Grand Game 486 & 487 (NEW, rewritten)

Note from Tom: Hi all,

As some of you are no doubt aware, there was a massive influx of comments on the previous chapter (the old chapter 486). I'll admit the number of comments and the tone of some of the responses surprised me.

And while I may not agree with every comment, it does imply something was lost in translation :). Somehow, I had failed to convey the situation accurately, and in a manner readily apparent to everyone, either from Michael's perspective or that of his companions.

Long story short, I've gone through the chapter in detail and overhauled it, as a result of which the original 2.5K words I spent on the chapter has expanded to 4.5K words. 4.5K words are too many for a single chapter, so I've split it in two new chapters (the new 486 and 487), both of which are part of this post.

Some of the changes might be minute, but hopefully this interaction reads better now.

Note, I haven't taken down the old chapter 486 yet, in case anyone wants to go back and compare, or refer to previous comments.

Happy reading, and please let me know what you think of the rewrite!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 486: Reunited

On closer inspection, it was obvious why the oblong building differed from the rest of the structures in the den. It had been constructed for human habitation and, no doubt, had been internally subdivided as well.

There was even a chimney, I noted as I drew closer, watching the cheerful plumes of smoke puffing out the thick steel pipe poking out the top of the structure. The building itself was mostly constructed from hard packed blocks of snow. But bone and animal fat had also been used to increase the structure’s overall sturdiness and density.

A proper ice bunker, I thought, drawing to a stop in front of the door. And it was a real door—made from animal skins, sinew, and reinforced with bone—no less.

I raised my hand to knock, then stopped. Much better to surprise them, I decided. 

Pushing open the door, I advanced into the room.

The chamber beyond was small, cozy, and crowded. Fur rugs lined the floors and curving walls, magelights hung near the roof, lighting the windowless room, and a fire blazed in the central stonepit, its fumes funneled away by the steel pipe I’d spotted from outside.

Five figures were locked motionless around the fire. Four were gathered on the right side while the fifth stood alone on the left. I sighed. The tension in the room was palpable and it was not hard to guess what was going on.

“Took you long enough,” Adriel said, not looking over her shoulder as she spoke. “I was beginning to think I might have to kill someone.”

While the words were clearly spoken in jest—to my ears, anyway—none of the four facing her took it that way.

Anriq’s hands curled into fists while Teresa and Terence tightened their grips on their swords. Only Cara—Safyre—reacted with any semblance of calm and stopped short of raising her wand. It was Safyre, too, who Adriel watched most closely, I noted. Which was not unexpected, given that she was the only other elite in the room. 

What was surprising was how little attention my entry had drawn. Only Anriq had bothered to glance my way, and that was simply to nod in acknowledgment before he returned to watching Adriel. 

Clearly, my former companions deemed the lich too much of a threat.

Sighing again, I shut the door and strode deeper into the room. Of Snow and his pups there was no sign. The arctic wolf alpha was a wily one, though, and no doubt he’d sensed the simmering tension. For his pups’ sake, he must have vacated the area.

“Hello everyone,” I said brightly. “I’m back.” Which fact was glaringly obvious already, but I was hoping it would cut through some of the tension.

Sadly, it did not.

Safyre’s brown eyes slid in my direction as she looked me over. My heart thudded loudly. The aetherist was exactly as I remembered her. 

Her hair—meticulously pinned and with no strand out of place—shone blue-black under the harsh glare of the magelights, while her sliver-white garb was as spotless as the last time I’d seen her, every piece of gear glittering with magic. Safyre was clearly flourishing, despite the hardship of life on the tundra.

“Who is this?” she asked dispassionately, waving one negligent hand in Adriel’s direction.

Uh-oh. 

No ‘hello.’ No ‘how are you?’ Not even a demand of where I’d been. It did not bode well.

My trepidation increasing, I took a second longer look at Safyre’s face. Despite her smooth unruffled expression, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes fierce. 

Right. She’s angry.

“Adriel is with me,” I said. “She’s a friend.”

“She’s a lich,” Safyre said in the same monotone voice.

“A fact of which I’m well aware,” I said, the grin slipping off my face. “Nevertheless, Adriel is a trusted companion.”

