Soulcatcher

by Sergey Zaytsev

  "That's right. But Sarge is only a part of the problem. It can involve the clan. Alice is wavering, but she could let it happen. You needn't kill personally, when there are lots of ways to arrange a few accidents. People willing to arrange them appear sometimes."

  "What would someone else's death give them? Experience? Or are there some additional benefits that I'm not aware of?"

  "Nothing except moral superiority, believe me," Grant shifted on the boulder, changing position, and grinned bitterly. "Do you think there are few individuals here who are ready to kill for the sake of the process? A limited number of saves for such is no more than a deterrent. Like a muzzle for a dog. Also, respawn time is increased by six hours after each death. The first time you would come out of the 'Replicator' in twelve hours, the second time – eighteen, the third time…"

  "Wait, third time? Isn't the last life final?"

  "You're not the only one confusing saves with lives, buddy. Save is a possibility of revival and we have exactly three of them. Plus the life you already have now. You interrupted me. So, not everyone is willing to risk spending three days on three revivals as that is, in a way, a guaranteed failure of the chance to get out of the 'sandbox' in time. So, usually, all risks disappear after the first death. It's sobering. Unfortunately, a couple of adrenaline junkies per three dozen players are a common phenomenon; there are always those willing to do someone else's dirty work. If not among these 'Children', then there will be some among the 'Cats'. The clans will always be able to agree on certain matters."

  "And Mr. Esco will let this go unpunished?!"

  "I told you it would be an accident. That is, everything would be arranged so that all the guilt falls onto you and your carelessness. There would be no one to punish. And if you were to miraculously avoid the traps set for you, the clan would appoint the 'Torpedoes', the so called players who would attack the condemned until their saves run out. The 'Curator' would, of course, punish them, and send them to the 'Replicator'. But you would end up losing everything."

  "That's what Sarge promised you - a clan's vendetta?" I angrily jerked my head, not doubting the answer.

  "Yeah."

  He paused, and an oppressive silence hung in the air for a moment. The fire crackled, throwing sparks and smoke. I sat and, to avoid looking at Grant, looked towards the river. I felt like decapitating the damn, nutty mage myself instead of waiting for Sarge to do it. I wasn't mad at him because he was in this situation, but because he had kept it from me.

  Angrily, I turned away from Grant and began observed the "Turtangle". Having sped up again, it had already reached the middle of the river. Two foamy divergent jets stretched behind its shell, as if after a speedboat.

  "Still, you didn't agree…" I broke the silence, hardly restraining my emotions. They were suspiciously strong, as if they weren't mine. "Do you dislike him that much? Or is there something I do not know still? Where did it all start, Grant? And why the hell are you so calm?! Why were you hiding it all till I had you pinned to the wall?!"

  "Calm?" the mage's face suddenly got distorted with anger. Another twig, which he was going to throw into the fire, snapped in his hand. The contrast compared with the usual good-natured mask was so striking that it gave me the creeps. "Calm?! And did it ever occur to you, Wise my bro, that my calm exterior is just a defense mechanism? That, when you do not understand what is happening, you have to pretend that everything is ok in order to cope? Just to move on with your life? Trust me, I'm not lying now! Once I let my feelings out, I'll snap. I, like you, don't know how I got here and how to get out of this shit. I am just better at pretending, but that doesn't mean that I'm not worried about anything... We were given only one direction, but is it the right one? Maybe the right way is through the 'Inferno', and we are being herded to this dungeon, like sheep, blindly obeying the overall scheme?!"

  "Where did you get that idea about the 'Inferno'?" I inquired. "Explain yourself."

  "See, I was just talking nonsense," Grant waved his hand wearily. This short burst had seemingly left him without energy. The mage stared at fire and absentmindedly picked up a smoldering branch that had fallen out of the stone circle. "I'm telling you, this outward calm is not easy for me to keep... I'll tell you the rest of the story as a token of goodwill. It's just personal, Wise, and it's kinda none of your business. On the other hand, you're right, everything that has to do with me affects you."

  "Let's get to the bottom of this, else we'll be stuck talking till the evening."

