Sovereign (The Gods' Game, Volume IV)

by Vider, Rohan M.

  “No.”

  “The people need you. The forest needs you. And the dowager has acknowledged you. You can make a difference here.”

  “No.”

  “But you must stay!” said Lothar, pleading now. “We cannot lose you again so soon.”

  At the undisguised anguish on the protector’s face, Mirien hesitated. Yet when she spoke, her voice was firm. “Lothar, have you not wondered why I am here? Why I left the enclave that has sheltered the remnants of my family for six centuries?”

  The protector shook his head.

  “It is because I hate the gods and what they have done to this world. The people of Myelad have suffered enough under their rule. I have sworn to do my part in ridding Myelad of them. It is not a fight I will walk away from. My family, for all their past greatness, does not have the power—or inclination—to fight the gods’ rule. Only one organisation on Myelad does: the Brotherhood.” Mirien lowered her voice so that Lothar had to lean forward to hear her, “Lothar, I am a member of the Brotherhood.”

  Lothar’s face blanched. “No,” he whispered in denial.

  “Yes,” she said gently. “While many over the years have ridiculed the Brotherhood and scornfully labelled our task as hopeless, our cause is just. And now,” she said with a meaningful look at Kyran, “at long last there is true hope for us. All of us.” She held the old warrior’s gaze. “Kyran is more than just another player. He is a free agent and Myelad’s hope for the future. My place is with him.”

  Hearing Mirien’s words, Kyran swallowed and gripped Aiken’s coat tightly for comfort. It was the first time he had heard the whiesper so plainly speak her expectations of him, and it was a daunting prospect—to be looked upon as a saviour, even if only by a small group of people. Did he have the courage and strength to carry their hopes?

  Troubled, he looked away. The decision of what he did next loomed large in his mind.

  ✽✽✽

  Xetil soared free from Morgta. Finally, the repairs to his shredded spirit were complete and he could recoalesce his self. Immediately, he set his spirit to manifesting in Wazrak. There was so much to do, and he had been away for too long.

  He had chaffed at his enforced disembodiment and his imposed helplessness. With his spirit disembodied, the only actions the Game had permitted him—blast Eld and his gods-be-damned Game!—were communicating with his champions and channelling divine essence to them.

  His body reformed on his bone throne, startling the goblins painstakingly seeing to its repairs. Ignoring them, he wove multiple weaves of essence and multicast track spark, targeting the free agent’s half-elf and wolven companions.

  The spell failed.

  Frowning, he recast the spell—with the same results. “No,” he growled. “It’s not possible.” Yet it seemed it was. Somehow or the other, the free agent had managed to shield his companions from Xetil’s sight.

  “Mi—milord?” squeaked the nearest goblin, thinking Xetil addressed him.

  A moment later, his skull exploded, spattering Xetil and the walls alike. The other goblins in the throne room shrieked and attempted to flee. None of them made it to the door, each of them exploding in rapid-fire order.

  Xetil’s eyes glowed red. His rage was not satiated. Not nearly. Someone would have to pay for this failure.

  You have not escaped me yet, elf.

  Chapter 25

  08 Novo 2603 AB

  Air magic encompasses magics related to wind, lightning, weather, and light. Air magic is a versatile discipline that provides its practitioners with a good blend of manoeuvrability, deception and the destructive power of the storms. —Telthamos, archmage.

  The trip back to the protector’s barracks was made in silence, each of the party lost in their own thoughts. Yet as they neared the barracks, the gathering outside yanked Kyran out of his thoughts.

  “What’s going on?” asked Kyran, staring at the line of men and women standing stiffly at attention outside the barracks’ entrance. There were fourteen men and women, all smartly dressed in the protector armour; four of them bore badges that marked them as senior protectors.

  Lothar looked up absently. “Ah, I forgot.” The protector still appeared to be wrestling with Mirien’s unsettling news.

  Lothar stopped and chewed thoughtfully on his lip as his eyes flitted between the gathered protectors and Mirien. The protector’s troubled gaze cleared as he seemed to come to some sort of decision. Striding decisively forward, Lothar took up a position at the head of the line before pivoting smartly on his feet and saluting Mirien. “Hail to thee, Lady Mirien, scion of the house of Tolyrandil!”

