Grand Game 60-69 (Patreon)

Chapter 60: A Question of Trust

I took my time.

Bowing my head, I considered the options before me. Having listened to Morin’s people’s tale, I knew I had nothing to fear from them. They might or might not be trustworthy, but they were certainly no threat. Even if the candidates did their damnedest, given their levels they could not stop me from sneaking away if I wished.

Saben’s gang was a danger though. But with Morin’s people serving as a distraction, the gang likely wouldn’t budge from their encamped position for some time yet.

So running away and leaving the two groups to sort out their mess was an option. And a good one, the cautious part of me emphasized.

A second option would be to help, but only minimally. I could open the locked doors and let the trapped candidates escape Saben’s blockade that way. It had the advantage of keeping me out of danger while at the same time ensuring my own conscience remained clean. The biggest risk I’d face would be losing all the loot still sitting in the goblin tunnel complex.

But option two was a half-measure only. While Morin’s people didn’t know it yet, escaping through the locked door was not going to do them much good.

There were other considerations, too.

Like where did I go from here? By my recollection, there was only one area of the dungeon I still had to explore: the tunnel with the trolls. According to Gnat, the creatures were at least of the second rank, which made them a threat to be reckoned with. I could attempt to sneak past the trolls, but I didn’t relish leaving the creatures alive behind me, and without magic of my own, I could see no way to kill them.

Then there was information. It was something I sorely lacked. It had not escaped my notice that Morin and her people seemed to understand more of this world’s workings than I did. After all, they had been here for many weeks longer.

The safe zone itself was another consideration. If I ran, but needed to return, I did not want to find a hostile and powerful force—like Saben’s—in control.

Lastly, there was the gang itself. While I was skeptical of some parts of Morin and Tantor’s tale, I had witnessed the behavior of Saben’s crew with my own eyes. My mind replayed the memory of the prisoners being beaten. Whatever doubts I might harbor about Morin’s people, I was certain Saben was a menace. And I could not ignore the fact that the gang must have amassed a fortune by now. The plunder will be rich.

So. Securing magical aid. Safeguarding the safe zone. Information. Rescuing the prisoners. And loot. Five good reasons to do more.

I sighed, realizing what I was contemplating. There was a third option: not just giving Morin’s people a way out, but helping them defeat Saben.

Option three would not be without risks of its own though.

I knew very little of Morin’s people. Their attitude up to this point left much to be desired, and while I could chalk up most of their anger and rudeness to fear and suspicion, I did not know enough about them to judge who they really were beneath their prickly exterior.

They could attempt to betray me the first opportunity they got. They could be as evil as the Master claimed. But I put little stock in the Master’s words anymore, and I backed myself to escape any attempted treachery.

I raised my head and met Morin’s gaze. Her eyes had never left me. I considered all the ramifications of what I was planning again. I was certain it could be done, but much would depend on the painted woman’s people.

I don’t need to trust them. I only need to be able to work with them.

I reached a decision. “I did not slip past Saben’s people.”

“I knew it! He is one of them,” Sigmar crowed. He glanced at Morin. “Let me question him. I’ll get the truth out of him.”

The painted woman waved him to silence. “You know the Game won’t allow that, not in the safe zone.”

Sigmar’s remarks and his particular emphasis on questioning disturbed me, but I ignored him and kept my gaze fixed on Morin. “I entered the safe zone through the opposite tunnel—the one behind the barred metal gate.”

Sigmar sputtered. “Impossible,” he finally managed to get out. “The door is locked. You’re lying!”

Tantor gave a sad shake of his head. “My people checked the door again after you were spotted. It remains locked. Sigmar is right. You aren’t telling us the truth.”

Morin said nothing. With her hands folded in her lap, she waited patiently for my explanation.

I reached into my backpack. “It’s locked,” I agreed, “because I locked it behind me.” I held out the magical key. “With this.”

In stunned shock, five pair of eyes fixed on the key in my hands.

“Where did you get that?” Morin whispered, sounding breathless.

“From the goblin chief,” I said.

She stared at me blankly.

I waved away the matter. “I’ll explain later. The important thing is that the sector’s exit portal lies beyond the metal door, but I don’t advice using it, because—”

“You’ve found the sector exit?” Morin asked disbelievingly. “Do you realize what this means?”

“Err…” I frowned. “No?”

The others had also sat up, new excitement shinning on their faces. “The goblin chief you mentioned,” Tantor asked abruptly, “was he by any chance the sector boss?”

“Uhm, I think so,” I said, not sure what had gotten them so worked up. I hadn’t even gotten to the most important part of what I wanted to tell them.

“I don’t believe it! The lad has cleared the sector,” Bornholm bellowed.

“Impossible,” Sigmar muttered again.

I looked at them mystified. “I don’t understand.”

“Every dungeon sector has a single boss,” Morin explained. She was smiling I saw, and tears glistened in her eyes. “Defeating the boss is always the final challenge.” She paused. “You’ve opened the way for the rest of us to exit the dungeon, Michael. Thank you.”

Seeing that my face remained furrowed in confusion, she asked gently, “Did your familiar not tell you?”

“No,” I murmured. “He did not.”

“Let’s not get excited just yet,” Sigmar muttered sourly. “After all, he may be lying.”

“Why would he lie?” Bornholm demanded. “And besides, he has the bloody key!”

“How did he get the key without buying it from the damned merchant?” Sigmar countered.

My eyes shot to Morin looking for an explanation for Sigmar’s puzzling statement.

“We all recognize the key in your hand, because there is an identical one for sale at one of the merchants,” she said. “We’ve known for some time now that the locked door leads to the next stage of the sector, but even collectively we haven’t been able to come up with enough money to purchase the key.”

I nodded. “How much does it cost?”

“Twenty gold,” she replied.

I winced.

“How did you get to the region beyond the door?” Morin asked.

I glanced at her. There was no hint of suspicion on her face. She was asking out of simple curiosity. I shrugged. Seeing no reason to lie, I explained how I reached the goblin’s tunnel-complex.

“He found a backdoor,” Tantor marveled.

“Sounds like it,” Bornholm agreed.

“What happened to your team?” Decalthiya asked. It was the first words she had spoken in a while.

I stared at her. “My team?”

She nodded. “Did the goblin chief kill them?” When I didn’t answer immediately, her gaze sharpened. “Or did you abandon them?”

I shook my head. “I have no team. I’ve made my way through the dungeon alone.”

Another hush descended at my words, and even Morin looked startled.

“Yeah, right,” Sigmar scoffed, breaking the silence.

“It’s true,” I said, holding his gaze.

“You expect us to believe you killed the sector boss and a few dozen goblins—all on your own?” he asked, his words dripping with skepticism.

“It was seventy.”

“What?” he asked, baffled.

“There were seventy goblins in the tunnel complex, give or take a few.”

“And you claim to have killed all of them?” Tantor asked quietly.

“I do,” I said.

The conviction in my words, more than anything else, seemed to sway them—everyone except Sigmar of course.

“Then the way to the surface is open,” Decalthiya said, her eyes shining. “We’re free.”

I shook my head. “No, you’re not.”

Chapter 61: A Bold Proposition

The half-giant turned slowly to face me. “Why not,” she demanded.

“I wasn’t able to use the exit portal. None of you will be able to do so either without a Dark Mark,” I said. I explained what had happened when I had attempted to pass through and the way the Marks worked, managing to do so without making any mention of the wolves or the fact that I myself was Marked. “I’m sorry, but you’re stuck here,” I concluded. “We all are.”

“Damn the Master,” Bornholm cursed. “I knew it! He has rigged the bloody game.”

Morin closed her eyes and squeezed her hands together to hide the faint tremor to them. “So, now we know his end game,” she murmured to herself.

Decalthiya was frowning. “I don’t get it.”

“If what Michael says is true, the only sure way for any of us to get a Dark Mark is to adopt a Dark Class,” Tantor explained. “To leave the dungeon, we must forgo the other paths. The Master is trying to force us to follow only the Dark,” he concluded.

I didn’t say anything, but I had reached much the same conclusion myself. In hindsight, it seemed obvious that the Master had been manipulating us ever since we entered the Game. First, with all his talk of us being evil, and then with how he had pitted the candidates against each other.

It was equally clear that the Master’s minions—Gnat and Stayne included—were also part of the scheme. I wasn’t certain how I was going to deal with my familiar yet, but I was sure of one thing: I would not fall prey to the Master’s ploy. I was determined not to give him the satisfaction. One way or the other I would escape the dungeon without becoming sworn to the Dark.

What I still had to figure out, though, was how I was going to eventually escape.

Morin opened her eyes. She seemed to have regained her equilibrium. “All is not lost,” she said, studying each one of her companions in turn. “We have a chance now. We can make our way through the goblin tunnel-complex and to the trolls’ lair. Beyond them, perhaps we can find another exit from the sector.” Despite her words, Morin did not sound very optimistic.

“You should do that,” I agreed. “I plan on doing the same myself.” I breathed in deeply. “But before we go down that path, I propose we try something different first.”

Morin looked at me questioningly.

“We take out Saben’s gang,” I declared.

The others did not react as I expected. Sigmar laughed, Decalthiya bowed her head, Morin refused to meet my gaze, and Tantor shook his head.

“We cannot lad,” Bornholm said sadly. “No one wants to end Saben’s brutal reign more than me. But the bastard has a core of two dozen hardened warriors and wizards, his so-called ‘elites.’ They’re all at rank one, and armed to the teeth. Even though our numbers are greater, to attack them without any gear is suicide.”

I smiled. “Who said anything about doing this without equipment?”

Five pair of eyes jerked towards me, equally startled.

“There are some seventy dead goblins in the tunnel-complex,” I said. “All wearing hide armor and carrying weapons of one sort or the other. Not perfect equipment I admit, but I dare say, good enough to outfit most of you for an assault?”

The despair filling the tent gave way to something else: hope.

Bornholm rose to his feet, his eyes wide and his nostrils flaring. “Don’t toy with me, lad,” he breathed. “Are you serious? You will share your loot with us?”

