Grand Game 387: Lost and Broken (Patreon)

Ghost was right.

Draven was heading our way and from the scowl covering his face, unhappy was an understatement. “What now?” I muttered.

Adriel turned to look. “Perhaps it has nothing to do with us,” she said but didn’t look convinced herself.

Folding my arms, I waited for the rapidly approaching centaur. “They’re gone!” he snarled before he even drew to a halt. “So many of them. Just gone!”

“Who?” I asked, before the belated realization hit me—Draven was speaking of his brethren.

“The others,” the centaur growled. “They’ve vanished!”

“How can you be sure?” Adria asked, evenly. “Aren’t they in stasis? If you can’t reach them, maybe it’s because—”

“No, you fools!” Draven roared, rearing up in irritation. “I’m not so ignorant as that. It’s the nodes; they’ve gone.”

My brows furrowed. “Perhaps you better back up a step.”

My words seemed to infuriate the guardian even further and he took a menacing step in my direction. Matching his growl with one of her own, Ghost stepped into his path, her liquid black coat stretching upward to give the impression of raised hackles.

Draven’s gaze darted to the pyre wolf. “What’s this—a nether spawn?” Raising a foreleg, he prepared to stomp down.

“Don’t,” I barked. Moving forward with alacrity, I paced myself beside Ghost.

The guardian’s eyes locked on me. “Explain the runt,” he demanded.

“She is a being of my creation,” Adriel interjected smoothly.

“It’s a stygian,” Draven spat.

“No,” Adriel refuted. “She—not ‘it’—is a wolf spirit housed in the shell of nether and fire.”

The guardian’s eyes narrowed. Lowering his foreleg, he leaned forward. I tensed, hands hovering over my blades and already regretting the impulse to allow Ghost to manifest. There was nothing I could do to stop Draven if he intended her harm, but that wouldn’t prevent me from trying to protect her.

The pyre wolf growled as the big guardian edged closer, flames gathering in her mouth and her eyes burning brighter.

“Back down,” I hissed. “Let’s not antagonize him further.”

Still stiff with tension, Ghost did not reply, but her hackles lowered, and her growls softened.

Ignoring me entirely, the centaur placed his head an inch from Ghost and sniffed. “You speak truly, lich,” he pronounced a moment later. “She is no stygian.” The guardian unbent. “But I will not be threatened,” he said, shooting me a warning glance.

Inclining my head in acknowledgment, I placed a restraining hand on Ghost. “I don’t like him,” she snarled.

“He is temperamental,” I agreed. That was true of both guardians I’d met so far. Whether that was because of their great age or waking up in a world so different from the one they left, I wasn’t sure, but I was willing to make allowances for them.

“Now that that’s cleared up,” Adriel said casually, “will you tell us what’s bothering you?”

I winced, expecting Draven to flare up in renewed rage, but surprisingly the guardian remained calm. The interlude with Ghost seemed to have cooled his anger.

“It’s the ley lines that underpin the guardian network,” Draven answered at last. “Half have disappeared.”

Adriel frowned. “Disappeared as in hidden? How would that—”

“Not hidden,” Draven snarled. “Gone. Destroyed.”

My own brows drew down. “But I thought you said the network can’t be destroyed.”

“It can’t, not in its entirety.” He paused, looking uncertain for the first time. “At least, I don’t think so.” The centaur shook his head. “But the network can contract. And it has done so now—to half its original size.”

My eyes widened. “What could have caused that?”

“No Power that walks the Kingdom, that’s for sure,” Draven growled. “It can only be the void that is responsible.”

“But half?” Adriel whispered. From her expression, she was still trying to process this startling revelation. “That’s hundreds of dungeons!”

“And six of my brethren,” Draven added grimly.

“How can you know that?” I asked, confused anew.

Draven stared at me for a moment as if contemplating how much to say. “Twelve nodes anchor the guardian network, each itself a hub of ley lines. Behind each node is one of my brethren. Even when we placed ourselves in stasis, the nodes remained. That they are gone…”  He fell silent, eyes heavy with grief.

“… must mean the guardian behind it is dead,” I finished.

He nodded mutely.

“What about the rest of your brethren?”