  The other fourteen protectors took up Lothar’s words, shouting out, “All hail, Lady Mirien!”

  Mirien’s brows drew down in confusion. “Lothar, what—”

  The old warrior ignored the whiesper. Going down on bended knee and bowing his head, he spoke over Mirien. “Today we, the last of the ancient order of Oakfirst Protectors, do solemnly renew our pledge to you, scion of the house of Tolyrandil. We swear from this day forth to protect and defend you to our dying breath.”

  “Lothar, stop! You shouldn’t be doing—”

  “Neither sword nor magic, divine nor demon, shall prevent us from fulfilling our ancient duty. So swear we.”

  “So swear we,” echoed fourteen other voices.

  Tears were streaming down Mirien’s face. “You old fool, what did you do?” she mumbled. But despite her obvious reluctance, Mirien strode towards the line of protectors, still frozen in their postures of bowed obeisance.

  Approaching Lothar, she drew her rapier. She touched it lightly to the old warrior’s shoulders and said, “I, Mirien Tolyrandil, granddaughter of Halyifa and grandniece of Tanithil, do accept your blade, Lothar Neblasan, in service of the forest and House Tolyrandil. Long may both live.”

  “Long may both live,” repeated Lothar, smiling even as tears streamed down his own cheeks. After he rose to his feet he accompanied Mirien down the line of protectors as she accepted each of their oaths in turn, the old warrior supplying her with their names as they went.

  Kyran, Adra, and Gaesin watched the scene unfold. He couldn’t help wondering what this meant for the party. Would Mirien decide to leave them now, bound as she was by the oath of the fifteen men and women here?

  It was one more thing for Kyran to worry about. The old warrior is more cunning than he appears.

  He ran his gaze across the protectors again. Other than the four senior protectors and Lothar, the rest were young and fresh faced. Their eyes seemed to burn with curiosity about the Tolyrandil whom they’d likely been hearing tales of all day, yet knew nothing about.

  The young protectors shone with pride, and seemed eager to serve their new lady. Two were even non-human, one, a young human man, the other a grimalkin woman.

  Once the pledges were made, the protectors dispersed silently into the barracks—all but Lothar and two younger protectors. With the ceremony completed, Kyran and the rest of the party approached.

  “This is Mersyl and Lyle,” Lothar was saying, gesturing to the two youngsters. “They will serve as your personal armsmen from now on.” Mersyl was a wood-elf, and Lyle was the young human.

  “I told you I will not be staying,” said Mirien.

  Lothar bowed. “I accept your decision, Milady. But that does not absolve us from our own duty. Please take these two into your service.” Seeing that Mirien still hesitated, he added, “You have honoured us by accepting our oaths. Let us fulfil our duty now.”

  Mirien sighed. “Very well, but I have no need for bodyguards within the town itself. I should be safe enough within the confines of Eldervale. After we leave town they may begin their service.” Turning to the two waiting protectors, she inclined her head. “Thank you, Mersyl and Lyle.”

  “It is our privilege, Milady,” the two replied in unison. They bowed deeply before departing at Lothar’s nod of dismissal.

  Lothar turned back to the party. “Now if yo
u will excuse me, I must retire for the night as well. The protectors inside the barracks will see to your needs this evening. I will meet you here again tomorrow, if that is acceptable?”

  At Kyran and Mirien’s nods of acceptance, Lothar waved goodbye and left. After Lothar’s departure, Kyran met the gaze of each of the party. “Well, it looks like we have lots to talk about.”

  ✽✽✽

  Supper was within the barracks’ dining hall. The party was treated to an extravagant meal of the best Eldervale had to offer. Even Aiken was not forgotten and provided with more haunches of deer than he could eat. Thankfully, the conversation did not touch on any matters of great import.

  The protectors probed the party for details on their travels, and of course everything they could learn of Mirien and the other scions of House Tolyrandil. The party kept their own answers light and sparing of detail.