I nodded.

The dwarf studied my face for a wordless moment. Finding whatever he searched for, he threw back his head and roared, “Then by god, let’s do this!” Not waiting for his companions, he stomped out of the tent, bellowing for the other candidates to gather.

After an astonished second, Decalthiya clamped a hand to my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “Thank you, little man.” Then she, too, rose to her feet and ducked out of the tent.

~~~

The rest of Morin’s inner circle, including Morin herself, took more convincing.

In the end, the trio agreed to withhold judgement until they saw the loot I spoke off themselves. I expected nothing less from Sigmar, and Tantor seemed the cautious type, but I was surprised by Morin’s reticence. I thought she would’ve jumped at the opportunity I presented.

Perhaps she has already lost hope, or what I offer seems too good to be true.

But despite her doubts, Morin was quick to act. “Tantor, set a squad to guard the north tunnel entrance,” she ordered as the four of us left the tent. “I suspect Bornholm had been less than discrete with whom he has chosen to share Michael’s information.”

“On it,” Tantor said, and hurried away.

I looked at Morin curiously.

Catching my gaze, she said, “Saben’s people periodically conduct forays into the safe zone.” She made a face. “And some of our people have also been known to... switch sides. On the two previous occasions we assaulted his camp, Saben caught wind of our plans early, and was ready and waiting for us. We can’t risk that happening this time. Whether we flee or attack, Saben must not know what we are about.”

I nodded, appreciating her caution.

“Why are you doing this?” Morin asked suddenly.

I glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

“Pointing the way out to us is one thing, but to give us all your loot?” She eyed me speculatively. “You don’t seem the altruistic type.”

“Firstly, I’m not giving you all my loot, I’ve already taken the best bits,” I said. “Secondly, I expect what I’ll gain in return from Saben’s gang will be well worth it.” I spread my arms wide to encompass the gathering candidates, “All of this, arming your people, call it an investment.”

“So it’s all about the loot?” she asked, a note of disappointment creeping into her voice.

“Of course,” I said lightly. I wasn’t ready to divulge all my reasons to her yet. “What else is there?”

The painted woman only shook her head. Turning around to Sigmar, she said, “Gather everyone at the locked door.”

“Everyone? Are you sure?” Sigmar asked.

“I am,” she said.

“Alright,” he replied and strode away, but not before muttering under his breath. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Morin smiled—a trifle sadly, I thought. “I hope so too,” she said, before turning back to me. “Come, let’s head towards the gate. The others will meet us there.”

I fell into step with the painted woman, and for a moment we walked in silence. Passing candidates recognized Morin and saluted or nodded respectfully.

“Why do they follow you?” I asked eventually, gesturing to the candidates around us.

Morin shrugged. “I don’t know. I never set out to lead them, it just happened. My own group was one of the few to have had any success against Saben’s thugs. After we fought off his gang’s initial attempts to capture us, other candidates joined us, seeking safety in numbers.” She sighed. “But Saben was always one step ahead, and eventually, we too fell victim to his gang and ended up here.”

I frowned. “But how did Saben get so strong that he managed to overcome so many?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Morn murmured. “Some think he must’ve found an overpowered item.”

I noticed her choice of phrasing. “But you don’t believe that?”

“Saben has abilities that no other candidate possesses. He rarely fights himself, but when he does, the effect is devastating. I think he has a master Class.”

I whistled appreciatively. “A master Class. Found one early on, did he?”

Morin shook her head. “You mistake me. I’m sure he entered the dungeon with the Class.”

I looked at her sharply. “How?”

“I think Stayne gave it to him,” she said.

I narrowed my eyes, considering the implications. If what Morin suspected was true, then Stayne and the Master had fixed the game even more than I’d expected.

Am I doing the right thing? I wondered. If Stayne had gone to all the trouble to give Saben a master Class, then I didn’t think he would have stopped there. What other surprises would the gang leader have up his sleeves?

It begged the question: was attacking Saben’s camp wise? Perhaps not, I admitted, but it will upset the Master’s plans. It was another reason for venturing down the path I had chosen, and one that only occurred to me now. Everything else aside, I realized that I relished the idea of spoiling the Master’s plans.

I had been manipulated. And I hated it.

And it was time, I got back a little of my own.

Chapter 62: Outfitting an Army

You have left a safe zone.

The moment, Morin and I exited the crater, two small white figures dropped out of the darkness to alight on our shoulders.

I turned to look at my familiar. “Welcome back,” I said and left it at that.

Gnat bobbed his head. “Making friends, are we?” he asked, gesturing towards the painted woman.

I shrugged and didn’t say anything. I glanced at Morin and saw that her familiar was whispering in her ear. I wondered what it was that he was telling her. I hadn’t yet discussed the matter of the familiars with the other candidates, and I wasn’t sure yet how far Morin trusted her own.

When we drew closer to the locked metal door, I saw Decalthiya and Bornholm were standing outside it with a dozen candidates. They congregated around the entrance, and looked up at our approach. Morin muttered something under her breath about hasty half-giants and impatient dwarves, and hurried ahead. I followed more slowly in her wake.

As I reached the door, a sheepish looking Decalthiya and Bornholm began ordering the waiting candidates into disciplined ranks.

“Go ahead,” Morin said, gesturing me to the door. Setting the key in the lock, I turned it and pushed open the door.

“Urgh, that smells awful,” someone said from behind.

I wrinkled my own nose. Whoever had spoken was right. I hadn’t noticed it before, but the smell of death hung heavy in the air. I stepped over the threshold and without paused hurried down the passage. “Follow me,” I called over my shoulder to the others.

Reaching the second door, I glanced around. Everything was exactly as I had left it. Spotting the bodies of the six guards I had slain, I picked one whose armor appeared mostly intact and knelt by his side.

Morin and the others hadn’t reached the door yet. “Come on in,” I yelled and began tugging the goblin’s armor off. It smelled horrible and was covered in gore, but appeared useable.

I had just managed to remove the goblin’s gloves when I heard the approach of tentative footsteps. Looking up, I saw it was Morin. “You see,” I said, gesturing to the corpses. “I wasn’t lying. Six sets of armor and weapons right at the door, and there’s plenty more farther in.”

Morin didn’t say anything.

“What?” I asked, sensing her unease.

“I can barely see a thing,” she said. “How can you?”

“What do you mean, its—”

I broke off. To my sight, the passage was brightly lit as if under a noon day sun. But it wasn’t, I realized. My new nightstalker trait was enhancing my vision. It worked so seamlessly, I hadn’t even perceived any difference in the lighting between the safe zone and this passage.

But how will I be able to find shadows to hide in if I can’t see them? Triggered by the thought, my vision darkened, restoring the passage’s familiar murkiness.

Nocturnal sight disabled.

Remarkable, I thought and reactivated the trait. At a muttered oath from behind, I turned around. Decalthiya had stubbed her toe on an outcropping—much to Bornholm’s amusement.

The dwarf was the only one in the group besides me that was not struggling to see. I glanced at Morin again. She was still looking expectantly in my direction. Instead of answering her, I reached into my backpack and withdrew the magic lamp.

Moonstone lamp activated. Three hours of light remaining.

White light flooded the passage and the others gasped in relief. A chortling Bornholm walked up to me. “You must have a bit of dwarf in you to see so well in the dark, lad,” he said. There was a twinkle to his eyes, but there was also a hint of a question in his tone too.

I shrugged and turned back to the goblin, using it as an excuse to avoid discussing the matter. I was prepared to work with the other candidates, but I wasn’t yet ready to share all my secrets. Stripping off the creature’s armor, I cleaned and equipped it.

You have equipped a set of primitive goblin hide armor. This item set reduces the physical damage you sustain by: 10%, and penalizes your Magic and Dexterity by: 50%. Each rank you achieve in the light armor skill will reduce the penalty incurred by: 5%.

Current modifiers: -5 ranks in Dexterity. Dexterity skills and abilities limited to rank 4.

I grimaced. My Dexterity had been halved. It was a good thing my dexterity-based skills were still too low to be affected, but I felt notably clumsier. The meagre ten percent physical damage reduction was not worth the penalties, but I didn’t remove the armor. I needed to train my light armor skill, and the only way I could do that was by wearing the armor.

I looked around. Bornholm and Decalthiya were supervising the other candidates while they looted the five remaining corpses, and Morin was watching me. “I owe you an apology,” she said.

I frowned. “What for?”

“This,” Morin said, gesturing to the corpses. “I thought at best, you were stretching the truth, or at worst, leading us into a trap.” She bent down and picked up a fallen spear. “I see now that you weren’t.”

I looked at her curiously. “How can you be sure there isn’t an ambush waiting for you around the next corner?”

“Saben has been hankering to get his hands on me for ages.” She smiled. “It’s why I accompanied you personally. If he was lying in wait nearby, he wouldn’t have been able to resist the chance to grab me. His trap would have sprung by now.” She twirled the spear in her hand. “Besides, whatever else Saben is, he is not careless. He wouldn’t let my people arm themselves before attacking.”

I blinked, processing her response. “So… you used yourself as bait?”

She laughed. “You could say that.”

I nodded slowly. I would do well not to underestimate Morin, I realized. She appeared to be a canny leader. And one not averse to taking risks. “Then do we go ahead with the attack?”

The painted woman studied me a moment. “We do,” she affirmed, then glanced down the passage. “How many chambers are there in this section?”

“A few dozen,” I answered. “Including a great hall at the far end.”

“Hmm, it will take us awhile to loot everything,” Morin said. “What do you wish to keep for yourself?”

I hesitated, feeling a momentary twinge of regret for all the loot I was handing over. But I knew it was necessary to better our chances in the coming conflict. Besides, I consoled myself, anything I sacrifice here, I am sure to make up once we defeated Saben. “Nothing,” I said.

Morin’s eyes widened slightly. “Nothing? You’re sure?”

“Nothing except the goblin chief’s equipment,” I said firmly. “The rest is yours.”

“Thank you,” Morin said gravely. “I know we have been less than gracious to you so far.”

I smiled wryly. That was an understatement, but I didn’t say anything.

“Perhaps it is this world, or perhaps it is just the Master’s realm,” Morin continued. “After weeks amongst the followers of the Dark, all of us have learnt to harden our hearts and be wary of strangers.” She held my gaze. “It’s no excuse, I know, but don’t judge us too harshly. Whatever happens from here on out, know that I will not forget your generosity,” she promised.

I waved off her words, slightly ashamed. My motives in doing this weren’t all that pure. “I do have two conditions though.”

Morin raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Your people trade with Hamish for any items they wish to sell or buy,” I said. “I owe him a favor.”

Morin nodded. “That we can certainly do. What’s your second condition?”

“I need someone to help me haul the chief’s gear back to the safe zone.” My eyes roved over the candidates, before coming to rest on the half-giant. “Will you lend me Decalthiya for the task?”

Morin chuckled. “That will please her to no end, I’m sure.”

