The labyrinth, p.1
The Labyrinth, page 1
part #2 of The Gods' Game Series
The Labyrinth
The Gods’ Game, Volume II
The Labyrinth
The Gods’ Game, Volume II
Rohan M. Vider
Copyright
The Labyrinth (The Gods' Game, Volume II), a self-published book by Rohan M. Vider.
Copyright © 2019 Rohan M. Vider.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact rohan.vider@gmail.com.
First Edition
Revision (1.0)
eBook ISBN: 978-0-620-83891-7
Paperback ISBN: 978-0-620-83892-4
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To our wonderful children, you bring joy to our lives. This is for you.
The Labyrinth,
The Gods’ Game Volume II
His life on earth was over. Myelad was his world now. And there he had power. Power to change the Game. But would he? And how?
Accidentally summoned to Myelad, Kyran has earned the ire of the Gods and been banished to the subterranean world of Crota—to die. Yet Kyran has proved tough to kill, and despite the odds, has survived his first few days in the new world.
But his plans for escape have gone awry... Defeated and captured, what will become of him?
Join Kyran, as he battles his way through the labyrinth, gathering allies, overcoming foes, growing into a player, and finding purpose…
A LitRPG novel.
By Rohan M. Vider.
www.rohanvider.com
Author’s Note
Dear Readers,
Thank you for reading Crota, the Gods’ Game volume I. It is only through your support that this, the second book has been made possible. I have avidly read and digested all reviews of the first book, and your feedback has helped make this book better—hopefully:).
By far the most common complaint on the first book was its length. Many felt that it was too short. This book, I assure you, is much longer!
As with the first book, to enjoy the story of this one, knowledge of CRPG and MMO games is not necessary. Every effort has been made within the story to explain crucial game mechanics and where possible, game information has been collated and presented in chapters, titled ‘Game Data’. These chapters maybe safely skipped for those interested only in the story elements.
This is a self-published work, and even though great care has been given to the review and editing of this book, some errors may have slipped through. For these, I apologise.
I encourage you to drop me a message on anything related to the Gods’ Game or otherwise. Please also let others know what you think about the book by leaving a review on www.amazon.com and www.goodreads.com.
Most importantly, I hope you enjoy the book!
Best Regards
Rohan M. Vider
Rohan.vider@gmail.com
Contents
The Labyrinth
Copyright
Dedication
The Labyrinth,
Author’s Note
Contents
Prologue
Game Data
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Game Data
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Game Data
Part Two
Chapter 7
Game Data
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Game Data
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Game Data
Part Three
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Game Data
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Game Data
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Game Data
Part Four
Chapter 21
Game Data
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Game Data
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Afterword
Game Data
List of Gods, People & Places
List of Abilities & Spells used
Prologue
One of the most remarkable aspect of the game is its Balance. Although it has been played for eons, in all that time no god has achieved a decisive advantage. Empires have grown and kingdoms shrunk but despite endless strife, shifting alliances and betrayals, no god has managed to achieve supremacy. The key to this Balance are the essence wells... – excerpt from Treatise on the Game by scholar Kel Maldax.
On the windswept plains to the south, in the tented goblinoid city of Wazrak, a lone bone sepulchre speared unerringly into the sky. In the upmost chamber, from which he ruled over his dominion with an iron fist, Xetil paced. “Where is he?” he demanded querulously. He hated to be kept waiting.
“It is a journey of three days from the Redrock, my lord,” Yiralla reminded him, “and Lesh is… unused to travelling.”
“Bah, it has been five days,” replied Xetil waspishly, “and he is in the city already. I sensed him entering hours ago! What is taking him so long?”
“Shall I send another runner, my lord?”
Xetil ignored her. “I swear if he keeps me waiting much longer, I shall tear out his heart!”
Yiralla forbore further comment. Xetil worked up and ranting was common enough. But once he escalated to issuing threats, it was best not to draw his ire. In the midst of his rages he had been known to destroy even the most loyal of followers. She tried another tack. “Why not send me instead? I will make quick work of the free agent and any undead that gets in my way.”
Xetil dismissed her plea. “Stop pestering me with this nonsense again, Yiralla. You are too valuable here. I cannot risk you in Crota.”
“But my lord—”
“Enough!” barked Xetil. “I will brook no more dissent.”
Yiralla fell silent, inwardly seething. She did not understand Xetil’s circumspection. Ordinarily he treated obstacles the way an ogre treated rocks—he crushed them. Why tread so cautiously now? And what could that corpulent slug, Lesh, do that she could not? Biting her lip, she worried over this. Her train of thoughts were interrupted by Xetil’s cry. “Finally! Took him long enough.” Xetil broke off his pacing and resumed his place on the throne.
