Kyran remained silent and let Lera answer. He had no direct knowledge of the champion. “Our information is sketchy,” admitted the dowager. “Our assessment is based only on the few glimpses my rangers caught of the champion’s abilities and gear.”
“Then confirming the champion’s class and rank should be the first order of business,” said Aveyad, glancing at Zarr.
The lich king’s lips were pursed as he studied Kyran and Talien through narrowed eyes. Kyran noticed Zarr had not yet pronounced his support of the plan. Will Zarr help us? he wondered anxiously.
Eventually the lich king nodded slowly, causing Kyran to sag in grateful relief. “I will assist with that,” he said in response to Aveyad’s unvoiced question. “Assuming the champion is not overly paranoid, and has not surrounded himself by wards, I should be able to scry out Misteria’s forces and better assess their composition.”
“Then you will help?” demanded the dowager with a fierce glint in her eyes. “After all these years of refusing us anything but the most meagre crumbs from your table, you choose to aid us now? Why?” she asked, her voice dripping with bitterness.
“I will help,” said the lich king, his own tone implacable as he met her gaze. “You may not wish to accept the truth, Dowager, but Crota is not what it once was.” His tone softened as he said, “Your people were once my people too. I have not forgotten. All these years, it has eased my heart to know that some part of Crotana yet lives on. I have given you all the aid we could afford. But the living are no longer my primary charges. The dead, and protecting this city, are. Do not forget that.”
The dowager bowed her head in the face of Zarr’s rebuke and said no more.
Zarr turned back to Kyran. “And is that the sum total of your plans?”
“No,” said Kyran, following the lich king’s gaze to the settlement stone that rested in the centre of the table. “My fallback plan, as you have already surmised, is to use the settlement stone to bind Eldervale to the Thirteenth Well. If we fail to defeat Misteria’s forces in the forest, we will retreat to the town. With its defences reinforced by essence, it should prove strong enough to resist Misteria’s champion for at least long enough to evacuate the town.”
A shocked silence filled the room. Only Zarr seemed unsurprised. “Do you understand the consequence of such an action?”
“I do,” replied Kyran. “The Well’s existence will be revealed, and the gods will march on Crotana once more.”
“Are you ready to face their might?” asked Zarr, his tone still expressionless.
“No,” Kyran admitted, “but I will not let Eldervale fall, not when I might have the power to save it.” Anticipating Zarr’s next question, he continued, “I may not be ready to face the gods yet, but I am certain now that I must oppose them. Openly, if necessary. And to do that…” Kyran, paused, taking a deep breath before plunging onwards, “I know we need to forge a kingdom. Crotana must be born anew.”
The dowager’s head whipped up at his words, and he saw tears streaming down her face. Mirien gasped and laid a hand on his arm in support. The three undead, however, remained expressionless, no hint of their feelings crossing their face.
“Tell me, how do you intend to accomplish such a task?” asked Zarr.
Kyran stood up, then pointed down at the map still rolled out across the table. “By necessity, the kingdom will have to be reborn in the Labyrinth’s depths, which is nearly unassailable as long as we fortify both Durn Duruhl and Crota. With the undead holding Crota—” he glanced at Zarr to see what he made of this, but the lich king betrayed no sign of what he thought—“and the elves holding Durn Duruhl, we can secure both entrances and begin to cleanse the Labyrinth of hostiles.”
Tyeliss drummed the fingers of his mailed fist against the table. “You cannot fortify Durn Duruhl with so few. Xetil alone will quickly overrun you.”
Kyran nodded. “I agree. We will need more allies. The ogres of Wynak’s tribes will rally to our cause, I believe.” He looked towards Mirien who, realising what he asked, nodded imperceptibly, “So will the Brotherhood of Mortals.”
“The Brotherhood?” asked Aveyad in surprise. “You have been in contact with them?”
Kyran pointed towards Mirien. “Mirien is their representative.”
The undead and elves glanced in surprise at the whiesper. Mirien lifted her chin. “The Brotherhood will support the free agent. I am certain.” Only Kyran, who was seated next to her, could see Mirien’s hands clasped nervously beneath the table. She was not as certain as she appeared. He would have to broach the matter with her later.
