Sovereign Rising (The Gods' Game, Volume III): A LitRPG novel

by Rohan M Vider

  From the corner of her eye, Mirien saw the scout still as he caught sight of her. Finally seen me, have you? Now what are you going to do about it?

  The scout was not much of a danger, though, and despite his sudden alertness, she didn’t tear her gaze away from the gate. The true threat would emerge from there.

  A blob of darkness spilled out, an ominous silhouette many times the elf’s size. Her grip on her weapons tightened. What is it? A wyrm? An eldritch mare? Or perhaps even a dragon.

  The creature slowly emerged through the gap between the doors. Four paws. Huge. Snout. Green.

  Mirien’s jaw dropped open in astonishment. It was a bear. A great bear. What was a great bear doing in the labyrinth? And that colour. Jade? She had never seen, much less heard of a jade great bear. She paused, considering. Was she wrong? Maybe it isn’t a great bear.

  ✽✽✽

  How did I miss her? wondered Kyran.

  Her form was blurred and hazy, as if disguised under a cloaking spell. The longer he stared at her, the clearer her shape became, until eventually it snapped into focus.

  Kyran has uncovered a hidden being.

  The elven woman was five feet tall, near Kyran’s own height, and armoured in adamantine chainmail. The pointed ears, characteristic of all elves, protruded through her unkempt coils of hair.

  Unlike Kyran’s own green hair and nut-brown complexion, the elf’s face was pale and her hair jet-black. Her face was dirt stained, and her eyes appeared weary, but despite her bedraggled appearance, the woman was taut and alert.

  She clenched her sword in a tense grip, and looked poised to attack. Who is she and what is she doing here? he wondered. More importantly, was she an enemy? Show hostiles was no help. Now that she had been revealed, her presence was displayed as a neutral-grey icon on his player’s map.

  As innocuous as the Game made her out to be, he was not deceived. His experience with the kobolds had taught him not to place too much stock in the Game’s assessment of friend and foe. The woman stared at the rest of the party with hawk-like intensity as they emerged from the south gate.

  He drew his sword. He would not attack first, but neither would he ignore the obvious threat the woman represented. Drawn by his movement, the elf’s gaze flicked once over him, assessing him in a single head-to-toe glance. Only his sword appeared to give her pause. Her eyes rested on it a second longer than necessary and betrayed her interest.

  Seeming to consider him no threat, the elf returned to her study of the rest of the party. Kyran gritted his teeth, stung to the quick to be so summarily dismissed.

  “Gaesin, Aiken, be wary. We are not alone.” Then he focused on his spellcasting. Drawing on the spark of magic residing in his spirit, he spun out orange strands of essence and began weaving them into the protective mesh of a fire shield.

  ✽✽✽

  Motion. Out of the corner of her eye, Mirien spied the scout drawing his weapon. For a heartbeat, her gaze flicked to him, assessing. She took in his balance, stance, grip, and weapon. Then snorted derisively. He is no threat.

  Nice weapon, though. Idly, she wondered how he had gotten his hands on such a fine blade. Looted from the labyrinth probably. Let him attack; he would die quickly. But the elf did not attack. Instead he appeared frozen by indecision. She smiled to herself. At least he’s that smart.

  Her attention fixed on the emerging bear; she had no more thought to spare for the scout. The beast, she saw, was carrying two passengers. A wolven and another elf—no, half-elf. Both injured.

  Ah. Now that she saw the bear more clearly, she realised that it was no true great bear—too small by far. So no big threat either. Her gaze skipped past the bear to see what else followed. But nothing else emerged from the gate.

  This couldn’t be all. Surely the main force was still to follow. Was this an advanced guard? A strange one, if so. She wondered—

  A fire shield flickered around the elf, elevating his threat from minimal to significant. She whipped her head around and looked at him fully for the first time.

  Then blinked forward to attack.

  Chapter 2

  08 Octu 2603 AB

  The Brotherhood scum infect every one of our cities. They murder our followers with audacity, they mock the divines with impunity, and they cause the people to fear. We must purge the domains of their vile stench! —Xen Lize, high priest of Balkar.

  An unknown attacker has cast shadow step.