Xetil did not keep court. Except for Yiralla and the two ogres guarding the entrance, the throne room was empty. So Lesh’s arrival was unmarked by any ceremony—other than the twinkling of his sedan chair’s bells and the panting of his overburdened goblin slaves.
Yiralla nearly burst out in laughter at the sight but managed to supress it—barely. Xetil frowned at her sudden fit of coughing.
Lesh Spizaxla was a fire kend, a virulent race that was an offshoot of the gnomish species. While kends were quicker to anger and more prone to violence than their gentler cousins, they shared the same talent for enchanting.
Lesh hailed from the volcanic plains which suited both his temperament and skills. The plains overflowed with rare gems and other crafting materials and as much as she despised the annoying fop, Yiralla had to admit that Lesh was a masterful artificer.
The litter bearers set down their cargo and Lesh strolled out and performed his obeisance to their divine overlord. He was a rotund little man, no more than one metre tall. Like all fire kends, he had a brick-red complexion and bright golden orbs for eyes. His lava-red hair was immaculately groomed, gaudy enchantments dangled off his fingers and delicate chainmail peeked out from under his intricately fashioned robes.
Yiralla snorted in derision. As if any of those trinkets would aid him in battle. Lesh was a coward and lazy to boot. He preferred the pampered luxuries of his palace to the dirt and sweat of the training hall, much less the hardship of a battlefield. That’s why, even though Yiralla would rather be the one chosen, she leaned forward in eager anticipation of Lesh’s reaction to his orders.
“Lesh, I am pleased you deigned to answer my summons,” said Xetil sarcastically.
Lesh bowed and said obsequiously, “Forgive me, Divine One. I assure you, I made haste with all urgency.” He bowed again. “What will you have of me, o glorious master?”
Xetil ignored Lesh’s unashamed pandering and said bluntly, “You will make haste to Crota. A new player has entered Myelad, one who is not beholden to any god. Do not let him raise a banner there or claim its essence well. He must be destroyed.”
Lesh’s eyes bulged open in distress. He spluttered, “Me, my lord? I don’t understand. Surely this is a job of a thug—
“I mean warrior,” he hastily amended at Yiralla’s harsh glare.
He smoothed his clothes nervously before continuing. “Of course, I always stand ready to do your will, o Divine One, but if I may beg to point out, Yiralla or even one of those brutes outside are better suited to this mission than my humble self.”
<
“You will be my envoy to the feral tribes infesting Crotana’s labyrinth. You will provide them aid by means of your artificer art. Such baubles will be useful to them. In return, the tribes will hunt down and kill the free agent for me.”
Visibly upset but with no other choice than to comply, Lesh swallowed further protest. “Your will is my command, master. I will gather my vassals and set forth within the week.”
“You will go alone. And you will leave tonight.”
Lesh blanched. Travelling to the wilds of Crotana was one thing, but doing so alone, without his train, vassals, and comforts, that… that was simply unbearable. Lesh objected, “But my lord! How will I protect myself? The danger—”
Yiralla snickered loudly. Xetil glowered her way until, suitably chastened, she fell silent. He turned his glare to Lesh. “Enough, Lesh. Do not try my patience further. Yiralla will assign you two followers to see to your protection. Two, no more. And you will leave tonight. Now begone and fulfil my will.”
The matter closed, Xetil vanished. Miserable, bereft of choices and alone with a cackling Yiralla, Lesh contemplated the arduous journey ahead.
✽✽✽
The Durham arch basilica was eerily silent, emptied of unwanted eyes and ears for this delicate matter. Assembled before the throne were five score paladins, each resplendent in mithril plate armour. The disciplined ranks of holy warriors stood with hands clenched over hearts and heads bowed. At the fore, their new commander, Sara Milton, knelt in obeisance as she received her final instructions.
“Is your mission clear to you, my child?” asked Iyra.
“It is, Divine. I am to proceed to Crotana with all haste and capture the free agent, Kyran Seversan.”
Sara was still uncertain how she felt about this. But her loyalty was to Iyra now. And, she reminded herself, Iyra did not want him dead.
“Alive, do not forget. You are to bring him back alive. Willingly if possible but bring him you must.”
“I understand, Mother.”
“Remember, under no circumstances are you to enter Crota itself. Stay well away from the citadel. You are no match yet for Zarr and his undead. Be sure to heed my will in this. I do not wish to lose you so soon, dear child.”
“Your will shall be done, Mother. I will not fail you.”