Draven huffed. “Their fate is still unknown. Besides me, only Kolath is connected to the network, and he remains deaf to my queries.”

On the tail-end of Draven’s words, a Game alert unfurled in my mind.

Your task: Revive the Guardians! has been updated. You have learned that 6 of the original 12 guardians have been destroyed, leaving only Kolath, Draven and 4 others alive. Objective revised: Find the 4 guardians remaining in stasis and awaken them.

I pursed my lips, considering the message. On the one hand, my task had been simplified, but on the other, the state of the guardian network did not bode well for the Endless Dungeon—or its inhabitants.

“What about the sectors connected to the dead nodes?” Adriel asked, still fixated on their loss. “Have they also been overrun by the void?”

Draven grimaced. “There is no way to tell. But with the guardians dead, their protective barriers cannot be replenished.” He exhaled heavily. “If they have not fallen already, they will eventually.”

“How long do they have?” I asked.

The guardian shrugged. “Years? Decades? There is no telling, but once the void finds them, their days are numbered.” He pinned me with a hard stare. “All this makes your own mission more critical. Are you ready to venture into the dungeon I’ve picked?”

I bowed my head, weighing the guardians’ needs against my own. Matters with the void were worse than I’d thought. If left unchecked, the nether would swallow up all of the Endless Dungeon. After that, it would only be a matter of time before the entire Forever Kingdom fell.

But pushing back the void was not something one did in a day, or even a year. It was the work of a lifetime. And in the interim, I had more pressing needs. As dire as things were, Draven’s task would have to wait.

“No,” I whispered softly.

I sensed more than saw the guardian’s frown. “I can allow you a few more days if that’s what you desire, but after that, I must—”

“I will need more than that.” Raising my head, I locked gazes with the giant centaur. “I’m sorry, Draven, but I cannot use my favor in the manner you wish.”

✵ ✵ ✵

Silence followed in the wake of my words, a quiet that was deep and ominous and full of threat. Neither my companions nor I dared break it. Stiffly, we waited as Draven stared at us with smoldering eyes, the light in his eyes flaring brighter by the second.

Eventually, Ghost whined and inched backward.

I didn’t blame her. Bearing the guardian’s menacing regard was hard enough for me, and I could only imagine how Ghost had managed it for so long.

Draven’s eyes flitted to the pyre wolf and some of his tension seemed to dissipate. I didn’t relax my own stance, though. The danger had not passed entirely.

“I did not take you for a fool, wolfling,” Draven whispered, finally deigning to speak. “You would doom the Kingdom?”

I gulped. This was a side of Draven we’d not seen yet. For all that his anger appeared tightly leashed, I had the sense the guardian could explode at any moment, and none of us would survive that.

I stepped forwards, palms spread. “Hear me out, please. I will find your surviving brethren, all of them. You have my word on that.” I exhaled heavily. “But it shall take years. There is no point pretending otherwise. I can’t go about your task alone either. I will need help, and right now, securing that aid is more important.”

“Honeyed words,” Draven mused, still speaking in the frighteningly soft tone he’d adopted. “You have a silver tongue, wolfing, I’ll give you that.” The lines of his face hardened. “But I see through them. I see through you.”

“I’m not trying to—” I began in protest.

“Your words are nothing more than self-serving drivel!” Draven roared.

I winced, staggering back as the centaur’s cold breath washed over me.

“Guardian, please, trust Michael,” Adriel said, floating forward. “He is only doing what’s best—”

“Quiet, lich!” Draven ordered, his glare swapping to her.

Mid-speech, the spirit froze.

Draven, I realized, had used more than words to compel her. He had bespelled Adriel somehow.

“This is bad, Prime,” Ghost moaned.

I couldn’t agree more. My own instincts were urging me to flee, but something else told me now was not the time to retreat. It was time to be bold.

I stepped forward.

Draven’s head snapped back around to face me. “How is venturing into a virgin dungeon anything less?” he asked, picking up the conversation from where he’d left off.

I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could get the words out, Draven raged on, “How is what you intend anything but the actions of a power-drunk player? One willing to let the world burn around him while he used my favor to get stronger?”

“I don’t plan on—”

“Tell me, wolfling, how is it that you are any different from the new Powers. HOW?”

