by Pavel Kornev
The fact that I was already dead didn’t seem to baffle them in the slightest.
A few shadows clung to Neo. The boy dropped the torch on the floor and began stomping on it, extinguishing the flames. The fire flared up momentarily, then went out.
Immediately the cold had receded, dispelling my stupor.
The shadows had faded into darkness. They were gone.
Dammit! Bastard things!
I cussed, grabbed Neo by the shoulder and dragged him to the door. “Stay still! Follow me!”
We walked out into the outer corridor and hurried to the exit. I pushed the boy outside, then stepped out after him and swung around to face the gate. Still, the shadows couldn’t exist without light. Having extinguished the torch, Neo had killed them all at once.
“What are we going to do, Uncle John?” the boy asked. Large tears of disappointment welled in the corners of his eyes.
“We’re gonna go to sleep,” I said. “We’ll come back here in the morning.”
“As if that’s gonna change something!” Neo said in a surprisingly wise voice.
“We’ll figure it out,” I shrugged. “Hungry?”
“I’ve still got some baked fish.”
I looked up at the temple dome and thoughtfully scratched my cheek with my claws.
“Okay, you can have your dinner but don’t go to bed before I come back. I want you to keep an eye on the gate.”
“Do you think the orcs might come?”
I shrugged. “Everything’s possible.”
With that, I walked back to the temple.
A Night Hunter has no need of a torch.
WITHOUT THE LIGHT, the inside of the temple was extremely dark. Still, my night vision allowed me to at least navigate the corridors, threading my way past the empty suits of armor that used to belong to the warriors of the Order of the Silver Phoenix lying around here and there. I entered the second corridor with a certain apprehension, but the darkness had already dissolved and absorbed all the shadows, so the ghosts didn’t attack me.
The bones of the hapless adventure seekers had ceased crunching underfoot long before I’d reached the passage to the inner hall. It was huge and completely empty. A dark pedestal — an altar? — rose at its center. Massive stone columns supported the ceiling.
For several long minutes I didn’t move. Then I took a couple of cautious steps, listening warily to the rustling sound of my own feet. The place seemed safe. The stone tiles didn’t sag under my weight. No traps were creaking into action. My anxiety had eased a little.
But not completely, not at all. There was something wrong about the place. The spine-chilling, hair-raising kind of wrong.
Did I tell you that the dead were insensitive to the feelings of depression and spookiness? Well, I was wrong.
Overcoming myself, I headed for the pedestal at the center of the hall and very nearly stumbled over a shriveled skeleton. The dead man lay on the floor, straight as a die; his white robes stood out against the background of a dark stone.
A priest.
I wanted to walk around the remains but some premonition had held me back. I looked down. A dark line was drawn on the floor right at my feet. Another one joined it at a sharp angle, but the darkness prevented me from seeing their design in every detail.
Deciding not to take any risks, I walked around it and very soon came across a second body. I stopped next to it and looked down at the floor. I wasn’t even surprised when I’d discovered another sharp angle right next to the corpse.
It was a pentagram! Or rather, a pentacle. Its circle had faded to the point of being almost invisible.
Someone must have held a ritual here with human sacrifices. The temple had been desecrated.
Approaching the pentacle, I strained my eyes, looking at the pedestal at the center of the hall. After some time, I’d managed to work out a tree stump mounted on it. The face of a demon was carved into it, grinning at me. Was it my imagination or was it glowing in the dark?
And then I felt someone’s unkind gaze on my back. Someone was staring at me.
I swung round. The hall was empty. There was nobody there except me.
Having said that ... A giant silhouette of a sprawling leaping figure had been slapdashedly painted on the dome with some sort of light-colored paint. The figure was undoubtedly demonic.
Clawed paws and a gaping mouth enveloped in flames.
A phoenix it was not, that’s for sure.
Anything but a phoenix.
The feeling of me being watched had grown stronger, sharper. Threading my way around the pentacle, I hurried toward the exit. I slid out into the corridor and darted away.
Had I forgotten my own immortality? If not, why was I scared like a little boy?
So what if I was? I’d spent enough time in virtual reality to still believe all this to be a game.
5
WHEN I WALKED back outside, Neo was sitting on the steps of the watchtower yawning his head off but keeping a watchful eye on the gates., but he didn’t let go of the gate.
“There’s been no one, Uncle John!” — he reported, then hurried to ask, “What’s in there?”
I told him.
The boy’s face darkened. He fell silent for a long time.
- It isn’t right!” he finally said, frowning. “ There must be a magic crystal, the same as the one in the lighthouse! We need to bring it back to its place!”
I didn’t ask him how he knew. Instead, I just said, “So where do you suggest we should look for this magical crystal?”
“At the orcs’,” Neo said, nonplussed. “They desecrated the temple and replaced the crystal with their pagan idol! We must convince them to return the relic!
Convince them? Yeah right. As if they’d listen to us! And fighting a forest hunter tribe was a pretty hopeless undertaking. Although if you couldn’t negotiate, intimidate or take what you needed by force, why not just steal it?