Once again, there was no give in Safyre’s expression. My gaze flickered to the others. There was no change in their stances either. All four of my former companions remained tense and alert. 

What’s gotten into them? 

“What about the stygian traveling with you?” Safyre asked. “Is it a trusted companion too?”

I blinked. “She. Not it. And how do you know about Ghost?”

It was Safyre’s turn to blink. “Ghost? The lost spirit wolf?”

“Not any longer, obviously,” Adriel murmured.

Ignoring her interjection, I kept my gaze fixed on Safyre, who it seemed was the four’s nominated spokeswoman. “Well?”

“I scryed your approach from afar,” she replied stiffly.

I nodded. That explained some of their apprehension, but not all of it. “Ghost is no nether creature. She is a stygian pyre wolf.” I paused. “And my familiar.”

However instead of allaying Safyre’s fears, my words appeared to have the opposite effect. “The Michael I knew was no mage,” she said, her fingers tightening around the end of her wand.

“The Michael you knew?” I repeated, my brows furrowing. “Wait, wait! Don’t tell me you think I’m an imposter?”

“Aren’t you?” she challenged. “You’re traveling with an undead—a lich no less—an unknown player, and a stygian.” She paused. “Pardon, a stygian pyre wolf.”

“As if that makes it any better,” Teresa muttered under her breath.

“Nyra—the unknown player—is my apprentice,” I said simply.

“Your apprentice,” Safyre repeated, disbelief writ clearly in her tone. “So why take her to the pack elders?”

“You saw that too? They don’t think I’m an imposter—and they’re telepaths! Don’t you think the elders would know if I wasn’t who I said I was?” I demanded.

Safyre nodded. “That the dire wolves have accepted your identity is the only reason you’re still alive.” Before I could think up a response to that, she went on, “I’ll ask again: why did you take your apprentice to the elders?”

“Because she bears a Wolf Mark,” I said flatly.

Safyre’s gaze sharpened. “Anriq go check.” 

Obediently, the werewolf swung toward the door.

“Stop,” I growled.

Anriq froze.

Safyre glanced at him. “Anriq?”

The werewolf’s eyelids fluttered. “I c-can’t, Safyre,” he whispered. “Not if he forbids it.”

Safyre’s gaze slid from Anriq to me. 

“Tell her why, Anriq,” I replied, just as softly.

He gulped audibly. “He’s a Pack Protector. Even Duggar and Snow will have to obey his commands now.”

Safyre’s eyes grew cold. “That explains the Pack’s acceptance then.”

I threw up my hands in exasperation. “This has gone on long enough, Cara!” I snapped, deliberately using the name I’d bestowed on her when we’d first met. Rounding on Anriq before she could respond, I ordered, “Tell her how many player alphas you’ve met.”

“Two,” he whispered. “You and Dathe.”

“And how many Pack Protectors?” I demanded.

“One. You.”

“Do you believe I am who I say, Anriq?”

He licked his lips. “Yes.”

I swung back to Safyre, a challenge in my gaze. “You see. The odds that I’m not Michael are vanishingly small.” Now was definitely not the time to bring up the mimic spell and its ability to alter my spirit signatures.

Some of the frost in Safyre’s gaze thawed, but she still looked far from convinced. She shrugged. “You could be under a compulsion.”

“A compulsion?” I asked, nonplussed.

“Like the one Loken’s envoy used on Oursk,” Terence added helpfully. 

Elbowing him in the ribs, Teresa nudged him into silence. “Let Saf handle this,” she whispered to him.

“But Loken’s envoy is not here,” I pointed out—very reasonably, I thought.

Safyre’s gaze slid back to Adriel. “But a lich is.”

Adriel laughed abruptly. “She’s not wrong, you know. Lichs have always had quite the reputation. Compelling a player is well within their—our—means.”

I glared at her. While the lich’s face gave nothing away, her eyes were swimming with laughter. She’s enjoying this, I thought morosely. “That’s not helpful, Adriel,” I ground out.

She smiled. “I haven’t told them anything they don’t already suspect, albeit incorrectly.”