~~~

A little later, Decalthiya and I left the others behind and made our way to the great hall.

As Morin had guessed, the half-giant was not best pleased to be used as my mule. I let her sputtered protests wash over me. After all, it was only the mildest of rebukes for her earlier behavior.

We entered the great hall, and Decalthiya broke off midstream as she surveyed the carnage revealed by the moonstone lamp. She looked at me with new respect. “You did all this?”

I nodded mutely, shocked myself as for the first time I beheld the full scope of the destruction I had waged in the chamber. Almost, I turned off my nocturnal vision at the sight.

Shaking off my impulse, I tugged the half-giant forward. “Come on, the chief is this way.”

We stopped at the fallen boss’ side and Decalthiya circled the corpse. “Big bugger, isn’t he?” she remarked.

He was, but then again, so was the half-giant. In fact, the two were nearly of matching size. “You think you can carry all his gear?”

Decalthiya nodded “I can.” She made a face. “But removing everything will be messy work.” Her eyes fell on the greatclub. Picking it up, she whipped it idly through the air. “Nice weapon,” she grunted.

I eyed the half-giant twirl the massive weapon as if weighed nothing. I had barely been able to pick it up, I recalled. “Uhm, you have the greatclub weapon skill?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.

Decalthiya grinned at me. “Nope.”

“Then, how—”

She chuckled. “I’m an armsmaster.”

I stared at her blankly.

“It is a melee specialist Class,” the half-giant explained. “It comes with a trait that allows me to wield any melee weapon or equip any armor, but at significant skill penalty.”

My mouth dropped open. “Wow. Is that a master Class?”

Decalthiya threw back her head and laughed. “No, it’s a blended Class.” she said when her humor subsided.

I frowned. “A what?”

“You don’t know?” she asked, surprised. Her gaze flitted to the familiar on my shoulder. “Tell him,” she ordered.

Gnat glared at the half-giant, but didn’t object to her request. “Classes aren’t static in the Game. They can meld or evolve, although the later rarely occurs,” the skeletal bat said. “Melding happens when a candidate finishes configuration of at least two of his Classes. If synergies exist between the paths in question, the Game will offer the candidate a blended Class to replace the original ones. And before you ask,” Gnat said, seeing the question on my face, “a blended Class is always superior to the originals.”

“That’s right,” Decalthiya agreed. “Bi-blends are common. The real trick to Class selection, though, is achieving a tri-blend: a meld of three synergistic paths. While tri-blends are not exactly rare, they are said to be difficult to achieve.”

“I see,” I said, digesting this sudden wealth of information. I glanced at Gnat. “Why didn’t I know all this?”

He snickered. “You didn’t ask?”

I scowled at him before turning back to the half-giant. On impulse, I analyzed her again.

The target is Decalthiya, a level 8 sun half-giant. This entity is a player. Your insight has increased to level 2.

Once again, the Game revealed no information as to her Class, but at least I had gained a level in the insight skill this time. I chewed my lip in consideration. “So, you can use the greatclub?” I asked Decalthiya.

She nodded.

“What about the armor? Can you use it, too?”

The half-giant eyed the chief’s frame. “It looks to be the right size.”

I sighed. I had been so looking forward to finding out how much Hamish would give me for the gear, but alas, it was not to be.

“Then, they’re all yours,” I said.

Chapter 63: Preparing for War

Decalthiya didn’t believe me, not the first time, or the second time. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, or for me to retract my offer.

I had to repeat myself a whole five times before she finally took me at my word. It was sad really, and made me think harder on what Morin had said earlier. Perhaps the weeks spent living amongst self-declared followers of evil had affected the candidates more than I’d thought.

Once Decalthiya got over her shock though, she wasted no time in equipping the items. While I waited for her, I closed my eyes and attended to my player growth. It had been a while, since I’d seen to my player profile.

I had three unspent attribute points, and given the penalties I incurred from my armor, decided to advance my Dexterity one rank. The remaining two points, I used to increase my Constitution.

Your Dexterity has increased to rank 10. Current modifiers: -5 ranks in Dexterity. Dexterity skills and abilities limited to rank 5.

Your Constitution has increased to rank 3.

It had become clear to me that I would have to start investing more heavily in Constitution. Not only would it allow me to withstand more blows in combat, but given the pre-requisites I now knew some items had, I needed to make sure that if I did come across any better light armor, I was in a position to use it.

After the changes were made, I reviewed my player data.

Player Profile: Michael

Level: 18. Rank: 1. Current Health: 100%.

Stamina: 100%. Mana: 100%. Psi: 100%.

Species: Human. Lives Remaining: 3.

Marks: Wolf-friend, Lesser Shadow, Lesser Light.

Attributes

Available: 0 points.

Strength: 2. Constitution: 3. Dexterity: 10. Perception: 8. Mind: 4. Magic: 0. and Faith: 0.

Classes

Primary Class: Nightstalker (advanced).

Secondary Class: Psionic (advanced).

Tertiary Class: None.

Traits

Undead familiar: +1 to necromancy rank.

Wolven: +2 Dexterity, +2 Strength.

Beast tongue: can speak to beastkin.

Metamind: +4 Mind.

Marked: can see spirit signatures.

Nocturnal: perfect night vision.

Skills

Available skill slots: 1.

Dodging (current: 23. max: 100. Dexterity, basic).

Sneaking (current: 36. max: 100. Dexterity, basic).

Shortswords (current: 31. max: 100. Dexterity, basic).

Two weapon fighting (current: 26. max: 100. Dexterity, advanced).

Light armor (current: 1. max: 30. Constitution, basic).

Thieving (current: 1. max: 100. Dexterity, basic).

Chi (current: 1. max: 40. Mind, advanced).

Meditation (current: 15. max: 40. Mind, basic).

Telekinesis (current: 1. max: 40. Mind, advanced).

Telepathy (current: 5. max: 40. Mind, advanced).

Insight (current: 2. max: 80. Perception, basic).

Abilities

Crippling blow (Dexterity, basic).

Simple charm (Mind, basic).

Stunning slap (Mind, basic).

Basic analyze (Perception, basic).

Known Key Points

Sector 14,913 exit portal and safe zone.

Equipped

1 common thief’s cloak (+3 sneaking).

2 basic steel shortswords (+10% damage each).

1 common fighter’s sash (+3 shortswords).

goblin hide armor set (+10% damage reduction, -5 Dexterity).

Backpack Contents

Money: 0 gold, 2 silvers, and 1 copper.

29 x field rations.

2 x flask of water.

1 x minor healing potions.

2 x iron daggers.

1 x bedroll.

6 x moderate healing potions.

1 x coin pouch.

1 x keyring.

3 x full healing potions.

1 x basic fire-starting kit.

1 x moonstone lamp.

1 x Catalog of Skills and Abilities.

I rubbed at my chin as I reviewed my Classes and skills. In light of what Decalthiya had explained, I couldn’t help but worry that I might have erred in absorbing the psionic Class. Synergies, I mused. It was a fairly cryptic requirement. Would the Game see any synergies between my two existing Classes? I had no idea.

I sighed. My selection of primary and secondary Classes had been completed, and they either melded together when I chose my final psionic Class skill—or they didn’t. There wasn’t much I could do to alter my path with respect to them now.

How I do choose my final Class though?

What path did I need to follow to ensure that it synergized with my existing ones? And how important was achieving a tri-blend anyway?

I sighed again. There was still so much about the Game that I didn’t understand. Hamish and Morin’s people could perhaps help me fill in the gaps in my knowledge. But first I had to ascertain if I could trust them. When we are done with this war, I thought, then, I will see what more I can learn of the Game’s Classing system.

I opened my eyes. Decalthiya was dressed and waiting. Beholding the half-giant, I knew I had made the right choice in gifting her the chief’s equipment. In the spiked half armor and wielding the greatclub, Decalthiya looked downright scary.

I rose to my feet. “Care to spar?”

Decalthiya snorted. “You’re not thinking of increasing your light armor skill that way, are you?”

That was exactly what I’d been hoping to do, but seeing her expression, my face fell. “It won’t work?”

She shook her head. “Most combat skills only increase when you are in actual danger. Somehow the Game always seem to know when that is.”

