Sovereign (The Gods' Game, Volume IV)

by Vider, Rohan M.

  Seeing Kyran’s confusion, Zarr explained, “When Eld created the Game, Myelad was already a world populated with its own ancient lineages and rulers. Eld did not ignore their place in Myelad. He made provision for them in the form of the sovereign’s pledge, a vow between equals that could be forged between a champion-elect and a ruler.

  “The sovereign’s pledge is a non-binding vow founded on trust. It grants a ruler the player’s gifts for as long as the champion-elect lives. Sadly, it was not a pledge that was often used by the gods.”

  “If such a vow exists, why I have not been using it?” asked Kyran, still not sure he understood.

  “Because,” Mirien said, answering before Zarr could, “the sovereign’s pledge only applies to the rulers of one of Myelad’s ancient houses. And I am not a ruler of House Tolyrandil.”

  “Daughter, you are mistaken,” said Zarr gently. “The grandfathers have spoken. You have been chosen. I see their mark clearly on you.”

  Mirien’s face turned ashen. “Impossible!” she exclaimed. “I’m not the house’s eldest.”

  Zarr shook his head. “It is not always the eldest that is chosen. It has been tradition, yes, for House Tolyrandil to put forward its eldest as a candidate. But the choice has ever belonged to the grandfathers. And they have chosen you, Mirien Tolyrandil, as the forest’s new Warden.”

  Mirien stared at Zarr in shock, seemingly unable to comprehend the lich’s words.

  But Kyran understood well enough. “So how do we enact this vow?” he asked.

  “Simply will it in place, much like you did the Oath of Fealty, and if both parties are willing, the vow will take shape.”

  Kyran turned to Mirien and held out his hand.

  She looked up into his face. “I did not want this,” she whispered.

  Kyran nodded, understanding her shock and dismay. “We don’t always have a choice in the burdens we are forced to bear,” he told her. “But the responsibility to bear them is still ours. I’ve come to learn this the hard way.”

  For a long moment she pierced him with her stare. Finally, she nodded in reluctant agreement and took his hand.

  Closing his eyes, Kyran willed the bond into being. Weaves of essence and strands of will flowed outwards from him and mingled with Mirien’s mind, body, and spirit.

  And then he felt Mirien.

  Their bond was not the same as those between him and his vassals. She felt both a part of him but separate.

  A sovereign’s pledge has been forged between Mirien Tolyrandil, Warden of the Elder Forest, and Kyran Seversan, free agent.

  Mirien has been transformed into a basic player in the Game and will remain so as long as she remains allied to you.

  Current status: allied.

  Name: Mirien Tolyrandil.

  Class: Whiesper (rank II, apprentice).

  Inherited trait: Combat specialist (2 additional combat skills per level).

  “Mirien,” he whispered across their newly forged mental bond. Mirien blazed brightly in their ether, yet in the mindscape she was hidden behind multiple layers.

  Her eyes widened as she felt his presence in the mindscape. “Kyran.” He could sense the amazement in her voice. “So this is what mindspeech feels like. You have given me a priceless gift.”

  Kyran smiled. “No more than you deserve.”

  “It has begun,” Zarr whispered. “The Warden of the Elder Forest has returned and Crotana has a king once more.” Stepping back, the lich king went down on a bended knee and the others followed suit.

  “Don’t—” protested Kyran, but Mirien wrapped her arm around his own and stilled his objections.

  “All hail, Kyran Seversan, Earl of Durn Duruhl, Knight of Deepholm, Sovereign of Labyrinth Deeps and future King of Crotana. Long may he reign,” said Tyeliss.

  “Long may he reign,” echoed the others.

  Kyran’s vision blurred and he clutched at Mirien’s arm for support as he studied the kneeling figures. He did not feel worthy of their reverence. He didn’t have the wisdom to rule, or the experience to lead even these few, much less a nation. But for the sake of Myelad’s people, he would try.

  “I will not fail you,” Kyran whispered. “Crotana will rise. Her light will grace the world again. Her people will know justice and freedom.” His voice grew stronger, certain. “Your sacrifices will not be in vain. Nor Eld’s. Nor Cilantria’s and Tiara’s. This I promise: the gods will be made to pay for their crimes.”

