Grand Game 458: A Spy’s Worth (Patreon)

Before setting myself to wait for the envoy, I renewed my disguise.

You have cast mimic, transforming your visage into that of Jasiah, a level 152 human duelist and concealing your Powerful Initiate Mark. Duration: 10 hours.

As expected, the experience was wholly different this time. Instead of using mere light and illusion to disguise me like the facial disguise spell did, mimic physically changed my entire face.

My bones shifted. My nose broadened. My eyes widened. And my skin tone changed. And when all was said and done, I did not only look like Jasiah, I was him. 

At least my face was. 

The rest of me remained unchanged. A pity, I thought. My disguise would have been more complete if mimic could transform my entire body like the imitate spell did. But imitate was too costly. Worse yet, only its tier six variant was capable of hiding my spirit signatures. And even now, my deception was not high enough for that.

Mimic will do well enough, in any case. After all, concealing my Power Mark was more important than the completeness of my physical disguise. 

Twisting my neck from side to side, I rubbed my cheeks, feeling out my new face. “What do you think, Ghost? How do I look?”

“The same,” she replied dryly.

I rolled my eyes. “I know that, but can you spot any difference between now and before?”

“No.”

“Ah,” I said, deflating. “I guess the spell is working then.”

“Just in time too,” she observed. “We have incoming.”

Snapping alert, I let my awareness expand outward and noticed what Ghost had. Eleven players were approaching from the south.

But remarkably, that was not all I sensed.

Almost as soon as I became aware of the players, their analyze data scrolled through my mind.

The target is Tyelin, a level 260 human artful burglar and envoy of Blythe. His health and energy pools are at 100%, and he bears a Mark of Supreme Dark and Blythe. Tyelin is currently suffering no ill-effects and is buffed by...

The target is…

The target is…   

“Ah,” I exclaimed softly to myself. Not only did I know the players’ names, I knew their levels, Class, current status, and Power allegiance. Their primary faction, while not explicitly identified, was obvious too. They were Blades. 

“Trouble?” Ghost wondered. 

“I don’t think so,” I replied. While the players with the envoy were mostly higher-leveled than other Blades I’d met, none were elites. If Tyelin had intended on ambushing me, he would have brought at least a few rank twenty players to support him. “This must be part of the envoy’s ‘preparations.’” 

The party drew to a stop a respectful distance in front of me. “Tyelin,” I greeted.

The envoy nodded in acknowledgment. “I see your dealings with Nicola were a success,” he said, no doubt having already noticed that the Power Mark was gone from my spirit signature. 

“I got what I needed,” I agreed.

“Then you’re ready to work?” he asked brightly. 

“I am.” Running my gaze over the other silently-watching players, I nodded at Yara. She was the only one I’d met prior to this.

The orc scowled back. 

Ignoring her reaction, I addressed Tyelin again, “Why the escort?” 

“Raiding party—not escort,” he corrected. 

My gaze flickered over the Blades again, this time noting their dark clothing, loosened face masks, and blackened weapons. “We’re going to ambush a Rider patrol,” I surmised. 

Tyelin grinned. “That’s right, and in the confusion, we’ll substitute you with one of the Riders.” 

I nodded. It was a simple, if elegant, ruse. “I should not be the sole survivor,” I stated. 

“You won’t be,” Tyelin assured me. “From the Riders’ perspective the raid will be a failure. At least half of them and their companions will survive. You will be one of the unlucky ones, forced to walk back to the fort on foot.” 

“Then what?” I asked. 

Tyelin handed me a rolled parchment. “That is a map of the Rider base. The shortest route from the main gate to Jone is also marked. You will find him in the servant’s quarters on the ground floor. He doesn’t know you’re coming, but the code phrase you need is in there as well.” 

Unrolling the parchment, I perused the map. It contained an impressively detailed layout of the first two floors of the fort. Every room—including the demarcated safe zone area—was clearly labeled and described, and like Tyelin had said, a series of meaningless words were scribbled along the bottom. 

