She kept running, her thoughts turning involuntarily to the last time she had played bait—the not so distant day when she had lured the manticores to the Iyran paladin company. She gritted her teeth. Today, she promised herself, would end very differently.
Another of the tamed worgs peeled off to the right. Kyran and Aiken had tasked the creatures with guarding her, and they had faithfully seen to her protection ever since the start of the night’s work.
Mirien had spent the last two hours circling the party’s back trail and making sure all three pursuing packs and their ogre handlers had caught her scent. She looked up. The cul-de-sac the party had selected for the ambush was in sight, and the chase almost at end.
Now, only to make certain that their prey did not baulk at entering. She drew her blades and, after a quick backwards glance, selected her target.
Leaving the last worg still at her side to see to itself, Mirien stepped beyond the pursuing pack and into the shadow of one of the ogre handlers. With esper’s fury active, she struck out at both the ogre’s knees and mind. The huntsman roared in fury. He spun around to grab his tormentor, but Mirien was already gone, her blades biting at the next ogre.
Through careful scouting and scrying, the party had ascertained only one pair of ogres accompanied each worg pack. Given the outcome of their previous battles against the ogres, they had all agreed the party could handle the three hunting packs simultaneously.
Her form a blur, and boosted by haste and dancer’s grace, Mirien weaved between the ogres, striking each in turn and doing her best to enrage them. The huntsmen tried to strike at her, or at least hold her at bay, but Mirien was too swift.
Her task complete, Mirien left the swirling chaos at the back and stepped forward again into the shadow of a boulder a few metres ahead of the hunt.
She edged away from the boulder to make certain the worg packs spotted her. All three of Kyran’s worgs, she saw, had been caught by the hunting packs. There was nothing she could do for them.
She swung about and took off running, sprinting for the entrance of the cul-de-sac that was enclosed by sheer rock walls on three sides. The worg pack, howling in fury behind her, gave chase.
This is the last time I play the bait, she promised herself. She glanced up. The cul-de-sac’s rear wall was only twenty metres away. Almost there. She pounded against the hard-packed earth for a few more metres, then shadow stepped to the top of the rock wall, leaving the worgs bewildered and alone in the centre of the cul-de-sac.
✽✽✽
Kyran breathed out a sigh of relief as he watched Mirien enter the ambush spot. Trailing behind her was a stream of black shadows, nearly impossible to pick out against the darkness. He had been getting worried.
The party had been lying in wait on top of the rock walls for what felt like too long. As the minutes ticked by, he had feared that he had asked too much to of Mirien.
To corral and lead three separate hunting packs on a merry chase for over an hour was no mean feat. Yet she had done it, and now the party could finally put an end to the menace that had been hounding them.
“Now, Gaesin,” said Kyran, as the last of the worgs entered the trap. Turning to Mirien who had appeared next to him, Kyran inclined his head. “Well done,” he said. She nodded her head and drew her blades in anticipation as he began his own casting.
At Kyran’s signal, Gaesin dropped an ice wall across the cul-de-sac, trapping the worgs within before they could escape.
Gaesin has cast ice wall (Wall strength: 403 HP).
A second later, Kyran’s own spell took form and wreathed the ground in grasping roots, while Adra released a storm of arrows into the massed creatures.
Kyran has cast grasping roots (radius: 51m, chance to resist: 17%, duration: 8 minutes), 45 worgs entangled.
Adra’s volleys have hit a worg pack for a total of 240 damage (piercing), 1 worg killed (with vital strikes), 2 worgs critically wounded.
Kyran turned. “Go,” he said. The whiesper nodded and shadow stepped back into the cul-de-sac. Stepping around the edges of the grasping roots, she danced around the trapped worgs, her blades darting out and dealing death at every opportunity.
Mirien has killed a worg with a vital strike.
Mirien has killed a worg with a vital strike.
Kyran waited. The trap had been sprung, and everything was going according to plan. Now only to see how the ogre handlers stuck outside the ice wall would react.