  Epilogue

  09 Novo 2603 AB

  Boons are rewards that the gods may directly bestow upon their champions. While seemingly innocuous, Boons are one of the subtlest and most significant ways a god may influence the course of events in the Game. Boons cannot be freely granted or received. The Game Spire strictly controls and approves each Boon individually. It is only for unique acts that demand both great sacrifice and exceptional achievements that the Game will permit a Boon to be performed. —Dagzid, Brotherhood scholar.

  “Misteria.” Xetil’s call thundered through the ether.

  Misteria winced at the fury in the goblin god’s mindspeech. “What do you want, Xetil?”

  “We must meet. Now.”

  She considered refusing him, but she was curious. What had whipped Xetil into such a frenzy? “Very well, meet me in Godshome.”

  Darting through the ether, she reformed her being within her throne in the council chamber. Xetil was already there, pacing back and forth. At her appearance, he swung round. “Where is he?”

  Misteria frowned. “Who?”

  “The free agent!”

  “I have no idea,” she said thinly. “I’ve shared all I know with you already.”

  Xetil scowled. “You must know more!” he fumed as he resumed his pacing. “You have a force in Crotana! Do not deny it! I know you do. There is no other way you could have known of Lesh’s demise or Iyra’s ploy.”

  “I have no force in Crotana,” Misteria lied with a straight face. She had known voicing her knowledge of events in Crotana during the council had been a risk. Yet her alliance with Kharmadon had compelled her to support the giant god.

  Xetil glowered at her. “Then you refuse to help me?”

  Misteria shrugged carelessly. “There is no further help I can give.”

  “So be it,” snarled Xetil. “But be warned, Yiralla is in Crotana at this very moment. If she finds any of your pets there, she will crush them without mercy.”

  Misteria yawned. “Do not bore me with your empty threats, Xetil. I am not one of your toys to tremble at your wrath. Now, if we are done here?”

  Xetil’s eyes bored into hers. “I will not forget this, Misteria,” he promised before disappearing in a puff.

  Misteria stared thoughtfully at the space the goblin god had vacated. It seemed her ploy to keep Xetil’s champion-prime out of the Elder Forest had failed and matters were growing more complicated.

  Should I order Vyne to retreat? No, she decided. There was still a chance her champion would escape Yiralla’s notice. And if not, well…

  If Vyne must be sacrificed, so be it. At least the loss would be minimal.

  ✽✽✽

  Yiralla stared at the dark expanse of forest extending as far as the eye could see in both directions. She hated this place.

  The last time she had been here—six hundred years ago—it had claimed the lives of all her vassals and nearly her own as well. Goddamn Zarr and his sanctimonious champions. How she ached to burn down every tree, stick, and root in the vile place.

  But attempting to do that would raise the sleeping grandfathers—absent Warden or not. And who knew how the menace lying in the forest’s Heart would react.

  She would have to tread carefully, but she would contest no opposition, grandfathers and Heart be damned. She turned to her new captain. “Break camp for the night,” she ordered. “We’ll enter the forest at first light tomorrow.”

  The troll shifted nervously. “Are you certain, Champion? Should we be heading in there?”
he ventured, his dread of the forest’s reputation momentarily overcoming his fear of her wrath.

  She studied him carefully, wondering if she had been mistaken in choosing him. Initiative was to be praised, but not when it was spurred by fear—or stupidity. “Perhaps not,” she conceded. “Are you volunteering to be the one to inform Xetil of our failure?”

  “No! I mean—of course not!”

  “I didn’t think so,” she said with a tight smile. “Then if there is nothing else, go see to your orders.”

  ✽✽✽

  Hamen stared mistrustfully up at the trees.

  The dwarves had been tramping through the forest for days now. And every day, Hamen wondered anew why he had brought his men to this benighted forest. The wealth of greenery, the soft earth underfoot, the multitude of strange creatures, all of it was foreign to the dwarves and everything they were used to.

  Coming here was a mistake, thought Hamen for the umpteenth time.

