Grand Game 148: An Unlikely Pair (Patreon)

Day Seven. Morning.

Temporarily setting aside the mystery of the gnome, I cast analyze upon the beast.

The target is a level 198 green wyvern.

I gulped. The bounty notice had been correct. Given that, I was not about to attempt taking on the wyvern mother myself—even if she was asleep and seemingly vulnerable.

I’d planned on luring the beast to Ishita’s sworn. Much better that the wyvern was the one to trip the mages’ wards. Still, the plan carried significant risk. Not least because of the creature’s hate for me. She had my scent, and I worried she might ignore the mages entirely in favor of killing me.

I bit my lip. So what now? My gaze drifted to the gnome again. Was she sleeping too? I need to investigate further before acting.

Glancing up at the light filtering down from the cavern’s roof, I realized there was a safe way—or safer way, anyway—to do that besides sneaking past the wyvern. Shuffling backward, I retreated into the tunnel and made my way to the cliff face.

~~~

Bright sunlight was streaming through the cave mouth when I reached it. The morning was advancing, and I had to hurry. Soon I could expect the wyvern to awaken.

Standing at the edge of the entrance, I looked down. The cliff fell away sharply. Thankfully I appeared to have a head for heights and suffered no vertigo. Leaning forward, I craned my neck and peered upwards.

Just as I’d thought, the clifftop was not far away. It was a climb of less than three yards and that I could manage easily. Or so I hoped.

No sense in delaying.

Stepping up to the left side of the cave mouth, I swung myself out and onto the cliff’s face. Just don’t look down, I thought dryly, starkly aware I had no safety net.

I turned my face up and scanned the rockface, adamantly not thinking about slipping. There were plenty of handholds, and reaching up, I grabbed the nearest. Easy, does it, I thought and hauled myself a foot higher.

I kept going, moving with spider-like precision.

A little later, I reached the top. Pulling myself over the edge, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the bright blue sky while I took a moment to catch my breath.

That wasn’t so bad. I climbed back to my feet. But all the same, I would rather not do it again.

Turning full circle, I examined my surroundings. The mountaintop was flattened and barren, with even the hardiest plants struggling to grow on its surface. It was cold up here, too, despite the morning sun. Leaving the cliff edge behind me, I strode inward, mentally following the path of the tunnel beneath.

When I estimated I was above my target, I opened my mindsight and, sure enough, felt two bubbles of awareness below. One was large and bright—the wyvern mother—and the other was small and contained—the gnome.

Excellent. Opening my eyes, I scanned the rock at my feet. Now to find a way down.

Given the amount of sunlight that I’d observed in the cavern, I was sure there were plenty of fissures that led downwards from the clifftop. My task was to find one large enough to squirm through.

There were dozens of fractures.

Few cut a straight path down, and though most contorted wildly through the six feet of rock separating me from the cavern, many remained navigable.

I chose the one to use with care. The fissure I eventually judged suitable was positioned almost directly above the gnome and kept me about as far as I could hope to remain from the sleeping wyvern.

Before slipping into the crevice, I uncoiled the rope I’d taken from the Howlers and attached it firmly around a nearby rock outcropping. If I needed to retreat, the tethered line would be my way back out.

With the other end of the rope in tow, I approached the fissure. Now came the riskiest part.

I crawled in.

The crevice’s walls were smooth, likely worn away by centuries of water running off the clifftop, and almost immediately, I realized it would be a tighter fit than I expected.

There was no room to stand or even turn around and barely enough leeway for me to wedge my hands under my body and worm my way through. I’m definitely not making a quick getaway out this way. If things went wrong below, I would have to find another way out.

Despite my discomfort, though, I navigated the crevice without mishap, and a little later, I spied its other end. Wriggling towards the opening, I peered through.

The fissure ended in nearly the highest point of the cavern’s roof and the ground was some seven yards distant. My lips turned down. I would need the rope to get down.

The good news, though, was that despite the convoluted path the crevice had cut through the rock, it opened at nearly the same point it had started above, and my quarry was almost directly beneath me.

My gaze shifted to the wyvern mother. She snored on, six yards away from the gnome. But from this vantage point, the distance separating the two was less comforting than I thought. Would the beast sense me when I reached the gnome?

I grimaced. It was too late for second thoughts. I was already committed. Let’s do this.