“I will, if you will just shut up and listen for a second!” I snapped, finally out of patience.

Draven’s expression turned frostier, but for a wonder he stayed silent.

Grasping the opportunity, I declared, “I don’t wish to use your favor to enter a dungeon, any dungeon—virgin or otherwise. This is not about advancing my power. It’s about securing House Wolf.”

The guardian’s glare did not relent. “If you will not enter a dungeon, what do you intend?”

“I want you to bring someone here.”

“Who?” Draven demanded, his expression still stormy.

“House Wolf’s envoy.”

Consternation flitted across the guardian’s face for one brief second, before it grew stony again.

“His name is Ceruvax,” I added quickly, “and he is trapped in Nexus’ saltmarsh dungeon. Will you honor your debt and bring him here?”

There, I thought, relaxing slightly. I’d put my request to the guardian formally. Now, he would have no choice except to comply. But given Draven’s opaque stare, I couldn’t tell whether he thought the same.

“Ahh.”

At the soft gasp, my gaze darted to the right. Adriel had relaxed from her frozen posture, released from whatever spell the guardian had used on her.

The lich met my eyes. “I heard everything,” she confirmed, projecting her words to me alone. “You seemed to have calmed him. Well done.” Her look turned wry. “But I think I’ll stay silent unless it becomes strictly necessary to speak. He seems to like me a lot less than he does you.”

I wasn’t so sure about that but nodded anyway. Lifting my gaze to the guardian again, I  waited. He was still staring at me.

Would he grant my boon?

He has to, I thought. The Game and the Adjudicator would see to it. Surely, they would.

“There is only one dungeon in the saltmarsh district of Nexus,” Draven said at last. “But the one you named is not there.”

I was so wound up it took a moment for the guardian’s words to sink in. “What?” I blurted. “He has to be there!”

“He isn’t,” Draven denied.

“Are you sure?” I stared at the guardian suspiciously. “This isn’t some ploy to get out of granting me my favor, is it?

“It isn’t,” he replied blandly. “I’ve linked to Sickening Ooze—what you call the saltmarsh dungeon—through the guardian network and searched it from end to end. There is no player named Ceruvax within.”

“Then who—?” I broke off, thoughts racing. If it wasn’t the Wolf envoy who was in the saltmarsh dungeon, then to whom did Cyren’s rumors refer? Rifling through my backpack, I extracted the dungeon notes I’d received from the gnomes, still safely stored away even after the many months of adventuring.

Flickering through the scraps of paper, I found the one I wanted. Seeing what I held in my hands, Adriel floated closer and peered over my shoulder, reading along with me.

P.S. There is one other rumor about the saltmarsh dungeon that bears consideration. Most scholars dismiss it as mere fancy, but I thought it might pique your interest.

Sometimes, when the saltmarsh dungeon is brought up in recent histories—those chronicling the rise of the new Powers—mention is also made of an ‘ancient adversary.’

The relationship between adversary and dungeon is unclear, though. Some texts imply the dungeon is the adversary’s prison; others, their refuge. Who or what the adversary is, is also never described. Details on he/she/it are scantier than on the dungeon itself.

Perhaps, this will help you on your quest. —Cyren.

“The lost Prime,” I gasped. “She is the ancient adversary!”

“That seems likely,” Adriel murmured.

“You’ve figured out the Prime’s location?” the guardian asked, his expression softening for the first time since I rejected his ‘advice.’

“Yes, she must be the one hiding in Sickening Ooze,” I replied, before going on to explain what I’d learned from the gnomes.

“Hmm,” Draven mused, tugging at his beard. His anger seemed to have dissipated entirely now. “I did not sense her when I scanned the dungeon just now—but that means nothing. Sickening Ooze is not under my control, and I can search it less thoroughly than Kolath could. If the Prime is there, she will undoubtedly be capable of hiding from all but Nexus’ guardian.”

The guardian’s words prompted another Game alert.

Your task: Locate the Lost Prime has been updated. You have received unverified information that the Lost Prime is the one trapped in Sickening Ooze, the dungeon in the saltmarsh district of Nexus. Your objective remains unchanged: confirm her whereabouts and report back to Draven.