  Despite the forest’s strangeness and the numerous attacks Hamen’s squad had fended off already, the dwarves had not lost the trail of Yiralla’s quarry. Yet Hamen despaired of ever catching the fleeing party.

  He wasn’t sure about the bear, but the elves and wolven were far better suited to the forest’s terrain than his own men were, and he was certain their quarry was outpacing them.

  Borin was right. We should have gone home. At a rage-filled shriek, muffled by the overflowing vegetation, Hamen turned his head. This one was closer than the last. He was getting better at judging the distance of sounds in the forest.

  “Form up!” bellowed Hamen. “The goblins are back!”

  ✽✽✽

  Sara was confused.

  It had been a day since the madness in the grove, and as hard as she tried, she had not been able to make sense of the senseless slaughter she had witnessed. It had to have all been a mistake.

  Ruben must have misinterpreted Iyra’s commands. That was it. Iyra wouldn’t have ordered the dryads slain. Sara was sure of it. There could be no other explanation.

  Biting her lip, she contemplated her next move. Iyra had instructed Sara not to contact her unless circumstances were dire. But if the paladin commander was straying from Iyra's path, then matters were certainly important enough for Sara to reach out to the goddess.

  That's what I will do, she resolved. Reaching into the ether, Sara spun tendrils of gold in search of her goddess.

  “Mother, hear me. I have need of you.”

  ✽✽✽

  Jul-tan was bored.

  Idly, he carved out an oozing black circle of essence on the tree trunk. Not too deeply though. The loathsome things were his lifeline, after all, necessary to keep his presence anchored on this plane.

  Why don’t you just go? asked his mortal-half. Your task here is long since done.

  Jul-tan chuckled. “I will never let you go, my dear,” he replied. “We are entwined evermore, for all eternity.”

  Tanithil did not respond to the interloper’s rejoinder and instead withdrew to the far reaches of their shared mind. He had long since learned the futility of arguing with the demon.

  Jul-tan’s mouth formed in a moue of disappointment. Quarrelling with the deposed elven king was at times his only entertainment in these dull woods. Yet it is a far cry better than the Abyss, he reminded himself. He would take the tedium of the forest Heart over the bleak blackness of that place any day.

  He sighed and lowered his hand from the grandfather oak. These days only torturing the grandfathers tempted Tanithil out of his refuge in the mindscape.

  What to do now?

  Almost as if in answer, he sensed a disturbance on the edge of his awareness. Jul-tan stilled, suddenly alert. Raising his head, he sniffed the air. A second later he wrinkled his nose in distaste. He had not been mistaken. A divine stench wafted on the air.

  Interesting. What are divines doing here? Six centuries ago, they had fled, tails between their legs and few had returned since then. Now another touched the edge of his wood.

  Jul-tan smiled. Perhaps he would find something else to amuse him after all.

  ✽✽✽

  Eld skipped through the ether, riding the distant and remote southern winds as he hid from both divines and demons. Much of his spirit was still in tatters, and in his present state he was easy prey for even the lowliest of Powers.

  He could not afford to attract any notice and be ripped apart anew, nor to spend decades reknitting himself. Matters were progressing in the Game, and Kyran would soon need him.

  Until then, Eld’s task was simple: remain hidden and far from the sight of his fellow gods.

  Only a little longer.

  ✽✽✽

  Zarr twisted the ring fretfully.

  He had slipped away from Kyran for a second, no longer able to contain the torrent of emotions raging through him. After Kyran had handed him Tiara’s ring, he had been hard pressed to maintain his mask of equilibrium before the free agent.

  But now. Alone now, he could let his doubts—and hope—reign free. Zarr looked down and turned over the innocuous-looking ring in his hands again.

  He still could not believe it. The ring should not exist. Could not exist. Yet it did.

  Only a god could forge such a ring.

  And no god, not even Zarayla or Auriel, would place such a powerful artefact in Kyran’s hands, much less spend a greater Boon in its crafting. And certainly not for the sake of the undead’s redemption. Only one god would craft such a ring.

  Eld. But how?