“Ah well,” I said, disappointed. “Let’s go see how the others are doing then.”

~~~

When we got to the main passage, we found that Sigmar and the rest of the candidates had arrived. Morin had formed them up into a chain that stretched all the way back to the grey merchant.

Much to my amazement, the candidates were stripping the goblin tunnel-complex bare—not just of armor and weapons, but of everything not bolted down, including hides, cages, chairs, furs, and utensils. It was a more mammoth endeavor than I expected, but Morin had the people to do it.

On catching sight of Decalthiya’s new gear, Morin nodded approvingly at me, but was too busy directing the looting operation to join us.

The painted woman, I saw, was dressed in hide armor and wielding a goblin spear. Sigmar was similarly dressed, but carried a longsword. Bornholm had no armor, though he had a warhammer strapped across his back.

“What is Bornholm’s Class?” I asked Decalthiya.

“He’s a steadfast defender,” she answered. “It’s a bi-blend Class focused on defense.” She paused. “Poor Bornholm. He is lost without his shield and armor.”

I winced. Decalthiya was right. Without the correct gear, the dwarf would be of limited use in the upcoming battle. Something else was bothering me though. “How have you and Bornholm managed to fill your skill slots so quickly?”

Decalthiya brows crinkled. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve barely managed to loot enough skillbooks to complete a single Class, but from the sounds of it, you and Bornholm have fully configured two of your Classes.”

Decalthiya chuckled. “Oh, it’s not just Bornholm and me. I’d reckon about half the candidates in the safe zone have twelve or more skills already.”

My eyes grew round. “Really? How—”

“It’s because of the loot we found in the first three legs of the dungeon,” the half-giant said. “The chests in those stages were overflowing with skillbooks, and to a lesser extent Class stones.” Her humor faded. “A lot of candidates got themselves needlessly killed fighting over the books.” She fell silent for a moment before continuing. “Anyway, early on skillbooks were not in short supply, and by one means or the other, most of us were able to get the ones we needed.”

“I see,” I said. It seems that delaying my own entrance into the dungeon had cost me more than I’d realized.

“Don’t feel bad,” Decalthiya said, seeing the glum look on my face. “You may have missed out on the skillbooks, but you got something else even more precious.”

I looked at her in surprise.

“Experience,” she said. “I couldn’t figure it out at first, but after seeing the corpses in the great hall, I’ve realized why you are so much higher levelled than the rest of us: you’ve gone at it alone.” The half-giant leaned forward. “Early on in the dungeon, there were so many candidates about that I could barely get a blow in edgewise. Kills were hard to come by and my skills barely advanced. Matters improved the farther we ventured, but it was always a struggle to keep other candidates from encroaching on our kills.”

She met my gaze. “You may have fewer skills than the rest of us, but you’ve clearly gained levels faster, and I suspect the skills you do have, are much higher-ranked than mine.”

I nodded thoughtfully. What Decalthiya said made sense. I had underestimated the big fighter it seemed. She was more perceptive than I had realized. “What about the others?” I asked. “What are their Classes?”

“Morin is a druid, Tantor a battlemage, and Sigmar an inquisitor,” the half-giant said, seeming to have no qualms about sharing the information.

My brows flew up. “An inquisitor?” Of the three, I found Sigmar’s Class to be the most surprising. I studied Morin’s human lieutenant again. “Isn’t that some sort of priest Class? Does that mean he has a god to whom he is beholden?”

Decalthiya shook her head. “Not yet. Sigmar says he has to find a shrine first. Only then can he dedicate himself to one of the Powers.” She scratched her head. “Although from what I’ve heard, binding yourself to any of the Powers is not necessary to be a priest. Those who employ Faith can wield the Forces directly.” She shrugged. “I don’t rightly understand any of it myself.”

My curiosity was piqued by her mention of Powers and Forces, but before I could question Decalthiya further about them, Morin summoned the half-giant.

I pursed my lips as I watched the big fighter walk away. She had given me a lot to think about. If all the candidates had Classes as impressive sounding as Decalthiya’s own, it meant that despite their comparatively-low levels, I shouldn’t underestimate any of them.

And to stay ahead of the pack, it was all the more important that I kept my own skills advancing. With nothing better to do, I sat down on the floor and began analyzing the other candidates.

The target is Morin, a level 10 painted human. This entity is a player. Your insight has increased to level 3.

The target is …

I kept at it, determined not to stop until I had analyzed every candidate. Insight at least, was one skill I could train outside of combat.

The target is …

…

…

Your insight has increased to level 21.

~~~

It took a whole three hours to salvage everything of worth from the goblin tunnel-complex. During that time, I finished analyzing all of Morin’s people and raised my insight to rank two in the process. Unfortunately, even at that rank, the analyze ability did not reveal a target’s Class.

I took the time to count the candidates too. Morin had nearly one-hundred and fifty followers, and from what I had been told that was nearly double the size of Saben’s crew. But given that the gang was better armed and higher-levelled, I wasn’t sure how much our numerical superiority would count for.

With the looting operation completed, outfitting the army was continuing apace in the safe zone. Leaving Morin and the other leaders to it, I joined Tantor’s squad at the mouth of the north tunnel. My own preparations were complete, and I had volunteered to scout out the enemy. Unsurprisingly, I was the best scout we had.

“Michael, Morin wants you.”

I broke off from my discussion with Tantor to turn around. The candidate who had addressed me was standing a few feet away and was waiting for my response.

“Can’t it wait?” I asked.

“No,” the messenger replied. “She wants to see you before you set out.”

With a sigh, I turned away from the tunnel mouth and followed the candidate back into the safe zone.

I found Morin in her ‘command’ tent. Candidates buzzed around her, and messengers ran to and fro. The mood amongst the painted woman’s followers had changed from just a few hours ago. Now, they were tense and eager, ready for the fight.

Morin turned at my approach. “Good, I caught you in time.” She held out her hand. “This is for you.”

I looked at her open palm. Five gold coins rested on it. “What’s this?”

“What’s left of the loot we sold after equipping everyone,” she said. “Don’t argue, take it. Some of the goblins’ goods turned out to be more valuable than expected—the furs in the leather workshop especially—and Hamish didn’t stint us in his trades.”

I looked at her silently for a moment, then did as she bade. “Thank you,” I said.

You have received: 5 golds. Total money carried: 5 golds, 2 silvers, and 1 copper.

Morin smiled. “Buy whatever you need, then head out,” she said.

I bobbed my head in wry acknowledgement of the half-order. “Yes, ma’am.”

Chapter 64: First Contact

Hamish was pleased to see me again. My status had been upgraded from ‘only’ customer to ‘best’ customer. The merchant was quite profuse in his thanks for the trade I had brought in, but despite his desire to talk, I didn’t spend much time at his stall. My mind was too focused on the forthcoming confrontation. Apologizing for my haste, I bought what I needed and hurried away.

You have bought a minor backstab ability tome. You have acquired the basic ability: minor backstab. This is a weapon-based ability that allows you to deal up to 50% more damage with a single blow. This ability can only be used when the target is unaware of your presence, or is incapacitated.

The effects of this ability may be overcome by physical resistance. This ability consumes stamina, and can be upgraded. Its activation time is near-instantaneous. You have 8 of 10 Dexterity ability slots remaining.

Given that I could expect combat in the next few hours, the backstab ability seemed the perfect choice, and I had no compunction about acquiring it. With knowledge of my new ability safely embedded in my mind, I hurried to rejoin Tantor and his squad. The battlemage had a sword strapped to his side and wore a black robe. The five candidates accompanying him all wore hide armor and carried short bladed weapons. They have to be primarily scouts and rogues, I thought.

“We still good to go?” I asked as I approached the group.

Tantor nodded. “No one has gone down this way. We haven’t spotted any of Saben’s goons coming up the passage either.”

I stepped past the elf. “Alright, I’ll be on my way then.”

He placed a hand on my shoulder, stopping me. I turned around to face him. “You sure you don’t want to take Cyrus with you?” Tantor asked. “His sneaking skill is fairly high.”

I glanced at the candidate in question. He looked competent enough, but for this initial foray I preferred to go at it alone. “No,” I assured Tantor. “I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated then nodded. “Go ahead then,” he said. “And remember you’re only scouting for now.”

“Of course,” I said and slipped into the passage.

~~~

You and your familiar are hidden.

My shoulders relaxed as the tunnel’s darkness enfolded me. I hadn’t realized it, but all the time I had been with Morin’s people, I had been slightly on edge and unconsciously craving solitude. It’s good to be alone again, I thought as I padded through the empty passage.

According to the information Morin and Tantor had provided, Saben’s gang had erected a guard post midway between the safe zone and their camp. My immediate objective was to confirm the guards’ numbers. Once Morin’s people were ready to move, the guards would have to be taken down quickly and quietly to ensure that we retained the element of surprise when we hit the camp proper.

I reached the guard post without incident. At this point the passage was fairly narrow, a natural chokepoint only two yards across. Beyond the guard post the tunnel was said to widen, eventually expanding into the cavern in which the gang had made their home.

It explained why the guards had been stationed so far forward—almost fifty yards from the camp. At the guard post a small force, especially one well-armed, would have no trouble holding a larger one at bay. Staying hidden in the shadows, some ten yards from the makeshift guard post, I studied its layout.

A low wall, nearly three-feet-tall and formed from loot chests piled atop one another, had been constructed across the width of the passage. Rocks and gravel had been piled against the far side of the wall to brace the structure. Still, it didn’t look entirely sturdy to me, and someone like Decalthiya would have no trouble breaking through.

But that would take time. Time the guards would use to rouse the camp and summon reinforcements.

Beyond the wall, six guards sat on wooden crates arranged in a circle. The candidates were not focused on the barricade they were supposedly guarding, but on whatever lay at their feet. Hearing the clink of coins and the low rumble of laughter, I realized they were gambling.

Drawing on my will, I analyzed each in turn.

The target is Mersey, a level 8 human.

The target is Norton, a level 7 human.

The target is Tutti, a level 9 lizardman.

The target is Shael, a level 7 elf.

The target is Forsa, a level 8 dwarf.

The target is Tern, a level 7 gnome.

Your insight has increased to level 22.

One of the humans and the dwarf were in plate mail and definitely fighters of some sort. The gnome and other human were in leather armor and carrying bows: archers. I wasn’t sure about the elf and lizardman’s Classes. Both wore robes, and were definitely spellcasters of some sort, but whether they wielded Mind, Magic, or Faith, I couldn’t tell.

The good thing though was that all six guards were low-levelled. I pursed my lips as I considered the problem of capturing the guard post. Scaling the wall would be easy enough, but could I do so undetected?

Torches had been affixed on both of the passage’s sidewalls, and the immediate area around the barricade was brightly lit.

I frowned. Considering the guards’ distraction, sneaking over the wall might be feasible, yet it was too risky. If I was spotted, there was no way I could subdue all six before they raised the alarm.

Speed will serve me—us—better, I realized. For this battle, I would not be alone. With a handful of lightly armored combatants, moving fast, we could kill the guards before they raised the alarm.

It’s doable, I concluded.