  Kyran was caught flat-footed by the ferocity of the elf’s onslaught. One moment she had been frowning at the approaching party, the next she had blinked into existence not two steps before him. Her face set, the woman attacked, sword slithering forward.

  He clumsily blocked her strike, but didn’t even see her second blow as the concealed rapier in her off-hand plunged towards him.

  An unknown attacker has hit Kyran for 0 damage (41 blocked by fire shield). Remaining shield: 393 / 434 HP.

  The elf was nearly as fast as the troll hunters. Thank heavens I got my shield up before she attacked. He had little chance of holding her at bay with his sword. Stepping back, he drew on the pool of psi in his mind and began casting.

  Grimly, the warrior pursued, her weapons snaking out to attack again. Behind him, he sensed Gaesin slip off Aiken and pull Adra with him as the bear prepared to charge to Kyran’s aid. With Kyran’s attention given to his casting, the elf’s next attacks landed unopposed.

  An unknown attacker’s dual strikes have hit Kyran for 0 damage (80 blocked by fire shield). Remaining shield: 313 / 434 HP.

  Aiken has stone dived.

  He ignored the blows. Weaving the violet threads of his will into a roiling ball of psi, he launched it towards the elf in the mindscape. The psi ball sailed into her consciousness and battered through her mental walls.

  Kyran’s mind shock has hit an unknown attacker for 35 damage. Remaining: 520 / 555 HP.

  The warrior barely flinched. Undaunted, she surged forward, her weapons a blur as she battered against his shield.

  An unknown attacker’s flurry of blows has hit Kyran for 0 damage (160 blocked by fire shield). Remaining shield: 153 / 434 HP.

  Dammit, thought Kyran, who is this blasted woman! She was draining his shield too fast. Whoever his unknown assailant was, Kyran knew he was outclassed. But he didn’t have to defeat her alone, only hold her attention a while longer. Help was already on the way.

  Gritting his teeth, he compressed fiery lines of light and heat into a pebble-sized orb of fire and sent it rippling towards the elf.

  Kyran’s fire dart has hit an unknown attacker for 0 damage (43 parried). Remaining: 520 / 555 HP.

  How the blazes—? he thought, his eyes widening in disbelief as the warrior deflected the flaming projectile away with her shortsword while her rapier raced forward in attack again.

  But her blow never landed.

  Aiken surged upwards through the ground, directly beneath the elf’s feet. In the split second before she hurtled through the air, Kyran caught a glimpse of the woman’s shocked expression. Then he himself was flung back by the violence of the bear’s emergence.

  As he rolled to his feet, Kyran saw Aiken roar in fury and charge across the short distance separating him from the elf. She took one look at the angry bear tearing towards her and blinked away.

  An unknown attacker has cast shadow step.

  She did not flee as Kyran expected. Instead the elf shadow stepped towards Gaesin and Adra. Appearing behind the half-elf who knelt over Adra’s slumped form, the warrior wrenched Gaesin’s head back and set her rapier to his neck.

  Kyran froze in the midst of casting his own teleport. Aiken turned and, snarling in rage, began dashing forward again.

  “Stop!” shouted the woman.

  “Wait, brother,” Kyran said. The bear skidded to a halt and looked at him. “She holds Gaesin’s life in her hands. We must be cautious.” Aiken huffed angrily, projecting his steadfast refusal to deal with hostage-takers. The memories of his clan’s
fate at the hands of the kobolds was still too raw to ignore.

  “I know, brother,” said Kyran soothingly. “But until she has hurt Gaesin, we will hear her out and use the time wisely. If she injures him, we will enact our revenge, I promise.” The bear growled in frustration, but acquiesced.

  The woman was still staring at him, waiting for a response. Kyran sheathed his sword and, raising his hands, began cautiously closing the distance to her. “What do you want?” he asked. Aiken padded forward, too, keeping pace beside Kyran.

  The elf’s eyes jumped from Kyran to Aiken. “Stop,” she warned again. She said no more, but the ‘or else’ in her tone was unmistakable. They halted. In the momentary silence that ensued, Kyran took the opportunity to probe her with insight.

  Name: Mirien Tolyrandil. Race: Elf (high elf).