“How did you get this?” I asked curiously.

He laughed bitterly. “You forget. Sector 75,172 was once under our control. We built the fort.”

I nodded in appreciation. The map’s detail made sense now. There was one glaring omission though. “What about the third floor?” There was one, I knew that from observing the fort from afar.

Tyelin grimaced. “The Riders butchered it. What was once an elegant span of rooms is now a stable.” 

“A stable—? Oh. You mean for the hellbats.”

He nodded sourly.

Forgoing further comment, I stuffed the parchment in my pocket. “Thanks. This will help immensely.” 

“Make sure to memorize the map before we cross the river,” he added.

“I’ll do that.” I paused. “How do we communicate once we’re separated?”

Tyelin threw me a quizzical look. “We don’t,” he replied. “Once you’re inside the fort, you’re on your own.” 

I snorted. “That’s foolish.”

He stared at me. 

“What if I can’t find this Jone?” I asked. “What if he isn’t where you say he is? What of the other hundred odd things that could go wrong? In fact, I will be surprised if everything does go to plan.” I shook my head. “We should be prepared for the eventuality that things won’t go as we want.” I had had more than enough plans go awry to know that contingencies were necessary, essential even.

The envoy frowned, looking a little taken aback. “You’re right,” he conceded finally. “An oversight on my part.” Glancing at Yara, he waved her forward. “Give him a bracelet.” 

Wordlessly, the orc placed a thin slip of metal in my palm. 

This is a farspeaker bracelet. This item is 1 of 15 in a matched set of devices and will allow you to communicate through the aether with the other bearers while you both occupy the same sector. It has no minimum requirements to use.

“Satisfied?” Tyelin asked—a little bitingly, I thought—while I equipped the bracelet.

“Very,” I replied evenly.

“Good,” the envoy pronounced. “Then let’s move. We don’t have much time if we want to get into position before the patrol reaches the ambush spot.”

✵ ✵ ✵

Ghost has unmanifested. 

You have entered sector 75,172.

The Blade squad moved well. With Tyelin leading the way, they waded into the river, fording it with ease and managing to stay in formation the entire way. I followed a few steps behind, a part of—yet apart from—the group, observing everything but not interfering. The first stage of the envoy’s operation was clearly theirs to perform.

Ghost had unmanifested before we’d set off. None of the Blades knew about her, and I wanted to make sure it stayed that way. In the event that Tyelin betrayed me, the pyre wolf would make for an unpleasant surprise. 

It was not that I expected to be betrayed, but like I’d told the envoy, it would be foolish to believe everything would go as I hoped. I couldn’t see why the Blades would double-cross me, though. 

They had everything to gain if our venture succeeded and lots to lose if it didn’t. But admittedly, I didn’t know all the dynamics in the region, and perhaps Tyelin foresaw some hidden profit in duplicity. Or perhaps, he sees a way to both defeat the Riders and me, I mused. 

The Pact the envoy and I had formed did not guarantee my safety, after all. And from the Blades’ perspective, there was no downside to slaying me once they regained the sector.

If Tyelin is going to double-cross me, it will happen after Malikor is killed, I concluded. 

“What will you do if he does?” Ghost asked, listening in on my thoughts.

I smiled grimly. “Teach him the true cost of betrayal, I suppose.” 

A Wolf did not let his enemies go unpunished.

✵ ✵ ✵

It was just after midnight when Tyelin called a halt. “We’re here,” he declared.

Glancing around, I studied the terrain but saw nothing that set this spot of grassland apart from any other that we’d crossed in the last few hours. We had been traveling steadily north along the river, though. So, perhaps we’d finally reached the region the Riders’ patrols covered.

“Jasiah,” Tyelin called, “get down and stay out of sight.” He paused. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Ignoring his condescending tone, I shrugged and did as he asked.