Right on cue, Gaesin’s ice wall shuddered under the repeated hammer blows of the ogres. Excellent, thought Kyran. The party had not been sure whether the ogres would follow the worgs into the cul-de-sac, and rather than risk their ambush failing altogether, they had opted to trap the worgs first and wait to see if the ogres followed or retreated.
They had planned for both eventualities, but of the two, the easier scenario to control was the ogres charging to the worgs’ rescue.
“The ogres are coming,” he said, “Get ready.” He began casting again.
The ice wall shattered, and six ogres rushed inwards, heading straight towards the nimbly dancing form of Mirien near the rear wall. The grasping roots did little to stop them, but the whiesper had been waiting for their appearance. The moment she judged the ogres had advanced far enough into the cul-de-sac, she shadow stepped away.
The ogres ground to a halt, their prey’s disappearance causing them to come to their senses and realise that they had walked into an ambush. “It’s a trap!” shouted one, who turned to run, followed by his fellows. But it was too late. Kyran’s casting had completed.
Kyran has cast shock wall (chance to resist: 8%, duration: 51 seconds, damage: 5.1 HP per second).
Rippling lightning took form around the cul-de-sac entrance, replacing the shattered ice wall. At its appearance, the retreating ogres froze once more. Spinning around, they searched for the party, but high atop the nearly eight-metre walls, the party members were out of reach.
One ogre more foolish—or perhaps more desperate—than the rest charged into the shock wall and, despite his size, was flung aloft and held paralysed by the field’s surging currents. Seeing his fate, the other ogres hesitated.
Their inaction spelled their doom as Kyran’s next spells took form around them.
Kyran has cast oil slick (radius: 5.1m, chance to resist: 7%, duration: 1 minute), 3 ogres slicked.
Kyran has set an oil pool aflame (damage: 5.1 HP per second), 3 ogres trapped in the flames.
A root field has caught fire (damage: 1 HP per second), 69 worgs trapped in flames.
With the appearance of the flames, Adra stopped firing, and Mirien sheathed her sword. The ogre hunting squads were defeated. It was only a matter of time now.
Battle Log (Ambush of the Ogre hunting squads)
The battle has ended.
Combat results
Creatures bonded: 0.
Hostiles killed: 72 of 72 worgs, 6 of 6 ogre hunt masters.
Allies killed: 3 beast-befriended worgs.
Levels gained
Kyran: 2 levels (18 SP, 2 AP). New combat level: Level 24.
Adra: 2 levels. New combat level: Level 24.
Gaesin: 2 levels. New combat level: Level 23.
Aiken: 2 levels. New combat level: Level 22.
Items acquired
Worg skins x 40 (40 kg).
Worg meat (1200 kg).
✽✽✽
Twenty minutes later, the party was ready to move on. Adra had skinned the corpses and collected the hides and meat of the worgs that remained unburned. After the items had been stored, the party began marching east again.
Kyran queried the Game on the time and saw that it was close to midnight. “Adra,” said Kyran, “will you scout ahead and find us a spot to bed down for the night?” With the hunters seen to, and no renewed signs of Gnarok’s band, the party could afford to rest for the remainder of the night.
“Yes, Kyran,” replied Adra. She bounded upwards onto a nearby rock spur to surve
y the surrounding terrain. Mirien moved to join her, but Kyran called her back. “Mirien, you’ve done your fair share today. Adra will manage well enough on her own.”
Mirien hesitated, then fell back to Kyran’s side. “You are not worried about the ogre warband?” she asked.
Kyran shrugged. “If we keep running blindly, we run the risk of being too tired when the ogres eventually catch up to us. Yesterday was lesson enough of the dangers of that. It’s better, I think if we take our rest when we can. Besides, without the worgs, I don’t think they will easily find us.”
Mirien nodded, then, after a thoughtful pause, asked, “You still think Gnarok is alive?”
Kyran looked at her in surprise. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
“When Aiken came to my rescue up on the escarpment, he bit Gnarok, turning him into crystal. I wasn’t sure if he was still alive after that.”
