Grand Game 447: Stepping in It (Patreon)

Ghost has taken the form of a level 212 stygian pyre wolf.

Three hours later, I was wandering the plains again, with Ghost ranging ahead of me. We’d not discovered our target yet, but I was optimistic. The familiar had found a scent trail.

“It’s gone again,” the pyre wolf reported.

I paused. “You’re sure?” I’d gotten no whiff myself of whatever Ghost tracked, its traces were too faint for me to detect.

“Yes,” she replied, sounding frustrated. Her shoulders sagged. “It’s disappeared.”

I pursed my lips. This was the fifth time the pyre wolf had lost the scent. At first, I’d thought she’d mis-stepped somehow, then that the player we tracked had masked their scent. Now, I wondered...

Narrowing my gaze, I scanned the terrain up ahead. The trio of hills and the deep dip resting at their feet were familiar. We’d visited the area multiple times already, having approached it from different directions, and it was here—always—that Ghost lost the scent.

“The area is shielded,” I murmured, feeling a stir of excitement at the realization.

Ghost wrinkled her nose. “What?”

I glanced at her. “There has to be a ward about this place,” I replied. “That’s why you keep losing the trail when we get close.”

The pyre wolf’s gaze sharpened. “The Blades’ base is here.”

I nodded. “It must be.” Reaching up, I rubbed at the side of my head. 

You have activated a sorcerer’s coif. 

I waited a heartbeat. Then another. But no glowing lines of magic appeared in my sight. 

Frowning, I lowered my hand. “That can’t be right,” I murmured. “There are no wards.”

Looking just as puzzled, Ghost sat down. “Maybe the spell is too powerful to detect?” she suggested.

I shook my head. “The ward would have to be tier seven for that.” I met her gaze. “Too powerful for any player to set.” Could there be a Power nearby? I wondered.

I bit my lip. It was a possibility, but not likely. If the Blades had a Power nearby, surely they would have launched their counteroffensive already? Or was there more going on here than I was aware of?

“What do we do now?” Ghost asked, echoing my own thoughts.

I sighed. Retreating would be the prudent choice. But that meant going back into the Riders’ territory or heading into the lowlands—both of which options were also fraught with risk.

“We keep searching,” I pronounced. “But carefully.”

✵ ✵ ✵

An hour later, I was still in the area, moving about with the wary gait of someone who knows there is danger nearby but just can’t seem to find it.

Crouched small, I crept forward a few careful steps. Fifty yards to my right, Ghost inched forward on her belly. We’d spread out for obvious reasons. If I ran into danger, I’d teleport to my familiar. If she did, she would unmanifest.

Staying motionless, I scanned the vicinity with every means available to me—sight, smell, sound, mindsight, and even trap detect. But nothing turned up anything amiss. No alerts dropped into my mind. No Game messages triggered. 

And yet, the back of my head still itched.

“Again,” I ordered, ignoring the telltale premonition of danger as I had for the last hour. Following my own command, I ranged forward once more.

I kept the trio of hills and the deep dip beneath them in my sights. We were yet to enter the area itself, but it had not escaped my notice that the dip was perfect for a hideout. It was large enough to conceal a sizable camp. If there is a base, I thought, advancing once more, it will be there.  

Snick!

At the soft click beneath my booted heel, I froze. But it was too late.  I’d already mis-stepped.

You have triggered a trap! 

A split-second later, I backflipped, attempting to throw myself out of harm’s way. 

It didn’t work. 

The ground shifted—not just in the immediate vicinity, but all around me, in a twenty-yard radius. Dirt shot upward. The grass churned. And from beneath, a checkered cloth bearing the dull sheen of metal emerged.

Not a cloth—a net. A steel net.

As if it had a life of its own, the net flung itself after me. I was quick, but it was faster, and while I was still midair, the thing wrapped around me like a second skin. 

You have failed a physical resistance check! 

A shackling net has enveloped you. You have been snared. Duration: infinite. The debuff will remain in effect as long as the net stays in place. 

Oof! I hit the ground hard. With my hands and legs trapped immobile by the net, I was unable to break my fall.

“Prime?” Ghost called from afar, concern lacing her tone.

“I’m alright,” I panted, even as the net wrapped tighter around my neck. The thing really did seem to be a living creature, and while it didn’t appear to be trying to strangle me, it was doing its damnedest to stop me from moving.

 But as frustrating as that was, the trap was purely physical in nature. 

It did not inhibit my psi abilities. Gathering my will, I prepared to escape its clutches.

You have detected multiple hidden entities! 

I paused in my psicasting. Sure, the latest Game message was further cause for alarm—but it was also an opportunity, and on impulse, I let the spell I was casting dissipate. Opening my eyes, I bent my head backward. 

Ten shapes were creeping toward me.

Where they’d come from I couldn’t tell, but it had to be from the hidden base I searched for. Even better, they didn’t appear to be aware they were under observation. “Don’t move, Ghost,” I murmured, not letting my eyes rest too long on any of the advancing players. “We have company.”

“What are you waiting for then? Get out of that net!” 

