Grand Game 460: Something Untoward (Patreon)

Traveling by air, we reached the fort considerably quicker than either I—or Tyelin—originally anticipated, and I couldn’t help but wonder what this meant for the envoy’s schemes. If he was planning on launching an assault soon—which I suspected to be the case—then the Blade forces had to be badly out of place.

Tyelin must be scrambling to recover right now, I thought, unaccountably cheered by the thought.

It made no difference to my own mission, though.

My only objective was finding Jone, earning my Pact-guaranteed favor from Blythe, and leaving before the Blades could double-cross me. All of which I could still do—provided nothing further untoward happened.

As we neared the fort, Captain Dyl’s oversized patrol veered toward the roof, and just as I suspected, landed on it. “Dismount,” he ordered, the moment we touched down. “Lieutenant Hog,” he called to the Devil Rider officer waiting to greet us, “see that these six are taken directly to Command. Malikor wants a word with them.”

The lieutenant snapped off a salute. “I’ll escort them there myself, sir!”

Groaning internally, I slid off my hellbat ride. Contrary to my hopes, things looked like they were going from bad to worse. 

“This way,” Hog called, making for the large doors inset in the middle of the roof. With no other choice, I fell in line with the others and followed after the Rider lieutenant. For now, I had to stay in character, but once inside the fort, I would have to find a way to ‘get lost.’ No matter my confidence in my guise, I did not want to risk coming face to face with the Rider envoy.

Beyond the door was a short ramp which descended onto a wide, well-lit passage. Three narrow bands of metal stood a short distance beyond the ramp. Four feet apart from each other, they framed the corridor.

Those must be the Watchers. 

Reaching the first Watcher, Hog stepped through without pause. Mack followed, then the others. Finally, it was my turn. I dragged my heels, intent on analyzing the Watchers before I passed through. The lieutenant, however, noticed me slowing down. 

Whirling about, he pinned me with an unhappy glare. “Stop dawdling!” he snapped. “Didn’t you hear the captain? The envoy is waiting. Hurry up, damn you!”

Not wanting to attract further attention, I ducked my head and stepped forward. The others had passed through the Watchers without incident. I expected no less.

Watchers activated. Scans commencing…

…

…

You have passed a mental resistance check. 

You have passed a mental resistance check. 

You have failed a mental resistance check. 

Scans completed. The subject is wrapped in a tier 5 mimic spell and bears a Power Mark. 

Warning! Warning! Level 7 threat detected!

Uh-oh. 

My eyes wide with horror, I stumbled out of the last Watcher. This time, left reeling by my abrupt unmasking, my clumsy footing was no act. 

I curbed my rising dread. All is not lost, I thought desperately. They don’t know my name, not yet. No matter the cost, I have to—

“Blade!” Hog yelled, the accusation ringing sharply down the corridor.

“Blade—?” a confused Timmons asked. “Where?”

“Him?” Eric asked, glancing in the direction of Hog’s damning finger. “B-but… that’s Troy!”

Mimic was still in place, which was the reason for their confusion. The spell served little purpose now, though. I had been uncovered. Time to go. Ignoring the six Riders, I spun around.

Only to be greeted by the sight of the wide double doors leading to the roof slamming close.

Defensive wards triggered! Activating fort defenses…

Doors sealed. Alarm sounded. Tracker locked onto target.

Aether portals opened. Summoning commencing.

Hellfire dome raised. Duration: 4 hours.

Psi dampening field activated. Duration: 1 hour.

Communications locked down. Duration: 1 hour.

You are hell-tracked (location revealed to all nearby Devil Riders). Duration: 1 hour.

Well. This certainly counts as something untoward. 

Not only was I shut in the fort with who-knew-how-many Riders, but my mindsight had been snuffed out, and I’d been completely cut-off from my psi. Worse yet, for the next hour—assuming I survived that long—the enemy would know my every move.

There was no two ways about it. The mission was over.

“Get him!” Hog ordered.

Reminded by the lieutenant’s cry of the most immediate danger facing me, I spun back around. Luckily, it was only the six Devil Riders I had to contend with—for now.

Timmons, Gregor, and Eric were charging straight at me, while Hog, Mack, and Helen—archers all—were drawing back. Fortunately, or unfortunately, there were no spellcasters among the group.

I was undaunted, though. 

Even hampered as I was, taking down the six should not unduly strain me. Sidestepping to the left to place the broad-shouldered Gregor between me and the archers, I drew stamina.

You have cast vanish. You are invisible. Duration: 5 minutes. 

You are hidden. 

Gregor skidded to a halt. “Where’d he go?”

“He’s still there, right in front of you!” Mack shouted.

“Query the tracker, you fool!” Hog added for good measure.

“And get out of the damn way,” Helen snapped. “You’re blocking my shot!”

Ignoring the Riders’ comments, I stayed focused on Timmons and Eric. Both were still advancing, although they’d slowed their approach drastically. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford a slow, careful fight. More foes were bound to appear sooner or later. 

I have to end this quickly. 

Dashing forward, I held out my right hand. It was empty—I hadn’t had time yet to retrieve the gear I’d stored in my bag of holding. Still, there was one item that I could always summon to hand.

You have recalled the sword, faithful blade.