“Ah,” said Kyran, “I see now. Sadly, I think Gnarok is still amongst the living. The ability Aiken used is called jade bite, a temporary stun. The crystal paralysing Gnarok would have dissipated a few seconds after you two left.”
“Oh. That’s a pity.”
“I agree,” said Kyran, chuckling. He glanced at Mirien. She was grinning too. This was a side of her he had not seen before, and for a second, he was struck by how different she appeared without the constant tension that she always seemed to carry.
Mirien noticed his stare. “What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he responded, hoping his face was not reddening in embarrassment. “So tell me, Mirien Tolyrandil, who are you?” he asked before the silence became awkward.
Mirien stumbled but caught herself before she could fall. She turned startled eyes upon Kyran. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been with us for over a week now, and I still know very little of you. Who are you?”
“I’m a Brotherhood soldier—”
“I know that,” said Kyran, waving off her response. “I mean outside of the Brotherhood, who are you? Why did you join their cause? Why pledge your life to fighting the gods?”
Mirien fell silent and seemed to be thinking deeply.
Despite the manner of his asking and the impulse that had prompted him, it was not an idle question. Kyran had been waiting for days now to question the whiesper more deeply as to her motives. The elven maiden was still lost in thought. “Mirien?” he said, prompting her.
She sighed. “My history is long and complicated. Suffice it to say both my family and people have suffered greatly at the hands of the gods. I found myself unable to sit back and watch my people’s slow decline into obscurity.” She stared off in the distance. “The gods have much to answer for, and if the people of Myelad don’t stand up and hold them accountable, who will?”
“You believe the gods unjust?”
She turned to gaze at him with thinned lips and frozen stare. “I do. Don’t you?”
“I do.”
His answer seemed to surprise her, and some of the frost disappeared from her gaze. “You do?” she said, the words, seeming to slip out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Kyran sensed the disbelief behind her words and frowned at her in puzzlement. “Why does that shock you?”
“Nothing, it’s just that…” Her words dribbled to a halt. Exhaling a breath, she finished in a rush, “at our first encounter, I got the sense that you didn’t seem to care either way.”
Kyran’s brows drew down. What had he done to give her that idea? he wondered. Was the antagonism he sometimes sensed in her because she thought he was…apathetic?
He scratched his head. Had they been at odds simply because they misunderstood each other? Perhaps it was time he shared the truth of his intentions. Gaesin is right. She deserves to know the truth. And if she chose not to help the party further…well that was her right. “I think it’s time—”
“Kyran,” called Adra, interrupting him. Mirien looked at him curiously, as his words cut off midstream.
He held up a hand, requesting her patience. “Yes, Adra?”
“I’ve found a cave for us to rest in. Its two hundred metres north of your position.”
“Good work, Adra. We’re on our way.”
He turned back to Mirien. “Adra has found us a spot to camp. Come on.”
Chapter 18
16 Octu 2603 AB
A little later, the party was comfortably ensconced in their new camp. Or at least, thought Mirien wryly, as comfortably as one can be in a dank cave. This cave was larger than the previous one and showed no sign of previous inhabitation.
The southern Skarral range seemed to be riddled with small caves. Which we might soon be thankful for, she thought, assuming we are still stuck here come winter.
She nibbled on her food and gazed at the party members arrayed around the campfire. How well, she wondered, would they weather the winter’s cold? Adra and Aiken, she had no doubt, would manage well enough. Gaesin would struggle. But then again, the youth had surprised her with his resilience, and he had done well enough in the difficult mountain terrain thus far.
Kyran…she was not so sure. The wood elf confused her. At times, he was scary in his ruthless, cold, calculated approach. The slaughter of the worgs and ogres that he had orchestrated… She repressed a shudder. He reminded her of Deegan that way.
At other times…he was most unlike her former master. He had refused to abandon Adra at the gate or even herself on the escarpment. Nor had he once voiced the thought of abandoning Adra and Gaesin and leaving the mountains without them. She doubted the thought had even occurred to him. At those times, she found herself…almost liking him.