Ignoring the byplay, Safyre addressed me again. “Tell us where you’ve come from.”

Sighing, I turned back to her. “From Sector 18,240—which you know already.”

“Is that right?” Teresa interjected, ignoring her own prior admonishment of Terence for the selfsame offense. “Do you seriously expect us to believe that the three tagging along with you were living there? In a sector overrun by the nether?”

I stared at the young woman. “Still, brash as ever, Teresa,” I murmured.

She glowered at me. “Answer the question!” 

“I wasn’t in sector 18,240 the entire time,” I said evenly.

“Then where were you?” Safyre asked, taking charge of the interrogation—because that was what it felt like—again. 

“Trapped in a dungeon,” I said curtly.

Her eyes narrowed. “What dungeon?”

“Draven’s Reach,” I replied, not expecting the name to mean anything to her.

“How did you get there?” 

I hesitated, not wanting to reveal the existence of a second dungeon portal in sector 18,240. Equally, though, I didn’t want to lie to the four. Being caught out would make it that much harder to allay their suspicions, and besides these four were amongst those I trusted most in the Game. They were… family. If I couldn’t trust them, who could I trust? 

“Through a portal in the nether-infested sector,” I said at last.

Safyre’s reaction was not what I expected. Instead of expressing surprise, she exchanged a knowing glance with Anriq. I frowned. Now what is that all about?

“Describe the portal’s location,” Safyre instructed.

I shook my head. “I can’t do that. It’s not my secret to—” 

She cut me off. “It’s on the eastern bank of the river, isn’t it?”

My eyes narrowed. How could she know what?

Safyre’s lips twitched upward. “Don’t bother answering. I can see that I’m right. Why did you—” 

Adriel stepped forward. “Not that I don’t find all this entertaining, but this has gone on long enough.”

Safyre spun to face her. “Don’t interfere, lich,” she warned.

Adriel threw her an amused look. “You don’t want to fight me, child.” 

Safyre raised her wand, and the twins went as far to draw their weapons. But if anything, their actions only seemed to amuse Adriel more. Reaching into her cloak, she pulled out a slim object and held it before Safyre. “Do you know what this is?”

Recognizing it for what it was, I started. “No, Adriel!”

Shooting me a quelling look, the lich turned back to Safyre. “Well?”

“I don’t see what that has—” the aetherist began.

“Analyze it,” Adriel commanded.

Safyre’s lips thinned at the lich’s peremptory tone, but she did as ordered, and a moment later, her eyes widened as the Adjudicator identified the object as Adriel’s phylactery.

Adriel held out her arm. “Take it.”

Safyre did not move.

“Go on,” Adriel said, smiling at the naked shock on the other woman’s face. “Take it.”

Safyre studied the lich searchingly, trying to divine her intentions. “Why?”

Adriel shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? You believe us a threat—you believe me a threat.” She shook the phylactery. “If you know enough of lichs to know what I’m capable of, then you also know that my phylactery holds the power of real death over me.” She swept the four with an imperious gaze. “I haven’t compelled the Wolf scion as you fear. If handing over my phylactery is what it takes to prove that, if it’s what it takes to prove my good intentions, so be it.”

Safyre still didn’t move.

“It’s him, child,” Adriel added more gently. “Michael. He really has returned. This is no trick.”

Ignoring Adriel’s outstretched hand once more, Safyre turned around to face me. More than one emotion raced across her face—doubt, consternation, fear, anger, and finally hope. Her eyes locked on mine, she advanced until she was within arm’s reach. “Truly?” she whispered. “It’s you?”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

Taking one final step, Safyre closed the distance and wrapped me in a hug. Throwing Adriel a grateful look over her shoulder, I hugged her back.

“Welcome home, Michael,” Safyre whispered in my ear. “I missed you.”

Chapter 487: The Cost of Secrets

Safyre’s acceptance broke the impasse, and the next few minutes passed in a blur of handshakes, hugs, and backslaps—all of which Adriel was conspicuously excluded from. Despite my companions’ joy at my return, the lich was still an outsider to them.

Eventually, though, reality intruded, and the questions began.

“What took you so long?”