  Level: 37. Health: 520 / 555.

  Stamina: 710 / 750. Will: 700 / 750. Essence: 620 / 700.

  Attack: 41 (slashing).

  Defences: 58 (physical), 37 (psi), 37 (spell).

  Class: Whiesper.

  Traits and abilities:

  Nimble: No penalty to stealth from armour.

  Close fighter: Cannot use ranged attacks.

  Shadow step: Teleports the caster between shadows.

  Esper’s fury: For every successful physical attack, an equivalent psi strike is launched against the target’s mind. Drains will with every attack.

  Description:

  The whiesper is a class with a rare blend of skills from the devious, psionic, and magic schools. The class maximises mobility and speed at the expense of ranged attacks.

  A whiesper? What sort of class is that? He couldn’t recall coming across it during his research in Aveyad’s book, but it was evident from the abilities the elf had exhibited that she was some strange mix of rogue and fighter.

  The whiesper returned his scrutiny before flicking her gaze across the rest of the party. She appeared uncertain of her next move. Kyran did not waste the opportunity. He reached across the battlegroup. “Gaesin, can you hear me?”

  “Kyran. Yes, I can! What is going on? Who is this elf?”

  “I don’t know, but this is what we are going to do...’’

  ✽✽✽

  “Where is the champion?” shouted Mirien. She had thought matters through and determined that this party was most likely part of Xetil’s champion’s retinue. What was his name again...? Lesh, that was it. It was the only explanation that made sense. The south gate had to be empowered before it could be opened.

  Lesh must have connected the dwarven city to Xetil’s Essence Well. Which meant that Durn Duruhl had been claimed for the goblin-god’s domain. That was dire news of which the Brotherhood leaders had to be informed. But her more immediate concern was: where was Lesh?

  At her question, the wood-elf’s eyes momentarily narrowed before he schooled his face into neutrality. He understood her question, but she could tell he was going to lie before he even spoke.

  “Champion? What champion?” The elf’s voice was surprisingly calm and measured. Despite being outmatched earlier, he had fought well and exhibited none of the panic she had expected.

  She had misjudged him. He was no mere scout, but likely the leader of this band. Mirien studied him anew. Even with his arms raised and dressed in his scruffy chitin leathers, he appeared relaxed and assured.

  He had used fire magic, telepathy, and his sword. An unusual combination. He was likely a vassal bound to Lesh, but what was his class? Given his lack of mystical garments and staff, he was probably some sort of fighter that dabbled in magic, she thought.

  The bear, snorting and huffing, turned his head several times towards the elf. The beast really was a great bear, she had since realised, if only a cub. But what would a great bear be doing in the company of these three? She still hadn’t figured that out.

  Mirien glanced at the jade bear again. With his head bobbing up and down, the cub almost appeared to be nodding. A sudden suspicion gripped her. Are they communicating? Great bears were telepaths, she knew. She felt the half-elf in her grasp tense as if in readiness. Her suspicions solidified. They were communicating.

  Reacting instantly, she backstepped, dragging the half-elf with her. “Stop!” she shouted. “Whatever you are trying to do, stop. Or your companion here will be the first to die.”

  ✽✽✽

  At the elf’s abrupt motion, Kyran was forced to let the spell weaves he had been holding dissipate harmlessly. He had been about to cast ice wall on her position before she somehow caught wind of their plan and retreated.

  He scowled at her. This damn whiesper is too perceptive by far. But he couldn’t afford to rile her further. “Alright,” he said smoothing his expression and spreading his arms. “We’ve stopped. We’re not going to do anything.”

  The whiesper stared fixedly at him, clearly not convinced. “Where is the champion?” she repeated.

  “I don’t know,” Kyran lied again. The elf was likely one of Lesh’s minions. Informing her of the champion’s death would only provoke her.

  The warrior shook her head at him reprovingly. “Lie to me again and the half-elf dies. For the last time, where is Lesh?”

  Kyran clamped his jaw shut. He did not want to tell her, but Gaesin’s life hung in the balance. He scanned the area, looking for a way out of their predicament.

