He could not turn down the elven warrior’s offer outright, he decided. Though neither would he accept. He needed more information before he would be comfortable throwing in his lot with the Brotherhood. And there was the not-so-small matter of verifying the truth of the whiesper’s words. How could he be certain of anything she said? She could be Xetil’s spy for all he knew.
He stared hard at the elven woman. She is too assured, he thought. Too certain of herself. He doubted she would reveal anything she didn’t want him to know. It was too early to divulge any of his own intentions, he decided. But perhaps if he probed a bit further, he could uncover something else of value from her.
“Even if everything you say is true, and at this point I am not certain I believe you,” Mirien’s lips tightened at his words, “why should I ally myself with your Brotherhood and make myself a bigger target for the gods’ wrath? Why should I take up your cause as my own?”
✽✽✽
Mirien stared searchingly at the wood-elf. She had watched him closely when she revealed her allegiance to the Brotherhood, but other than his evident ignorance of the Brotherhood’s existence, she had not been able to get much more of a read on him. He had remained admirably impassive during her explanation and the half-elf’s outburst.
His lack of response had thrown her. She had expected a slew of questions from him—on everything from why the Brotherhood believed the gods to be tyrants, to how they could possibly hope to defeat the gods.
While the wood-elf had gone off to close the gate, she had gone over all the reasons in her mind, the countless arguments and theories espoused by the Brotherhood’s founders and great thinkers, and her own experiences that had swayed her to the cause. She had been prepared. Her line of reasoning was clear in her mind, and she had been ready—eager even—to make an impassioned plea on behalf of the cause.
Yet the free agent had asked nothing of the Brotherhood itself. Nothing! She could scarce believe it. His questions centred only on himself—what did they want from him, why should he help them. And that disturbed her more than she expected. Did he not care? Was he so selfish and uncaring that the plight of Myelad’s millions did not move him?
When Elasien had given Deegan and her this mission, she had believed their greatest hurdle would be finding the free agent and securing him from the gods.
She had not wondered about the character of the free agent, or whether he would be swayed to their cause. Now she did. She had assumed—naïvely it seemed—that anyone who was made aware of the harsh reality of life in Myelad would think as she did. She studied the wood-elf anew. He seemed disinterested. Apathetic. He stared back at her, patiently awaiting her response.
She wanted to hit him.
How could he be so cold-hearted? She pressed her hands together and fought to hold herself still before she said—or did—something she regretted. The Brotherhood needs him, she reminded herself, and as much as his lack of concern affronted her, it did not matter as long as he aided them.
She pulled in a calming breath and said evenly, “You should join the Brotherhood because you will not survive on your own. Myelad, as you have already seen, is a dangerous place. Frankly, I am surprised you survived the labyrinth. Even now, the gods seek you. Only two may have begun the hunt, but more will join in. The gods will not relent. They will pursue you until you are found and brought down. Only we can hide you. Only the Brotherhood can keep you safe.”
She shrugged. “Even with our aid, it will not be easy, but your odds of surviving will be much better.”
The wood-elf stared at her, leaving Mirien to wonder if she had chosen the right tack. She had decided to appeal to his self-interest and be frank about the risks.
The free agent turned away and looked off into the distance. He mumbled something under his breath. Mirien leaned forward and only managed to catch the tail end of his words. “…But is survival enough,” he murmured.
She frowned. She didn’t know what he meant, though it sounded like he needed further convincing. She opened her mouth to put forward further arguments, but before she spoke, the half-elf cut in. “Kyran, the Brotherhood are reviled throughout the eleven domains.” He shot Mirien a half-apologetic, half-scared look.
Mirien smiled reassuringly at him. He was much easier to read than his lord. The youth was afraid of her, but she was sure that, given enough time, she could sway him to the Brotherhood’s cause.
“If we join with them, I am not sure we will be any better off,” continued Gaesin. “Right now, we can still hide. In time, maybe the gods will even forget about us. But if we join with them, there will be no peace for us. The gods are sure to pursue us to the ends of our days.”
