Grand Game 344: Spirit Games (Patreon)

I waited a long ten minutes before risking mindspeech again. “Are they gone?”

“Castor is,” Ghost replied. “Some of the others are still poking around.”

“Alright, tell me if anything changes.” There was no reason to move. My hiding place amongst the gargoyles was as safe a place as any, and until I removed my debuffs, I was too vulnerable to do much of anything.

With nothing else to occupy my attention, I reviewed the post-battle Game messages.

You have reached level 171!

Your meditation has reached rank 16, your elemental resistance rank 9, and your null life rank 1.

The encounter with the mages had netted me only a single level, a poor return considering the hurt they’d inflicted. But I had come out the other end alive and free and had no cause to complain. Besides which, it was not to fight but to acquire information that I’d ventured into the tower.

And in that respect, my mission had been a success.

I had confirmed the existence of the exile and gained a better understanding of the possessed’s nature and their capabilities. It was knowledge that I was sure would stand me in good stead when we met again.

Which I was certain we would.

After investing my new attribute point, I wrapped my arms tightly about myself, and doing my best to ignore my body's cries of pain, set myself to wait.

The two hours took achingly long to pass, but pass it did.

You are no longer quad-chained.

My happiness at the Game alert knew no bounds, and I wasted no time in restoring my abused body back to working order.

You have healed yourself of all injuries. Your health is at 100%.

You have replenished 100% of your mana and psi.

My sight returned to normal, and my right leg functioned again as it should. Best of all, I had regained full use of my abilities. Shifting around carefully, I took a long look at my surroundings.

Everything was exactly as Ghost had described. Satisfied, I turned my attention to the room below. According to my mindsight, the lounge was empty, but there was something else I needed confirmation of. “Is spirit-Avery still there?”

“No, he’s gone. He left when they took his body away.”

Nodding, I took a moment to renew my buffs and disguise.

You have assumed the visage of Taim.

The possessed already suspected Taim was a false identity. But that was no reason to reveal my true form. Dropping back down to the window—a laughably easy exercise in comparison to my earlier tortuous climb—I slipped into the lounge again.

In the aftermath of the skirmish, it was a ruined, smoking mess and nothing seemed suspicious. But after being caught out by the possessed once, I wasn’t about to take any unnecessary chances.

Ghost had observed Castor closely while he’d been in the room, and we both agreed he’d not tarried long enough to lay any further traps, which left only the other mages’ spells to worry about.

Wrapped in shadow, I triple scanned the room, once with my physical sight, twice with mindsight, and thrice with my spectacles of wards seeing.

Finally, my gaze settled on my missing glove. The abandoned cat claw was still where I’d left it. Recovering it was the only reason I’d returned to the chamber. Weaving deftly through the debris, I tugged free the glove from where it was inset in the wall.

You have acquired a cat claw.

“Do we hunt the possessed now?” Ghost asked eagerly.

“We don’t,” I disagreed. “Our work here is done.”

“But they almost killed you!” Ghost complained.

“They did. There is nothing further to be gained fighting the mages, though. It’s time to head out.”

Making my way back to the window, I slipped outside and began my descent to the street below. Now that I was nearly in the clear, I took the time to reflect on the nature of my foes.

The possessed certainly seemed to be aptly named.

After thinking matters through, I realized I’d learned how Castor and the others were maintaining their undying existence. I’d never seen the spirit of one of my victims before, nor had Ghost, and I could only imagine that the Game instantly whisked away the dead to whatever afterlife they enjoyed—or suffered.

Somehow though, the possessed had found a way to keep their spirits chained to their corpses after death, and it took no great leap of intuition to deduce they must also have a spell to reattach themselves thereafter.

Or, at least, some of them did.

Castor, I suspected, could not do it, or he would have restored Avery to life himself. It was, however, a good bet that the archlich could. It led me to wonder about other things too—like, for instance, what other spirit magics the archlich had. If the possessed leader could reforge spirit and body into a single whole after death, it was nearly certain he could also perceive free-roaming spirits.

That made the archlich a grave threat to Ghost.

I glanced at the spirit wolf hovering beside me. “Again, are you sure that spirit-Avery did not see you?” I asked for the third—or was it fourth?—time.

She nodded. “He was focused entirely on you—probably because you were the one to kill him—and, like I said, he wasn’t all there.  I don’t think he could see anything beyond you.”