  "The point... The point is that Alice, Cavalier and I are all from the same call."

  I barely managed to bite my tongue. There was nothing special in those news. But I better let him talk, else he could curl up again, like snail into shell.

  "'Reed Cats' took Cavalier under their wing, and our mentor, Alice's and mine, was Stinger. Don't be surprised, you just didn't know Stinger. Neither clan could dictate him. The man was sharp, rough and very strong. Above six and a half feet tall and two hundred sixty pounds in weight. All muscles. He was like Hercules himself. None dared oppose him; the initial level stats were just a mere appendage to his real power. He could have taken three freshmen, and no one would have uttered a word, but the rules allowed no more than two. After a visit to the 'Training Grounds', it became clear that I was a combat heal, and Alice, the ranger. He helped us reach level five, and then dumped the girl, as she did not meet his plans for the duo."

  "And he, himself – what class was he?"

  "A rogue with an explorer specialization. Short – a 'tank' spec."

  "A 'tank' spec on a rogue?"

  "Why are you so surprised? The explorer's protective auras will leave some warrior specs behind both in protection and damage. Just take my word for it, I saw Stinger in action. One must truly be special to receive such a specialization from the system."

  "If I were him, I would choose the pure heal. too," I nodded.

  "That's not even the point. Stinger rejected Alice as a player, and not because she was a ranger. He decided that the girl was too impulsive and self-willed and that a strong group with her in it wouldn't work; that she could fail at a crucial moment, accustomed to increased male attention and constant indulgences. You know, in these situations, double standards still apply. For the same mistake the guy gets a knuckle-sandwich and learns his lesson, while the girl gets comforted and told that it's not her fault and that she will get it right next time."

  "It depends on the kind of girl," I smiled, biting a torn blade of grass. "They differ no less than guys, you know."

  "Yes, yes, I understand," Grant waved angrily. "The thing is, there were feelings mixed in. Alice had a crush on Stinger, and her attention was...a little intrusive. And such feelings... They did not make him nervous, he was not that kind of a man... But it annoyed him."

  "Love at first sight?" I chuckled in distrust.

  "Something like that."

  "Do you really believe that?"

  "You just don't understand. Avatars have a physiology different than the average person. For us here everything happens brighter, stronger. Hormones can hit you in the head at anytime, and you will find yourself falling in love without even getting to know how and why. One can easily become a thrall to feelings. Like Alice. And a woman scorned is a deadly force."

  That's it. So, too much dissatisfaction with Grant was the result of my current mental state? Not that I had suddenly fallen in love with him...

  "A woman scorned, you say. Well, I won't argue about that. But, logically, she should be mad at you, you're the one who crossed her, though not personally. And the girl, on the contrary, took our side near the 'Source'. Why the kindness? Or am I getting something wrong?"

  "Why don't you just hear the rest of the story before you start ask me questions? Damn you! I'm gonna go ring the bell after all. There's no ferry, and time waits for no man."

  The mentor put on his hat, hurriedly got up and stomped towards the pier, leaving his staff and bag next to the fire. I looked ov
er the river, eyebrows raised in puzzlement – what if Glutton got lost? There was not a slightest trace on the water, nor was the "tank" pet on the island's shore. Mentally swearing, I stood up to increase my visibility range. Had it managed to hide in the bushes on the island?

  The mage hastily stomped across the platform which creaked under his feet, and forcefully pulled the rope several times, swinging the clapper. The sound flowed over the river, thick and lingering, muffling all other. I was gloomily contemplating all the things that I had hidden from Grant. When he let go of the rope and turned around, I made my decision. For better or worse, we were now tied together, and our problems should be solved together. Otherwise I was no better than him.

  "You know, Grant... I, too, wasn't completely honest. Frankly said, you might have a problem with me, as well."

  "What do you mean?" he stood, puzzled, at the middle of the pier.

  "I'm being hunted by a personal assassin. Let me explain…"

  "Ah, that," Grant suddenly smiled as before, widely and openly. "That's no secret for me at all…"

  In my wildest dreams I never could have guessed what was about to occur.