“Why didn’t you return sooner?”

“How could you just abandon us?”

“You didn’t think to send back word? Really? The entire time—” 

“Woah, woah,” I said, holding up my hands. “I’ll answer all your questions, I promise. Just give me a chance.”

The four exchanged glances, then seeming to come to some sort of accord, reseated themselves around the fire. Beckoning Adriel to join me, I did so too.

Waiting on me, no one broke the silence.

Not letting the opportunity go abegging, I scrutinized the four carefully. Anriq, Terence, and Teresa were dressed in the same equipment I’d gifted them what felt like a lifetime ago. 

Terence’s plate armor sat easily on him and the broadsword at his hip bore the telltale signs of heavy use. Despite this, his gear looked well cared for.

Teresa’s chainmail fitted her like a second skin, and the crossed longswords sheathed across her back appeared as much part of her now as her armor did. Her eyes, too, told a story, filled with the lazy confidence of a master swordswoman.

Outwardly, Anriq looked no different from the last time I’d seen him. He wore the same shapeshifter armor I’d given him and still carried the big two-handed axe which I’d encouraged him to learn how to use. And from the many chips, dents, and scratches along the weapon’s length, he’d taken my advice to heart. 

The axe had seen hard use. As has Anriq, I thought. 

Yet, it had appeared to have done him some good. The haunted, lost look of the werewolf I’d found in the swamp was gone. In its place, was a confident, contented, and dangerous player. 

“You all look well,” I said at last. “Life on the tundra appears to suit you.”

Terence snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“It’s too damn cold,” Teresa complained.

“The cold’s nothing,” Anriq said with a grin. “Wait until you’re forced to live in a swamp.”

Teresa shuddered. “No thank you.”

I smiled, gladdened to see how well they were all getting along.

“We wouldn’t be doing nearly so well if not for the packs,” Safyre murmured. “They’ve kept us… sane.”

The three younger players nodded emphatically. 

“Oh yes,” Teresa said in heartfelt agreement. “Snuggling close with the wolves is way better for staying warm—” she threw Terence a sideways glance—“than using this oaf.”

“Hey!” he protested. “That was uncalled for!”

I chuckled. “I’ve slept with the pack myself a time… or three.” My amusement faded. “I guess everyone has questions.”

The fours’ expressions grew serious. “We do,” Safyre said softly.

“Lots of them,” Teresa interjected.

“So where to begin?” I wondered aloud.

“You can start with where you’ve been all this time,” Terence suggested.

“And how you acquired a Protector Mark,” Anriq added.

I glanced at the werewolf. “That tale will have to wait for later. It’s a long one and better told once everyone has gathered to hear it.” I sighed. “As for where I’ve been… I’m sorry. I know I’ve been gone longer than any of you expected. Hells, longer than I expected, but—”

“Thirty-nine days,” Teresa said.

My brows rose. “What?”

“Thirty-nine days, that’s how long you’ve been missing,” she replied.

It had felt much longer. Only thirty-nine days? I wondered. It didn’t seem all that long. “In any case, I was not missing. I was stuck in the dungeon.” 

Safyre shook her head. “From our perspective, you were missing, Michael.”

I inclined my head, acknowledging the point.

Teresa leaned forward. “But why did you enter Draven’s Reach instead of coming here?”

I sighed. “Did Safyre tell everyone about the stygian overlord? The one I told her about over the farspeaker bracelet?”

Anriq, Terence, and Teresa nodded.

 “It was the overlord that drove me to the other dungeon,” I explained. “I barely escaped the creature’s clutches, and I only managed that much by diving into a river. At that point, there was no turning back. I was too far away from the Guardian Tower’s portal to reach it.” I shrugged. “It was either enter Draven’s Reach or perish.”

“So, you knew of the portal’s existence beforehand?” Safyre asked. “It wasn’t happenstance that you found it?”

I winced, realizing what she was driving at. “I did,” I said quietly.

Her lips thinned. “Why didn’t think you tell me about it? You could have with the farspeaker bracelet, you know.” 

“I know,” I said, not denying the fact. “But by the time I realized I had to make for Draven’s Reach instead of the Guardian Tower, it was too late.”