“I am pleased by your determination, daughter. Now go. Go forth and do my will.”
✽✽✽
The forest’s silence was broken by a long howl from the south. It was echoed by another from the west. Adra glanced sharply at Curan, confirming his fears. “The pack has gotten ahead, cutting off the route west. Only the northern path to Crota remains open.”
Curan nodded. “They will close the noose soon. We head north and quickly.”
“But we cannot! The wounded will not survive,” cried Gaesin, his ears twitching in distress.
Amdin and Curan shared grim looks. “Then we leave them,” growled Amdin. Raising his voice, the dwarf rallied the group to order. “Ready up, ye sluggards! It is time to move out. Any who canna keep up will be left behind.”
Wearied groans of despair was his only response. Tired men and women forced themselves to their feet. “Don’t, please. You are sentencing them to death. The pack will devour them!” despaired Gaesin.
“Better them than us, boy. Now ready up or get left behind.”
Adra licked her paws in distress. A nervous habit she employed far too often of late. As heartless as Curan’s decision was, Adra could not disagree. The dire wolves had been on their trail for days and despite their best efforts they had not managed to shake them off. Alone, Adra knew she could evade pursuit. She had no qualms about leaving Curan and Amdin; they were not who she had thought them to be. She glanced at Gaesin. But she could not leave the boy.
Their only hope was to turn north, where no one wanted to go, to Crota. The haunted city was nearby. At least if the damn dwarf was to be believed. He has been wrong about everything else so far, she thought sourly.
Despite her misgivings, she shouldered her pack and tried not to think too hard about what lay ahead.
✽✽✽
In the town of Springhill, in its sole remaining tavern, Mirien sat with her back against the wall, eyes closed and more than half asleep. This sleepy fishing village, once a thriving centre of trade at the crossroads of three powerful kingdoms, was now largely deserted. After Crotana’s fall, trade from the north had dried up and with the long decades of peace between Xetil and Balkar, many of the soldiers had left, leaving behind only a token garrison.
She and the rest of the brotherhood team had been cooling their heels for days, waiting upon the arrival of the second team. They were late. How much longer, she wondered, did Deegan intended to wait before setting forth on their own?
The creak of the tavern’s battered door swinging open interrupted her musings. Slitting her eyes against the sudden glare, she studied the newcomer. It was Falsin. Finally. She shoved Tomlin awake. “Go fetch Deegan. Falsin has arrived.”
Falsin’s sharp eyes spotted the disturbance—as Mirien had intended—and he moved her way in a lazy roll. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, the half-elf slouched into the chair in front of Mirien. With ears twitching, he said, “My dear Mirien, I hope we haven’t kept you waiting long.”
“Knock it off, Falsin. I am in no mood. What kept you?”
“You best be careful, my dear. I swear every time I meet you, you sound more like that grouchy draconian master of yours, and less the delicate elf maiden you surely are.”
Mirien rolled her eyes impatiently. “I’m not buying what you're selling, Falsin. Now out with it, what kept you?”
Falsin shook his head ruefully and shrugged his shoulders, as if to say, well I tried. He dropped the contrived banter and replied forthright, “An urgent missive from Elasien delayed me. She received confirmation. As of five days ago our target was alive and well.”
Mirien leaned forward intently. “Do we know where?”
Falsin shook his head. “No, no more details than that. But at least it will be less of a goose chase than we feared.”
“Good. Where’s your team?”
“Camped half a day out, waiting.”
“Right, let’s go.”
“What, no time at least for a drink and chat between long-parted friends?”
Mirien did not dignify that with a response. Brusquely, she stood and marched swiftly out. With a loud, long-suffering sigh—which he made sure Mirien heard—Falsin stood and followed her out. It was going to be a long trip to Crota.
✽✽✽
Game Data
Kyran Profile (Full) as at the end of Volume I
Name: Kyran Seversan
Race: Elf
Combat Level: 10
Civilian Level: 3
Health: 14/100
Stamina: 231/500
Will: 842/1020
Essence: 90/1200
Attacks
Physical: 10.6 (slash).
Mental: 16.3 (psi).
Spell: 17.9 (fire)
Defences
Physical Defence: 11.7
Psi Defence: 10.0
Spell Defence: 10.0
Body Attributes
Strength: 40 (-20%)
Dexterity: 61 (+22%)
Constitution: 50 (+0%)
Mind Attributes
Intellect: 102 (+104%)
Creativity: 53 (+6%)
Charisma: 36 (-28%)
Spirit Attributes
Divine: 0 (-100%)
Magic: 120 (+140%)
Karma: Slightly Good.