I was a thief, after all. And that’s what thieves do for a living; they take other people’s property without their permission.
A magic crystal should be of considerable value. I was pretty sure that if I searched the dwelling of the tribe leader or their chief shaman, I was bound to find the relic there.
“Uncle John!” Neo called to me. “You think you could help?”
“Go to sleep,” I said. “I’ll try to find out something about your crystal.”
“I’ll go with you!”
“Sleep now!” I barked. Reluctantly the boy went back into the tower.
I rotated my head a few times listening to the soft crunching of my vertebrae, then went to the temple gates. I froze there for a while, listening to the rustling sounds of the night and the distant splashing of water, then stepped onto the pine tree trunk and confidently crossed to the other side.
From the height of the cliff, the orcs’ settlement lay clearly before me. I spent a few minutes studying the layout and trying to determine which one was the leader’s dwelling, then moved down the steps, checking each one to make sure it didn’t collapse underfoot. Because of this safety precaution, it took me some time to descend — but at least I didn’t risk falling to my death into the abyss.
I didn’t want to die. And a stupid death like that definitely wasn’t in my plans.
WHEN I’D REACHED the middle of my descent, I heard a loud, wheezy snorting. I clung to the rock and froze, fading into the shadows.
An orc with a crossbow appeared from around the bend. He didn’t notice me and continued his ascent. He was followed by three more dark figures: the tribe’s shaman and two burly warriors.
The wrinkled caster didn’t lag behind the young fighters with virtually no help from his gnarly staff. A white fang necklace glowed on his chest. His gray hair was braided with an array of motley ribbons.
The warriors were armed to the teeth. Each of them had a massive scimitar. Curved daggers and throwing knives were stuck behind their belts. Both were clad in bronze breastplates and helmet
s.
The warriors snorted noisily, heavily flaring the nostrils of their flat noses. Both were dangerous opponents. Yet I started with the shaman.
I poked him in the neck with my index finger. The claw punctured his larynx with surprising ease. The caster threw his hands in the air and dropped from the cliff, silently opening and closing his mouth.
The warrior who followed him grabbed at the scimitar, but I kicked him hard in the breastplate, sending him flying onto the one in the rear. Both warriors tumbled down the steps without actually falling down, which was a great shame.
The echo of a dull blow came from the foot of the cliff. I received a message awarding me with XP for the killing of the shaman, then another one about me receiving a new level.
I didn’t give a damn! I had more important things to take care of!
I turned to the orc crossbowman a couple of steps higher. He raised his scimitar, but my bone hook slithered forward, snake-like, and slashed across his torso just below his breastplate, leaving a deep cut from one hip to the other. Blood gushed from under his short kilt. The orc froze, his eyes bulging in agony, as the wound stunned him.
To miss such an opportunity would be unforgivable. I leaped toward the enemy and tore the crossbow off his back, then sent him after his shaman master.
From below, the two warriors already hurried toward me, furious about their comrades’ deaths. I raised the crossbow and fired at the one closest to me. The bolt easily pierced the breastplate. No idea what kind of magic had been cast on it but the green-skinned warrior immediately turned into a withered mummy.
I hurled the unloaded weapon at the remaining warrior. He parried it with his scimitar — and avoided my attack entirely. I lunged upon him, burying the Soulkiller bone hook deep into his burly shoulder. I then pulled the hook back to myself, ripping through his arm from shoulder to the wrist.
The warrior howled and dropped the scimitar. Still, he didn’t give up. With his left hand, he tried to draw his dagger from his belt. I closed my clawed hand around his bicep and started hitting his unprotected neck with the hook.
The warrior shuddered. He stumbled and fell to one knee, then collapsed face down on the rocks. Life was quickly draining out of him, along with the green blood that escaped his terrible wounds.
Who’s next?
I was the Night Hunter, swift and lethal, just as I liked it.
I laughed quietly but immediately stopped short and froze, listening to the quiet of the night.
Nothing. The brief fight hadn’t alarmed their guards. They probably hadn’t even heard it. Excellent!
I frisked the dead orcs but didn’t take anything. They didn’t have anything of value with them, and their bulky weapons didn’t interest me.
A message kept flashing, informing me of new levels gained by my both alter-egos. I skimmed through it, invested one point into dexterity, then froze, unable to choose between constitution and perception.
Or should I invest into strength?
It all depended on what my playing style was going to be. For rogues, well-developed perception was almost as important as for casters and shooters. It affected accuracy, observation, and internal energy, while health and stamina depended on constitution. And what was wrong with the ability not to buckle under blows?
Why would a rogue need strength, might you ask? Well, firstly, my flamberge’s damage directly depended on it. That was just the weird kind of thief I was. A thief with a two-handed sword.
In any case, I stood no chance in protracted combat with a high-level fighter. So I decided to bring the perception to fifteen points, and then invest only in dexterity and strength.
This time I chose stealth over dodge, and since the third level of the Incognito mode was now available, I didn’t hesitate to bring that up too.
The description that came up caused me to give my head a puzzled scratch.
Incognito III.