“What did you do then?” she asked, not berating me further.

“I had to find a way out of the dungeon—” my gaze flickered to the lich—“which is how I met Adriel. She is as much my ally as any of you are.”

Teresa harrumphed. “So, you leave her in the dark as much as you do us?”

I chose to ignore Teresa’s aside this time, as did Safyre. “But why didn’t you leave the dungeon by the same portal through which you entered?” she asked.

“The portal was one way,” I said simply.

Anriq’s face creased. “You were stuck in Draven’s Reach all this time?”

“By and large, yes,” I replied.

His frown deepened. “When did you get out?”

“Three days ago.”

Safyre inhaled sharply. “Why didn’t you return here sooner?”

“I couldn’t,” I answered forthrightly. “The sector I arrived in was under the control of a hostile faction. Teleporting out from the safe zone was not an option. It took me nearly three days to find a merchant, buy a scroll, and deal with the other complications I ran across.” I met Safyre’s gaze. “I came as soon as I could.”

She sighed. “We feared you were dead.”

I bowed my head, realizing that from their perspective that was the most logical conclusion. I hadn’t told anyone about Draven’s Reach, nor had I given them any reason to believe escape was possible from the nether-infested sector. 

“Despite this,” Safyre continued, “we launched daily forays into the nether sector.”

Startled, I jerked my head back up. “Daily?” 

Safyre nodded soberly. “Yes, daily. That’s why we moved the camp. Day in, day out, we ventured through the gate, each time killing the stygians guarding the area. Eventually, they gave up and retreated.” She paused. “But we didn’t. Even though most of us believed you dead by then, no one even suggested giving up. We entered the sector time and again.” Safyre fell silent for a moment, and when she resumed, there was a distinct tone of hurt—or was it anger?—in her voice. “But we didn’t know where to search.” 

She met my eyes, and unable to hold her gaze, I looked away. 

“You hadn’t told me where you were going or even thought to mention the dungeon’s existence when you had the chance, after all.”

I winced. This time there was no mistaking the accusation in Safyre’s voice. Worse yet, it was justified. I had been too secretive. Truly, she and the others had every right to be angry.

I’d uprooted them from their homes and their quiet—if imperfect lives—promising them something better, only to promptly vanish and leave them facing the possibility of spending a… well, a very long time in the inhospitable tundra.

In their place, I would’ve been furious.

“Even the dire wolves had trouble tracking you,” Safyre went on remorselessly. “The nether’s stink confused their sense of smell. And besides, we were limited by how far we could venture from the portal—I could only shield them for so long. Nevertheless, we tracked you to the river, but there we lost your trail.” Another pause. “We almost gave up that time.”

Safyre exhaled heavily, under the grip of strong emotions. “Then, three weeks ago, Anriq arrived, giving us new hope. He entered the nether-infested sector, and on his own, searched the river shores.”

I glanced at Anriq. “How?”

The werewolf didn’t need me to elaborate further. “My regeneration skill kept me alive,” he replied.

The werewolves famed regeneration again. The skill was powerful enough to keep Anriq alive despite the nether’s corrupting touch. Still, it would not have done anything to stave off the mist’s energy drain. 

While the werewolf’s health might have stayed intact, his stores of stamina, mana, and psi would have plummeted, leaving him all but defenseless against any stygians he encountered.

I shook my head, awestruck by the risk Anriq had taken—that they had all taken. And for what? 

To find me. 

I licked suddenly-dry lips. “I’m guessing from what Safyre said earlier that you found the portal to Draven’s Reach?” 

Anriq nodded. “I did. Only five short days ago. But I couldn’t enter.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Why?”

“The gate to Draven’s Reach is besieged,” Safyre answered in his stead. “It seems that the overlord chose to remain there after your escape. Not only that, a small army of stygians have joined it. There will be no using the portal until they’ve been cleared out.”

“Damn,” I said softly. Closing my eyes, I worked through the implications. What does it mean for my plans for Draven’s Reach? How am I going to get everyone into the dungeon now? But more importantly, what am I—

“Is that all you’re going to say?” Teresa demanded suddenly.