I dismissed the message almost as soon as it appeared and just in time to catch Adriel’s next words.

“…that she is in Sickening Ooze is interesting,” the lich said.

Frowning, I glanced at Adriel. Her expression bore none of my own excitement. “What do you mean by that?”

“The dungeon was ever the domain of pestilence.”

“It still is,” I grumbled, thinking of all the diseases I’d acquired in the saltmarsh district and the unwelcome trait I’d earned as a result.

“You mistake my meaning,” Adriel corrected. “I refer to House Pestilence, not the pestilence they leave in their wake.”

“House Pestilence?” I repeated.

She nodded. “The bloodline was always a little… odd. Unlike the other Houses, Pestilence didn’t establish their Nexus chapterhouse in the city proper but in one of its dungeons.” Her look turned thoughtful. “It could explain how their Prime survived the new Powers’ purge during the war.”

Another memory popped into my head—Anriq’s mention of the marshmen the werewolves were tasked with holding at bay on the behalf of the Triumvirate. Knowing what I now knew, it sounded like the lost Prime and the marshmen were related. In fact, I would be surprised if they weren’t.

Both had to spring from House Pestilence.

And both were likely using the saltmarsh dungeon as their base.

“That’s great news!” I exclaimed, rubbing my hands in glee. “If Pestilence’s Prime survived, perhaps some of its player’s did too. House Wolf isn’t alone in this fight. We have allies. Better yet, they’re entrenched in Nexus, on the very doorstep of our foes!” I looked at Adriel expecting her to share in my delight.

But the lich was not smiling.

My own grin faded. “It is good news, right?”

Adriel threw me an indecipherable look. “There is one other thing you should know about Pestilence.”

“Go on,” I said, already knowing I wasn’t going to like whatever came next.

“House Wolf had no greater rival than Pestilence. In the entire history of the Game, the two never set aside their differences.”

My newborn hope withered. “Really?”

Adriel nodded. “Really. In fact, many amongst House Death believed the entire reason your Primes based their lycan guard where they did was so that they could keep an eye on their foes.”

“I see,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“It does not matter,” Draven interjected, re-entering the conversation. “None of the old rivalries do. They all died the day the new Powers took over. Whether it is Pestilence Prime that is in the saltmarsh dungeon or not, you will find her,” he declared.

Not wanting to give birth to another argument, I didn’t contradict him. Instead, I changed the topic. “It seems I was mistaken about Ceruvax’s location, but my desire remains unchanged. Will you find the Wolf envoy and teleport him here?”

Draven looked at me in surprise but, thankfully, without anger. “Given this new information, will you not consider entering Sickening Ooze to find the lost Prime?”

I shook my head. “I told you, I will not re-enter another dungeon, just yet.” Especially one that could very well contain a den of new enemies. Before I went anywhere near the saltmarsh dungeon, I would have to speak to Anriq and find out everything he knew about the marshmen. “First, I must see to my allies,” I said, refocusing on Draven. “Will you honor your boon, guardian?”

Draven nodded slowly. “I will.” He sighed. “But I don’t know where your envoy is. Finding him will take time.”

I frowned. “How much time?”

The centaur shrugged. “Hours? Days? I cannot say. I will have to scan every dungeon in the guardian network one by one.”

My lips turned down. That was far from ideal, but I couldn’t think of any way to rush Draven. If he said it would take days, I had no choice but to give him that time.

“There is something else to consider,” the guardian said abruptly.

I glanced at him. “Oh?”

“Your envoy may be in one of the broken dungeons, on the other side of the destroyed nodes.” He stared at me expressionlessly. “In which case, I will not be able to fulfill your favor.”

I grimaced, then waved aside the guardian’s concern. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Draven nodded curtly. “So be it.” He spun about, turning his back to me. “But do not fail me, Wolf. Do not fail my brethren. Too much depends on you.”

I bowed my head. “I will not,” I vowed.

“Good,” he said, striding away without turning around. “I will begin searching the Endless Dungeon for your envoy. Return in five days. By then, if your envoy is within reach, I will have found him. And if he isn’t, then he is lost forever.” Not waiting for an answer, the centaur galloped away.