“No,” I said, finally articulating the impulse that had led me to abort my escape. “The ones approaching have to be the Blades we came here to find, and what better way to meet them as I am—seemingly defenseless?” If nothing else, it would be a test of how far I could trust the faction.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, and rest assured, if it comes to a fight, we can handle them.” Reaching out with my will, I analyzed the three players at the forefront of the group.

The target is Deklan, a level 175 human rogue. 

The target is Cine, a level 180 elven greenblade. 

The target is Yara, a level 176 orcish knife hand. 

I smiled to myself. The trio’s levels were nothing unexpected, and increasing the violence of my struggles, I feigned ignorance as the group dispersed to surround me.

“You hear that?” Ghost asked abruptly.

Caught up in my pretense, I’d heard nothing. “No, what is it?”

“A grinding noise. It’s coming from the hill.”

A prickle of unease shot through me. “I dare not look right now. Tell me what’s happening.”

“The hill, it’s…. moving.”

Moving?

“A part of the hill is moving,” Ghost clarified before I could ask. “It’s a door, I think.”

A door in the hill? 

I’d been wrong, I realized. The Blades’ base was not in the dip, but inside the hill. Clever.

A second later, the pyre wolf emotions spiked with fear—not for herself, but for me. “More players are emerging.”

“How many?” I asked, suppressing my own alarm.

“Hundreds,” she replied.

I closed my eyes. Hundreds was a bit more than I bargained for.

“Flee, Prime,” the pyre wolf urged worriedly.

“No,” I said firmly. A ten. A hundred, it didn’t matter. I needed information on the Blades and given the circumstances, this was the best way to get it. “Let’s see how this plays out.”

✵ ✵ ✵

Cine is no longer hidden.

The shadows wrapped around the elven Blade fled, and he materialized in front of me. Keeping up my pretense, I froze in feigned shock.

Cine smirked. “Well, well. What do we have here?” he drawled as the other nine in the leading group unmasked themselves. There was no sign of the players Ghost had spotted emerging from the hill, and I assumed they were deliberately keeping themselves out of sight. The ten alone were sufficient to defeat me, though.

That is, if I really were Jasiah, a rank fifteen player.

You have passed a mental resistance check! An analyze attempt by a hostile entity has failed.

Cine has failed to pierce your disguise.

I almost smiled, as right on cue, the familiar tingle of a failed analyze attempt washed off me. 

“Let me go!” I panted in what I hoped was a suitably panicked voice. 

I didn’t really expect my disguise to hold up indefinitely. Eventually, someone would think to check my spirit signature, but before that happened I hoped to convince the Blades to hear me out.

The elf chuckled. “Oh, we won’t be doing that.”

“What do you think, Cine,” Deklan mused, toying with a slim stiletto, “should we cut him first?”

“Definitely,” Cine replied. Striding forward, he squatted before me. “Why did Malikor send you?” he asked, glaring at me in a manner I assumed he meant to be intimidating. Unfortunately for him, I’d stared down much bigger foes. 

“He didn’t,” I whined, intensifying my futile struggles. “I’m not a Rider.”

The elf snorted. “Sure, you’re not. How did you find us?”

“I-I t-tracked… you,” I said with wide, vacant eyes.

Deklan laughed. “Impossible. A rank fifteen chit like you couldn’t track a Blade.”

“I ev-v-vaded y-your people at t-the rrr…river,” I stuttered.

Cine’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about the cordon? Does Malikor have spies in—” 

“Back!” Yara barked suddenly.

The elf’s eyebrows shot up as he glanced over his shoulder at the orc, but he didn’t heed the command. “What’s gotten into you, Yara? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this Rider scum?”

“He bears a Power Mark, Cine,” Yara growled. “Whoever that bastard is, he’s no rank fifteen player!”

The elven Blade fell back on his rear, his mouth opening in shock.

“Impossible,” Deklan snarled.

I sighed. The gig was up and sooner than I expected. 

“I’d listen to the orc,” I said smoothly as I abandoned my charade. “She’s smarter than you two idiots.”

The rogue’s eyes narrowed as he noted my sudden change in demeanor, but he seemed to pay it no heed. “Shut your mouth! If you don’t, I’ll gut you like a pig,” he said, brandishing his stiletto.

“Trying that would be a mistake,” I replied mildly.

“Who said anything about trying,” Deklan spat, taking a threatening step forward. “We’ve got you trussed up good.”

I laughed. “You don’t.”

The rogue raised his blade, but before he could do anything foolish, Cine intervened. “Stop!” 

Freezing in place, the rogue glared at the elf.

“Yar is right,” Cine continued, unperturbed by Deklan’s heated look, “the bastard is a player.”

“But—” the rogue began.

“Back off, Dek,” Cine ordered, rising to his feet. “I won’t ask again.”

Grudgingly, the rogue stepped back and Cine turned back to me, his expression grim. “Now, tell me who you are, and what the devil you’re playing at. Because by Blythe, Power or not, I swear we’ll cut you to pieces if you don’t!”