You have activated a single-use enchantment, completely masking your scent for the next 4 hours.

You are hidden. Eleven neutral entities have failed to detect you!

The moment I vanished, the raiding party spread out and one by one duplicated my feat until only Tyelin was left standing in plain sight. Their concealment was better than the other Blades I’d encountered, and even after straining my senses, I failed to pick them out. 

An elite squad, I thought in grudging admiration. 

Surveying the area, the envoy nodded satisfactorily before crouching down beside me.

“What now?” I whispered.

He shrugged. “We wait. The Rider patrol is almost here.”

Uncertain how he could be so sure, I nevertheless held my counsel and settled down to observe the forthcoming ambush.

✵ ✵ ✵

Whatever the source of Tyelin’s knowledge, events bore him out. Not even a minute later, a V-shaped formation appeared on the horizon. The Rider patrol. Distant tiny specks though they were, I could nevertheless tell they were winging south along the river and heading in our general direction. 

But only in our general direction.

Judging from the enemy’s flight path, it seemed certain they would not overfly us. Bad planning or bad luck? I wondered. Still, I said nothing, waiting to see what Tyelin would do.

Almost a full minute after I’d spotted the Riders the envoy did so himself. “Incoming,” he cautioned, speaking through the farspeaker bracelet. Contrary to my expectations though, he gave no orders for the ambush party to relocate.

Assuming the whispered caution was not for my benefit alone—the other Blades had to be equipped with communication devices too—I waited for their reaction.

There was no audible or visible acknowledgement from the squad, but that did not mean they did not respond. Where before the players exuded only watchful intent, now the air was filled with a sudden keenness, a whiff of predatory intent that had my Wolf instincts prickling. The hunt was about to commence. 

And by all signs, the hunters appeared confident their quarry was within reach.

Thoughtfully, I turned my gaze skyward, wondering how Tyelin intended to bring the Riders down. The patrol was flying too high and too fast to be targeted from the ground.

It turned out, though, that doing so was unnecessary. 

Almost as soon as I completed the thought, the Rider patrol banked sharply, making straight for us. At first, I feared we’d been spotted, but no war cries cut the air, and the hellbats flew lazily, not hurriedly.

They’re going to land, I realized. And almost on top of us.

My prediction proved correct, and a little later, the ten hellbats hit the ground with a resounding thud—the closest less than thirty yards away. 

Multiple hostile entities have failed to detect you! You are hidden. 

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. Tyelin’s chosen ambush spot was no accident, and it implied much about his knowledge of the enemy’s movements. How many spies does he have in the Rider fort, I wonder?

“Make ready,” Tyelin commanded—somewhat unnecessarily.

The Riders, meanwhile, were dismounting.

“Jove, Troy, you’re on watch,” the patrol leader, a player named Mack, ordered. “Elly get the magelights up. The rest of you, see to the hellbats. We’re running behind schedule so we’re gonna have to cut our break short. Ten minutes, then we’re back in the air.”

Nine groans greeted this pronouncement. But the Riders complained no further as they set about their assigned tasks. Little did they know how close danger lurked.

“Yara, take your squad and circle left,” Tyelin ordered. “Mong, you have the right.” He paused. “Jasiah, you still with us?” 

Where else would I be? I wondered. “I am,” I replied evenly enough.

“Pick one,” the envoy instructed.

Knowing what he meant, I ran my gaze over the Riders again—as unnecessary as this was. Courtesy of my upgraded analyze, I already knew everything I needed to know about each player. 

“Troy,” I replied. He was one of the patrol’s two scouts. The human Rider wielded a shortbow not a sword, but I didn’t think an occasion would arise where my lack of skill with the weapon would trip me up. More importantly, Troy wore light armor, which meant even while wearing his face, I would not be completely without protection.

“Yara, Mong, you heard him,” Tyelin said. “See to it.”

“On it, boss,” Mong replied.

Sitting back—figuratively and literally—I got ready to watch the Blades work.