  After protectors withdrew, Mirien sat back and heaved a contented sigh. The meal had done her good and had offered her a brief respite from her worries. She glanced around the table. Adra, Gaesin, and Kyran looked similarly sated, and so too was Aiken, if the loud snores coming from outside were anything to go by.

  “It has been an eventful day, hasn’t it?” asked Kyran, noticing her glance.

  Mirien smiled wryly. That was an understatement. Today had been a whirlwind of shocking discoveries, new—and old—responsibilities, conflicting emotions… and strained loyalties. Now she felt both uncertain and weighed down.

  Who would have thought the protectors had survived the cleansing? Or that so many of her people still lived in the Elder Forest? Despite her repeated attempts to avoid being bound by ancient ties, she was a Tolyrandil. And these were her people.

  She could not deny them.

  What would her grandmother think? Had she known so many of their people remained alive when she’d fled? And what would her family say when they heard she had accepted the protectors’ oaths? She knew it had not been her place to do so.

  That right belonged to her grandmother, the family head—or her brother, the heir. But what else could she have done? If she refused the protectors’ oaths, she would have dishonoured them.

  And she couldn’t do that.

  Not after the protectors had survived all these years and remained true to their purpose. She swallowed bitterness. They had remained faithful even where her own house had not, even after her family had deserted them.

  She couldn’t abandon the people of Eldervale either. She could not—would not—let her house fail them again. But how did she help them? And where did her first duty lie? With her people, with Kyran, or with the Brotherhood? She bit her lip, conflicted. What would she do if Kyran chose to abandon these people?

  “Mirien, are you alright?”

  She looked up absently. Kyran was staring at her. “Sorry,” she said, reddening slightly, “I was lost in thought.”

  “I can’t blame you,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Today has been a lot to take in. Are you ready to explain what happened with the protectors?”

  Mirien sighed. “Of course, You all have a right to know.” She took in a deep breath. “I am a daughter of House Tolyrandil, a direct descendant of the main line. My house is an ancient one, one that has served the Elder Forest for eons.” She fell momentarily silent. “Our relationship with the forest is… unique. As unique as the forest itself. Of all the forests in Myelad, the Elder Forest is the only one that is aware… sentient, even.” She met Kyran’s eyes. “The ancient oaks here speak, but only to the scions of House Tolyrandil.”

  “And the protectors?” asked Kyran. “What role do they play in all of this?”

  “The Oakfirst Protectors are the shields of the Warden, the forest’s chosen voice and guardian. My granduncle, Tanithil, was the last to be anointed. The order has served my family for as long as my house has served the forest.”

  “But other than the protectors, the rest of the town seems to resent your presence here,” said Adra, a frown marring her face. “Why, if your family are the forest’s rightful rulers?”

  Mirien frowned unhappily. “Because my house—or at least my grandmother’s line—fled during the cleansing six hundred years ago, abandoning them to their fate and leaving the forest without voice or Warden.”

  “The dowager has acknowledged you now, though,” observed Gaesin.

  “Yes,” replied Mirien. “I’m surprise that she did, but to be honest I have no idea what it means, or if it will affect how the people see me and my house.”

  “And what will you do now? You told Lothar you will leave the town with us? Is that still true?” asked Kyran, staring at her.

  Mirien expelled a pent-up breath. “No. I cannot abandon my people again. If you leave, I will stay and fight.”

  “Even if they don’t want your aid?” asked Kyran.

  “Even so,” she said firmly.

  Kyran nodded, seeming unsurprised by her answer. Had he expected her to stay all along? She desperately wanted to know what he planned on doing, but was afraid to ask.

  She knew what the smart play would be, knew what the Brotherhood would want. Kyran was too important to risk in an unnecessary skirmish with Misteria’s champion. He should flee.

  But she didn’t want him to. Despite the dowager dismissing his aid, Mirien knew that with Kyran’s help, Eldervale stood a much better chance.

  “Are we leaving?” asked Gaesin, confused “I thought… Don’t you have a plan, Kyran?”

