Grand Game 604: The Shadow Behind the Curtain

Eavesdropping successful!

“…might be Frey,” Marciella said.

“It can’t be,” Elias insisted. “I told you the Shadow is finished. Between the Dark and ourselves, we’ve ground their army into dust. And it was a paltry one to begin with. There can’t be more than a few score of them left in the sector.”

“Shadow isn’t finished,” Jobe disagreed. “And you should stop saying so.  You will only make the men needlessly complacent.”

“And don’t forget, we’ve no confirmation that Frey is dead,” Marciella pointed out.

“Bah, that witch has likely fled already,” Elias scoffed. “She’s probably holed up in Shadow Keep as we speak!”

“We don’t know that,” Marciella protested.

“But we can guess,” Elias insisted. “She always was a coward.”

“You’re underestimating her again,” Maricella said wearily. “And don’t forget whose envoy she is. The trickster’s plans are never easy to decipher.”

“Scared, Marce?” Elias teased. “I would never have believed it of—”

“Enough,” Jobe cut in. “Maricella is right. We can’t afford to take anything about the spy at face value. He might be Frey.” He paused. “Or he might not. Either way, we can’t trust whatever comes out of his mouth.”

“So, why bother trying to question him?” Elias demanded.

“Holding him for questioning was a mistake,” Jobe conceded. “You were right about that.”

“What do you want to do with him then?” Marciella asked.

“What we should have done in the first place,” Jobe said grimly. “Kill him.”

✵ ✵ ✵

Eavesdropping stopped. Telepathic link broken.

The moment I heard the inquisitor’s pronouncement I dropped out of the trio’s farspeaker link. The situation had just gone from bad to worse, and it was clear I wasn’t going to be able to bluff my way out of it.

My eyes snapping open, I shot to my feet and backpedalled back to the centre of my ‘cell.’ The wary gazes of the hundred or so watching Lightsworn tracked me the entire way, but I ignored them. They would figure out what I was about soon enough.

“Decal,” I called, knowing I didn’t have much time.

“I’m here,” he replied instantly, his voice reverberating through my mind.

“Have you been following what’s going on?”

“Yes, I can see everything you do as long as you are not actively blocking me.”

“Good. It’s time to work.”

“Excellent. My targets?”

“The three elites.” I pointed to Jobe, who’d just opened his eyes. “Starting with him.”

“Now?” the simulacrum asked eagerly.

“Now,” I confirmed, drawing psi in readiness.

A frown marred the inquisitor’s face. Did he sense something amiss?

“What’s he been up to?” Jobe asked of no one in particular. He meant me, of course.

“Walking. Sitting,” a player replied. He shrugged. “Nothing untoward.”

Jobe nodded slowly, but he didn’t look convinced. “Do it, Marce,” he ordered, turning to the gnome. “Kill—”

Decal has cast astral project.

Jobe broke off, his expression freezing, as the astral construct dove into his dreamscape. What was going on in the inquisitor’s mind, I couldn’t tell, nor did I have the time to find out. There were too many threats in the ‘real’ for me to dare attempt splitting my attention, and besides, from the looks of it, my simulacrum seemed to have things well in hand.

“Decal?” Elias asked loudly, his face a mask of confusion. “Who’s that?”

Ignoring the ranger’s question, Maricella laid a hand on the still-frozen inquisitor and shook him worriedly. “Jobe? You alright?”

The inquisitor did not respond.

“What’s wrong with him?” a player asked.

It took the gnome less than a heartbeat to figure it out. “He’s under attack.” She spun to face me. “Who’s helping you?” she demanded.

Smiling, I folded my arms across my chest and said nothing.

“Attention outwards,” Elias snapped, catching on. “Watch the trees! Our quarry has allies in the woods.”

I chuckled softly, but under the clatter of weapons and shouted orders, it went unheard as fully half the Lightsworn whirled around in search of my ‘allies.’

That still left fifty-odd players—including Maricella—watching me, though.

All of them were studying me with deadly intensity and waiting for the least sign of provocation. But I remained at ease and with my arms folded. I had no intention of attacking the Lightsworn.

Not physically, anyway.

You have cast mass puppet.

Psi leaped from my mind and into the players arrayed on my right, and with the tenacity of honey badgers, delved into their minds. Surprisingly though, many of my intended victims rebuffed my attempts at subversion.

You have charmed 5 of 20 targets for 30 seconds.

15 targets are protected by psi shields and are immune to mental manipulation.

Only five, I thought, bemoaning the spell’s lack of success. Still, five were better than none. “Attack,” I ordered my new minions, not bothering to allocate them specific targets. Drawing psi anew, I prepared my next spell.

“He's a telepath,” Maricella yelled, somehow divining what I’d done. “Warriors, charge. Kill him now!”

Adhering to her own command, the gnome dashed into the invisible circle holding me prisoner, her small form a blur as she rushed across the intervening space.

Maricella has cast pummeling charge.

But I’d learned from my previous mistake, and this time the gnomish fighter did not catch me flatfooted.

You have cast windborne.

You have evaded Maricella's attack.

Spiraling aloft on a ramp of air—and safely out of the reach of the gnome and the other fighters who’d join her in the circle—I continued casting.

“Bastard!” the gnome yelled, her heavy boots digging huge tuffs in the forest floor as she screeched to a halt and spun around to glare at me impotently. “Archers, mages—get him down!” she roared.

But there was no need for them to do that. My second spell had completed. Releasing it, I dove off my windslide and into the midst of the warriors who had so helpfully put themselves within reach of my swords.