  The sinister rustle was blocked by the lingering clang of the bell. I saw it only when the arrow impaled the mage under the chin. The black, finger-thick shaft plunged into his neck almost to the plumage - dirty white like snow after the thaw. The blow made Grant turn around the axis, revealing a bloody arrowhead, terribly sticking out of the back of his neck. Flailing his arms in an attempt to keep his balance, the mage stumbled and fell backwards over the edge of the pier. His body splashed loudly upon hitting the water, leaving behind only a straw hat.

  It was immediately picked up and carried away by the rapid current.

  Chapter 11

  "The 'Replicator'"

  Without hesitation, I threw myself on the ground; rolling towards the water, I hoped that the shore's natural slope would hide me from the enemy's view.

  My party with Grant got disbanded; the mage's character icon had disappeared. More than ever before I cursed that I didn't have some sort of a lousy shield. But whoever the bastard that had dispatched my mentor was, I would return the favor. I just needed to figure out the situation first.

  I carefully lifted myself up, peering over the top of the slope…

  Whistling past my shoulder, the arrow fell into the water with a splash. This alone was enough to knock me back. However, I had managed to have a look at the enemy. The thought of immediate revenge was blown out, like candle flame by a chilly breeze. Rage died down, leaving behind only powerless, bitter fear. One more such scouting attempt and I'd be dead. It's a weird feeling, realizing that you're doomed. That's why Grant died so easily – neither level seven, nor the remnants of the "Shield of the Novice" managed to help him. He was killed not so much by the arrow, but by the "Mark" that spread from me onto my allies like a plague.

  "The Destroyer's" pack walked out of the forest and down towards the river.

  And an unusual pack, it was; the image of which will forever be imprinted in my memory. Far ahead of the group, three "Fangores", the mighty beasts, rushed towards me through the grass. Following them, in no hurry, were two swordsmen in dark armor, each with a heavy sword in their right and a whip in their left hand. On the hill behind them, watching the shore, stood an archer, dressed in black. In the eye sockets of his leather glowed two red coals. The leader. Level eight, like the rest of the minions. I'd never seen such a pack.

  Grant was wrong, and his mistake had cost him dearly. It was not always safe near the "Temple". The enemy was, without a doubt, attracted to the "Mark of the Damned". Who could have foreseen that? Five days in the game were really not that much; one couldn't take everything into account. And the worst part was, I only had a few seconds to find a way out before the "Fangores" tear me to pieces. But I saw no escape. It was pointless to run. There was no escape from the dogs and the arrows while the "Mark" was on me.

  I quickly glanced over the shore; there were no bushes, nor a place to hide. Looking in the direction of the island, I cursed the damn priests. How hard was it to ferry the raft over when it was really needed?!

  Raft. Water. The pier! I could hide under it to buy some time! I could try to swim to the island! Staying under water could save me…

  Alas, my time had run out.

  One of "Fangores" managed to outperform its kin. Jumping over a huge boulder, the beast rushed straight towards me, fanged jaws wide open. Growling with powerless anger, I jumped up, tearing the sword from my back. Such a worthless and silly end for both Grant and I…

  The archer was waiting for that moment. The arrow pierced my thigh, arrowhead grating nastily against the bone. My leg jerked, body shifted, and the blow aimed at the dog missed. Steel struck the stone and sparks flew. The dog instinctively tried to jump aside to dodge the attack; however, the steepness of the slope and the accumulated speed played a bad joke on it. Its paws slid on the turf and its heavy body hit me like a battering ram. The earth spun before my eyes. I barely had time to take a deep breath before I plunged headfirst into the stream's cold embrace. With a noisy splash, I went under and got carried away downstream.

  "Diver"

  Rank 1 (1/100)

  You can hold your breath for 2 minutes without negative consequences.

  Everything was happening too fast.