~~~

Morin and the rest of her inner circle were at the tunnel mouth when I reported back.

“What did you find?” Tantor asked.

“Six guards, two fighters, two archers, and a pair of spellcasters,” I said, before going on to describe the details.

“What level were the guards?” Morin asked.

“All were below level ten,” I answered.

Tantor frowned.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, seeing his look.

“Their levels, they’re too low,” he explained. “It means none of Saben’s elites are there. Strange,” he mused. “One of his lieutenants normally commands the guard post.”

“Still, it’s a good thing that none of them are present,” Sigmar said. “We’ll have more chance of overcoming the guards quietly this way.”

Tantor nodded, but his expression remained troubled.

“What’s the plan, lass?” Bornholm asked, turning to Morin.

I wanted to share my own plan, but waited to hear Morin out first. The druid knew her own people’s abilities better than I did.

The painted woman thought for a moment before glancing at me. “Do you think you can sneak close enough to charm one of them?”

I nodded. I had told her of my abilities earlier, deciding she needed to know at least some of my capabilities if we were going to work together.

Morin turned to the others. “Michael will distract the guards, giving the rest of us time to move in. Once the guards are in disarray, Tantor and I will advance and cast our disables. Then Bornholm and Decalthiya will charge in a with a squad of fighters and finish them off. Questions?”

I scratched my chin, but didn’t say anything. The plan sounded a trifle complicated, but workable. We’ll try it her way.

“What about me?” Sigmar asked.

Morin pointed to the ranks of candidates assembling outside the tunnel mouth. “You’re in command of the main force. Follow on our heels. If we fail to kill the guards before they raise the alarm, you charge straight through and the assault the camp.”

Sigmar inclined his head in acknowledgement of the order.

Morin surveyed the rest of the faces around her. Seeing that there were no more questions, she said, “Then let’s get to it people. Remember, this is our last chance. So let’s make it count.”

Chapter 65: Mayhem before Magic

Morin put a mixed squad of rogues and scouts under my command. At first, I was reluctant to assume responsibility for them, but then realized that the more blades I had backing me up when I attempted my distraction, the less chance there was of something going horribly wrong.

My ten-man squad dropped into hiding and tiptoed down the corridor. I had made certain to confirm that each of them had a sneaking skill of at least rank one. The few that didn’t I rejected and sent back to Morin.

But scouts and rogue though they might be, the other candidates in my squad weren’t as comfortable in the dark as I was. None of them had a Perception as high as mine, nor a trait for night vision.

Twenty yards from the guard post, I brought my squad to a halt, and out of earshot from the guards, issued my final orders. “Everyone clear on what you need to do?” I asked in a low-voiced whisper when I was done.

The nine candidates nodded, and I crept forward. Eight candidates followed on my heels, while the ninth stayed back. His job was to call in the waiting spellcasters when it was time.

Ten yards from the barricade, I stopped again. Everything beyond the low wall remained the same, and the six guards were still immersed in whatever game they were playing. I waved to my squad to remain in position. This was as far as they would go until I acted.

I inched closer, torturously slow.

Six hostile entities have failed to detect you!

Six hostile entities have failed to detect you!

Your sneaking has increased to level 37.

Ever so carefully, I worked myself towards the barricade. The low wall was actually working to my benefit, shielding me from the guards’ direct line of sight.

When I was as close as I dared go, I reached into the pool of psi in my mind, and began spellcasting. I picked the human fighter as my target. Neither the pair of spellcasters, nor the lightly armored scouts were as big a threat to me as the two heavily armored fighters and besides, out of all six guards, the two fighters were probably the ones with the lowest mental resistance.

Slipping threads of psi into the target’s mind, I overlaid my will upon his.

Norton has passed a mental resistance check! You have failed to charm your target. Your mental intrusion has gone undetected! Your telepathy has increased to level 6.

Not unexpectedly, I failed my first attempt, but as on the previous occasion I used the ability, my target failed to sense the assault. Grimly, I tried again.

You have failed to charm Norton. Your mental intrusion has gone undetected! Your telepathy has increased to level 7.

And again. And again.

You have failed to charm Norton. Your mental intrusion has gone undetected! Your telepathy has increased to level 8.

You have failed to charm Norton. Your mental intrusion has been detected!

My heart nearly stopped at the Game’s message. Beyond the barricade, the fighter bit off a shriek and bowed his head.

“Norton, what’s wrong?” the dwarf asked.

The human fighter clutched at his head. “I don’t know—” He broke off and moaned again.

Behind me, my squad tensed. I raised a hand to hold them in place, while my mind raced. The other guards began questioning Norton, but none of them seemed to grasp what the source of the fighter’s sudden pain was.

One more try, I decided.

I reached out with my mind again, and attempted anew to forcibly bind the fighter’s will to my own.

Norton has failed a mental resistance check! You have charmed your target for 10 seconds. Your telepathy has increased to level 10.

Congratulations, Michael! Your skill in telepathy has reached rank 1, increasing your chance of succeeding with telepathic abilities.

I had no time to spare for relief. Dropping my hand, I signaled my squad to advance, while dashing forward myself. “Attack,” I whispered through the mental leash I held around the human fighter’s mind.

Norton surged out of his chair and unsheathed his two-handed sword. His companions, who were clustered around him in concern, drew back in alarm.

In two steps, I reached the wall, and in a single bound, leapt atop it.

Five hostile entities have failed to detect you!

Before any of the other guards could draw their own weapons, Norton lopped off the lizardman’s arm, transforming his cry of outrage into a shriek of pain.

Your minion has critically injured Tutti.

Realizing something was wrong, Norton’s companions closed around the bespelled fighter again, this time with weapons drawn. The elf glanced upwards, and spotted me leaping down from the barricade.

A hostile entity has detected you! You are no longer hidden.

“Forsa, lookout! Behind you!” the elf screamed.

The dwarf spun around and raised his hammer and shield defensively. With a grim smile, I raced around the fighter in a wide arc and didn’t attempt to engage him. Stepping forward, the dwarf made to chase me down, but he had left the bespelled fighter at his rear unattended for too long.

Ignoring the attempts made by the two archers and elf to stop him, Norton ran his big two-handed blade through the dwarf’s exposed back.

Your minion has killed Forsa.

The dying guard’s eyes widened in momentary shock before the light in them faded entirely. The elf and the gnome, realizing that half of the number had been felled or disabled in just a handful of seconds, turned around and fled.

They didn’t get far though.

My squad had reached the barricade. Going down on bended knees on top of the wall, three scouts let fly with their arrows. At such short range and with their targets clearly illuminated, it was impossible for them to miss.

All three projectiles found their marks. The first arrow thudded into the unarmored spellcaster’s chest, while the other two buried themselves in the gnome’s shoulder and neck.

Shael has died.

Tern has died.

Of the original six guards, only the two humans—archer and bespelled fighter—were still standing. The archer was backing away from Norton and drawing his bow.

“Take out the second archer!” I shouted, and altered my own heading towards Norton. My spell was about to wear off.

Two arrows thudded into Mersey, ending the archer’s life just as he raised his own bow into firing position. But with my attention fixed on Norton, I paid the archer’s death no heed. Slipping behind the fighter, I waited for my charm spell to lapse. Behind me the archers reloaded and loosed again, putting an end to the lizardman’s cries.

You have lost control over Norton.

My left hand snaked out and wrapped around the fighter’s arm. Before Norton had a chance to react, I channeled stamina.

Norton has failed a physical resistance check! You have crippled your target’s left arm for 3 seconds.

Energy rushed out of my palm and the fighter’s arm went slack. Norton began turning around.

Too slowly though, far too slowly.

While Norton’s other hand was still reaching for me, I flung up the disabled appendage and shoved my blade into the revealed armor join under the fighter’s armpit.

You have critically injured Norton!

Norton cried out and fell to his knees. Holding onto his arm, I thrust my blade again into him. And then once, and twice more before the fighter slumped to the floor with a sad sigh.

You have killed Norton. You have reached level 19!

Your shortswords has increased to level 32.

Your light armor has increased to level 3.

Dropping the dead fighter’s arm, my eyes flew to the tunnel ahead. I could hear no cry of alarm, nor see any approaching guards. The tension eased out of me. We had succeeded. The guards had been contained without alerting the camp.

Motion drew my eye to the barricade and my head whipped around. Morin and Tantor had arrived and were staring down in shock at the slain guards.

I sheathed my still-bloody blade and smiled wolfishly. “You’re late.”

Chapter 66: On to the Main Course

“But did you really have to poke such a big hole through it, lad?”

I rolled my eyes at Bornholm’s whining. The two of us were bent over the dead dwarven guard and trying to tug free his armor. “Next time, I’ll make an especial effort not to,” I murmured.

“See that you do,” the dwarf grunted, seemingly oblivious to my tone.

We were still at the captured guard post. Sigmar and the main force hadn’t arrived yet. Up ahead, Morin, Tantor, and half the scout squad kept watch for the enemy, while the rest were stripping the dead guards of their gear.

“You better hurry and get dressed, Bornholm,” Decalthiya said. “Sigmar is nearly here, and you know he won’t wait on you.”

The dwarf didn’t say anything, but he held off on further grumbling and began equipping himself faster. Leaving him to it, I sat down and took a moment to spend my new attribute point.

Your Constitution has increased to rank 4.

Then I closed my eyes. Trusting to my heightened senses to warn me of approaching danger, I blanked my mind and let the pool of psi in my subconsciousness replenish.

You have replenished 2% of your psi. Your psi is now at 62%.

…

With every breath, my reserves of psi slowly regenerated. After reading Hamish’s catalog, I had discovered there were skills similar to meditation for restoring stamina and mana, and while the idea of having them was nice, I didn’t have enough skill slots to accommodate them.

A hand clamped down onto my shoulder, jolting my mind back to the present.

Meditation interrupted! Your psi is now at 80%. Your meditation has increased to level 19.

