Grand Game 266: Pack Loyalty (Patreon)

I awoke slowly.

My gaze was cloudy, and everything was hazy. Blinking rapidly, I waited until my eyes cleared before studying my surroundings.

Murky water, rotting wood, and the dank overpowering smell of decay filled my senses. I’m in the saltmarsh, I realized. More precisely, I was in one of the dilapidated buildings infested with blood flies. Despite the unappealing surroundings, I was pleasantly surprised to find I was not dead.

How did I survive?

Turning my head to the side, I noticed a robed and barefoot figure.

Anriq.

The werewolf sat with his head bowed, and his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He must have brought me here, I thought gratefully. Pushing my hands against the floor, I tried to sit up, but it felt as if red hot pokers were being thrust through my body, and with a gasp, I fell back.

At the sound, the werewolf raised his head and stared at me through eyes red and bleary. “Michael! You’re alive!”

I chuckled. “I’m tougher than I look,” I croaked. Even talking hurt. My throat was parched, and my lips were cracked. “What happened?” I asked, forcing myself to speak.

“A second party ambushed us,” my companion replied. “You were hit first, but I managed to get you out using the rope.”

“You climbed the rope while carrying me?” I asked, startled.

Anriq’s lips twitched. “Werewolves are nothing if not strong,” he said. “Besides, you don’t weigh much.”

“But weren’t you struck?”

He shrugged. “I was, but what they hit you with didn’t affect me nearly as badly. My Constitution is nearly as high as my Strength, and I was able to shrug off the attacks.”

“Impressive,” I murmured, thinking that whatever Anriq said, it couldn’t have been as easy as he made out. “Then what happened?”

The werewolf sighed. “A long and dreary chase that lasted hours. Those players were persistent.”

Hours? Frowning, I turned my head and stared out of the room’s only window. My senses had not deceived me. It was still bright outside. “How long have I been out for?”

“Nearly an entire day.” Anriq paused. “The tranquilizer was potent. It was meant for someone my size, I think.”

My eyes widened in alarm. “A whole day? But the sun’s still up.”

Anriq glanced out the window and grunted. “Huh, that’s true. Looks like dawn’s arrived.”

Dammit. That meant it was time to meet Kesh already. Heaving myself upward, I tried to rise again, this time with more urgency, but once more, my body failed to heed me. “Anriq, help me up,” I pleaded weakly.

Uncoiling, the werewolf did as I asked. Fresh waves of pain coursed through me, but I clamped my jaws shut, holding in the screams that demanded to be let out.

Anriq studied me worriedly. “You shouldn’t move.”

“I must,” I replied through gritted teeth.

The werewolf fell silent. “Have you checked your Game messages?” he asked finally.

I shook my head. “Why?”

“You should,” Anriq prompted. “I couldn’t identify the second toxin in your body, but it took a toll on you. I tried healing the damage, but nothing I gave you worked.”

“You tried—?” I asked, growing more alarmed. “What did you give me?”

Mutely, Anriq held up three spent potion flasks. “Sorry, I didn’t have any of my own,” he said contritely, mistaking the reason for my concern. “I took these off your belt.” Frowning, he pointed to the empty vials. “But even healing potions didn’t do the trick. They helped some, but not for long. What poison did they hit you with?”

“I don’t know,” I replied absently, less worried about the toxin—it must’ve washed out my body by now—and more concerned with the healing potions’ effect. Turning my attention inwards, I studied the waiting Game messages.

You have reached level 135!

Your chi has increased to level 111 and reached rank 11.

Your sneaking has increased to level 110 and reached rank 11.

You have imbibed too many alchemical mixes today! You have gained the trait: alchemical resistance. Due to your overuse of potions, your body has grown less responsive to their restorative effects. This trait reduces the beneficial impact of all brews consumed by 1 rank.

It was worse than I thought.

I’d been hoping the penalty would be something like a curse—a curse I could remove—but a trait… that was permanent.

Right, this ain’t good, I thought inanely. It was a further complication I didn’t need. My gaze flitted to Anriq, who was inspecting me worriedly.

It’s not his fault; he didn’t know.

But the Adjudicator was not done yet delivering bad news. More Game messages vied for my attention. Dreading what else awaited me, I opened them.

Your health is dangerously low at 10%.

You have contracted Typhili, a level 5 disease! Warning, the contagion in your body is approaching critical mass and will soon morph into a deadlier version.

“Dammit,” I swore, beginning to regret not dying instead.

“What’s wrong?” Anriq asked.

“Help me,” I rasped. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

“But shouldn’t you heal first?” Anriq protested. “Your health, it’s not good. What if—”

“No!” I growled harshly. “I have to leave the saltmarsh immediately!” Quickened by my anger, my pulse raced, and my breathing grew faint.

Calm, Michael. Or you might get your wish and die here, after all.

I took a steadying breath. “Please. Get me out as fast as you can.”