You’ve become a real master of disguise. People around you simply don’t notice you anymore. When you are among other people, an outside observer can’t recognize your use of the Incognito skill until you attract his attention.
Stealth: +15%
Hm. They hadn’t made it very clear, had they? But at least no one was going to stop me just because of my private profile settings. For a city, it might actually be a very good idea.
6
I HADN’T GONE to the orc village. Seeing as they’d sent assassins to the temple, they must have thought of hiding the magic crystal from me too. The forest was huge. There was no way you could find anything there.
Instead, I’d turned to the outpost. The guard on the tower was almost asleep. He can’t have noticed the shadow that slid in the night past him. I got to the first hut without a problem. It was occupied by sleeping orc archers. I decided against waking them up. Instead, I slid into the shaman’s hut.
I lay one hand over his mouth while half-strangling him with the other.
“If you make a noise, you’re a dead man,” I said softly, feeling the old man’s muscles tighten. “Then I’ll have to kill the guards and go to the village. To kill everyone else I see.”
I relaxed my grip on the shaman’s mouth.
“What do you want, you wretched monster?”
“There’s a temple on the mountain. You took something from there. A magic crystal. Where is it?”
“No!” the orc wheezed. “You aren’t getting it!”
I chuckled. “Of course, I will. Where are you hiding it?”
- Hiding it? — the shaman rose from the mat in amazement. “That wretched thing has summoned a demon into our world! We paid in blood but we did get rid of the crystal! No one can bring it back!”
I wasn’t too enthusiastic about his answer so I closed my clawed fist tighter on the orc’s neck. “Where’s the crystal?”
“At the bottom of the lake!” the shaman replied with spiteful joy in his voice.
I closed my fingers ever tighter. The old orc croaked, but managed, “The guard of the Equinox will stop any-”
Then he fell silent. Dead. You don’t live long with a crushed larynx, a broken spine and torn veins.
I wiped my bloodied hand on the mat and quietly slipped back into the night.
It was just a computer-generated char. A toon. I’d warned them, anyway.
Hadn’t I?
Still, I felt like shit. What was I now, some stupid conscientious objector?
It had been an orc, dammit! Just an orc!
And I was just a dead man. All of us had to play the roles we’d been chosen for.
I DIDN’T WANT to meet the mysterious guard of the Equinox, so I didn’t go to the lake shore. Instead I picked up a heavy boulder among those lying at the foot of the staircase, lifted it onto my shoulder and began walking up the steps. I’d spent a quarter of my endurance on the climb but reached the ledge overhanging the lake, then stepped down from it.
A moment of free fall ended in me hitting the dark water’s surface. Surrounded by air bubbles, I began to sink to the bottom — swiftly first, then slower.
The guard would stop me? That remained to be seen.
I saw a magic crystal from afar. I lay on the rocky bottom. The water around it sparkled with a silvery sheen. I let go of the boulder and reached the glowing rock in a few decisive strokes.
It was the size of an adult man’s head. I wrapped my hands around it and began to climb to the surface.
It wasn’t easy. The lake was deep and shaped as a funnel. I would have gladly placed the precious item into my inventory and ben to paddling with both hands, but for some reason it didn’t fit in the slot. There must have been some restriction regarding its size or volume.
When I was already halfway to the surface, I came across the crossbowman I’d thrown down the stairs. He stared at me with reproach.
Nonsense. The fish had already eaten his eyes. He had nothing to stare at me with.
I paused, took a few crossbow bolts from him, then continued my asce
nt. Finally, I got out of the water and collapsed onto the pebble shore.
You can’t imagine how exhausted I was.
I heard a creaking noise. I looked up and didn’t believe my own eyes.
A knight was approaching me.
A real knight in black armor and a helmet with a closed visor. The visor’s eye slit glowed an evil purple. The handle of a two-handed sword protruded from behind his right shoulder.
An orc knight ?! Jesus...
This really was an orc. His silhouette was too unmistakably squat and powerful.
Guardian of the Equinox
I shook off my stupor and rose to my feet. The orc raised his gauntleted hand and lay it on the hilt of the sword. I still had the chance to stealth up and disappear into the shadows, but what the hell ?!
I was a night hunter, swift and deadly! I shouldn’t be afraid of them. They should be afraid of me.
In a lightning move, I darted toward him, forced my way through the thickening air and found myself next to his sinister figure. There was no way he could have reacted in time to my assault and still he’d somehow managed to draw his two-handed sword and point it at me.
I basically impaled myself on his black double-edged sword -all the way to its cross-guard.
Damage received: 528 [576/1104]
The sword’s point had pierced my chainmail and came out between my shoulder blades. My flamberge went flying from my hands and skidded across the pebbled beach while I froze in place like a pinned beetle.
The orc tensed and began to raise his sword. The blade ripped through my insides, causing additional damage, until my legs lost contact with the ground. Now I hung in the air, pierced by his sword.
The black knight threw back his head and fixed his glowing purple gaze on my face, enjoying the sufferings of his victim.
Well, he should have.
Accurate Strike”! “Claws of Darkness”!