He is naïve to believe that, thought Mirien. She bit back the immediate retort that sprang to her lips, curious to see what the free agent made of his companion’s words. He was the one she had to convince.
The wood-elf turned to the youth, but did not say anything. However, from the suddenly blank look on the half-elf’s face, it was clear they were speaking telepathically. Mirien ground her teeth in frustration. The free agent did not trust her, but she knew that already. Gaesin nodded in response to whatever Kyran told him and fell silent once more.
The free agent turned back to her. “You mentioned that two gods pursue me. Xetil is one. Who is the other?”
“Iyra is the second,” she said, seeing no harm in telling him.
“Iyra,” he breathed, unable to mask his reaction this time. Iyra’s name meant something to him. Mirien’s eyes narrowed. What connection did he have to the goddess?
“Where is her champion now?” Kyran asked.
Mirien hesitated. She sensed that more than idle curiosity lay behind his question, and she didn’t want to share what she knew—not when she didn’t know why he asked. But she still had to woo him to their cause, and she couldn’t be too obvious about withholding information. “Iyra’s champion is in Crotana’s Elder Forest as we speak, searching for you,” she finally said with some reluctance.
“And who did Iyra send?” he asked nonchalantly.
Mirien peered sharply at him. The question had been casually phrased, yet she sensed something in the elf’s tone, something that hinted at an interest beyond the ordinary. She took in his studied poise and impassive face and was nearly taken in.
But the involuntarily clenching of his hands on the great bear’s coat confirmed her suspicions: the answer to this question was far more important to the free agent than he was letting on. Guided by instinct, she lied. “I don’t know.”
Kyran seemed to deflate slightly. He had been holding himself tense in anticipation of her answer, she realised. Why did it mean so much to him who Iyra had sent? Sara was the champion after him, she knew. Should she have told him?
Looking at the elf’s disappointed expression, she realised her decision to withhold the champion’s identity was the right one. Until she knew why the free agent wanted to know, it was too dangerous to reveal her knowledge.
The elf absently ruffled the great bear’s coat again while he thought further on her words. The cub huffed contentedly under the attention. Unwillingly, Mirien’s eyes drifted to the bear again. She desperately wanted to know why the bear was here.
Great bears were amongst the rarest of Myelad’s elder beasts. Before today, she had never known jade great bears to exist. The only great bears she knew of, were forest creatures that lived in Auriel’s demesne. She had met a few of that clan. They looked nothing like this cub, though.
She studied the bear’s jade coat again and recalled his remarkable combat manoeuvre. He had dived through the earth to get to her. His clan must live underground, she realised. Why did the cub leave his clan? And why is he with the free agent?
“Are you willing to prove the truth of your words?” asked Kyran.
Mirien blinked. Lost in her musings about the jade bear, she’d almost missed his words.
“Of course,” she replied readily. “How?”
&nb
sp; “There is a spell, detect truth, that will allow me to determine the truth of your words. Will you consent to me putting your words to the test?”
Mirien did her best to hide her surprise. She knew of the spell, and there was no reason for him to ask for her consent before questioning her. Had she misjudged him? But the spell would likely not work on her.
She briefly contemplated taking advantage of his ignorance, but dismissed it as a bad idea. The Game’s feedback to its players was too complete. It would inform him when his spell failed to work. “I know of the spell,” she said at last, “but its effects can be resisted and, in some cases, completely overcome. Unless your governor skill is more advanced than I suspect, the spell will not work on me. What is your player level?”
He looked at her inscrutably for a second, then said, “Level twenty.”
Mirien was taken aback. He was a lower level than she expected, barely apprentice-ranked at that. How had he defeated Lesh? “Then the spell will not work against me,” she said, shaking her head. While it was unfortunate that she could not convince the free agent this way, it was something of a relief, too. After all, she could not bare all her secrets to him. But it did leave her in a predicament.