I pursed my lips thoughtfully. I had no reason to believe Ghost was wrong, but I could not risk that she might be. If—no, when—I entered the archlich’s court, Ghost would have to stay behind.

Somehow, I was going to have to find a way to break the news gently.

Reaching the base of the tower, I found the nearby streets free of mages and soldiers. My descent had gone unnoticed. Orienting myself in the direction of the closest city wall, I fell into a loping run.

✵ ✵ ✵

We escaped the city without incident.

Taking to the plateau, Ghost and I made our way eastwards. Our destination: the exile Elron had mentioned. I’d been tempted to seek out the marshal before leaving the city but had decided against it. It would only put him in further danger—needlessly so. Nothing I’d learned changed the plan we had conceived.

After we put sufficient distance between ourselves and the city, Ghost and I broke for camp. I fell into a deep healing sleep while she kept watch.

Then, we resumed our hike east.

From what I’d learned of the dungeon’s geography, I knew it would take us a few days to reach the northeastern corner of Draven’s Reach, and I knew better than to rush things. In fact, just what to do with our time was a question that preoccupied me.

Ghost had no need for further lessons. She had mastered the astral blade spell and there was only so much Game lore I could pass on to her. That left my own self to tend to. Since entering the dungeon my desire to get stronger had grown, not shrunk. Even ignoring the dungeon’s denizens there were a host of high-leveled foes standing between me and escape.

I had two choices then. Battle the dungeon’s elites as we journeyed east. Or tackle the stygians hiding in the fog banks.

The former was riskier, but the rewards would be greater.

The latter would net me fewer levels but promised to provide more opportunities for training. Some of my skills were lagging far behind my player level, and I wanted to close the gap. And thanks to Elron’s gift, I had two blades to use instead of the one I usually employed against the stygians.

Skill training first, I decided. Then levels.

Altering my course, I made for the closest fog bank a half mile south of our position.

✵ ✵ ✵

The fog bank in question swarmed with stygians.

Even from one hundred yards away, their chittering filled the air with a constant buzz. “How many do you make out?” I asked.

“Two hundred,” Ghost replied.

That was a sizable number, but given that most were crawlers, they were well within my means to defeat. “Do you remember the plan?”

“I do,” Ghost replied. “But I can do more,” she added, a note of pleading entering her voice.

I shook my head. “Stick to what we agreed. Understood?”

The spirit wolf nodded unhappily.

“Then, let’s go.” Rising to my feet, I crept into the mist.

Multiple hostile entities have failed to detect you!

Warning: You have entered the nether! The nether toxicity at your current location is at tier 2. You are unprotected.

Your health, psi, stamina, and mana are degenerating at a rate of 9% per minute (damage reduced by 40% due to void armor).

I passed into the fog bank unprotected by a nether crystal and paused to orientate myself.

“Five yards to your left.”

I headed in the direction Ghost indicated and, a few steps later, came across six crawlers. They were milling about, as yet unaware of my presence. Drawing my stygian blades, I took a second to plan my strikes.

Then, I flew into action.

Creeping up behind the first, I stabbed down. Whirling, I cleaved through a second. Both creatures died without protest.

Darting forward, I cut left and right simultaneously. Two more crawlers fell.

The last two nether creatures, fortunate to be farther away than the others, sensed something amiss and turned my way. Catching sight of me, they opened their maws to sound the alarm.

I shadow blinked before their cries could escape them.

You have teleported 5 yards.

I emerged between the crawlers with my swords poised to strike. Extending my arms, I drove the point of my blades deep into my foes, killing both. With quiet sighs, the pair sank lifelessly to the ground.

You have killed 6 stygian crawlers.

Retracting my swords, I listened intently, but the slaughter had gone unnoticed. “Anything?” I asked, seeking confirmation.

Ghost shook her head. “You’re good.”

I sheathed my blades. Elron’s gift had played its part beautifully, proving as true a sword as the one I’d gained from Jasiah so long ago. “Perfect. Lead me to the next group.”

✵ ✵ ✵

With Ghost directing me, I stalked along the rim of the fog bank, ambushing every clump of crawlers we found.

The creatures were largely oblivious of their surroundings, and ever so slowly, I whittled down their numbers, advancing both my sword skills and sneaking in the process. Eventually, of course, something went wrong, and the alarm was raised.

But I had a plan for that too.