I looked up. It was Bornholm, fully dressed in his new armor. “The others are here,” he said.

I rose to my feet. Looking around, I saw that the candidates of the main column stood at the ready less than five yards away. I had been so absorbed in my meditation, I hadn’t heard their footfalls or the low murmur of their voices.

“What were you doing?” Bornholm asked curiously.

“Meditating,” I replied absently, searching for the rest of Morin’s inner circle. “Where’s Sigmar?”

“Gone ahead to join Morin and Tantor,” he replied. “Let’s go join them.”

~~~

We found Morin and the others twenty yards ahead and in animated discussion.

“… still don’t like it,” Tantor whispered.

“But where can they be?” Decalthiya asked, her voice sounding hoarse as she tried to speak softly.

“I don’t know,” Tantor replied. “And that’s what worries me.”

“Does it matter?” Sigmar asked. “This is our chance to take the camp. I say we take it.”

At our approach, Morin looked back and the others fell silent.

“Problems?” I asked, directing my question at the painted woman.

“Not exactly,” Morin said, with a glance at Sigmar and Tantor. “The scouts have returned from reconnoitering the camp. The gang still isn’t aware of our presence, but there is no sign of Saben’s elites anywhere.”

“Which may not mean anything,” Sigmar said.

“But it does affect our plans,” Tantor added.

I nodded, understanding their dilemma. The original plan had called for us to focus the assault on Saben’s core group. We had agreed that defeating the elites was the key to winning the battle. To that end, Morin had divided our forces into squads and tasked some with hunting down the gang’s lieutenants and leader. But with none of our primary targets visible, those plans had been thrown in disarray.

“It doesn’t matter where they are,” Bornholm said abruptly. “If we sit on our arses here much longer, we’re going to be spotted. Whatever we decide, we must act quickly.”

Morin glanced at the dwarf. “Bornholm is right. We’ve delayed long enough.” She rose to her feet. “Sigmar bring up the column. It’s time to attack.”

~~~

With Morin, Decalthiya, and Bornholm at the fore, the column of one hundred and fifty candidates jogged the last fifty yards to the camp. No one spoke, no one shouted, and no one broke ranks. The calm was impressive—and unnerving.

As the tunnel widened, the column spread out and formed into silent ranks. At first, our presence went unnoticed. That didn’t last though. But even after the alarm was sounded, Morin’s people retained their discipline. Sticking to their orders and ignoring the growing chaos in the camp, they formed up into a battleline.

Positioned in the center of the line, I glanced at the candidates on either side of me. There was a quiet intensity to Morin’s people, one that underscored the rage I saw simmering in their fierce gazes and clenched fists. The candidates were ready for this battle. No, they were more than ready, I realized. They were quivering with eagerness, and thirsted for blood.

This was their chance to finally hit back, and they knew it.

“Go ahead, Decalthiya,” Morin ordered.

I swung my gaze forward again. Morin was standing six steps ahead of the rest of the line, with Bornholm and Decalthiya on either side of her.

The half-giant breathed in deeply. “CANDIDATES,” she bellowed, “The time has come to depose your vile leader! Throw down your weapons and you won’t be harmed. FIGHT AND YOU DIE.”

I wasn’t particularly fond of this part of the plan, and thought it foolish to surrender the advantage of surprise in this manner. But Morin had been adamant. She believed that given the chance, many of Saben’s people would abandon his cause. The painted woman had argued that if we presented the gang with a forcible-enough ultimatum and robbed Saben of the opportunity to properly intimidate his people beforehand, many would swap sides. And the others had agreed with her.

I was more doubtful myself, but deferred to their knowledge of the candidates. They had known many of these people for weeks. I knew some of the candidates had been coerced into joining the gang. Even so, I didn’t know how far I would trust former gang members, especially in the heat of battle. Scanning the enemy, I watched for their reaction.

There were only fifty or so candidates in the camp. We outnumbered them three to one, and they seemed to have realized that too. Nearly a minute had passed since we had entered the cavern, but the candidates in the camp were still milling about.

I frowned. Where are their leaders? And where are all the undead I saw the first time around? Sure, the candidates’ familiars were present, but no other type of undead was in evidence.

I glanced at our right flank where Tantor was commanding the spellcasters. His expression was worried. My own concern grew, and I began to fear that the battlemage’s suspicions were warranted. Something was amiss.

At the clash of weapons, my head whipped around. A fight had broken out amongst some of the enemy, between a handful who were disarming and those nearby. Scanning the camp, I saw that nearly half of the gang members were throwing down their weapons.

Morin was right. I shook my head in bemusement, and felt my worries ease. If enough of the enemy surrendered, then the battle would be won already, and it didn’t matter where Saben and his elites had disappeared to. Perhaps, they’ve run.

Another fight broke out.

Then another.

I realized that despite Morin’s good intentions, the candidates whose lives she was trying to save might just die anyway—at the hands of their fellow gang members.

Coming to the same realization, Morin gestured the waiting ranks forward. “Fighters, attack!” she ordered, “Spare those who surrender and capture as many alive as you can.”

I let the line advance around me, but stayed back myself. My blade was not needed. Given the disparity in size between the two forces, and the disarray amongst the gang members, I thought they would be quickly subdued.

On the right and left flanks, our mages and archers—about half our total force—stood idly by. Morin had not ordered them into play, and I could understand why. If the archers and mages joined the attack, keeping the casualties down would be next to impossible. After the ranks of fighters passed me, I strode towards the huddle forming around Morin.

“Where are the prisoners?” Bornholm asked, his voice quivering with anger, and perhaps fear. “Why aren’t they in the center of the camp. That’s where that bastard has always kept them displayed!”

“I don’t know,” Morin said, “but we will find out soon enough. Sigmar has gone to question one of the gang members.” Morin laid a comforting hand on the dwarf. “Cena will be fine,” she added gently.

Bornholm’s chest heaved rapidly and his breath came out ragged, but at Morin’s calm measured tone, he quietened. I felt a spurt of sympathy for the dwarf. I had suspected earlier that he had recently lost someone to Saben’s gang, and this confirmed that.

My gaze slid to Sigmar. A squad of fighters had managed to extract three thugs who had lain down their weapons from amidst the melee raging in the camp, and the inquisitor was questioning one of them.

I stopped at Tantor’s side. “Do we know where Saben is?”

The high elf shook his head, his eyes also on the inquisitor. “Not yet, but Sigmar will find out,” he said with grim certainty.

Nodding, I folded my arms and set myself to wait.

Chapter 67: Running down Prey

While, I waited for the inquisitor to return with news, I observed the battle—such as it was. Individual squads of our fighters were moving swiftly to surround and quell isolated groups of enemies. The fighting had not subsided yet, but matters were proceeding well, and shortly I suspected, the camp would be fully subdued.

Sigmar’s questioning finished sooner than I expected. Either the former gang member had been exceedingly cooperative, or the inquisitor had some sort of interrogation ability—which given his Class, he might very well have.

“Saben and his men are gone,” Sigmar said, slightly breathless as he ran up to Morin’s side.

“Where?” she asked sharply.

Sigmar gestured to the right and left sides of the cavern. There were tunnel entrances on both ends I noted. “Our timing was fortuitous. We caught Saben unprepared, and with none of his elites present. The moment we hit the camp, he fled to his chambers on the western side. That way is a dead end. He’s holed up there now.” Sigmar’s eyes glinted. “Trapped and alone.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said. I glanced at the captive. He was still kneeling and hunched over. Whatever Sigmar had done to him had left the former gang member shaken and exhausted. “You’re sure your informant is telling you the truth? Why would Saben flee to his chambers if there is no way out?

Sigmar eyes narrowed. “I’m sure. They always tell the truth, and as for Saben… perhaps he panicked.”

I frowned, not as certain as Sigmar. I glanced at the others, but there was no flicker of doubt on any of their faces, not even Tantor’s. They all appeared certain of the veracity of Sigmar’s information. That must be some ability the inquisitor has.

“What about the prisoners?” Bornholm asked anxiously.

The inquisitor threw the dwarf a sympathetic look. “Ten minutes before our attack, they were marched off into the eastern tunnel network by the elites.”

“All the elites escorted them?” Morin asked.

Sigmar nodded.

Tantor frowned. “Why though? Saben’s people have surely cleared that section of the dungeon already?”

Sigmar shrugged. “My subject didn’t know. Only the elites have ever been allowed to venture into those tunnels.” He paused. “But the rumor in the camp is that the tunnel network beyond the eastern entrance is quite extensive. Squads of elites have been known to disappear there for hours at—”

“We have to go after the prisoners,” Bornholm interjected.

“We do,” Morin agreed, “but we also have to see to Saben.” Her gaze flickered over the faces of her inner circle, before resting on me for a moment.

I nodded in response, suspecting what she wanted me to do. I feared though that Saben was already out of reach. Despite the captive’s tale, I thought it likely that the gang leader had a secret way out of his chambers.

“Right,” Morin said, coming to a decision. “Bornholm, take the spellcasters and archers. Go find our people.” Her emerald eyes turned cold. “And kill any elites you find.”

“Aye, aye lass,” the dwarf said, not hiding his eagerness for the task. Hurrying away, he began yelling out orders to the squads Morin had assigned to him.

Morin watched him for a second before turning back to us. “As for the rest of us, we capture Saben.” She glanced at Sigmar. “You’re certain Saben’s chambers are a dead-end?”

He nodded. “Yes, I made sure to question my subject closely about that. The western exit leads to a tunnel that loops about for about two hundred yards before ending in a large cavern. It used to be the lair of a giant spider. After the gang slew it, Saben claimed the chamber for his own. We have him trapped.”

“Good,” Morin said. Her gaze darted back towards the battle in the camp. “Matters appears to be in order here, but one of us will still need to stay behind and mop up things.” Her eyes fell on Tantor.

“I’ll do it,” Sigmar volunteered.

Morin turned to him surprise.

“It’ll give me a chance to question more of the gang, and see if I can pinpoint the prisoners’ whereabouts,” Sigmar said. “When things have settled down here, I’ll send reinforcements your way.” He grinned and glanced at me. “Not that you’ll need it with this fellow backing you up.”

