73 Days Left for Brokering Peace in Sector 12,560

“So, how do we run the stygians out of the sector?” Teresa asked.

For a moment, I didn’t say anything. It had been only a few hours since House Forerunners—or was that the Forerunners faction? I still wasn’t sure which we were yet—had made the momentous decision to reclaim sector 18,240.

To try reclaiming it, I amended.

Success was by no means guaranteed, especially with the sector playing home to a young void tree, four stygian overlords—all Powers in their own right—ten thousand stygians, and a rift that could end up doubling all those numbers or worse.

“We don’t have a plan yet,” I replied. “A strategy perhaps, but until we know what forces we can muster, I can’t answer you.”

“Alright, I get that,” Teresa allowed. “But what are our next steps?”

“That’s what we’re here to decide,” I murmured, surveying the seven figures arrayed around me.

Ghost, Adriel, Safyre, Anriq, Nyra, Terence, and Teresa each sat on their own pile of furs in what was quickly becoming the meeting hall of the Forerunners’ inner council. Although, calling the igloo we sat in a hall was a stretch.

The pack elders and Snow had left. With the House’s goals decided and the wolves unlikely to be involved in the Forerunners’ immediate plans, they had turned their attention to internal matters—and readying the packs for war.

“You said earlier that we would have to leave the tundra,” Teresa said. “What did you mean by that?”

Not answering her, I glanced at Safyre.

Correctly interpreting my look, the aetherist took over. “Our immediate goals are twofold: gathering allies and getting stronger. Adriel, Michael, and I will see to the first part, leaving you three—Nyra, Teresa, and Terence—free to focus on acquiring your second Classes.”

Terence frowned. “What does that mean? Can’t we just buy the Class stones we need?”

“You could do it that way if you wanted to,” I allowed, “but don’t forget what I said: the best Classes are always gained through dungeon dives.”

“Michael is right,” Adriel added. “In my day, acquiring a Class was as much a rite of passage for young scions as attaining their Marks were. If you want to follow in the footsteps of the ancients, if you want to become the most powerful versions of yourselves possible, searching a dungeon for a Class is the way to do it.”

The lich’s words had the desired effect, and the twins’ expressions turned gratifyingly determined.

I smiled. “If you’re lucky, it may not be just your second Class you acquire, but your third as well.”

“So which dungeon are you sending us to?” Teresa asked eagerly.

“Not one anywhere close to Nexus,” I replied. “For obvious reasons, those are too dangerous for you. But between them, Safyre and Adriel know of at least a dozen remote dungeons that may be suitable. Dungeons where three young players without any Force affiliations should go unnoticed.”

“But why can’t we get what we need here?” Nyra asked, a trace of unease in her voice. “Isn’t the guardian tower a dungeon?”

“It is,” Safyre agreed. “But the tower has only a single treasure chest, making it one of the worst dungeons for this sort of thing. Especially for a party of three.”

“Oh,” Nyra said, her shoulders slumping.

Unlike the twins, she appeared less enthused by the idea of entering an unknown dungeon, for which I didn’t blame her. After growing up in Draven’s Reach, she was understandably wary of dungeons. Still, it was important for both her own sake—and the Forerunners—that she did not shrink from the task.

Leaning forward, I held her gaze. “If you mean to follow Wolf’s path, it’s important you gain a psi Class. Atiras’ Mind Trials await, and ideally, we want to send you through the Rings before we take on the void tree. But the Trials are dangerous. And we can’t risk you entering ill-prepared. If you’re not ready…”

Nyra’s back stiffened. “I’ll be ready,” she said resolutely.

“What about me?” Anriq asked quietly.

Pursing my lips, I turned his way. Given the glaring omission of his own role in the coming days Anriq had held his peace far longer than I expected. But matters were a bit more complicated when it came to the werewolf.

“You have three options,” I said softly. “The first is to accompany the others in their dungeon delve. While your Class configuration is complete, both your skills and level can do with work.”