As the cries of the remaining one hundred and fifty stygians rose to a fever pitch, I dropped into a crouch and huddled small. “Lead them away,” I ordered while drawing psi in anticipation.

Twenty yards to my right, a cry cut the air.

It was Ghost, using her astral blades. She had wanted to take a more direct role in the slaughter, but I had forbidden it. With her spirit unclothed, there was too much that could go wrong, and I was not about to risk her life unnecessarily.

Far better, I decided, she play the same role she had in the mage’s tower—that of distraction and feint.

With my mindsight, I watched the spirit wolf race away. Four dozen stygians already dodged her heels. The creatures could not see her, but they could certainly feel the touch of the violet dagger she manifested—and they chased after it in the futile hope of snaring the caster.

Ghost kept up her spellcasting, drawing more of the crawlers to her as she fled the fog bank. I smiled. So far, everything was going according to plan. Rising to my haunches, I headed deeper into the mists.

Six mindglows appeared ahead.

I paused, assessing each. All were weavers of similar level as those I had encountered before. They were roused and alert, but their mental defenses weren’t raised yet.

This should be easy, I thought and released the spell I held ready.

You have charmed 6 of 6 targets for 20 seconds.

Raising my mind shield, I advanced again.

✵ ✵ ✵

Void thief triggered! You have acquired the spell, blight thorn (stolen).

…

…

You have killed 6 stygian weavers.

You have destroyed a stygian seed!

You have acquired 1 set of stygian seed remains.

It was as easy as I expected.

Dual wielding my stygian blades, I killed the weavers quickly and efficiently while accepting enough blight thorn damage to steal the spell. Then, I destroyed the seed.

At its death, a mournful cry filled the air—the sound of over one hundred angry crawlers abandoning their fruitless pursuit and returning to their forgotten charge. Sheathing my swords, I put my head down and fled.

Before the first crawler could find me, Ghost entered the range of my mindsight. “Follow me!” she called. Without question, I did just that.

“He’s here,” Ghost cried a handful of seconds later.

I didn’t have to ask who. Manifesting the spell I held ready, I shadow blinked.

You have teleported 48 yards to Ghost.

Emerging from the aether somewhere outside the fog bank, I rolled to a halt and wrapped myself in shadow. A few dozen yards to my left, the crawler pack surged into the mists. With Ghost’s guidance, I had neatly avoided them.

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

Raising my head, I watched a pair of mighty wings beat powerfully against the air. The harbinger had come. I had no intention of confronting the flying horror, of course. But I was admittedly curious to see what he would do.

The harbinger flew straight to the seed’s former resting place, showing no awareness of me, the fragments in my pocket, or Ghost as he passed overhead.

A moment later, a roar of fury rolled through the air.

I waited.

More angry hisses and clicks followed, some from the crawlers, but most from the harbinger. Yet even after minutes had passed, the stygian Power did not speak as he had during our first encounter. Nor did he seek to address me.

Safe in the shadows, I filed away the information.

When we’d initially met, the harbinger had claimed he could smell me. To prevent that, I’d used a scent crystal when destroying the seeds outside New Haven. But this time around, I had not bothered.

For one, I didn’t have nearly enough scent crystals to employ every time I entered a fog bank. For another, I was interested in seeing how the harbinger would respond when he realized who had been destroying the seeds.

His lack of reaction was puzzling at first.

Then I realized the harbinger had lied.

He could no more smell my wolf heritage than any other creature could. The seed had to have told him about my bloodline, the same seed that I had grasped in my hand for entirely too long.

My lips turned down sourly. I would have to be more careful when dealing with the things in the future.

A little later, after a cursory search of the area, the harbinger flew off. By then, the fog bank had largely dissipated, leaving behind only a few trailing wisps of nether. Through them, I could see the surviving crawlers.

Interestingly, the creatures’ agitation had dissipated. The harbinger, I suspected, had given them new orders.

Forming up in a long column, the crawlers were making their way up the chasm. To the next fog bank? I wondered. Or to a nearby elite?

I glanced upward, studying the skies in the direction the harbinger had flown. I was curious, too, about where the stygian had gone. Did he have a nest somewhere in the dungeon? Somewhere he kept returning to?

“Do we head back to the plateau?” Ghost asked.

But I was not yet ready to leave the chasm. I eyed the retreating crawler column. They would make ideal training subjects, I decided.

“No,” I said at last. “Let’s take care of them first.”