Grand Game 356: The Spider at the Center of the Web (Patreon)

The chasm was as deep and narrow as it had appeared from afar. Looking straight down, I studied its depths.

A little more than a jagged tear in the plateau, the chasm zigzagged from west to east before devolving into a network of even smaller scars that ran right up against the dungeon’s northern boundary. Its two side walls marched in unison, so close together that no light penetrated to the rocky floor.

It must have been a tight fit, I thought, finding it surprising the harbinger had willingly entered the chasm. Fortunately, I was many times smaller than my counterpart and the darkness did not scare me. Equipping my cat’s claws, I made my way down the sheer cliff wall.

The climb was no more difficult than others I’d performed in the dungeon, and shortly I reached the bottom of the chasm. It was pitch black—a problem for most, but not for me.

Both my mindsight and physical sight reported the surroundings to be empty. I was alone. Leaving my blades sheathed, I glanced from left to right, wondering which direction to explore first.

East, I decided. If something had come here seeking refuge from the harbinger, it followed they would choose the narrowest stretches to hide in, and those all lay to the east.

Setting out at an easy walk, I got going.

✵ ✵ ✵

Hours later, I was still walking.

I had contemplated calling out for Ghost—either with my mindvoice or aloud—but had decided that would be unwise until I knew for certain the spidering network of cracks held no threat.

I was already in what I judged to be the chasm’s narrowest passage, which measured about four yards from wall to wall. It was a space too tight for the harbinger or, for that matter, the majority of the dungeon’s elite. But something like a swarm viper could still be lurking in the darkness, and I stayed vigilant.

Sss… eeuUuu… ssSss eeuuSss… eeuuw…

I rocked to a halt, startled.

During the entire time I’ve been in the chasm, nothing had disturbed the quiet. Until now.

The strange sound came again.

What was it? A hiss? A whistle? I wasn’t quite sure. Whatever it was, it was too faint to hear clearly. It couldn’t be the wind. There wasn’t even a breeze to speak of. Deciding I needed to know, I turned down a side passage, following the sound.

I came to another fork in the path and once more chose the one from which the whistling seemed to emanate louder. I didn’t worry about getting lost, knowing I could escape to plateau any time it became necessary.

As I drew closer, the sound changed, or rather, became clearer. It was neither a hiss nor whistle, but chanting. Chanting with words in a language I didn’t understand.

In the middle of a passage so thin two people could barely walk abreast, I paused and listened intently. There was only one voice. Which meant a single hostile.

Or did it?

Chanting implied sentience. Was it an elite up ahead or something else?

There was no way to tell. Casting my buffs, I advanced more cautiously. The sound had become progressively louder, and I knew I had to be close to the unseen chanter.

The passage I followed winded left and right, then suddenly ended. Drawing to a halt, in the center of the tiny cul-de-sac—barely a few yards across—I turned around in a slow circle. Had I chosen the wrong passage?

Should I return to the plateau?

I pivoted about again. The chanting was louder here than it had been anywhere else, and while it was difficult to pinpoint the sound’s source, I thought it was coming from beneath. Frowning, I went down on my knees and inspected the floor closely.

You have found an anomaly!

My brows drew down further. It was not the fact that I had found an anomaly that disturbed me, but that I had found only an anomaly.

My insight was at rank twenty, high enough to pierce the guise of most creatures. Whatever I was dealing with here, it had been set by a being of elite rank—or higher.

Is it a ward or a trap?

Putting on my spectacles, I checked the first possibility. Uncovering nothing, I drew on my stamina and cast lesser trap detect.

Energy rushed into my eyes, sharpening my gaze and causing glowing dust to swirl at the edges of my vision. I waited a beat, but the particles refused to coalesce.

You have failed to spot any traps.

The Game report was less helpful than I liked. There could still be a trap, only I was too unskilled to detect it. Sighing, I drew ebonheart and used its tip to brush aside loose gravel and pebbles from the spot that had attracted my interest. I knew I was taking a risk tinkering with a potential trap, but I could not walk away.

The harbinger had been interested enough in this area to investigate. The exile was supposedly also somewhere nearby. And then there was Ghost.

I did not see how the unknown chanter, or the anomaly, could lead me to finding my lost companion, but I could not ignore the possibility that they might.

No spelled ward or trap triggered.

Relieved, I leaned forward to inspect what I’d uncovered.

You have passed a Perception check!

You have pierced a veil of darkness. An illusion has been lifted. You have found a hidden trapdoor!

I sat back, rocking on my heels. A trapdoor. In the middle of nowhere, too. Where did it lead?