“And is that as far as your plan goes?” asked Zarr.
“Yes,” Kyran answered, shoulders sagging a little. “I admit it is only the barebones of a strategy, and a poor one at that, with little chance of success—especially if the gods move quickly to crush us. But at its heart, it’s a plan to buy us time. Time to gather more allies, and time to fortify the kingdom using Crotana’s two wells. The longer the Thirteenth Well’s existence is kept secret, the greater our chances of success.”
He glanced at the lich king’s inscrutable face. What was he thinking? Kyran could not do this without the undead and access to Crota’s Essence Well. His voice took on a note of pleading. “You must see, Zarr, that with control of two Wells, we hold the keys to success. We can forge a kingdom that can withstand the wrath of all eleven divine domains.”
Zarr shifted slightly, but still said nothing.
Aveyad spoke into the silence. “All of you have said is true. That being the case, why risk discovery by defending Eldervale?” The vampire lord held up his hand to still the dowager’s protest. “I do not imply that Kyran should not save Eldervale, Lera. I only wish to understand his motives.” He turned back to Kyran. “Why risk your entire strategy with one hasty move now?”
“I admit it would be simpler to turn my back on Eldervale,” Kyran said softly. “I could walk away and pretend I am not able save the lives of its people. I could look at Eldervale, and say the risk of saving it is too great; I could weigh up the lives of its five thousand people against the millions of lives across Myelad and find Eldervale’s cause wanting. But such a choice would be wrong.”
Kyran’s shoulders straightened. “I cannot sacrifice Eldervale today to better our chances of saving Myelad tomorrow. I refuse to do so. Principles matter. People matter. I will not forge a kingdom on the blood of innocents. Strategy must be bent to the needs of the people, and not people sacrificed in the name of strategy.”
Talien stared up at Kyran in open-mouthed wonder, while Mirien clenched his hand again and nodded in wordless support. Her eyes shone with tears.
The three undead exchanged glances. Finally, Zarr smiled. “Eloquently put, Kyran. You will make a worthy king,” he said, rising from his chair and walking around the table. “Do you know what Eld’s greatest regret was?” he asked.
Kyran frowned in confusion, then shook his head. Why was Zarr bringing this up now?
“The Game,” replied Zarr as he made his way towards Kyran. “For as long as I knew him, Eld bitterly regretted his choice to sacrifice Myelad’s people for the greater good of the cosmos. It scarred his spirit. I think if our god had the choice to remake his decision, he would go back and choose differently.”
Zarr came to a stop before Kyran. “Young as you are, Kyran, you have already demonstrated the wisdom not to repeat Eld’s mistake. I will gladly follow you.” Then, to Kyran’s utter shock, the lich king knelt down and bowed his head.
“I, Zarr Dwamenkor, promise to be faithful and true to Kyran Seversan, and by the Rules of the Game to never, by will nor force, by word nor deed, do aught against him; I submit to his will.”
Zarr is repeating the vassal vow! thought Kyran in disbelief. “What—?! No!” he said, waving frantically for the lich king to get up. “I never meant—”
“There can be no half-measures, Kyran,” said Zarr. He fell silent momentarily. “Do not mistake my oath. With my v
ow, my people and I will not become your vassals. The undead cannot become players. But the vow I make is not entirely symbolic. The Game will witness it and bind me to your service. Enact the vow, please.”
Kyran stared down at the kneeling lich, and for a moment his mind refused to work. “I cannot, Zarr,” he whispered.
“Kyran—” began the lich king.
“Wait, before you go any further, there is something I must show you.” Removing one mailed glove, he pulled off Tiara’s ring and handed it to Zarr. “I meant to give this to you later, but now, it cannot wait.”
“Where did you get this?” asked Zarr, shoulders shaking and voice trembling. Aveyad and Tyeliss both rose to their feet and looked to their liege with concern.
“In Celne, as a parting gift from two spectres, Cilantria and Tiara.” Kyran heard Aveyad and Tyeliss gasp. Both clearly recognised the names, but he did not turn their way, his entire focus fixed on Zarr.
