer any further questions. With the elves able to overhear their every word, neither Kyran nor Mirien were comfortable speaking to each other.

  As they journeyed north, Kyran carefully scrutinised the elves. They were a tight-knit company, navigating the forest’s depths efficiently and with minimal communication and fuss. Throughout the day’s travel, none of the masked scouts returned to the main group, yet despite that, Talien often directed the party sharply left or right, detouring around unseen menaces.

  Eventually, Kyran realised the elves were communicating through bird calls. They are good, he thought in admiration. Very good. Far better than his own party in navigating the forest. So why do they need my help? It was a troubling thought, and one for which he could not come up with an answer.

  They broke for camp late that night. Both Mirien and Kyran volunteered to take a turn at standing watch, but Talien would have none of it—probably because he didn’t trust them.

  Briefly, Kyran considered having the party maintain its own watch, but with two of the party still unconscious, and Mirien and himself exhausted, they would all be better served getting as much rest as they could. And while he didn’t trust the elves, he did not believe the rangers would harm them, at least not until they reached their destination and met the elves’ leader.

  Talien had picked a small clearing for their camp, one barely large enough to house all their number. Half the masked archers returned to the main party for the night, while the rest remained on watch. With silent efficiency, the elves erected their tents and tended to their cook fires. Gayla offered the party a place at one of their campfires, but Kyran politely declined.

  He and Mirien erected a separate camp for the party on the outskirts of the elven company, which finally gave them a chance to speak away from the prying eyes and listening ears of the elves.

  “What do you think of them?” Kyran asked in a low voice once they had sat down to their cold supper.