Not about to leave the mystery unanswered, I tugged open the wooden door.

✵ ✵ ✵

Beneath the trapdoor was a flight of stairs.

They descended into an underground complex that, in stark contrast to the chasm’s pitch-black dark, was flooded in light. More importantly, the chanting had grown in volume. After ascertaining there were no wards or traps lurking, I descended the steps.

At the base of the staircase, I crouched down to examine my surroundings anew. I was in a corridor tiled all-about with chalk white bricks that reflected the already harsh light tenfold.

I grimaced realizing there were no shadows to be had. Nor was the source of light apparent. Neither of those things could be happenstance either. Recasting greater fade, I attempted to hide.

Prevailing light conditions prevent you from concealing yourself. You have failed to hide.

Urgh. I didn’t want to venture down the white corridor, and I already felt too exposed, but I had to. Setting aside my misgivings, I drew my blades and crept forward.

✵ ✵ ✵

Fifty yards later, the passage came to an abrupt end, terminating in a T-junction.

To the right it led to a handful of rooms, each hidden behind a closed door. To the left was another stretch of corridor, this one with only a single door set at its end. It was from there that the chanting was coming. Swinging left, I approached the door.

It stood ajar.

I stepped up to the door but could make out nothing through the narrow slit. My mindsight, too, reported the room empty. Given the chanting that emanated from within, that was patently untrue, though. I would have to go in to find out more. Renewing my buffs, I tightened my hands around the hilt of my blades and gently pushed the door open further.

It did not creak.

Grateful to retain the element of surprise and not sure for how much longer that would still hold true, I slipped into the room.

You have entered a tier 6 concealment field. All entities within this field are hidden from outside detection.

I drew up short. It was not the Game alert, as troubling as it was, that gave me pause. Rather, it was the sight that greeted me.

The chamber was decorated in the same unrelieved white as the corridor. Even the tables and cupboards scattered along the edges of the room had been painted white—which made the two crimson circles in the center all the more eye-catching.

In the first circle, was a misshapen pile of fur, meat, and bones that had been crudely strung together in something resembling a four-footed beast.

In the second circle was Ghost.

I had found her!

My elation lasted only a second, though, before concern marred it. Ghost did not seem to be aware of me. Lying on her side, the spirit wolf was to all appearances... unconscious. Her mindglow was small, wavering and subdued. In the real, all was not right either. The lines of spirit defining Ghost’s form were blurred. I didn’t know what that signified, but it troubled me.

My eyes narrowed. In all the time I’d known Ghost, I had never seen her in such a state. My gaze shot to the motionless figure standing between the two circles with its—her?—back to me. The chanter. She had to be the one responsible.

Had she caged the spirit wolf somehow?

A snarl twisted my face and I almost charged forward before I could stop myself. But sense prevailed and I remained as still as the figure I observed. The chanter didn’t appear in my mindsight, which meant she was shielded, and whatever was happening to Ghost, hadn’t begun recently.

The chanting had been going on for some time, and I suspected Ghost’s condition was related to it. The chanter was no ordinary foe either. Given the ward around the room, she was powerful.

I have to move carefully, or I could end up as trapped as Ghost. And that would do no one any good.

My gaze drifted to the twin circles. They weren’t just crimson, I realized; they had been drawn in blood. Tiny sigils, carefully engraved in the white bricks, decorated the inside and outside of the circles. They, too, had been done in blood.

This is a ritual.

But to what end? My eyes darted from the unconscious Ghost to the meat-body. Was this a perverse attempt to create a pet? Or raise an undead? I shuddered. Whatever was going on, I didn’t think it boded well for my companion.

Finally, my gaze settled on the chanter. From the rear, she looked like an ordinary human. But looks could be deceptive, and I was sure she was one of the possessed and the so-called exiled. It was the only explanation that made sense.

My thoughts flickered back to the tier six ward enclosing the chamber. It could only be the chanter’s doing. That put the silent figure on par with an envoy—for which reason, as much as I wanted to, I dared not attempt an analyze. I couldn’t risk alerting my foe before I attacked.

And I had to attack, I realized.

That doing so would likely destroy the plans Elron and I had drawn up counted for little. This was a tier six foe I was dealing with. And she had Ghost at her mercy.

Attacking fast and without warning was the only chance Ghost had of living through the encounter. Even then, it might not be enough. There is no other choice. Settled in my decision, I drew psi and raised ebonheart.

The chanting stopped.

My heart sank. I had delayed too long. My spell was only half-ready, and it would take a few precious seconds to cover the distance to the exile.