Tugging on the rope, I lowered it bit by bit in the cavern, my eyes not leaving the wyvern all the while. She’s not going to wake, I told myself. Even saying it, I was not sure I believed it. Still, time was passing, and every moment the risk grew greater.

The rope-end reached the cavern floor with the wyvern none the wiser. Now, there was only one more thing to do.

Without further hesitation, I wormed the final bit of the way out of the crevice and swung onto the hanging rope.

A hostile entity has failed to detect you! You are hidden.

The tethered line swayed at my sudden weight but held without further protest. Clinging on, I waited for the motion to peter out.

Then I silently slipped further down.

A hostile entity has failed to detect you! You are hidden.

I touched down noiselessly on the moss-covered floor and dropped immediately into a crouch while I scanned the cavern again.

Only six yards separated me from the wyvern mother, and from this close, her menacing presence was unmistakable. But thankfully, she slept on blissfully.

My gaze shifted to my quarry. The gnome was less than a yard away and, like the wyvern herself, had not stirred. I crept closer to the player, one eye on the wyvern all the while.

A hostile entity has failed to detect you! You are hidden.

The beast slumbered on, oblivious. Reaching my target, I examined her intently.

The gnome was not asleep. She was unconscious.

One of the alchemist’s arms was strapped and bound in a makeshift sling. Her clothes were torn in places, and her legs were puffy and swollen. She also bore a host of other smaller injuries.

Reaching out, I laid a light hand on her forehead. The gnome was burning up too. I reinspected the alchemist, this time querying her health status.

The target is Saya. She is severely injured.

Damn. There was no way I could risk waking the gnome in her condition. Her cries of pain alone would give me away.

I’ll have to use a potion. A full healing one. There was no way for me to gauge the extent of the alchemist’s injuries more accurately, and I didn’t have time to be messing around. Unclipping the potion, I placed it on the unconscious gnome’s lips and dribbled the contents into her.

As usual, the potion worked instantly.

The gnome’s eyes snapped open in shock. Anticipating her reaction, I clamped a hand around her mouth before she could voice the question in her eyes. Moving slowly and not breaking eye contact, I raised a finger to my lips and jerked my head in the direction of the wyvern.

Saya’s eyes grew wider, if that was possible, as she took in the beast’s sleeping form.

I waited for a drawn-out few seconds. I had no idea as to the reason for the gnome’s presence in the cave, and I couldn’t ignore the possibility she might be working for—or with—the wyvern, absurd as the notion seemed.

When the alchemist made no attempt to struggle or call out in warning, I carefully unwrapped my hand from her mouth.

Saya exhaled silently, her eyes not leaving my own.

I rose to my feet. “Can I help you up?” I mouthed soundlessly.

The alchemist nodded, her gaze darting nervously to the wyvern. The gesture alleviated my own worries. Whatever was going on, it was obvious Saya was afraid of the beast. Small chance she is here willingly then.

Bending down, I helped the smaller player up. The gnome weighed hardly anything and moved without clumsiness. It eased my mind further. I’d not planned on any sort of rescue operation, but that seemed exactly what I was in the middle of now. That Saya was both mobile and seemingly agile made things simpler.

Leaving the trembling gnome to wait awhile, I studied the cave anew. The safest way out, I realized, was the same way I’d come in. I turned back to Saya and placed my mouth against her ear. “Do exactly as I say, and we will get out of here alive,” I whispered. “Can you do that?”

She nodded emphatically.

Placing my hands on the gnome’s shoulders, I turned her about to face the rope. “You see that? Head towards it,” I said, still whispering. “Don’t rush, and be careful where you place your feet.”

The alchemist took a step forward, moving with exaggerated caution under my vigilant scrutiny. She was light on her feet, though, and didn’t trip up.

I followed on her heels, and with painful slowness, we made our way back to my dangling rope. When we got there, I tied the end around Saya’s waist.

The climb to the top would be harder than the way down, and I could not expect the gnome to manage it. Leaning forward, I whispered into her ear again. “I’ll climb out, then pull you up. Don’t panic, and don’t make a sound.”

Saya’s trembling intensified, and her face whitened in fear. But as much as the idea of remaining alone in the cave seemed to disturb the gnome, she didn’t protest.

Getting herself under control faster than I expected, Saya nodded, if not firmly, then gamely in response to my instructions.

I squeezed her slim shoulders once, then, without further ado, scaled the rope and pulled myself up, quickly and without fuss, to the tune of the wyvern’s snores. That was the easy part done.

Next, I had to get Saya out.