I opened my eyes to find the four of them staring at me expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” I said solemnly. “Truly, I am. I should’ve been less… secretive. In my defense, my secrets were as much to protect you as they were for anything else. Knowing what I am, knowing about the wolves, my bloodline, the nether sector, all of it, would only have endangered you.” I inhaled deeply. “But I realize that in trying to protect you, I only left you less equipped to deal with the situation.” I held each of their gazes unflinchingly in turn. “No more secrets. I promise.”

“Not good enough,” Safyre said bluntly.

I looked at her in surprise. 

“For better or worse, we’ve thrown in our lot with you, Michael, and our lives are as much at risk as yours. At the very least, that entitles us to some say in all our futures.”

She was right, of course. None of the four were my followers, and I couldn’t unthinkingly assume that they wanted what I did. “I agree,” I said quietly. “What are you suggesting?”

“You take us into your confidence, and more importantly, you let us help,” she said. “You may be the best equipped to tackle some of the things we face, but that’s no reason to go at it alone. We should work together from now on.”

“I cannot agree to that,” I said flatly. “Not always.”

Safyre closed her eyes. “Then are you ready for the alternative?”

“What alternative?”

She opened her eyes. “We part ways.”

I stared at her in shock. Was she being serious? Or is she bluffing? But there was no give in Safyre’s gaze, only steely determination. She’ll do it.

“I plan on heading to Nexus next,” I said tightly. “You cannot accompany me there.”

Safyre arched one eyebrow. “Why not?”

“You know why,” I growled. “You’re forsworn.”

“I am,” she agreed. “But that only means I shouldn’t enter the safe zone, or any of the districts under the direct control of the factions. But there is no reason for me to do that, is there? With the Guardian Tower we have a means of entering and exiting Nexus via the plague quarter. The Triumvirate will be none the wiser.”

“No,” I refuted, jutting out my jaw stubbornly.

Safyre, though, remained adamant. “What do you plan on doing in Nexus?”

“Things,” I said evasively.

She smiled, looking truly amused for the first time. “Come, Michael, did you not just promise: no more secrets?”

My mouth turned down sourly, but I didn’t refuse to answer. She had a point—damn her! “I plan on finding the swamp dungeon. There’s also an inn I must visit. And the werewolves to attend to as well,” I replied, laying out only the bare facts. The details would come later. 

Anriq stirred. “Then you will need my help, too.”

“Definitely not,” I snapped.

“You will not find the swamp dungeon without me.” He held out a key. “And you will need this if you intend on dealing with Dathe.” 

Bowing my head, I rubbed at my temples. Hells, if allies aren’t more trouble than they’re worth. Still, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t take Anriq and Safyre to Nexus. 

The pair would be killed on sight. And there were other things I intended on doing in the city. My plans for them were still nebulous, though, which was the only reason I hadn’t mentioned them yet. And I couldn’t attend to any of those things if I was dragging Safyre and Anriq along behind me.

I opened my mouth, intent on saying just that when the twins spoke up. “We want to come too,” they sang in unison.

I groaned. “God damnit, no!” 

“Your companions have a point,” Adriel said unexpectedly.

My head whipped in her direction. “Now, you decide to join the conversation?”

She shrugged, unfazed by my anger. “You will need someone to back you up in Nexus.” Her eyes turned sad. “And as much as I’d like that to be me, you know why that cannot be.”

My mouth worked soundlessly. Adriel’s fate was something else I needed to address, but now was most certainly not the time to open that can of worms.

“We’ll discuss the matter later,” I said to the others, bending a little, “after I’ve spelled out—in detail—what you’ll be getting into, and after I’ve laid out all my plans for the future of House Wolf. Then each of you can decide if you still wish to accompany me to Nexus. I wager you won’t, though. Does that sound fair?”

Safyre smiled. “It does.”

“Good. Then, now that we’ve got all that out of the way, can we set aside further serious discussion for later and enjoy a quiet meal together, please? There’ll be time aplenty to discuss the future once we rejoin the elders.”

Safyre’s smile broadened. “Of course, Michael,” she murmured. “Whatever you say.”