Grand Game 338: A Tangled Knot (Patreon)

Day Seven in Draven’s Reach

The marshal’s house was a small one-story building that overlooked the city walls.

After Ghost scouted the building and pronounced it safe, I slipped inside. Elron was not home. The dark elf had no servants and no family, and the place looked barely lived-in. Sitting down in the somewhat empty living room, I made myself comfortable. I expected I had a long wait in store before the marshal returned.

Two hours passed, and still, Elron didn’t appear. I glanced at the spirit wolf. Seeming just as bored as I was, she was sniffing disinterestedly at every dusty corner. I could feel my own eyes struggling to stay open.

“Keep watch,” I said. “I’m going to get some sleep.” Then, I lay down on the floor and fell into a deep slumber.

✵ ✵ ✵

“Prime, he’s coming.”

My eyes snapped open. “Alone?” I asked, sitting up.

“Yes.”

“How long was I asleep for?”

“Long enough for it to be the next day,” Ghost replied.

Shifting my focus inwards, I checked the waiting Game messages.

You have slept 5 hours. Stamina, mana, and psi reserves have been fully restored.

You have lost knowledge of the stolen spell, blight thorn.

The lock on the door rattled. Rising to my feet, I turned around. Elron stepped through the doorway, and on seeing me, stopped short.

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding,” he said mildly and locked the door behind him.

“I’ve been waiting for you, not hiding.”

“Huh, same thing.” Elron sat down heavily on a couch. “Thanks to you, Avery and his ilk have been grilling me for hours. For some reason, they seem to believe I know where you’ve gone.”

“Will they check here?”

He snorted. “Hardly. I barely use this place. Besides, they don’t think I’m hiding you, just that I know more about you than I’m letting on.”

I sat down on the couch across from him. “And do you?”

He stared at me for a moment. “I know you are not the simple explorer you claim to be—or not only. The possessed may not be players anymore, but they retain many of their former abilities, and I’ve seen what they are capable of. Not one of them, not even Castor, would consider venturing through the dungeon alone as you have.”

He held my gaze. “You are more than you make out, Taim. You must be.” A smile flickered across his face. “I also know you make Avery and Castor more nervous than I’ve ever seen. That alone is good enough for me.”

My own lips twitched upward. It seemed I had read Elron right. “Is that why you’ve been helping me?”

The dark elf leaned forward. “Understand me, Taim. I love my city; I love my people. And if we are to survive, we need to get out from under the possessed’s thumb.” He stared at me, his face serious. “That’s why I helped you. Not for any mere dislike of the possessed. But to save my city.”

“And you trust me to do that?” I asked solemnly. “That’s a tall ask from someone you’ve only met recently.”

Elron bared his teeth, revealing a deep-seated frustration. “Believe me, I know. And no offense, Taim, but if I had a choice, I wouldn’t trust you. I would rid the city of the possessed myself. It’s been tried before, though—many times.” Sighing, he sat back. “We’ve always failed.”

My brows creased. “Maybe it’s better if you start from the beginning.”

Elron nodded, still looking glum. “I take it from the reports I’ve heard about what happened in the council chamber that you know what the possessed are?”

“I know what they claim to be,” I clarified. “I don’t understand, though, how they can be former players.”

Elron shrugged. “I don’t either. But however the possessed came to be, there’s no question of their power. They’ve been in this dungeon for as long as my own people, longer in fact. And they’re the only reason we’ve survived this long.”

I looked at him in surprise. “So, the possessed have been helping New Haven?”

“Yes,” he said bluntly. “Even I will attest to that. The possessed helped build this city. For centuries, they’ve also helped train our armies and keep the dungeon’s denizens at bay. And when the stygians arrived, it was the possessed that shielded the city from the harbinger. Without them, we’d be dead many times over.”

I frowned. “All those dangers you’ve just mentioned—the elites, the stygians—they’re all still present. Yet, you want to get rid of the possessed. Who will protect the city then?”

Elron nodded dourly. “That’s the rub, isn’t it? New Haven still needs the possessed. Simply killing them—even if it were possible—is not a solution.”

My frown deepened. “Then I take it you believe their claim that they are undying?”

“I don’t just believe, I know it for a fact. I’ve witnessed Castor’s return from the dead.” He paused. “Only, when he came back, he was wearing a different body.”

I pursed my lips. “And they can all do this?”

“That’s more... doubtful.” Elron hesitated, then added, “I’ve gotten the impression that the possessed have a limited supply of bodies, and those that they have are reserved for the higher-ups, like Castor. It’s why they don’t risk the fog banks lightly themselves.”