  “He’s dead!” exclaimed Gaesin defiantly. The half-elf flung up his head and, unheeding of the blade at his neck, stared at his captor. “He’s dead,” he repeated. “We killed him.”

  “Dammit, Gaesin,” shouted Kyran across the battlegroup. “Shut up or you going to get yourself killed.”

  ✽✽✽

  Mirien stared uncomprehendingly at the half-elf glaring at her. He looked ready to die. “What?” she asked, unconsciously pushing her rapier harder against his throat as she pressed him for an answer.

  “Your lord was a foul presence on the land, and Kyran killed him,” the half-elf rasped, ignoring the tickle of blood that flowed down his neck. “Good riddance,” he added.

  She glanced at the wood-elf. He was scowling at her and seemed on the verge of making a foolish decision. She returned her gaze to the half-elf kneeling at her feet. As little sense as his words made, she believed him.

  Trusting to her judgement, she flung the half-elf forward and stepped back. Warily, she watched the elf and the bear. I hope I haven’t just made a fatal mistake.

  ✽✽✽

  With his heart in his mouth, Kyran watched the whiesper fling Gaesin forward. He feared the worst, until Gaesin, swearing profusely, picked himself up and dusted off.

  Relieved, Kyran turned his gaze upon the whiesper. She had backed away and was now studying the party warily. “Why?” he asked, making no attempt to disguise his confusion.

  The elf seemed to grasp the thrust of his question. She shrugged. “I believed him.” At Kyran’s continued look of bewilderment, she added, “I am not Lesh’s vassal.” She stared at Kyran. “And neither is your party as I had first thought.”

  Kyran gawked at her. She had thought they were Lesh’s minions? And now she claimed not to be Lesh’s follower. He would have dismissed her words entirely, if not for her actions. She had let Gaesin go when she had no reason to. “If you are not one of Lesh’s, what are you doing here? In the middle of the wilderness, all on your own?”

  For a long time, the elven maiden remained silent, and Kyran had just about given up on her answering, when she said, “Looking for you, I suspect.”

  ✽✽✽

  Mirien’s mind worked furiously. If the half-elf was to be believed, they had killed Xetil’s champion. How had this scruffy band of four managed such a feat? It beggared belief. Yet she did not doubt them. So how had they done it?

  There was only one way a party this small could have achieved such a victory. One or more of them were players. And given that they had emerged from the labyrinth where the free agent was supposedly located, it was not a huge stretch to believe one of
them was her quarry.

  She scrutinised the wood elf again. And she was almost certain it was him...Kyran. Against all odds, it seemed she had succeeded in finding Elasien’s free agent.

  The elf was still staring at her. “Perhaps we should see to your injured companion’s comfort first?” she offered. “It is a long story.”

  ✽✽✽

  Iyra, her presence a vast ethereal cloud, swirled through the currents of the ether as she watched over her champions in the physical realm. Her attention bouncing from one to the other, she kept track of their doings and measured the progress of their missions.

  Unlike the others, Iyra preferred to keep a close watch on her game pieces. The Game could turn quickly at the smallest of mishaps, and Iyra preferred to leave as little as she could to chance.

  She would win the Game.

  Despite all of Eld’s machinations to keep the gods imprisoned, she would escape Myelad. It was her singular focus and had been for centuries. But with the free agent’s entrance, the Game had become volatile. Long slumbering powers bestirred themselves again.

  And if Iyra did not want to lose all that she had gained over the centuries, she had to be more vigilant than ever. She turned her attention westwards. Sara’s company, she saw, was still camped in the ruins of Crota.

  She frowned. Why had the girl not moved out already? The tracking crystal must have picked up the free agent’s presence by now. She would have to speak to the young champion soon. How and when the free agent had escaped the labyrinth still remained a mystery. But Iyra expected to have those questions answered soon.

  She had already sent a missive to Misteria requesting a meeting, but the goddess had not responded yet. Why had Misteria not replied? Surely, she must realise—

  “Mother, aid me. We are under attack!”

  Iyra’s thoughts broke off at the cry for help. She traced back the stream of amber that had carried the plea to her and homed onto the source. It was from Devlin, one of her champions posted along the southern border with Kharmadon. “What is your need, my son?”