How was she going to get him to believe her? His question revealed a willingness to trust her. But he didn’t seem ready to take the final step yet. She had to find a way to convince him. How?
Her gaze drifted to the sleeping bear, a novel idea striking her. She bit her lip. It was risky, but perhaps it might just work… “There may be another way. Aiken should be able to assure you of the truth of my words.”
Kyran blinked. “Aiken?” he asked. “How?”
“Great bears are powerful telepaths. He could—if I let him within my mind—taste the flavour of my thoughts when I speak. It will not be as straightforward as a detect truth spell, but under the circumstances…” She shrugged. “It could work.”
Kyran turned to Aiken, and his face blanked. She watched with interest. How great is the free agent’s own telepathy skill? she wondered. It has to be reasonably advanced, she thought. His mind shock earlier had hit her harder than she’d expected.
The great bear, snorting unhappily, opened his eyes. Kyran murmured his apologies for disturbing the bear before explaining his request.
Aiken lifted his head and looked from Kyran to Mirien. He huffed irritably again. Then with a mighty yawn, he rested his head back on his paws and closed his eyes. And to all appearances, went back to sleep.
“He does not want to do it,” guessed Mirien.
Kyran looked up from the bear with a bemused expression. “Aiken says what you ask is unnecessary. He has already tasted your mind and has pronounced you trustworthy.”
Mirien’s eyes widened in shock. Other than their brief exchange of greetings earlier, she had not sensed the bear in her mind, and while she was no telepath, she, like all the Brotherhood, worked hard at her mental shields. Aiken should not have been able to sense her thoughts. How had he slipped through her defences? And what has he seen in my mind? she wondered worriedly.
Kyran chuckled at her expression. “In fact, Aiken had a bit more to say. He is quite aggrieved that we wasted all this time discussing the truth of your words. He says if only I had asked sooner, he could have saved us the time it took to have this conversation.”
Kyran’s mien grew more serious. “Aiken believes you to be honest. And for now, that is enough. I trust his judgement.” He glanced fondly at the sleeping bear before fixing her with a hard stare. “But,” he warned, “Aiken is young yet. He still has to grasp all the nuances of deceit that people are capable of. I will trust you—to an extent. Though if I find out you have been less than honest, I will rescind that trust. Clear?”
“Understood, Kyran,” said Mirien, nodding emphatically. Despite her doubts about the free agent’s character and her worry about Aiken’s mental incursions, she was elated by the elf’s words. If nothing else, she could soon put him in other Brotherhood hands and see the back of this damnable mission, which had cost her so much already.
“Good, I am glad that is settled then,” he said. “Now, it’s been a long and trying day, and we all need sleep. Let’s turn in for the night.”
“Of course. But at first light, we should set out towards—” began Mirien.
Kyran cut her off. “Let’s leave off any discussion of our plans for tomorrow. I will take the first watch, then Gaesin, and you, the third. Is that agreeable?”
She nodded.
“Alright, turn in then.” Kyran stood up, and headed for the ledge overlooking the southern slopes of the mountain. He obviously meant to keep watch over there. On his way, he stopped and turned back to face her. “Oh, one more thing.” A wry grin slipped onto his face. “Aiken had one other tidbit to share. He tells me that you think less than well of me. He was quite offended on my behalf.”
As Mirien’s mouth dropped open in astonishment, his grin broadened into a smile.
Still chuckling, he walked away.
Chapter 4
08 Octu 2603 AB
When a player reaches the apprentice rank, they may select a class. Each class has unique traits and abilities that are only available to players who have chosen it. Like other aspects of the Game, classes have an associated rank, and as a player advances their rank, new class traits and abilities become available. —Mechanics of the Game by Jostfyler Graldvir, Game scholar and champion of Weeran.
Gaesin’s heart skipped a beat as he watched Kyran leave to take first watch. He couldn’t believe Kyran had chosen to trust the elf. Or that he had so carelessly left Gaesin alone with her!