“Which is the second reason we’re sending the twins and Nyra to a remote dungeon,” Safyre added. “As a were-player, you will attract attention wherever you go, that is inevitable. But in a remote sector, you will suffer less… scrutiny than you would in Nexus or any other major Force stronghold.”

Anriq grimaced. “I’ll pass on option one, thanks. What are my other choices?”

“You can stay here with the packs,” I replied. “Given your level, the tundra will not make for an ideal training ground, but much like Ghost has, you can still use it to raise your skills.”

Anriq nodded slowly. “That sounds more feasible.”

“The third option,” I went on, “is that you accompany me when I go to Nexus and lead me to the saltmarsh dungeon, Sickening Ooze.”

Anriq’s face shuttered so quickly that no one failed to notice the change that came over him. “How? I don’t know where it is.”

“Uh-oh, he’s lying,” Terence muttered.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Teresa nudged him. “Shh! Let Michael handle it.”

Ignoring the pair, I kept my gaze fixed on Anriq. “Maybe you don’t,” I said.

The werewolf began to relax.

“But I’m positive you know the people who do.”

Anriq’s shoulders hunched over again. “I don’t know who you’re—”

“The marshmen,” I said, cutting him off. This was too important a matter to let Anriq’s evasions stand. “They are from the saltmarsh dungeon, I’m sure of it.”

“The marshmen are nobodies,” Anriq protested weakly.

“They’re not,” Adriel contradicted.

“They are so,” Anriq insisted. “It’s like I told Michael, they’re just primitive non-players.”

The lich shook her head. “The marshmen are not nobodies, and they are not primitives.”

Anriq thrust out his chin. “Yeah? So, who do you think they are?”

“Scions of House Pestilence,” Adriel replied evenly.

Anriq’s face flushed. “Ridiculous!” he scoffed. “There is no evidence to suggest that!”

“It’s far from ridiculous, young man, and there is plenty of evidence.” Showing more patience than I credited her with, Adriel expounded further. “For starters, the ‘marshmen’ inhabit the same region as Sickening Ooze, a dungeon, mind you, that has always been Pestilence’s stronghold.

“Then there is the fact that the Nexus plague quarter—and incidentally that was not the name it bore in my day—is overrun with diseases and maladies of one sort or another, and it should come as no surprise to you that pestilence was and is Pestilence’s most potent weapon.

“But most damning of all, is the fact that the Triumvirate co-opted werewolves—Pestilence’s ancient enemy no less—to keep the ‘marshmen’ at bay. Given all these things, it beggars belief that the ‘marshmen’ and House Pestilence are unrelated. They are either descendants of the House or Pestilence scions themselves.”

Anriq paled. “If you know so much, why don’t you lead him—” he jerked his thumb in my direction—”to the dungeon yourself?”

The lich smiled. “I would, but in my day, the saltmarsh was but a thin strip along the coast bordering Nexus. From what Michael tells me, it has since swallowed up a good portion of the quarter, including it seems the entrance to Sickening Ooze. I doubt I would recognize the district as it is now, much less be able to find the dungeon portal.”

Anriq’s gaze swapped to me, looking for the all the world like a cornered animal. “I can’t tell you anything,” he gasped.

Solemnly, I studied his anxious face, wild eyes, and trembling fingers. Anriq was conflicted. I had expected that. What I had not anticipated was the strength of battle raging in him. “Did you swear a Pact to keep their secrets?”

“Something like that,” he muttered, shying away from my gaze.

I frowned at the vagueness of his response but decided not to push him further. “What about relaying a message?”

He raised his head. “A message?”

“Yes. What if instead of leading me to the marshmen, you carry a message to them from me. Will the ties that bind you allow that much?”

Anriq thought for a moment. “What will the message say?”

“The truth, if only its barebones.” I ticked off points on my fingers. “The bloodlines rise again. The Endless Dungeon is fading. The Guardian Draven has asked for our help. And finally, we seek allies. In exchange for the marshmen’s help, we will provide them with a secure base away from the new Powers. It will say no more than that, though. If they wish to know more, they must agree to a meeting.”

