Grand Game 376: Shadow Games (Patreon)

“Damn,” I muttered, staring at spirit-Adriel in shock. She looked identical to her younger human form, and like Ghost, was fully formed. “What about the harbinger?” I asked, recovering.

“Close to death, but still alive,” Adriel said, advancing closer to study the void tree. “So, this is our foe.”

I glanced from her to the sapling. “You’re not afraid of it?”

The spirit shrugged. “It cannot hurt me in this form, nor even see me without the spores’ aid.” She gestured at herself ruefully. “But, like this, I’m equally powerless to harm it.” Her gaze flickered back to mine “What’s your plan?”

“I meant to creep up to the base and place the Emblem, but now... I’m not sure. I may need to rush things.”

She nodded. “Don’t let me keep you. Go ahead, I’ll keep watch.” Her lips twisted. “I can do that much at least.”

“Thanks,” I replied absently, my mind already working on the problem.

Once Farren died, the harbinger and the rest of the nest would return. And if things were about to get noisy, staying stealthy didn’t matter anymore—I paused, a thought occurring—or did it?

I was assuming that when the entire nest returned, I wouldn’t be able to hide, but given the evidence of my approach, was that right?

“Adriel... If Farren dies, will he be alright?”

“Of course,” she said casually. “He did not bring his phylactery. His spirit will re-materialize in the court.”

“That’s what I thought,” I murmured. “And the harbinger, just how badly did you say he was injured?”

“Bad enough that, with a minute more, I believe we could have killed him.” She studied me curiously. “Why, what are you thinking?”

“I’ll tell you in a second, but first tell me about the battle with the harbinger; what worked and what didn’t.”

✵ ✵ ✵

I was about to change the plan.

Never a wise idea mid-execution, especially with the stakes so high. In my current position, I knew I could awaken the guardian. One quick darkness bolt at the obscuring thorns, then a speedy dash across five yards, and the Emblem would be in place.

But neither Farren nor Adriel had been certain how much help Draven would be able to offer against the stygians. It was conceivable he would be constrained from harming both the tree and the harbinger. And once I awoke the guardian, I lost the element of surprise—and perhaps my best chance of ambushing the harbinger.

Which led to option two, and the one I was presently considering: ambush the harbinger, kill him, then the void tree, and only thereafter restore Draven.

The original plan was the surest path to victory, even if that victory took months or years to be fully realized. Option two, on the other hand, would end in either complete and instant triumph or total and utter failure.

Both alternatives were not without danger either. With the original plan, if Draven did not—or could not—help, I would be revealed and stuck in the middle of the stygian nest with an angry harbinger and void tree. With option two, if I failed to awaken the guardian, everything we had done would’ve been for naught.

Still, I preferred the second plan.

If only because it left less to chance. Success and failure would depend on my own ability to execute and not on Draven’s willingness or limitations. Then, too, I was always at my most dangerous when striking from the shadows.

And the risks were minimal. Yes, I could fail at slaying the harbinger. Yes, I could fall prey to the void sapling. But Ghost was safe in a soulbound cloak and would not be endangered. I, too, had an extra life to spare. Only Adriel would be at risk, but there were measures I could take to protect her phylactery.

“Farren just died,” Adriel said suddenly. “Whichever way you are going, now is the time to decide.”

The lich had listened attentively to my proposal and had not tried to sway me either way. I closed my eyes for a moment, contemplating both choices again.

“We go with option two,” I said softly.

“Then, get ready,” Adriel said. “Here comes the harbinger.”

✵ ✵ ✵

You have cast fade, blurring your form and making you 50% harder to see for 2 minutes.

While Adriel kept watch, I renewed fade, my shortest-lasting buff, then remained where I was, not daring to advance an inch further towards the tree and equally afraid to retreat closer to the circle of weavers at my back.

It was best to stay put.

With bare blades in hand, I observed the harbinger’s approach through mindsight.

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

The stygian Power was no more able to detect me than the weavers and void tree. Swooping down from up high, the harbinger descended near vertically. Mindsight put him almost directly above the guardian. Was he going to land in front or behind the statue? I wondered. Not that it mattered much.

Thirty feet from the ground and still outside my line of sight, the harbinger’s mindglow stopped moving. I frowned. Was the stygian hovering mid-air? But I didn’t hear the flap of wings.

“The wretch!” Adriel hissed suddenly. “He has landed atop Draven!”

I glanced at the spirit. Her lips were thinned, and she quivered with anger. Clearly, Adriel considered the harbinger’s actions blasphemy.

“He’s sitting on the statue?” I asked, startled. “How is he managing that?”

“Draven is a centaur,” she said as if that explained everything.

And it did.

The harbinger had to have landed on the centaur’s back, which from the stygian’s point of view, was the only practical thing to do. Perched on the guardian, he would have an easier time landing and taking off, and as an added bonus, being thirty feet up meant he was protected from most landbound threats.

But not me.

Turning my mindsight outwards for a moment, I checked on the progress of the other stygians. The harbinger had not waited for the rest of the nest—and why would he? As a result, they still had some way to travel before they reached us.

Good. They would not be able to interfere while I dealt with the Power. There were still the weavers and the sapling to consider, but I couldn’t do anything about them.

“How far up the guardian does the void tree reach?” I asked.