  He bowed his head, imagining the torture the twin sisters must have endured to have been turned into spectres. Their suffering had not ended after becoming undead either. All these years. If only he had known what had become of them. Perhaps he could have aided them somehow.

  He chuckled darkly. He had barely been able to keep Eld’s followers in his own city safe. And then only by the darkest of means.

  The ring vibrated in his hands. Zarr slipped it on. He could sense Tiara’s spirit within. Was she trying to comfort him? Ah, Tiara, he murmured. I wish I could speak to you. By what miracle are you here, I wonder? Where is our master?

  And why will he not answer me?

  Zarr raised his head and peered into the night sky. Perhaps it was time he tried to find out. There was one being who might know. If any could claim to know Eld’s mind, it was he.

  Spinning out weaves into the ether, Zarr reached out across Myelad to one he had shunned for centuries.

  “Zarr, what brings you to me? And after all this time,” asked a sleepy voice.

  Zarr did not reply immediately. “Do not play coy, Yddreinth. It does not suit you.”

  The dragon chuckled. “Forgive me, Zarr. I’ve been expecting you for some time.” He paused. “It has taken longer than I expected. How is my daughter?”

  “Still angry. As am I. You abandoned us.”

  “You know that was not by my will. He did not wish it.”

  “Where is he?”

  Silence. Full of sudden tension and meaning. “What do you mean, Zarr?” asked the dragon carefully. “Eld is gone. Even I cannot find him.”

  Zarr chewed over the dragon’s words, wondering how much truth lay in them. Yddreinth could be nearly as slippery as Eld at times. I have no love for these games anymore, he thought. “You are wrong, Yddreinth. He is back.”

  The dragon stilled. “I will not insult you by asking if you are sure. When?”

  “Six days ago, at least.”

  Zarr felt the dragon rouse himself then, his mind unfurling fully and brightening the mindscape. “I will search anew and let you know what I find.”

  “Will you?”

  “I give you my word, Zarr. I will find Eld, and I will bring him back.”

  ✽✽✽

  Here ends Volume IV of The Gods’ Game.

  Kyran’s adventures continue in Sovereign’s Choice.

  Coming March 2021!

  I hope you enjoyed this book and would be grateful
if you share your thoughts. Click here to leave a review and here to follow me on amazon.

  Many thanks,

  Rohan!

  Read on for a sneak peek of book 1 of my new series, the Dragon Mage saga!

  Game Data

  Kyran’s Profile (Class Data)

  Name: Kyran Seversan. Race: Elf.

  Player type: Advanced player, free agent.

  Combat level: 35. Civilian level: 32. Health: 350.

  Stamina: 500. Will: 1020. Essence: 1200.

  Attacks: 44.2 (slash), 71.4 (psi wave), 89.3 (shock bolt).

  Defences: Physical (48.4), psi (35), spell (35).

  Resistances*: 25.5% divine.

  Class: Jade wild druid (rank II, apprentice).

  The wild druid is a psionic-magic hybrid with class abilities shaped towards beast mastery.

  Class traits

  Incompetent summoner (-1 summoned creatures): Current limit = 0.

  Wild tamer (+1 tamed creatures per rank): Current limit = 7.

  Class skills

  Beast bonding (91.7), body control (71.4), light armour (42), psionics (71.4), telepathy (71.4), air magic (89.3), earth magic (89.3), supportive magic (89.3), spellcasting (68.9), water magic (51), nature lore (33.6).

  Class abilities

  Wild shift: Druids can shift into a beastform.

  Beastform: Druids can learn the beastform of a befriended creature. Known beastforms: 1 / 4.

  Other skills (0 combat and 0 civilian SP available)

  Fire magic (43.4), longsword (10.4), telekinesis (26.5).

  Commander (16.0), governor (14.4), mage lord (48.0), scrying (14.4), travelling (14.4), feudal lord (14.4).

  Vassals: 9 of 169.

  Allied sovereigns: 1.

  Combat abilities (13 AP available)

  Body control, rank II: Boxer’s strength, dancer’s grace.

  Beast bond, rank II: Beast befriend, beast bless.

  Air magic, rank II: Shock wall, mirrored selves, shock bolt.