Zarr closed his fist, clenching his hand tightly around the ring. “Thank you, Kyran,” he breathed. “This is a greater mercy than I could have asked for,” he whispered. “But it changes nothing. Enact the vow, please,” repeated the lich, his voice firming.
Kyran’s eyes widened in surprise. “But with the ring you can—”
“I understand what the ring does,” said Zarr. “And I will have questions for you on it later.” He smiled. “Lots of questions. But now, please accept my pledge,” he finished, his tone almost gentle.
Kyran looked helplessly at Aveyad and Tyeliss—for some explanation for Zarr’s behaviour—but instead both rose from their chairs and, following their liege’s example, knelt and bowed their own heads.
Lera and Talien rose from the own chairs and backed away, staring in stunned shock between Zarr and Kyran. Mirien rose up as well, but only to take up position by Kyran’s side. “Zarr is right, Kyran,” she whispered. “There is no middle ground here. If you mean to do this, if you declare war on the gods, then you must lead. You can no longer simply be Kyran. You must be a king, above and apart from all others.”
Kyran stared at her in horror. A part of him knew she was right, but another part rejected the very idea. Equality and independence were notions Kyran cherished dearly, but he understood that their cause needed a leader, and that that leader would have to be him. He could no longer be simply Kyran. Mirien was right.
“Even you?” he couldn’t help but ask.
Mirien smiled. “Perhaps in my case I will make an exception.” She grinned. “You can always count on me to set you straight.” More relieved than he cared to admit, Kyran turned back to the patiently waiting lich king. “Zarr are you sure?” he asked.
“I am, Kyran.”
“Very well, then,” said Kyran. Breathing in deeply, he said, “I, Kyran Seversan, accept your vassalage, Zarr Dwamenkor, and by the Rules of the Game declare myself your liege and shall henceforth shelter, protect, and aid you. As my sworn vassal, you will for evermore bear the right to demand of my protection for you and yours.”
Zarr Dwamenkor has made a Vow, affirming his loyalty to you.
Zarr rose to his feet and met Kyran’s gaze. Stepping forward, he clasped a hand to Kyran’s shoulder and whispered into his ear, “It is good to have hope again. I thank you for that. I promise we will not fail, Kyran. Crotana will rise again.”
The lich stepped back and turned to look at Lera. The two stared at each other for a seemingly endless moment, and an unseen message passed between them. Finally, the dowager inclined her head. “Talien,” she rasped, looking up. “It’s time.”
The ranger commander, who seemed to have been transfixed by the sight of Kyran, swung about and looked at her blankly. Seeing her bowed head and tired eyes, his eyes widened in shock as he suddenly understood her meaning. “What? Why now? I’m not ready.”
“You are ready, Talien. You have been so for a very long time.” Lera gestured to the settlement stone. “And if Eldervale is to join the kingdom, it must be ruled by one vassal-bound to Kyran, our liege. I’m too old to make the vow.”
“No!” exclaimed Talien, his face draining of colour. “We don’t have to do this, Dowager. Eldervale has survived this long alone. We can continue to do so without him. Please!”
Kyran opened his mouth to intervene, to tell both the dowager and Talien that he didn’t want this, but a hand squeezing his arm made him look down. “No,” said Mirien, shaking her head. “This is between them, don’t interfere.” Reluctantly, he accepted her advice and subsided.
“No, Talien, Eldervale cannot survive on her own,” replied the dowager. “Not now. Change has come to Crotana, in the form of the free agent and the champions hunting him. We must adapt with the times, or wither away and die.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “It has always been my dearest hope to see Crotana reborn, and for you and the rest of our kin to belong to something great again, something truly noble.”
She swung her gaze towards Kyran. “I had my doubts about you, boy. No more. Zarr is right. You will make a fine king.”
Kyran swallowed, and bowed his head in acceptance.
The dowager turned back to Talien. “I will not order you to do this, Talien. The choice is yours. But from this point onwards, the stewardship of Eldervale belongs to you.”
