Grand Game 470: Rue the Day (Patreon)

You and Ghost have reached level 223!

Your insight has reached rank 24, your dodging rank 20, and deception rank 22.

You are hell-tracked. Remaining duration: 30 seconds.

You are psi dampened. Remaining duration: 30 seconds.

Ignoring the Game messages scrolling through my mind, I turned away from the downed aspect. On my right, a much-weakened Bulezu was being held down by a trio of Blades, while on my left Auris had joined Haiken.

Only half of the east force’s commander’s copies still remained, but, on their own, the four Haikens more than sufficed to keep the demon occupied while Auris dealt damage to the creature.

The other Blades had backed away, leaving the aspects to me and the elites—and me to them, I supposed. Some of the players whispered fearfully and others muttered angrily, but the lesser Blades did not concern me. 

The envoy did.

Feeling his eyes upon me, I glanced over my shoulder. Standing over the corpse of the fourth aspect, Tyelin was staring at me, his eyes narrowed to slits. I tensed, ready to ward off an assault, but the envoy made no attempt to attack, and I got the impression he’d been watching me for some time.

“RRR….EEEAA….DDY!”

At the distant shout carrying from beyond the north entrance, Tyelin’s head whipped around to study the open doorway. My own gaze flew in that direction too.

“WEAPONS! BUFFS! ADVANCE!”

It was the Riders. Malikor had finally come. And from the resounding thuds—the sound of marching feet—echoing above the shouted commands, I’d judged he’d brought every surviving Devil in the fort with him. 

Tyelin must have thought so too, because his face grew grave, but only for a split-second. The next instant, the envoy’s face smoothened into an expressionless mask.

My own brows drew down. Tyelin is concerned, but not scared. 

The envoy’s ploy with the traps had failed, but then, so too, in a sense, had Malikor’s with the demons. Neither traps nor demons had managed to inflict any meaningful damage on the opposing faction’s forces.

Tyelin must believe the odds still favor the Blades. But only barely. Else, he’d be more confident. The envoy’s gaze flickered back to me. “Truce?” he mouthed over the distance separating us. 

I stared back at him, not at all surprised by the offer. Circumstances had changed for Tyelin, and right now, he needed me more than he needed another adversary—which I surmised was why the Blades had not attacked me. 

But do I need the Blades?

For a heartbeat longer I held the envoy’s gaze even as the Riders marched closer. Did Tyelin spy the calculation in my gaze? 

Maybe. Probably. He was no fool. 

The envoy’s offer appeared genuine enough, but then so too had his prior overtures. And I was not in a forgiving mood. 

“No,” I called back and promptly faded into the shadows.

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

✵ ✵ ✵

Bimal has died.

The first thing I did was to cast vanish. The second thing was retreating to the southeast corner of the room. There, safely tucked away from prying eyes, I re-equipped the Cloak of the Reach.

“Wow,” Ghost remarked once communication was restored between us. “What is that?”

She meant Bulezu. The pyre wolf had spotted him the moment she could look through my eyes again. And truly, the red minotaur was hard to miss.

“One of Mammon’s demonic aspects,” I explained absently, my own gaze fixed on Tyelin.

The envoy’s eyes had tightened fractionally at my terse response before he’d turned away to spew out a slew of orders. Tyelin obviously had more important things to worry about than me lurking in the shadows. 

And for now, I, too, was content to let him be.

“How many demons did you kill?” Ghost asked. “I bet it was all of them!”

I smiled. “You’d lose that bet. I slew only the one. Two, if you count Bulezu, I suppose,” I replied. While the tentacle-wrapped aspect was still alive, he would go the way of the others soon enough. “But forget the demons. We’ve other things to concern ourselves with.” Stowing away my stygian blades, I re-equipped ebonheart and faithful. “The Riders are about to make an appearance.”

The pyre wolf’s interest sharpened. “Through the north entrance?” she guessed.

“Yes.”

I felt Ghost’s attention turn to the Blades and more specifically the distance I’d placed between me and them. “You’ve decided not to ally with Blythe’s people?”

I shrugged. “They’ve left me little choice in the matter. As much as I may wish otherwise, the Blades can’t be trusted. From here on out, we treat everyone in the room as hostile.”

“Got it. Kill everyone.”

I chuckled. “Not quite. The Blades may be untrustworthy, but they are still useful.”

“You have a plan then,” she said.

“I do. Here’s what we’ll do…” 

✵ ✵ ✵

I didn’t get to relay the entirety of my plan to Ghost. In fact, I’d barely begun explaining when the Game message I’d been waiting for for what seemed like an eternity finally arrived.

You are no longer hell-tracked or psi dampened.

A sigh crossed the chamber, echoing my own feelings on the matter. “At last,” I murmured in time with the seven hundred odd Blades in the storeroom, many of whom were voicing similar sentiments. They were no longer psi-dampened.

And nor was I.

“We’ll have to finish this later, Ghost,” I said. “My psi is back.”

She said nothing, understanding immediately.

Without further ado, I drew on my will and took care of my most immediate need—healing the damage I’d sustained from the slime tentacles.

 You have restored yourself with quick mend. Your health is at 79%. 