I looked at him, startled. “Are you telling me,” I said slowly, “that the possessed can survive the nether’s touch?”

The marshal nodded. “They can. Avery claims a possessed’s body retains its inherent immunities and weaknesses. According to him, there’s something in a player’s blood that protects him or her from the nether. The possessed still take damage from the void, though, and they can die as easily as anyone. When that happens, they don’t always come back.”

My anger had been steadily mounting during Elron’s explanation. “That still doesn’t tell me,” I said from between gritted teeth, “why your council sent me—and not the possessed—into the fog banks to kill the seeds.”

“We had no choice,” the marshal said softly. “After the last venture, Castor has refused to send any more of his people into the fog.”

“The last venture?” I asked sharply.

Elron did not flinch from the anger in my face. “There have been other seeds,” he admitted. “Three of them, to be exact. The possessed destroyed them but it was not easy. Castor’s people spent hours searching for the darn things in the fog, all while fighting off the crawlers and the harbinger. As you can imagine, their losses were significant.” He paused. “That’s why Castor has vowed not to send any more possessed into the mists. And that’s why he is so keen to know how you navigate the nether so easily yourself.”

I rubbed my temples. “So, your council used me,” I said bitterly. “You used me.”

“I had no choice,” Elron repeated. “Castor claims it is unnecessary to kill the seeds. And, strictly speaking, he is right. As long as the possessed can maintain the dome around the city, New Haven will survive the fog’s touch—in the short run, at least.” His face curled with resentment. “But that doesn’t prevent the starvation that’s running rife through the city because half the fields lie fallow. And that doesn’t stop my men from dying when we are forced to put down stygian raids.”

Stubbornly ignoring Elron’s sad tale of woe, I continued my questioning. “The tale you fed me about losing men to the fog, that was a lie then?”

“That was no tale,” the marshal protested. “After the possessed refused to help, the council ordered me to try without them. As you can imagine, it was a disaster.”

“Huh,” I grunted noncommittally. I thought about everything Elron had told me over the last few days, and something else occurred to me. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“About what?”

“That the harbinger would come. You knew before I told you.”

Elron looked away shamefaced. “I did. The mages were already on standby.”

I bowed my head. Matters in the city were more tangled than I had presumed and even Elron had not dealt with me straightly. I wanted to be angry with him about that, but the truth was… I understood his motivations. I had done much the same to protect those under my care, after all.

Sighing, I set aside my bitterness and returned to the matter at hand. “So, to summarize: the possessed protect the city, even if they are less willing to risk themselves of late. What I don’t get is what they get out of the bargain.”

“Bodies,” Elron replied simply.

“Bodies,” I repeated, finally making the connection. New Haven enabled the possessed’s undying existence, and in return they had to keep its population alive—or at least a good portion of it. A moment later, I frowned, remembering my conversation with Castor. “But not just any bodies, right?”

“No, not just any bodies, as you’ve rightly seemed to have guessed already. The possessed can only use player corpses.”

“Hence their interest in me.”

“Correct,” the marshal said. “The agreement between New Haven and the possessed is centuries old. In exchange for their protection, the city is required to hand over any player born into the population.” Elron stared morosely into the distance. “But of course, the game is rigged.”

I tilted my head. “How so?”

“The possessed are the ones keeping my people in the dungeon.”

It took me a moment to work out what he meant. “So, Castor was telling the truth? The possessed control the exit portal?”

“Exactly.”

My brows furrowed. “But... but why don’t they just leave themselves?”

Elron shrugged. “That, I don’t know. Perhaps they like it here, or it may be that they’re afraid to.”

I nodded slowly. Both of those things could be true. “And where is the exit portal exactly?” I held my breath, half-afraid he would refuse to tell me.

“In the southeastern quadrant of the dungeon,” the marshal answered easily. “But if you are thinking of trying to sneak through, think again.”

“Why?” I asked, even as I ran through plans in my mind to do just that.

“The portal lies in the heart of the lich’s court.”

“Lich? What lich?”

“I’ve never seen him myself, but according to the city records, the possessed ruler is an archlich. Even Castor seems to fear him.”

“Hmm,” I mused, wondering exactly what an archlich was. “And how many possessed are said to reside in this supposed court?”

Elron shrugged. “I can only guess, but according to the archives, at one time, there were as many as a thousand possessed in Draven’s Reach.”

“A thousand,” I muttered, suddenly a whole lot less enthused at the idea of visiting the lich’s court.

The marshal eyed me carefully. “You’re going to go anyway, aren’t you?”

“I must,” I said. “I have people depending on me outside this dungeon.”