A relieved grin spread across the werewolf’s face. “Such a message I can carry.”

“Good,” I said, feeling no small measure of relief myself. “Last thing: do you trust them?”

Anriq’s brows furrowed. “How do you mean?”

I leaned forward. “Do you trust them to let you go no matter what?”

Anriq nodded firmly.

“Truly?” Safyre asked. “Will they let you walk away even if they want no part of us and wish to stay isolated?”

Again, the werewolf nodded.

“Even if they suspect it is Wolf, their ancient rival, who is making overtures?” Adriel asked.

This time, Anriq’s reply was slower in coming, nonetheless his response remained unchanged. “I trust them.”

I nodded, knowing I had no choice but to accept Anriq’s judgment in the matter or else force him into making a choice he clearly did not wish to. “Very well, then it’s settled. You will accompany me to Nexus.”

“What about Adriel and Safyre?” Teresa asked. “What will they be doing?”

“I will go to Death’s home and recover my body,” Adriel replied before I could respond. “But not immediately. First, I must inspect the Rings and determine if the possessed can be rehomed in the manner we hope.”

“I, too, must leave,” Safyre added. “I will accompany Michael and Anriq to Nexus. But I will delay my departure to assist Adriel with her investigations.” She glanced at the lich. “Assuming she finds that acceptable?”

“I do,” Adriel murmured. “The help of an aetherist-elite will not go amiss.”

“Should Safyre be returning to Nexus?” Terence asked, looking alarmed at the notion.

Safyre sighed. “Kesh is one of the potential allies we must reach out to. But it is not only Kesh herself that is important. Her agents—the other forsworn like me who have taken shelter in the emporium—are just as crucial to our cause. Michael may already have established a relationship with Kesh, the old tyrant may even like him, but for a sensitive matter like this, it’s best my former fellows deal with someone who they’ve known for decades.” She paused. “That’s why it will be me who approaches Kesh.”

I stayed glumly silent, not liking the idea of Safyre returning to Nexus, but knowing she was right. If anyone could convince Kesh and her agents to join our cause it was Safyre.

“But you’re forsworn yourself,” Terence protested, stating the obvious. “How are you going to reach Kesh alive?”

Safyre shrugged. “I will resume my identity as—” her eyes flitted to me—”Cara, and become just another anonymous emporium agent for a time again.”

“But—” Teresa began.

“Enough,” I said, cutting her off. “Safyre knows what she is doing, as does Adriel.”

“What about Draven’s Reach?” Nyra asked abruptly.

I glanced at her. “What about it?”

“Aren’t we going to reach out to those inside?” she asked, looking troubled.

I hesitated, then shook my head. “I’ve thought about it,” I admitted, “but I don’t think it’s a good idea. The only way to get into the dungeon is to assault the blocking force the void fathers have placed around the Reach Portal—which may have the unhappy consequence of causing them to increase their forces in sector 18,240 even more. Needless to say, that’s something we don’t want. It’s best, in fact, if the stygians have no hint of what’s coming. That gives us the best chance of success when we do eventually hit them.”

Frowning, Nyra nodded in reluctant agreement.

I rose to my feet. “Right, now that everyone knows what’s in store for us in the immediate future, Nyra, Terence and Teresa, you three better get some rest. We will be leaving at first light tomorrow.”

Nyra blinked. “We?”

I nodded. “Yes, I will be escorting the three of you to the dungeon.”

“Why would you do that?” Teresa asked with a frown.

“Well, for starters, to ensure you don’t run into any trouble along the way,” I said, earning myself a trio of glares. I grinned. “But also to make sure you three are well-stocked with any gear you need—ability tomes and skillbooks especially.”

“Oh,” Terence said. “I guess that’s alright then.”

I smiled but didn’t voice the third reason. If the trio ran into any trouble in the dungeon, it would be me who would be doing the rescuing.