Grand Game 426: The Arrival of Death (Patreon)

Day Thirty-Three in Draven’s Reach

After accepting Ceruvax’s oath, I fell promptly asleep. I’d run halfway across the dungeon—on very little rest—and was exhausted. But no sooner had I set my head down than it felt as if the old wolf was shaking me.

“Michael, wake up.”

You have slept for 4 hours.

I didn’t open my eyes, the Game message alone was enough to tell me it was too damn early to be rising. “Gimme another few hours,” I replied sleepily, trying to tug free from his insistent hand.

“Someone’s coming.”

That got my attention.

I sat up and blinked blearily. My eyes felt as if they had been stuffed with sand. Rubbing them, I staggered upright. “Where?” I rasped.

Wordlessly, Ceruvax pointed southwards. Squinting my eyes, I peered in the direction but saw nothing. “There’s no one—”

I broke off. Huh, I thought, studying the figure emerging from the haze on the horizon. The old wolf has better eyes than I do.

That or I was still sleep-befuddled.

Widening my eyes, I waited until the figure resolved into focus. A familiar face swam into view. “Ah,” I exhaled. “It’s Adriel.”

“Who?” a perplexed Ceruvax asked.

“We haven’t gotten around to discussing her yet.” Retrieving a water flask from my backpack, I took a generous sip. “She’s a lich.”

The old wolf stiffened. “A lich?” he asked, his tone making his distaste clear.

I nodded.

His fingers wrapped tightly around his staff. “From your tone, I take it you’re… acquainted?”

I took another sip. “More than that. We’re allies.”

Ceruvax groaned softly, but not so softly I didn’t hear. Ignoring his unhappiness, I kept my gaze on Adriel. She was in one of her younger flesh golem bodies and was walking steadily but with neither haste nor panic, which I took to mean things hadn’t devolved in the court yet.

I relaxed. There was still time to enact my plan.

“Lichs are dangerous,” Ceruvax growled. “Do you know what they are, what they can do?”

“I do,” I replied mildly. I paused, knowing he wasn’t going to like what I had to say next either. “She’s not just any lich, though. She’s a former scion of House Death.”

The old wolf’s eyes flashed yellow.

I’d not asked Ceruvax explicitly, but from his Class and the change I had witnessed him undergo during our first meeting, I was certain he was a werewolf. “Stop,” I said softly. “I trust her as much as I do you.”

“Why?” he snarled.

Wordlessly, I reached into my cloak and pulled out a slim glass object. “Do you know what this is?”

“A phylactery,” he pronounced, his tension diffusing. “Hers?”

“Yes,” I replied, my eyes still on the distant figure. “She gave it to me voluntarily. Not only that, but I wouldn’t have managed to kill the harbinger without her. Nor would Draven have awoken if not for her—the guardian has met her, by the way. Then there is Ghost. You recall what I told you about my familiar?”

“The—what did you call her?”

“Pyre wolf,” I murmured.

“That’s right, I’m eager to meet her. I’ve never heard of such a creature before. She must be unique.”

I snorted. “Who do you think created Ghost’s body?”

Silence. “The lich?”

“Correct. Adriel is as committed to seeing the Houses rise again as much as—” my gaze slid sideways to him—“you are.”

Ceruvax frowned, saying nothing. But I could see my words had had an effect, and he was no longer bristling.

“You said her name was Adriel?” he asked abruptly.

“Yes, that’s right,” I said, giving him my full attention this time. “She mentioned having met you. Do you remember her?”

“Perhaps,” the old wolf said, rubbing his chin. “If she is the same Adriel I recall, then you’re right, she is someone we want on our side,” he finished grudgingly.

“Good, I’m glad that’s resolved.” With a smile on my face, I turned back to await the approaching lich.

✵ ✵ ✵

Five minutes later, Wolf and Death were staring off.

Adriel had ignored me completely as she strode up and instead had kept her gaze fixed on Ceruvax. He did the same, pinning her with a glare of his own.

Hmm, was this what it was like when the Houses met?

But as amusing as watching their silent contest of wills was, we had bigger matters to attend to. “It’s nice to see you again, Adriel,” I said brightly, “and in the flesh once more, too.”

The lich’s gaze turned slowly my way. “So, Draven did it.”

“He did,” I replied.

Her gaze flickered to the marble statue behind us. “He is sleeping again?”

I nodded and gestured to Ceruvax beside me. “I take it that introductions aren’t required?” I asked lightly.

“They aren’t,” Ceruvax growled.

“Not necessary,” Adriel agreed, her tone just as curt.

I sank to the ground. “Then sit, please. We have much to discuss.”

Neither budged.