Talien’s head dropped and his shoulders sagged. His chest heaved as he struggled with emotions too great to contain. Finally, he looked up at Kyran. The two men’s gazes met. Then wordlessly, Talien, leader of Eldervale, dropped gracefully before Kyran.
“I, Talien, promise to be faithful and true to Kyran Seversan, and by the Rules of the Game to never, by will nor force, by word nor deed, do aught against him; I submit to his will.”
Kyran looked down on the elven ranger. “Are you sure about this, Talien? I know you don’t like me much.”
Talien laughed bitterly. “You misunderstood, free agent. I was envious of the freedom you had, of the power in your hands. And what were you doing with it? Running to save your own hide.” He looked up to stare at Kyran. “I am still not sure if I trust you not to lead my people to ruin. But the dowager is right, you are the only chance our people have of surviving right now, and for that I will give you my service.”
It was not an unconditional pledge of trust, but it was honest. And Kyran could respect that. Perhaps one day he would win Talien’s trust, but for today Talien was offering his service and that of his people in return for Kyran’s protection and the gifts the Game allowed Kyran to confer. For now, that was enough.
I have changed, Kyran realised, thinking back to that long-ago day when he had taken Gaesin and Adra’s pledge. At that time, he never would have accepted Talien’s vow. But now he saw things differently, or perhaps more clearly.
Talien was making a sacrifice and pledging himself into service for the sake of his people. It was a sacrifice Kyran had to honour, and one that demanded its own sacrifice of Kyran. Talien’s people were his own people now.
One day, just like Talien, I might be forced to sacrifice personal freedom for my people. He sighed. Where will this path take me? What sacrifices will I be forced to make?
“Kyran,” said Mirien softly, her words and hand on his arm again jerking him out of his thoughts.
He bobbed his head apologetically to Talien. “I accept your oath, Talien,” he replied heavily before repeating the words of the liege’s pledge he had made to Zarr.
As he had done before with Gaesin, Adra, and others, Kyran willed the vassal bond to form with Talien. Tendrils of energy reached out and wrapped the ranger within its embrace. The lifeforce of Talien blazed in his consciousness, baring the elf’s nature to him. The ranger was a hardened soul, one forged by life and repeated losses of friends and companions.
Talien has taken an Oath of Fealty to you and is now your vassal. He has been transformed into a basic player in the Game and his actions will reflect on you. Vassals: 9 / 169.
40% of your will, essence, and stamina has been drained from the formation of the vas
sal bond.
Name: Talien.
Class: Forest ranger (rank III, journeyman).
Inherited trait: Combat specialist (2 additional combat skills per level).
Talien rose shakily to his feet. After clasping his hands to Kyran’s, he stepped back to take his place by the dowager’s side.
“You have been worn out by the vassal-bounding, Kyran,” said Zarr. “We should—”
“One second, Milord,” Mirien interrupted. Kyran glanced at her. What was she up to?
Meeting his gaze squarely, Mirien said, “I too, will pledge to Kyran.”
Kyran blanched. Something inside him revolted against the notion of taking her pledge. No, this I will not sacrifice. “No, Mirien, I won’t—can’t.”
Mirien took his hands in hers. “Kyran, please. I, too, believe in your vision, and this is the only way I can serve. Don’t deny me this.” She lowered her eyes. “Or is it that I have still not earned your trust?”
He shook his head in denial. “No, Mirien, it is not that.” His mouth worked, but he wasn’t able to frame the words he desired. “I just can’t,” he finished lamely.
Mirien’s shoulders sagged, hurt by his rejection.
Zarr’s eyes flicked between Kyran and Mirien, a small smile playing on his face. “Daughter of the forest,” he said, inclining his head in Mirien’s direction, “there is perhaps another way.”
Mirien’s head snapped up.
“There is a different vow, one made in times gone by, by the Wardens of House Tolyrandil to Eld. This pledge can be enacted between you two as well, and will perhaps be one Kyran finds more acceptable.”
Mirien’s eyes widened in shock, and for a moment she looked stunned and speechless.
Kyran frown, perplexed. What was Zarr talking about?
Sovereign (The Gods' Game, Volume IV) Page 41