  It's hard to navigate when you are twirling in the water like a ragdoll and everything is flickering before your eyes. Long ribbons of algae, like snakes, writhed in the clear water, and the dark pillars of the pier suddenly appeared right in front of me. I barely managed to grab hold of the nearest and prevent myself from being carried away further. Damn! The sword got knocked out of my hand when I collided with the pillar, and sank to the bottom. It was hard to look around underwater. The "Fangore" was still there, and it too was struggling with the current. Paddling intensively, bared maw outstretched, it tried to get closer and bite me, but it got carried sideways.

  Gripping the pillar hard with my left hand, I drew the dagger and tried to hit the creature.

  A pathetic attempt. Against a level eight "Fangore", and under the influence of the "Mark", I might as well have been level zero. It was not surprising that my arm had failed me. Instead of piercing the eye, the tip of the dagger slid across the face as if over glass, leaving only a barely visible scratch. Another convulsive jerk and the fangs clicked dangerously near my face.

  I forcefully pushed myself away from the pillar. Building up distance, I immediately grabbed onto the next one whilst trying to keep the dagger in my hand.

  Something suddenly pierced through the water's thickness, leaving a trail of air bubbles. A transparent six foot long trident, seemingly made out of crystal, pinned the "Fangore" like a bug to the pole. The creature's eyes bulged and it died. The water was painted with quickly dissipating carmine streams, and the trident began to melt right in front of my eyes.

  The system helpfully informed me that the weapon was made from enchanted ice using some sort of a materialization spell. Someone had come to my rescue, lighting a tiny flame of hope in my soul. Alas, I was yet to see who it was. The way the light refracted under the water distorted the perspective, and the deeper it got the murkier and darker it became, concealing bottom of the river.

  A fast, flexible body stirred in the depths.

  The air... Sheathing the dagger, I pushed myself away from the murky bottom and surfaced under the pier, hiding under it if behind a shield. Sticking my head out, I took a deep breath, and was almost immediately forced to retreat; an arrow had pierced the board in front of my face, slicing my cheek with its head. That bastard of an archer was good, he could feel where I was.

  Roaring, two of the creatures rushed into the river, paws moving fiercely, surrounding me from both sides. Without hesitation I pushed myself away from the pier; diving deeper, I swam away from the unreliable shelter, desperately pushing away the serpentine veil of algae surrounding me. My heavy clothing was hinde
ring my movement and slowing me down.

  Looking around, I saw that the dogs had followed me. Foaming the water with their paws, they were quickly catching up. Smart beasts. As soon as they get the chance, they will both dive and bite at me. They were already above me…

  All be damned, there was no escape!

  I would have to forget about the unknown ally and meet death face to face.

  Grabbing nearest cluster of algae, I pulled myself closer to the bottom. Hastily wrapping my legs around the cluster, I somehow managed to get up, resisting the stream. My hand brushed against the arrow still stuck in my thigh and my flesh felt as if it were burning. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed both daggers and threw my hands up in anticipation. I was no longer hoping for anything, but I was determined to fight to the bitter end.

  The dogs dove, rushing towards me in a cloud of bubbles.

  Something flashed in my peripheral vision. From the dark depths emerged a flexible silhouette, swimming rapidly in my direction. I stared in amazement at the creature that had come to my aid.

  "Temple Guardian"

  Level 10

  Race: merman

  HP: 1650

  So that's the one whom Grant had mentioned!

  Its powerful human torso, bulging with sinewy muscles, was covered in shining, silvery scaly skin. Instead of legs it had a long fishtail that was wildly beating the water. The creature swept past me like a torpedo. The merman's head turned, glancing at me indifferently, its narrow snake eyes gleaming green and gold. A fast, wave-like movement with the trident and the "Fangore" began tumbling through the water with its belly ripped open. The second one lived a moment longer than its kin. Another subtle movement and the creature dropped helplessly with neck slit, surrounded by a muddy cloud of blood. Such incredible strength…

  For a long moment, I watched with vengeful joy as the current carried my enemies away. And when I turned to look around I saw my savior quickly swimming away, about to disappear again in the depths. I barely restrained myself from shouting after it, since half of my enemies, more dangerous than "Fangores", were still waiting for me at the surface. I would have to get some air soon. But the guard seemed not to care about the player's fate, only about guarding the water area around the "Temple".