But would he be able to make the hard choices that winter in these mountains would require? Would he be able to sacrifice his companions when starvation set in? She didn’t think so, and that worried her.
“It’s time we decided our next move,” Kyran said, interrupting her thoughts. He met Mirien’s gaze. “But before we do that, there is something I have to tell you.” His expression turned serious. “Over this last week on the mountain, you have risked yourself on any number of occasions for members of this party, and for that I am more grateful than you can know. However, I have not been completely honest with you, and I cannot in good faith continue to let you risk your life under false pretences.”
Adra jerked upright. “Kyran, are you sure about this?” she asked.
Kyran held up his hand to still the wolven’s objections. “She has a right to know, Adra,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes off Mirien. Reluctantly, Adra nodded and fell silent.
Mirien felt a flutter of unease. What was he going on about? “What do you mean, Kyran?”
Kyran took a deep breath before continuing. “I let you believe we would travel east with you into Balkar’s domain. But I am not convinced joining the Brotherhood is in my best interest. There may be…others who will make better allies.”
Mirien’s stomach churned, her unease deepening. “What others?” she managed to ask, fighting to hold onto her calm.
“Iyra,” he said bluntly. “I have reason to believe the goddess will be amenable to an alliance. Before we head east, we will journey into the Elder Forest to meet the Iyran representative that searches for me there. After that, I will follow you—”
“Iyra?” whispered Mirien, the colour draining from her face as the images of her slain brothers flashed across her mind. “You will place yourself under Iyra?”
“Not under,” said Kyran firmly. “I will seek an alliance with her as an equal.”
Mirien threw her head back and laughed. “You are a fool,” she said, her voice sounding shrill even to her own ears, “if you believe Iyra, or any of the gods for that matter, will ally with you as an equal.”
Kyran’s lips thinned in the face of her mockery. “Be that as it may, I have more to offer the gods than you think. I believe once Iyra learns of what I possess, she will be open to the possibility of an alliance.”
Mirien shook her head i
n disgust. He is a deluded fool, she thought. There was nothing he could possess that would ever move the gods to accept him as an equal. How had she ever believed the free agent was someone who would make a worthy ally? She had almost begun to believe and trust in him.
She swallowed bitterly. He is not the only fool here, she thought. But she still had a mission. And how was she to fulfil it in the face of his preposterous admission? Elasien’s orders whispered through her mind.
Turn him to our cause, or kill him.
As she struggled to keep her anger and emotions in check, Mirien’s gazed moved from Kyran to Gaesin—who, head bowed, wouldn’t meet her eyes—to Aiken—who stared intently at her as if he could read her every thought —and Adra—who watched her just as suspiciously. Not now, she thought, swallowing bile.
She forced herself to think. Parsing Kyran’s words in her mind, she was struck by what he had said earlier. “Why do you believe Iyra might be partial to an alliance?” Had he been in communication with Iyra all this time?
“I…know one of Iyra’s champions,” he said reluctantly.
“Which one?” she demanded, dread coiling in her.
“Sara Milton,” he replied.
Mirien struggled to keep her face blank, but her hands tightened involuntarily on the kobold ration she was holding, crumbling it to dust. The very same champion who had led the paladins that killed her friends, she thought. What a fool I am, she despaired.
Adra’s eyes narrowed, noticing Mirien’s reaction to the name. “Do you know her?” she asked sharply.
Mirien ignored the wolven and kept her gaze locked on Kyran’s. “And how do you know this Sara?” she asked, unable to disguise the contempt in her voice.
“Sara is the reason I am here,” Kyran replied. “She, like me, is from the world of Earth. I was accidently pulled into Myelad during her summoning.”
So, he had a pre-existing relationship with Iyra’s champion from the world of their birth. Or was he lying to her? Her rage under control again, she studied Kyran through slitted eyes, searching for any hint of deception.
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