“Sit,” I repeated, my tone less affable.

This time, both complied. “Where’s Ghost?” Adriel asked suddenly. “I don’t sense her spirit in the cloak.”

“She’s with my apprentice,” I replied, unsurprised that the lich could sense the pyre wolf’s absence. She was the Cloak’s creator, after all. “Ghost is doing well too,” I went on, answering the second part of the question she had left unvoiced. More than likely, it was Ceruvax’s presence that constrained her. “She is thriving, in fact. The familiar bonding went well.”

Adriel’s face spread into a warm smile. “I’m glad to hear that.” She tilted her head. “This apprentice… it wouldn’t happen to be the player, Nyra?”

My brows rose. “You’ve heard of her already?”

“Regus’ messenger brought word of her to the court. As well as your warning that she is to remain untouched.” She arched an eyebrow. “Was that really necessary?”

My lips tightened. “In light of Regus’ report, I thought the warning was warranted,” I said, an edge to my tone. “Or do you think his tales of the unrest in the court were exaggerated?”

Her face turned grave. “No, I don’t.”

“Nyra is the girl you took on as your follower?” Ceruvax asked quietly.

I nodded, then added as an aside to Adriel. “Ceruvax is my follower too.”

Her eyebrows rose again. “I see,” she murmured and turned to face Ceruvax squarely for the first time since sitting. “What say we set aside old differences, Wolf?”

“A clean slate is best,” he agreed, nodding slowly. “The Houses are dead. Their ancient grievances should remain so too.” He stuck out his hand, and taking it, Adriel shook it gravely.

I smiled, relieved to see them set aside their dislike.

Adriel turned back to me. “So, Michael, are you going to tell me why I am here? I was under the impression we were to meet back at the court.”

“The court?” Ceruvax interrupted.

“The archlich’s court,” I said. “The possessed’s main base.” Seeing the questions crowding his gaze, I held up my hand. “I know I haven’t gotten around to explaining about the possessed yet, but we’ll get to them in a bit.”

He nodded reluctantly.

“You’re here,” I said, addressing Adriel again, “because of Regus’ report.” My face hardened. “The possessed have to be dealt with.”

“I don’t disagree,” Adriel replied, her brows creasing. “But how do you intend on doing that here when all the possessed are back at the court, confined in accordance with your orders?”

I grimaced, not missing how she stressed the last word. Had Farren and Adriel chafed under my instructions? Would they resent what else I would ask him to do? I hoped not. Because without the lichs, my plan was dead already.

“Michael?” Adriel prompted.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I was lost in thought.” I breathed in deeply. “I brought you here because I have a plan for dealing with the possessed. However, there are a few details that you and I need to iron out.” I glanced at the frozen guardian behind us. “I thought Draven would have been able to help too, but…”

“… now, he is asleep,” she finished for me. She leaned forward attentively. “Tell me your plan.”

“I will, in a minute.” I gestured to Ceruvax. “Before I do, you better tell him what the possessed are.”

Adriel winced. No doubt she knew how the old wolf would react as well as I. Still, she didn’t demur. Gathering her thoughts, she began speaking.

✵ ✵ ✵

I listened with only half an ear as Adriel described the possessed’s nature to Ceruvax, focusing instead on the riot of emotion crossing his face. They devolved steadily—confusion turning to distaste, then disgust, horror, anger, before finally settling on fury.

“So, let me see if I have this correct,” he said, inhaling sharply. “The ‘possessed’—” his mouth twisted distastefully on the word— “as you call them, are the spirits of dead scions animating the corpses of slain players? Do I have that right?”

Adriel nodded solemnly.

“And they are something of your creation? Something you and your fellow lichs made?”

“Yes,” she said, her tone clipped.

Ceruvax’s head whipped around in my direction. “And you condone this?”

“I don’t,” I said mildly. “And to be fair to Adriel and Farren, they have banned the practice since Loskin’s death. No more player corpses will be stolen to fuel the possessed’s unnatural lives.”

“But how can you suffer the possessed to continue existing?” Ceruvax growled. “What they’ve done is a perversion. Not just to the Game, but to life!”

I sighed. “I can’t.”

Silence followed my words.

“What are you saying, Michael?” Adriel asked quietly.

I lifted my gaze to hers. “I thought I could let the possessed be. I thought I could let them make their own restitution for their past crimes. But after Castor and what’s happening in the court, I realized I could not. They must be judged.”

Adriel’s face remained expressionless. “Is that what you intend to do? Judge them? Because from your face, I can tell you’ve come to a decision already. You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you?”

“I have,” I said, not shying away from her gaze.

“What have you decided then?”

“The possessed have to be destroyed.”