Elron snorted disdainfully. “What, like the bounty hunters guild?” I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, he raised his hand. “I know you misled me before about your origins. No more lies, please. If you don’t want to tell me who you really are, then don’t.”

I said nothing.

“I thought so,” Elron said, smiling thinly. Without missing a beat, he continued, “If you are determined to penetrate the lich’s court, will you permit me a suggestion?”

“Go ahead.”

“Seek out help first,” he said.

“And where would I find that?” I asked sourly. “Your council has already refused, and from what you’ve told me, there’s not much you or your city can do to aid me.”

“New Haven can’t help you,” he agreed. “Not directly. But there may be someone else who could.”

“Oh? And who would that be?”

“Another possessed.”

I stared at him in amazement, but Elron held up his hands for patience. “Hear me out, please. The possessed have taken advantage of the city, but they are not all bad. And if the old tales are to be believed, they started out with the best of intentions. But more to the point—I’ve overheard Castor and Avery talking of an exile.”

“An exile? Go on.”

“This exile is said to have fled the lich’s court and is rumored to be in the northeastern section of the dungeon. Not only that, Castor and the others believe she is nearly as powerful as the archlich himself. Apparently, the possessed ruler has tried on multiple occasions to assassinate her. She still lives, though, and he has long since given up trying. She may help you.”

I nodded vaguely. “I’ll have to think about it.” Falling silent, I pondered my next steps.

“You know, all of this could have turned out differently,” Elron remarked.

I looked up at him. “How so?”

“When you arrived, if you hadn’t been so impatient, I could have kept the council from finding out about you.”

I blinked. “Are you saying you were trying to hide me from them?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “The jail might not have looked like much, but the men there are all loyal to me personally, as are the soldiers on the wall. No one would have talked.”

I looked at him skeptically. “So, what went wrong?”

“You did. If you hadn’t given me a two-day limit to finish my investigations, I wouldn’t have been forced to call in the mages guild to verify you were what you said you were.”

“You’re saying this is all my fault?”

He grinned unrepentantly. “Yes.”

I let that pass and focused on something else he mentioned. “Are all the mages in the guild possessed?”

“Not all, but most,” Elron allowed. “They find the cowled hoods useful. It helps disguise their deformities.”

“Deformities?”

“Sometimes, the weaker possessed are forced to reuse the same body after they die. And as I understand it, any damage the corpse sustained can’t be removed post ‘death.’”

I stared at him in morbid fascination. “Can’t they just heal themselves once they repossess the corpse?”

Elron shook his head. “Apparently, they can’t. It seems any bodily injuries dealt pre-possession are considered permanent traits. It’s what makes Castor and his fellows so eager for ‘clean’ bodies.”

I shuddered at the thought of living inside a mutilated corpse. “It doesn’t sound like a pleasant existence. But enough of that. Tell me about the mages guild. Was any of that stuff about them specializing in defensive magic true?”

“It was, but only as it applies to the city-born mages. The apprentices I brought to work the device were two such.” He sighed. “Involving them, though, was always a risk, and it clued their superiors that something was amiss. Eventually, word got to Castor and Avery, and they forced the council to summon you.”

“I wasn’t sure I could trust you,” I said, defending my actions.

“I understand. And in your place, I would have likely done the same.” He paused. “But enough of the past. Let’s talk about the future. I assume you want my help to get out of the city?”

“I don’t,” I contradicted. “I can deal with Castor and the others myself.”

Elron looked doubtful but did not gainsay me.

“It will be helpful to know though, how long their protective dome will remain in place.”

“A day more at most,” the marshal said confidently. “As badly as Castor wants you, he won’t risk tiring his people needlessly. Otherwise, he will be forced to call for reinforcements from the archlich, and he will want to avoid that at all costs.”

“That’s good.”

“If you don’t need my help escaping the city, is there anything else I can help you with?” Elron asked.

I looked at him speculatively for a moment. “That bit about wanting to save your city, did you mean it?”

“I did,” he replied unhesitatingly. “But don’t worry, I realize it can be nothing more than a dream. The challenge is too big for any one man—even if that man is a player—to surmount. Get yourself away from this dungeon and back to your own people and let me worry about how to take care of New Haven.”

“No dream is too big,” I said, waving aside his words. “Actually, I was going to ask you: if you had the opportunity, would you save your city?”

“Of course,” he replied, staring at me with almost frightening intensity as he leaned forward. “You’re saying the city can be saved? How?”

“Not the city,” I corrected, not shying from his gaze. “But its people can be.” I paused. “How do you feel about helping me evacuate New Haven?”