  All eyes swung to the free agent. Under the pressure of their gazes, Kyran closed his eyes and clenched his hands tightly together. “Perhaps. Maybe. I am not sure yet,” he admitted reluctantly.

  “But—” began Gaesin, only to cut himself short as Adra laid a hand on his arm.

  Kyran’s face was troubled. His eyes flitted across all of them before coming to rest upon Mirien. “There may be a way to save Eldervale,” he said. “I have an… artefact in my possession. If I use it, we could protect the town. I can’t be sure if it will be enough, though. And it is not without its own dangers.” He sighed. “Using the artefact may shield Eldervale from the islanders, but once the gods learn of what I have done, the town’s destruction will be assured.”

  “But then the decision is simple!” burst out Gaesin. “We must address the immediate threat and do everything we can to save the settlement. Tomorrow can take care of itself!”

  What artefact does Kyran have? Mirien wondered. It had to be immensely powerful for him to be so sure of the gods’ reaction. Whatever it was, she suspected it was what he’d used to open Durn Duruhl… and perhaps why he had been so certain of securing Iyra’s aid. “And if you don’t act?” she asked, ignoring Gaesin’s shout.

  “If I keep the artefact hidden… and wait until we are more ready to face the gods, then we stand a greater chance of succeeding when I eventually reveal its existence.”

  “But then Eldervale will not survive?”

  “Eldervale will not survive,” he agreed.

  Gaesin’s face whitened as he realised what Kyran was contemplating.

  Mirien’s own hands trembled, but she found herself unsurprised. She had dreaded it coming to this. She clasped her hands together, stilling their shaking. “As an agent of the Brotherhood my advice is that you wait,” she said slowly. “Let Eldervale face its fate on its own,” she finished, managing to get the words out without choking on them.

  Gaesin blanched. “Mirien, no,” he whispered.

  Kyran did not turn away or even flinch at her words. “And as a Tolyrandil?” he asked.

  A momentary smile flickered across Mirien’s face. It seemed Kyran understood her quandary just as well as she did his. “For the sake of my people, I ask that you do everything you can to save them,” she said.

  Kyran, his face expressionless, nodded at her words. “Thank you, Mirien. Both for your advice and candour.” He stood up. “If you will all excuse me now, I need some time to think.”

  ✽✽✽

  Kyra
n left the barracks and sought out Aiken. The bear was sleeping beneath the bough of an ancient oak. As he rested his own back against the tree, Kyran idly wondered if it was one of the sentient trees Mirien had spoken of.

  He sighed and ran his hands through Aiken’s coat. “What do I do, brother?” he whispered, not wanting to wake the bear, but needing the comfort of his presence.

  His dilemma, of course, centred around the Thirteenth Well, and the settlement stone the elves had discovered. He could use the Well to power Eldervale and fortify the town with essence structures. He needed to inspect the stone first to be certain, but as long as the stone was actually a settlement stone, he envisioned no problems in connecting it to the Well’s domain, Labyrinth Deeps.

  With the town’s defences empowered by natural essence, and with him and the party in support, he thought there was a good chance the settlement could hold out against Misteria’s champion.

  But.

  There is always a but. Doing so would reveal the Well’s existence. There was no way Misteria’s champion would not recognise what Kyran had done, and when he did he would be certain to inform his goddess.

  Then, of course, the gods would bend their efforts to Kyran’s destruction. It might take months, perhaps even years, but once the gods knew of the Well, direct conflict with the domains was inevitable.

  And he was not ready for that. Not yet, anyway.

  He didn’t know how long he could avoid open hostilities with the gods, but if—when—he was forced into a prolonged confrontation with them, Kyran needed to believe that he, and those who stood by him, at least had a chance of surviving. Right now, he had neither the resources nor the allies he needed.

  He ran a hand through his hair. Revealing the Well was not a decision to be made lightly. Far more than the lives of Eldervale’s people were at stake. For better or worse, once the Well’s secret was out, the Game would change.

  If he lost the Well, the Balance would be shattered and the Game itself broken. Inevitably, that would allow the gods to escape and inflict their tyranny on the cosmos. Earth included.