One of my eyebrows rose. I was surprised by Sigmar’s sudden show of faith in me. I had gotten the distinct impression that he didn’t like me. I felt much the same way about him too.

“Excellent idea,” Morin said, agreeing with his reasoning. “The more you can find out, the quicker we can recover our captured people.” She turned back to Decalthiya, Tantor, and me. “We ready?”

The three of us nodded.

“Then let’s finish this,” the druid said. Spinning on her heel, she made for the western tunnel with the rest of us following in her wake.

“Good hunting,” Sigmar called from behind.

~~~

Sigmar was right about the winding nature of the western tunnel. Less than a dozen yards after the four of us entered the passage, it turned sharply left, before curving right again.

Given the convoluted nature of the tunnel, the sounds of the battle still raging in the main cavern faded quickly, leaving the four of us walking in tense silence.

“I should take lead,” Decalthiya declared after a moment. The tunnel was wide enough for our party to walk four-abreast, but at Morin’s instructions we were proceeding in a single file.

I was in the lead, and at the half-giant’s words stopped and turned around. The light in the tunnel was fading rapidly, and Decalthiya was eyeing the encroaching darkness nervously. Still, it had not stopped her from volunteering to go first.

I snorted. The half-giant, I was coming to realize had an overly protective instinct, and at times it made her rash and reckless. But it was less Decalthiya’s words that disturbed me than the worsening light. I turned to the others who had halted with me. “I’m guessing none of you see very well in the dark?”

They shook their heads.

I bit my lip, hesitating, then pulled out the moonstone lamp and handed it to Morin. “We’ll have to risk a light then. It’ll forewarn Saben of our approach, but it beats being ambushed.”

The painted woman nodded in agreement.

“I’ll be leaving you here as well,” I added.

“Why?” Tantor asked sharply.

“My night vision is better than yours,” I said, without venturing to explain just how much better, “I’ll scout on ahead.”

“Alone?” Decalthiya asked with a shiver of unease. “In the dark?”

I smiled. “Nothing I haven’t done before,” I murmured.

“It’s a good idea,” Morin said. “Go. We’ll follow more slowly. Make sure to report back every five minutes. If you spot Saben, don’t try engaging him on your own,” she warned. “Despite his lower level, he is more than a match for you.”

I doubted it, but didn’t argue. “I won’t,” I promised and slipped into the welcoming dark.

~~~

I hurried away from the others, quickly widening the gap between us. Only when the light from the moonstone lamp had faded to a distant blur, did I slow down and slip into stealth.

You and your familiar are hidden.

“You know at times, I can’t figure out if you’re smart or just stupidly brave,” Gnat whispered in my ear. “You should’ve stayed with the others. It’s safer.”

“Shh,” I hissed, not wanting to be distracted by the familiar now. Obligingly, Gnat fell silent and said no more.

The tunnel did not let up on its twisting and meandering nature, and soon I was unable to tell if I was still heading westwards. But true to Sigmar’s words, no other branches or exits of any sorts appeared. As I went farther, I began to notice near-translucent white strands running along the walls and ceiling of the tunnel.

The strands increased in concentration, and soon began covering entire sections of the tunnel walls. They’re spiderwebs, I realized.

I had to be getting close.

I slowed to a crawl. Given the many bends and twists to the passage, it was hard to estimate the distance I had covered already, but I judged the spider’s lair could not be much further ahead. I continued onwards, my every sense extended and pausing between each carefully placed step to listen.

A dozen steps more, and the walls on either side of me turned white, draped with overlapping layers of silk. Pausing, I studied them intently, but could detect nothing hidden within their depths. Fixing my gaze forward again, I kept going. I took one step, two, then another handful.

Then froze.

I heard noises from up ahead, the sounds of a whispered conversation. At this distance, the voices were too indistinct for me to pick out the individual words or identify the number of speakers, but if Saben was up ahead, it was clear, he was not alone.

Damnit, I cursed, torn between wanting to find out more and informing the others. Saben’s not going anywhere, I decided. Best to warn Morin and get them to stay put, then come back and scout. It was almost time to report back anyway. Pivoting on my heels, I reversed course.

A sliver of motion caught my attention. The web to my right was trembling minutely. My head whipped in that direction. A furtive figure was emerging from the webs.

A hidden entity has detected you! You are no longer hidden. You have detected a hidden entity. Saben is no longer hidden!

Your insight has increased to level 23.

My eyes widened.

I dashed forward, my hands dropping to my sheathed blades. Saben was a human male. I got a quick impression of manicured hands, black pin-straight long hair, delicate silk clothes, and a pale face that was fast transforming into a scowl as the gang leader realized he had been spotted. Then I stopped consciously seeing and my reactions took over.

I was less than four steps away from Saben. I could end this here. My swords flew out, and I lunged forward.

The gang leader was prepared though.

A cone-shaped wave of sickly green energy rushed out of Saben’s hands and directly towards me. I sidestepped, attempting to dodge. But my own forward momentum betrayed me, and I was clipped by the edge of the waveform. My mouth opened in wordless horror as the green tendrils dug into my flesh, burrowing deep.

Saben has cast snare prey upon you.

You have failed to resist the spell! Saben has successfully drained your stores of energy. Your pools of stamina, psi, and mana have been emptied: -100%.

As if my strings had been cut, my blades fell from lifeless hands and I collapsed in a heap.

Chapter 68: Predator and Prey

I lay on the ground, gasping. My limbs felt too heavy to move and my thoughts were sluggish. I barely had the energy to slide my gaze upwards to the figure approaching me.

It was Saben.

He crouched down and peered at me. Judging by his attire alone, Saben was a wealthy courtier. A jewel-encrusted shortsword was belted at his hip. Soft leather gloves covered his hands, extravagant embroidery decorated his silk jacket, and his boots were polished to a high sheen.

His eyes, though betrayed him. Storm grey, they spoke of death and suffering. There was something else about Saben that was different too, something beyond the physical. Reaching out with my will, I cast analyze upon the gang leader.

The target is Saben, a level 14 human. This entity is a player and bears a Mark of Minor Dark, and a Mark of Ishita.

Saben was higher levelled than Morin had said. Either he had gained the levels recently, or her information was bad. And if she was wrong about this… what else is she wrong about? Also, unlike every other candidate I had met, Saben was Marked. He had likely filled all three of his Class slots and completed the Master’s task. He will recognize my own Marks too, I realized.

The gang leader’s painted black lips curved upwards in a thin smile as he studied me. “My, aren’t you a slippery one,” he murmured. “And Marked too already. Ishita will be most displeased.”

My lips parted, and I attempted a rejoinder, but only a dry wheeze escaped me. Saben chuckled. “Oh, I wouldn’t try talking,” he said. “It’s going to be a while yet before you have the energy for anything besides breathing.”

You have detected two hidden entities. Goral and Markus are no longer hidden!

I sensed two figures emerge from the webs covering the wall behind me. “Sorry boss,” one said. “He moved too fast.”

Saben glanced up at him, his face expressionless, but the speaker must have sensed something in the gang leader’s face that I didn’t, because he stepped back hastily.

“We didn’t think he’d—” he began, his voice shaking.

“Enough,” Saben said, his voice mild, but with the promise of pain to come. “You made me trigger the spell early. Do you know how rare that scroll was? Ishita will not give me another, and now we will have to capture the others the hard way.” The gang leader shook his head in disgust. “Get him inside before the rest get here. I will deal with you two later.” He paused. “And don’t forget his weapons.”

Goral and Markus picked me up by the feet and hands, and hauled me off further down the passage. Still near-senseless, I was helpless to stop them. Swaying in the pair’s grasp, I cast analyze on both.

The target is Goral, a level 11 human.

The target is Markus, a level 10 human.

After only a few yards, the tunnel opened into a cavern nearly thirty yards in diameter. Thick spiderwebs covered the entirety of the chamber’s walls and roofs. A bed and table lay on the left side of the room, and on the right, nearly two dozen elites crouched down.

The two gang members dropped me carelessly in the center of the chamber. My gaze was fixed on the waiting elites and I barely notice. So, it is a trap, I thought, swallowing bile. The gang leader had known we were coming all along. How though?

“Not there!” Saben said. “Goral, hide him behind the web. Stay and watch over him. Markus, return to your position and report back as soon as you spot Morin’s party.”

With muttered replies of “yes boss,” the pair hastened to comply with their leader’s orders. Markus slipped out of the room again, while Goral picked me up by the armpits and began dragging me backwards to the far end of the chamber. My mind raced, searching for a way out. I had to warn the others, and I had to escape Saben’s clutches.

I glanced down at my empty scabbards. But how did I do that with neither stamina, psi, nor weapons? The simple answer was I couldn’t. I had to figure out a way to regain all three if I was going to put up any meaningful resistance.

I surveyed the room again. The cavern was sparsely furnished, and nothing in it appeared of immediate use. I turned my attention to the room’s occupants. Saben had swung around to face the entrance again and had his back turned to me. The other elites were not looking at me. In fact, they didn’t appear to be looking at anything. Their eyes were curiously vacant.

As if they can’t see.

The realization hit me swift and sharp. Of course, it is pitch black in the cavern. I cursed softly. I should have caught onto that fact sooner; my thoughts were still torpid. The only reason I could see was because of my nocturnal trait. My gaze slid back to Saben. Despite the dark, the gang leader, Goral, and Markus had had no trouble seeing me. Which means… they must be able to see equally well in the dark.

An inkling of an idea formed. I reached up with shaky arms to clutch at the straps of my backpack. Even that simple action, required tremendous effort, but eventually I managed it. Goral didn’t notice. Huffing and puffing, he was too intent on getting me to where I needed to be. Inch, by inch, I pushed the straps off my shoulders, until they were nearly loose.

Then waited.

We reached the webs, and Goral pulled me through without pause. The silk strands parted easily for us and without preamble, the elite dumped me onto the floor. I had been waiting for just this moment. As Goral released his hold on me, I pushed off my backpack’s straps entirely so it fell to the floor, and twisted my body in an effort to fall atop it.