But I am not alone. He glanced at the sleeping bear. Aiken was here, and it was Aiken who had pronounced the woman trustworthy. The jade bear, more than any of them, could see to the heart of someone’s intentions. Yet even knowing that, Gaesin didn’t feel reassured.
He shot a nervous glance at Mirien. She had regained her composure and had turned her stare from Kyran to him. The woman had the pale, cold beauty of all her kind. He shivered. She was a high-elf, which meant she was elven royalty. Did Kyran realise that?
High elves were not a sub-species of the elves so much as they were its ruling caste. Or at least they had been, in the days before the Game. With the coming of the gods, many of the old rulers had fallen and their titles given over to champions and others graced with divine favour.
Before the Game, each of Myelad’s races and kingdoms had their own kings and lords. The elves, longer-lived and more intransigent than most, still clung to those old norms, and to this day, the old ruling elite still played a significant role in elven society.
While there were likely hundreds, if not thousands, of high-elves on Myelad, most of them only minor lords, there was something about her family name that was eerily familiar. Tolyrandil… Where had he heard that name before?
Whichever family claimed it, he was sure she was no minor lord. And what is one of the high elves doing in the Brotherhood? he wondered. He tore his gaze away from the woman and busied himself, doing his best to ignore the weight of her gaze.
“What can you tell me about him?” she asked softly.
Gaesin pretended not to hear. Kyran had already warned him not to answer her questions, and he was determined to follow his lord’s instructions, doubly so now that he knew she was part of the Brotherhood.
“I am not asking you to betray his confidence. If we are going to work together, I need to get to know him better. Surely you understand that.”
When Gaesin again failed to respond, she continued. “Gaesin Illineiros,” she mused. “I recognise the family name. You are not by any chance related to the renowned scholar-mage Stavin Illineiros from the Iltenial mage academy, are you?”
Gaesin started involuntarily. Why had he given her his full name? But he had no reason to suspect she would recognise it. Contrary to what she said, the Illineiros name was not that famous.
To disguise his reaction, he steadfast
ly focused on his chores. He unrolled his sleeping bag and packed and then repacked his bag. By this time, the elf surely should have recognised he was ignoring her, yet her questions continued unabated.
“…Is Kyran a good lord? Does he mistreat you? What does he think of the gods?”
Gaesin lay down on his pallet and closed his eyes. Heavy silence followed. She’s stopped. Thank the gods.
“How did Kyran steal the cub?”
Unable to help himself, Gaesin shot upright and glared at the high-elf. “He did not! Kyran would never commit such a vile crime!”
The woman looked placidly back at him. “Then how has the cub come to be here?” Her eyes flitted to the sleeping bear and back to Gaesin. Her gaze hardened, and she asked, “Has he compelled the bear?”
Gaesin, appalled, burst out, “Of course not! Aiken is his companion.”
Mirien stared at him in confusion. Then her eyes widened as she realised what he meant. “His companion?” she said. “You mean that they are bonded, don’t you?” Her brows furrowed. “Interesting…” she murmured.
Gaesin ground his teeth in frustration. He realised belatedly that he had let the woman’s pestering get to him and said too much. He threw himself back down on his pallet and turned his back to the high-elf.
Cursed woman, he thought.
✽✽✽
Kyran made himself comfortable on the ledge. The mountain slopes below were dark and silent. Behind him, he could hear the woman Mirien questioning Gaesin. He bit back the urge to warn Gaesin to remain silent again. The youth would have to learn how to deal with the elven woman on his own.
He was still not certain what to make of the whiesper and her Brotherhood. He trusted Aiken implicitly, yet… He sighed. He would give her a chance, he decided.
He had a lot more to ponder on, not least of which was what to do next. But first he had other matters to take care of. In the excitement of their escape from the labyrinth, he hadn’t had a chance to address his player progression. Closing his eyes, he turned his focus inwards and opened the Game interfaces related to his player profile.
Sovereign Rising (The Gods' Game, Volume III): A LitRPG novel Page 6