Saying nothing further, Anriq reached down and slung me over his back. “As you wish, alpha.”

✵ ✵ ✵

A few minutes later, Anriq and I were crouched atop the bank leading down into the saltmarsh. Thankfully, the district’s edge was nearly as unpopular as the marsh itself, and no other players were about. Reaching into my backpack with a shaking hand, I extracted the disease cure potion Trexton had mixed for me so long ago.

“Are you sure you should be taking that?” Anriq asked in trepidation.

“I have no choice but to,” I said, staring morosely at the flask. “It will take too long to find a mage willing to cure me.”

While Anriq had carried me out of the marsh, I’d filled him in on the reason for my distress. Needless to say, the werewolf had been distraught—despite me absolving him of any blame for my newly acquired negative trait. To take his mind off matters—and my own, too—I had made the youth recite the tale of our escape.

It turned out that Anriq had had an eventful day and night. He’d spent nearly the entire time chased by multiple groups of players and had only lost them when he’d ventured deep into the marsh. Now, he was almost as spent as I was.

Despite his misstep with the health potions, Anriq had done far more to help me than I’d anticipated. I’d fully expected the werewolf to flee the alley alone, leaving me behind to die. If he had done so, I would have borne him no ill will.

That he hadn’t… that he had carried me out at great personal risk to himself, it spoke volumes about the youth’s integrity. But my survival had come at a cost, and now I had a difficult decision before me. I refocused on the flask in my hand.

If I didn’t drink it, death was assured.

But if I did consume it, then I risked more debilitating effects.

It was either lose big or lose small. I didn’t have lives to spare, though, so in the end, the choice was simple. Here goes. Uncapping the flask, I downed its contents in a single gulp.

You have cured yourself of Typhili with a rank 6 cure disease potion.

You have imbibed too many alchemical mixes today! Your alchemical resistance trait has advanced to alchemical resistance II. The second tier of this trait reduces the restorative effects of all brews consumed by 2 ranks.

“Ah,” I exhaled, feeling the potion magically purge the contagion from my body.

“Did it work?” Anriq asked anxiously.

I nodded, saying nothing of the additional unwanted effect. “Let me see to my healing now.” Glancing down, I inspected myself in a cursory fashion but then paused as I noticed fresh bite marks on my arm.

“Oh, about that,” Anriq said, following my gaze. “I bit you.”

“You bit me?”

Anriq nodded sheepishly. “When the potions failed to work, I tried giving you the werewolf traits. I was hoping it would take this time.” He paused. “I guess it didn’t.”

“Oh,” I said. Not knowing what else to say, I closed my eyes and healed myself. Then, for good measure, I invested my new attribute points and restored my reserves of psi and mana through meditation and channeling.

Your Dexterity has increased to rank 40. Other modifiers: +8 from items.

Feeling whole again, I rose to my feet and surveyed the area. The sky had brightened considerably. Kesh and Cara must be getting impatient by now. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s get moving.”

The werewolf did not budge.

I shot him a questioning glance. “What are you waiting for?”

“I’m not coming,” Anriq said.

My brows drew down. “Why not?”

“You will be safer without me,” he replied, ducking his head despondently.

I stared at him in silence for a moment. “Don’t be afraid. We will—”

Anriq’s head jerked up. “I’m not scared!”

I inclined my head. “Poor choice of words on my part,” I apologized. “But I think we can do better the second time around. If we’re careful and avoid any crowds, I’m certain I can get you safely through the plague quarter.”

Anriq shook his head stubbornly.

“We didn’t go through all that for nothing!” I said in exasperation. “I promised to get you out of the city, and I will.”

“But you don’t even know how you will manage it yet,” Anriq pointed out.

“That may be, but I have contacts who will help.”

“I’ll wait here until then,” Anriq said. “It will be safer—for both of us.”

I stared at him searchingly. “Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“Alright,” I conceded reluctantly. It wasn’t distrust that made me hesitate. Anriq had proven his loyalty beyond question, and I didn’t fear him betraying my secrets anymore. He was Pack, and that was that. No, what worried me was leaving him alone again.

But the werewolf’s suggestion did make sense. He had survived a long time in the saltmarsh on his own, and there was no reason he couldn’t manage for a few more days. “I will be back. Count on it.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Anriq said. “You are a true alpha.”

I wasn’t so certain about that. Somehow, I always seemed to be leaving behind those who I considered pack. “Where will I find you when I return?”

“Leave a message in the trunk of the tree where we first met.” The werewolf smiled. “And next time you visit, make sure you come with enough disease protection crystals.”

I nodded and stepped forward to clasp the youth’s arm. “Thank you for getting me to safety.”

Anriq shrugged uncomfortably. “It was no more than my duty to my alpha.”

I smiled. “Nonetheless, I’m grateful.”

Turning around, I headed away from the marsh and the silently watching werewolf.