I succeeded only partially.

I landed on my side and next to the pack. The elite glanced down and saw the pack resting free near me, but didn’t seem to care. Bending over, he hissed, “Now you be quiet, you hear? Any trouble from you and I’ll slit your throat.”

I stared at the thug for a moment. He had one of my swords hanging on his belt, I noticed. Markus must have the other.

“Well? Are you going to behave?” Goral growled, prodding me with his boot.

I bobbed my head obligingly. Satisfied that he had cowed me, Goral rose his feet and peered forward again. I followed his gaze. The spiderweb lay between us and the rest of the chamber. Peering through it was like looking through a thick gauze. I doubted anyone from outside would be able to spot Goral and me. It was how the trio had managed to hide from me in the first place.

I took in the rest of my new surroundings. The space between the webs and the cavern’s walls was perhaps one yard across and but for me, Goral, and our two skeletal bats, was empty.

Speaking of the familiars… the pair were hanging upside down from the ceiling, and appeared to be whispering to each other. Now what could they be going on about?

I glanced at the gang member again. With his gaze fixed on the cavern entrance, Goral was paying me no mind. I inched my left hand forward and under the flap of my backpack. By feel alone, I searched out at a field ration and began unwrapping it.

“Where is your party?” Goral hissed suddenly. “They should have reached here by now.”

In the act of drawing out the unwrapped ration, I paused and glanced up. Even though he addressed me, Goral didn’t look my way. I resumed extracting my prize.

Morin, I realized, must’ve figured out something was wrong after I was late for my check-in. She would likely have stopped the party, and I imagined that even now the trio were probably debating on whether or not to proceed. I hope she returns to the main cavern for reinforcements.

But whatever decision Morin made was out of my hands. I could only do my best to ensure I was ready to act when the time came.

My hand emerged from the backpack with the ration hidden in my palm. I slipped the morsel unseen into my mouth, and chomped down.

After a tense few seconds, I felt a sliver of energy return to me. Holding in my relief, I kept chewing and swallowing. The food ration would not return nearly enough stamina to me in the time I suspected I had remaining, but it was a start.

I finished the ration and closed my eyes. I had done what I could for my stamina, now I had to see to my psi.

Stilling my mind, I began meditating. It was risky blocking off awareness while I was so endangered, but I had no choice. There was no way I was getting out of the mess I was in with stamina alone.

I needed psi.

I could only hope that when Morin and the others entered the cavern that I retained enough awareness to sense their arrival—and act accordingly.

You have replenished 2% of your psi. Your psi is now at 2%.

You have replenished 2% of your psi. Your psi is now at 4%.

…

…

Chapter 69: Standoff

Meditation interrupted!

“… not go quietly!” The voice reverberated through the cavern, calm, measured, and undaunted.

Morin, I thought, my eyes snapping open. I checked my internal reserves, wondering how long I had been out for.

Your stamina is at 12%, your psi at 36%, and your mana at 0%.

Judging by how far my reserves had replenished, only five or six minutes had passed.

Saben laughed, his languid tone in sharp contrast to Morin’s. “And how will you do that?” he inquired mockingly. He gestured to the waiting elites. “You are outnumbered eight to one.”

I peered into the cavern through the intervening silk strands. Morin, Tantor, and Decalthiya hovered near the entrance. The painted woman held the moonstone lamp aloft in one hand and her spear in the other. The half-giant’s hands were clenched around the haft of the greatclub, and Tantor’s eyes flitted around the room. Saben’s elites had risen to their feet and had formed a half-circle at their leader’s rear.

“Where is he?” Decalthiya demanded.

Saben tilted his head to the side with feigned interest. “Who?”

“Michael,” the half-giant ground out. “Did he betray us?”

The gang leader chuckled. “Of course, my dear. Michael has always been one of mine. Who do you think forewarned me of your assault?”

Decalthiya’s face turned red with rage, and my own lips tightened. Goral glanced down at me, the warning not to say anything clear on his face.

I stayed quiet, not because I was intimidated, but to play for time. The longer this dragged on, the greater the chance that Sigmar and the reinforcements would arrive in time to intervene. Hopefully, Morin realized the same. What I didn’t know was why Saben was toying with the trio. Was it simply for pleasure? Or did he have some other game in mind?

Biding my time, I began analyzing each of Saben’s followers while listening to the conversation with half an ear.

Morin laid a restraining hand on Decalthiya, before addressing Saben again. “Enough of your games, Saben. We will not believe any of your lies.”

There wasn’t the slightest trace of doubt in the painted woman’s voice, for which I was relieved.

“Surrender now,” Morin continued, “and perhaps you will be spared.”

The gang leader threw back his head and laughed uproariously. “Oh, this is too delicious,” he said when his mirth subsided. “Tell me, Morin, why would I do that?”

“Because,” she replied, unmoved by Saben’s amusement, “the rest of the candidates are on their way here. All one hundred and fifty—each and every one baying for your blood.” She paused. “The only one that can stop them is me. So, this is your last chance. Drop you weapons, and surrender.”

I had to admit Morin was convincing, and I hoped what she said was true, but I doubted it. At best, Sigmar would only be able to bring three to four squads with him. Not counting those who had gone with Bornholm, the rest would be needed to guard the gang members that had surrendered. Nobody wanted them swapping sides again.

“Oh, I doubt that,” Saben said, echoing my own thoughts.

Morin raised a questioning eyebrow. “And why is that?”

Saben chuckled. “Because I happen to know that only two dozen more of your troops are heading this way.”

My own brows drew down. Is Saben bluffing? If he was, it was an oddly specific lie. I felt my trepidation rise. Something was amiss, but I couldn’t figure out what.

“All the more reason to surrender now,” Morin said, seemingly unphased by the gang leader’s words. “The rest of my people will be following on their heels.”

Saben shook his head with exaggerated sorrow. “No Morin, I’m afraid you’re wrong. No one else is coming after them.” He cupped a hand around his ear. “And if I am not mistaken, here are your reinforcements now.”

As if summoned by Saben’s words, two squads of candidates appeared in the tunnel beyond the entrance, with Sigmar at their fore.

I saw Morin’s stance relax minutely. Despite her brave front, the painted woman had been worried, I realized. I felt my own tension ease. With two dozen more candidates on our side, we had a chance now.

Sigmar, his face carefully neutral, entered the cavern, and stepped up to Morin’s side. The painted woman gave the inquisitor a welcoming smile before turning back to the gang leader. “Now Saben, for the last time, surrender your—”

Morin broke off. Her eyes widening, she stared down at the bared sword at her throat.

It was Sigmar’s blade.

Saben giggled. “Oops. I’m sorry. I misspoke earlier. Did I say ‘your’ troops?” He grinned. “I meant mine.”

The silence in the chamber was deafening. Speechless with shock, Morin, Tantor, and Decalthiya stared at the still-impassive Sigmar.

“No,” I whispered.

Saben clapped his hands. “Everyone, it is my pleasure to finally introduce to you my deputy, my right-hand man, and the most loyal of followers: Sigmar.”

With a groan, I closed my eyes and bowed my head to the ground.

There was no getting out of this alive now.

~~~

“Is it true?”

At Morin’s whispered words, I picked up my head. The druid’s gaze was fixed on Sigmar, waiting for his answer. His lips pressed together in a grim line, the inquisitor didn’t say anything.

While I waited for his response, I let my eyes rove past Sigmar to the candidates at his back. Now, that I looked more closely at them, I realized none were part of the original warband that had set out from the safe zone. One I recognized as a gang member who had surrendered, another was Markus.

I grimaced, realizing then how deep Sigmar’s betrayal ran. He had played us from the very beginning.

Morin’s words had broken the spell despair had cast over me, and after grasping the extent of Sigmar’s treachery, my anger only grew. It didn’t matter to me if I died here anymore, only that I sold my life dearly.

Gazing within, I took stock of my reserves. My stamina was still ticking upwards, but my psi remained at thirty-six percent—enough for three simple charm attempts, I judged.

“Don’t keep the dear woman waiting,” Saben said, seeming to finally run out of patience with his henchman’s silence. “Answer her!”

Sigmar threw the gang leader a scowl before turning back to address Morin. “As with everything Saben utters,” he said finally, “his words are a mixture of lies and half-truths.” Sigmar’s lips twitched upwards in a smile. “I’m not the zealot’s follower. I’m his partner.”

Morin’s capacity for shock appeared exhausted and she evinced no reaction. Not so, her companions. On the far side of Morin, Tantor’s face drained of all color, while at Sigmar’s back, Decalthiya’s eyes burned with hate into the inquisitor.

“How long?” the painted woman asked.

“How long what?” Sigmar asked, looking confused.

“How long have you been betraying us.”

“Ah,” Sigmar said, and fell silent for a moment. “Since before we entered the dungeon.”

“I see,” Morin said.

“This is all getting tedious,” Saben said. “Can we get on with it, Sigmar?”

The inquisitor gave the gang leader a curt nod, before turning to address the druid again. “Join us, Morin,” he said. “The Dark is not all bad, and together we can curb Saben’s excesses.”

“Now wait a moment,” Saben protested. “This is not—”

“Shut up Saben,” Sigmar growled. He glanced at Tantor beyond Morin, and Decalthiya standing on the other side of him. “We are still companions,” he urged. “Take this chance. Please.”

I don’t know what Sigmar expected, but his words weren’t reaching any of the trio. If anything, his words only appeared to infuriate his former companions further. Decalthiya, especially, seemed to be in the throes of an almost berserker rage, and I could see some of Saben’s people edging away from her.

The half-giant’s hands tightened suddenly around the haft of her club, and I knew she was about to lash out. I saw Tantor’s eyes narrow as he came to the same realization. Morin was harder to read, but I thought I sensed a coiled readiness to her as well.

Sigmar, on the other hand, appeared oblivious of the danger at his back. I dipped into the pool of psi in my mind, and prepared myself.

The time to act had come.