“The sapling is still young and doesn’t extend beyond the centaur’s legs.”

I smiled. That reduced the chance of interference by the sapling, although what form that could take, I was at a loss to say. “What about the harbinger, what is he doing?”

“The wretch has curled up in a ball and closed his eyes,” Adriel replied. “He is either meditating or about to go to sleep.”

“Even better,” I said with a grin.

Tightening my grip on my blades, I got ready to move. “I guess it’s time I introduced myself,” I said for Adriel’s benefit. “Here goes.”

Then without further ado, I shadow blinked.

✵ ✵ ✵

You have teleported onto the back of a stygian harbinger.

You have cast whirlwind, piercing strike, and crippling blow.

I emerged from the aether with my blades held aloft and spelled energy rushing into my arms, redoubling their speed and power. Dropping down atop the harbinger, I spread my legs then snapped them shut to straddle his hyena-like neck.

Securely straddled, I brought my swords flashing down.

You have backstabbed a harbinger for 5x more damage! You have critically injured your target.

You have backstabbed a harbinger for 2. 5x more damage! You have critically injured your target.

A hostile entity has detected you! You are no longer hidden.

It was not enough.

As devastating as my initial onslaught was, my foe survived. I had not expected otherwise, though. Even hovering on the brink of death, a Power like the harbinger would not be easy to kill. Withdrawing my blades, I unleashed a second flurry of blows.

You have injured your target.

You have injured your target.

The harbinger’s eyes snapped open.

Absent of befuddlement or even surprise, they shone with burning rage. He was about to counter, I knew, and likely with an attack beyond my ability to evade.

I played my next card.

Reaching for the spell sitting idle all these long days in the ring on my right hand, I activated its casting. But not for an instant did I stop stabbing.

You have trigger-cast cold sphere.

A stygian harbinger has failed a magical resistance check! 1 of 1 targets have been chilled.

You have injured your target.

You have injured your target.

My gambit effectively froze the harbinger in place.

Any physical maneuvers he thought to perform now would take too long. He’d be dead before he completed them. The stygian knew it, as did I. That did not preclude him from launching spelled attacks, though.

A stygian harbinger has cast nether’s cloying touch.

I made no attempt to dodge or evade.

The harbinger’s response was one I had expected—sort of. While I had no way of predicting the exact spells my foe would employ, I knew his magic schools of choice—and was prepared for both.

Trusting in my defenses, I plunged my blades into the harbinger again, inflicting huge swaths of damage with each blow.

You have passed a magical resistance check. Your void armor has repelled your foe’s attack!

You have injured your target.

You have injured your target.

Smiling grimly, I kept hacking at my foe’s neck like a butcher at work. In. Out. Over and over.

On the ground below, I sensed the weavers and the void tree turn my way, but I didn’t let up on my attacks. Before I focused on them, I had to slay the harbinger.

A stygian harbinger has cast leeching touch.

Your void armor has repelled your foe’s attack!

I laughed, the sound an expression more of relief than joy. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know if the harbinger had access to other spells, but the two he’d just employed were the wrong type—and I had resisted both. Thanks to my own training, Adriel’s cloak, and the two lichs’ buffs, my nether and death magic resistances were incredibly high.

The harbinger had guessed wrong twice. And now my task was almost done. Predatory instincts told me so. My foe teetered on death.

Ramming my blades down one final time, I lifted my head and howled in triumph.

You have killed a level 315 stygian harbinger!

You have reached level 199!

Your sneaking has reached rank 19, your shortswords rank 18, and your null death rank 4.

Congratulations, Michael! You have slain your first tier 7 creature and accomplished the feat: A Mighty Player! Requirements: be unsworn to any Power, possess an evolved Class, and reach player level 250. Or be unsworn to any Power, possess an evolved Class, and slay a foe above level 300. Your spirit signature has been etched with a new Mark!

You have acquired the Mark: Powerful Initiate and have begun to tread the ways of Power yourself. The path to greatness is paved by death, and no player can rise to prominence in the Game without pitting himself against its strongest contenders. You have done so and emerged victorious. Note, as a Powerful Initiate, you have not yet ascended to the rank of Power but have merely set yourself on the path to reaching it.

As a result of your new Power Mark, you have gained the trait: Higher Evolution. This is a trait granted to all would-be Powers and allows you to evolve your Class beyond the limits imposed on ordinary players.

Your task: Cleanse the Corruption! has been updated.

You have slain a stygian harbinger, the primary protector and enforcer of the nether’s ambitions in this sector. Your objective remains unchanged: rid Draven’s Reach of the nether’s corruption.

The glint in the harbinger’s eyes died, his eyelids drooped, and his neck sagged. My nemesis’ silent descent into death was almost anticlimactic, but I knew my own assault had only been the last in a series of blows dealt by my allies—and foes—both here in the fog and the archlich’s courts.

In the end, none of that mattered, though.

The harbinger was dead. And I was not.

The battle was far from over, however. A glistening sliver of ebony, visible even through the thick mist and half-glimpsed around the corner of my eye, caught my attention.

Cutting short my victory celebrations, I jerked my gaze downwards. The sliver was a thorn from the sapling, and accompanying it, were hundreds more.

All flying my way with deadly intent.