Around me, I sensed many Blades busy with their own psicastings, buffing themselves—or preparing attack spells.

“Kill the lights.”

My brows rose in surprise as Tyelin’s command hissed from the nearly-forgotten bracelet on my left arm. I was still connected to the envoy’s farspeaker network. 

Of course, I mused in belated realization. The spell preventing communications had been on the same timer as the psi dampening field, and it, too, had just fallen away. 

“Activate your night vision people,” Auris ordered aloud. She and Haiken had rejoined Tyelin and Lune at the north entrance. “Geck, douse the magelights.”

Does Tyelin remember that I still have this? I wondered. Listening with half an ear to the ongoing conversation, I kept psi casting.

“Bern, how much time do we have?” the envoy asked.

Bern had left the room. I’d known that the instant my mindsight had been restored. I knew too that the elite rogue was currently about a hundred yards north of my own position. He’s in the corridor, I guessed. 

“Two minutes,” Bern replied. “Maybe more. They’re marching slowly. Malikor doesn’t appear to be in a hurry.”

The estimate made sense because none of the Riders were within range of my mindsight yet.

“Two minutes to contact, everyone,” Auris repeated aloud, which I took to mean not all the Blades were fortunate enough to have their own farspeaker bracelets.

“The fool probably thinks he has us cornered,” Lune said, peering out the doorway.

“He’ll have placed a blocking force at the top of the shaft too,” Haiken said, not disagreeing.

Bern chortled. “Little does he know how we got in.”

“We’re not retreating,” Tyelin rasped, his voice cutting across the chatter. “And Bern, watch what you say. Don’t forget our visitor.”

You have fully restored yourself with quick mend.

“Sorry, boss,” the rogue said contritely. “Won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t,” the envoy said sharply. A pause. “Jasiah, you’re there?”

Huh, so he didn’t forget. 

“Jasiah?”

For a moment, I contemplated not responding, but there was more to be gained by talking to the envoy than there was in remaining silent and hoping the Blades would let something slip. 

“I am,” I said slowly even as I kept casting.

“Why did you refuse my offer?” Tyelin asked without preamble.

“Because you can’t be trusted,” I replied evenly.

“You’re still angry about earlier?” the envoy asked, affecting surprise. “This time will be different. This time it’s in my best interest to keep you alive and hurting the Riders for as long as possible.” 

I snorted, not bothering to reply.

You have cast enhanced reflexes, increasing your Dexterity by +16 ranks for 20 minutes. 

“What can I do to make you believe me?” he persisted.

“You can start by telling the truth,” I retorted bitingly. “Why did you send me here?”

“I needed someone to trigger the fort’s defenses,” Tyelin replied so promptly I knew he’d been expecting the question. “Someone who Malikor would not immediately associate with us, and someone who could keep the Riders distracted long enough for us to kill their hellbats.” Across the room, I saw him shrug. “You fit the bill perfectly.”

“That couldn’t be all of it, surely,” I objected. “When we first met, you put great stock in whether I was a Power or not. Why?”

“Blythe needed me to verify your Mark,” Tyelin replied. “Forcing you to demonstrate you truly were a Power through a Pact was the easiest way to do that.”

I frowned, not at all pleased by how cleverly I’d been manipulated. “And where is your Lady now?” I asked.

“Making sure Mammon doesn’t interfere with what goes on here. Believe me, that is for the best.”

Best for whom? I wondered. I didn’t pursue the matter further, though, and returned to the original topic of conversation. “Things didn’t quite end up the way you planned though, did they?” 

“No, they didn’t,” Tyelin admitted. “You were supposed to enter the fort through the ground floor. If you had, you would’ve faced the brunt of the Riders’ defenses, including the summons, and no doubt, died in the process—neatly taking care of the problem of you.” He shrugged again, almost apologetically this time. “You were too much of a wildcard to let live.”

I let his statement pass uncontested. “And all that nonsense about the cynacilin?” I asked casually. “Was any of it real? Does Jone even exist?” I already knew he did, of course, but confirming Jone’s existence wasn’t the purpose of the question.

Observing how Tyelin chose to respond was.

“Of course, he does,” the envoy replied, sounding almost offended at the implication that he didn’t. 

You have trigger-cast quick mend. 

“Really?” I asked skeptically.

“Really,” he replied. “The Pact demanded it. As for the rest… well, most of it was true.”

You have cast fortified mind.

“I knew it,” I began. “You’re a—” 

“Ty,” Bern interrupted. “Sorry to intrude, but its time to wind this up. The Riders are closing in on my position. Malikor has his mages upfront casting detection spells as well. I’m going to have to retreat.”

The rogue was not lying. A thick mass of mindglows had entered my mindsight only seconds ago and, as inexorable as a tide, were sweeping closer.

“Final chance, Jasiah,” Tyelin pronounced. “Are you with us or not?”

“Not,” I replied bluntly, rebuffing him for a second time. 

“But I’m not against you,” I allowed a moment later to soften the blow. “I will not kill any of your people until you’re done reclaiming the sector.”

Tyelin sighed. “Good enough, I suppose.” Then, turning his back on me—literally and figuratively—he ushered his commanders closer. “Places everyone. Time to make the Riders rue the day they stole this sector from us.”