Armed, I closed the remaining distance to Eric. 

He knew I was there, but he couldn’t see me—or my blade. His face scrunched up in worry, the Rider raised his javelin defensively.

It did him no good. 

Circling around the slower-moving player, I thrust faithful through his leather-armored back.

You have backstabbed your target for 5x more damage!

You have killed Eric with a fatal blow.

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

As Eric fell, Timmons swiped at me from the left, but I was beyond the reach of his searching broadsword and barely needed to dodge the blow. At the same time, two of the three archers fired. 

Gregor, though, was still in the way.

You have evaded 3 hostile attacks.

“Ow!” Gregor cried. “You hit me!”

“Then stay out of my line of fire, you dumb ox!” Hog retorted.

I advanced on Timmons. He was better armored than Eric, but that meant little. Lunging blindly at me, the fighter swept his blade from left to right in a blow that would’ve cleaved me in two had it connected.

But it didn’t.

Ducking beneath the glittering length of steel, I came up inside the fighter’s guard and, once more, rammed faithful forward.

You have cast piercing strike.

You have backstabbed your target for 10x more damage!

Sharpened sword tip met thick armored steel plate—

—and plowed straight through. 

Even heavily armored fighters were no match for my blades anymore. 

You have killed Eric with a fatal blow.

An arrow whistled past. Throwing myself forward into a tumble, I bowled over Gregor who’d resumed his charge. With an outraged cry, the Rider fell on his face. Ignoring him, I kept rolling, building up momentum.

Another projectile hissed through the air, but it had been aimed too high and sailed harmlessly overhead.

“Shoot him!” Mack yelled. “He is coming this way!”

“I’ve tried!” Helen screamed. “That arrow passed right through his location.”

“Aim higher,” Hog ordered. “Or lower.”

But it was too late. I’d already closed the gap to the archers. Rising smoothly, I empowered my limbs with whirlwind and got to work.

Lunging forward, I punctured Mack’s gut. 

Wrenching the blade out, I pivoted on my back heel and decapitated Helen.

Spinning to a stop in front of Hog, I rammed faithful through his heart.

Like marionettes with their strings cut, the three collapsed. I turned around. Only one Rider remained standing. Gregor. But the fight had seeped out of him already. His eyes wide and unseeing, the Rider turned and fled. Grimly, I chased after. 

There could be no survivors.

✵ ✵ ✵

You have killed Gregor.

It did not take me long to run down the fighter. He’d fled in the wrong direction, after all. Hacking him down from behind, I wrenched out my bloodied blade and studied the still-sealed doors.

They didn’t look like they would be opening any time soon.

Not bothering to inspect the doors further, I moved onto option two: using a portal scroll to escape. Reaching into my pack, I retrieved one but, for a drawn-out second, just stared at it. 

The thing had cost a fortune, and given the wards and shields the Riders had activated around the fort, I was uncertain it would even work. But I had to try. And it was for emergencies like this that I had bought extra scrolls.

Here goes. Cracking open the seal binding the scroll, I drew on my magic. Yet even before I could begin feeding mana into the item, a Game message dropped into my mind.

Warning: the wards around this area prevent any unauthorized portals from being opened. You have failed to create a portal.

Item consumed. You have lost a greater portal scroll.

My lips thinned unhappily, but I couldn’t claim to be surprised by the Game’s response. I’d half expected it. Still, the scroll’s failure left me in a quandary. My mindsight was also dead, which meant I wouldn’t be shadow blinking out either. That left me with only one option. 

Fleeing deeper into the fort.

I sighed. Doing that while hell-tracked would make surviving difficult… if not impossible. I had to try though.

And the tracker spell was not infallible.

That much had become clear during the fight. While the Riders had known where I was, the tracking spell was not so precise as to betray my every movement. My ducks and rolls had fooled them. 

I can use that. 

Shouts and cries from further down the passage drew my attention. I didn’t have much time until the next group of Riders arrived. Still, there were a few preparations I could make. 

Reaching into my bag of holding, I withdrew my cloak and ebonheart. Putting on the rest of my gear would have to wait until later.

You have equipped the Cloak of the Reach and ebonheart.

“Ghost, I need you,” I said, the moment I was dressed. Thankfully, the defensive spells the fort had activated did not in any way impinge on the spirit bond with my familiar. I could still talk to her.

“What’s wrong?” the pyre wolf asked, sensing the urgency in my voice.

“We’re trapped in the fort,” I said, not elaborating. Further explanations could wait.

“Did the Blades betray you?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. It was a good question though. 

At least one of the Watchers on the roof doors had not been a tier five detection device as Tyelin had claimed. But had the envoy known that? After all, I’d not entered the fort through the main entrance like we’d planned. 

Still, I could see no reason why the roof doors would be better protected than the main entrance. If anything, the converse should be true.

“It is something I mean to ask Tyelin when we next speak,” I added. And there would be a next time, I vowed grimly.

“What do you need me to do?” Ghost asked, letting the matter drop.

I glanced down the corridor. Eight Riders—five mages and three fighters—had just appeared in sight. My vanish was still active and they couldn’t see me yet, but they knew I waited ahead and approached cautiously. 

What they didn’t know was that I wasn’t the only threat they had to contend with.