You have cast slaysight.

You have paralyzed 6 of 10 targets for 60 seconds.

Slaysight proved to be more effective than mass puppet—that, or the warriors’ defenses were less capable than those of the mages and archers. Unfortunately, though, Maricella was one of the fighters who proved immune. Still, I had enough other hapless targets to slay.

Landing lightly on my feet, I whipped out faithful and plunged it straight into the back of the closest paralyzed player—an orcish fighter whose fists look large enough to crush me in a single blow.

You have cast piercing strike.

You have backstabbed your target for 10x more damage!

Unfortunately for the orc, despite his no doubt prodigious strength, his defenses were lacking, and faithful cut through his armor as easily as a knife through butter to bury itself in his heart.

You have killed Zengosh with a fatal blow.

Yanking out the steel blade, I danced two steps forward and stabbed a spearman moving too slowly in the chest.

You have killed Alrick with a fatal blow.

Spying another paralyzed prey nearby, I spun around on the heel of my right foot and drew a line of red across the throat of the senseless fighter.

You have killed Hiroshi with a fatal blow.

Three dead in as many seconds.

By now I expected my foes were deep in shock. Nothing about the second half of our battle was going the way they expected.

Almost as if she’d had the same thought, Maricella half-screamed, half-cried, “Whoreson!”

Glancing over my shoulder I caught a glimpse of the gnome. She was trying to close the distance to me, but there were too many other fighters in the way, and I judged it would take her at least a few more seconds to reach me.

“Elias, you fool!” she yelled in frustration. “Don’t just stand there gaping, kill him!”

But the other Lightsworn elite was also powerless to act. The warriors surrounding me were not just targets to kill, they were my shield too, and in their midst, I was largely obscured from the ranger’s view.

Besides which, Elias and the others outside the circle weren’t exactly standing around doing nothing. Many were still frantically scanning the woods for my phantom allies or trying—albeit unsuccessfully—to restrain my five bespelled minions without killing them.

A broadsword flashed down.

Bending one knee, I ducked beneath the whistling blade then riposted with faithful. But the half-giant who’d launched the attack was equal to my counter and he fended it off with ease.

I backed away. More warriors were converging on me—and quickly.

They’d rallied behind Maricella’s call, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was overwhelmed. Time to reposition. Before I did that, though, I had a parting gift for my foes.

You have manifested 4 sentient shurikens.

The ethereal blades coalesced around me, momentarily startling the closest warriors. They’d get over the fright soon enough, but I didn’t intend to give them that time. “Kill,” I ordered, directing the rapidly spinning psi constructs toward the four still-paralyzed players.

Rising swiftly into the air, the astral projectiles whizzed toward their targets. Not bothering to watch the mayhem that was about to ensue, I whirled around and shadow jumped.

✵ ✵ ✵

You have teleported into Maricella’s shadow.

The spell executed flawlessly, and it was not hard to figure out why. This time around, I’d not attempted to leave Jobe’s imprisonment field, which unfortunately was still active. Instead, I’d deliberately kept my jump short, teleporting to a target inside my ‘cell’—this being Maricella.

I emerged from the aether behind the gnomish fighter, and with my blades already angling forward in attack.

Maricella, though, was alive to the danger. Spinning around faster than I could’ve managed in all that armor, she brought up her own weapon in response.

Maricella has blocked your attacks. You have failed to injure your target.

A toothy smile spread across the Lightsworn’s face. “Fool,” she taunted. “You should’ve run.”

My eyes fixed on the wickedly spiked maul she toyed with in her hands, I deigned to reply. A moment later, as if in reward for my restraint, another Game message flashed for attention.

Maricella has failed a physical resistance check!

As a result of your encumbrance aura, she has become overburdened (speed reduced by 30%).

Emotion ran riot across the gnome’s face. Anger followed consternation, but only a heartbeat later, another emotion replaced it: fear. Maricella knew as well as I that being slowed was a death knell.

The Lightsworn was too stubborn to accede gracefully to the inevitable though, and with a wordless howl, she lashed out, sending her maul rippling through the air in a vicious arc.

But the attack was many times too slow.

Sliding to the left, I ducked past the descending mace and sent my own sword racing forward.

I never got to complete the maneuver, though.

Halfway through, I spotted a shadow flit over me. How the unseen attacker had snuck up on me, I had no idea, but he was far too close already. Knowing I had no choice, I let my sword arm drop and flung myself farther left.

Tosh has failed to backstab you.

Maricella has fallen out of range of your encumbrance aura. She is no longer overburdened.

Rolling across the forest floor, I bounced back to my feet a safe distance away from the newcomer Tosh and Maricella. Spinning around, I faced the pair again.

The gnome—with the fervor of one who’d cheated death—was advancing once more, as was Tosh, who to my surprise was a tier four rogue. That he’d managed to escape notice this long was impressive, and despite his low level, I eyed him with nearly as much concern as I did Maricella.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have as much time to spare examining the pair as I’d like. Around the corner of my eye, I spotted another two players closing in fast from the left.

Hells.

Perhaps, the gnome had been right, perhaps I should’ve fled to the outskirts of the circle.  But there was nothing like cutting off the head of the snake to demoralize the enemy. Sadly, though, I’d failed to accomplish what I’d set out to do, and now I was in a pretty predicament.

I definitely didn’t want to trade blows with the Lightsworn elite with three other assailants bearing down. Which meant there was only one thing to do.

Whirling right, I raced away.

“Stop him!” Maricella yelled. “He’s running!”

But I wasn’t running, or not only. I was also drawing mana.