Archemi Online Chronicles Boxset

by James Osiris Baldwin

Blood Storm > Death by a Thousand Cuts combo chain first, and leveled both Blood Sprint and Blood Storm to III and Thousand Cuts to II. That was my main damage combo, crippling enemies with the Bleeding status, recovering HP, and cursing them with weakness I could then exploit with the Jump > Obscuring Veil combo. I leveled Obscuring Veil to III as well. Now I had one effective forward push combo, and one vertical jumping combo.

  Next on the menu was Shattering Darkness. I leveled it to three. Dealing 15% DR reduction to an enemy was awesome, allowing me to make every strike count more. I also reselected Whirlwind Butcher, and leveled it to II. It was a solid crowd-control attack, and more importantly, it regenerated Adrenaline Points, which allowed me to use more special abilities.

  Shadow Dance was a given: that move had saved my life more than any other skill I had. Shadow Dance II had a negligible 10 HP cost per dash, which was easily regained by landing some hits. However, there were better evasion-dash moves further along, so I didn’t power-level this ability.

  My last six points went to Plunge and Leap of Faith. Plunge III meant that I could do all kinds of wacky shit while I was flying on Karalti’s back and not worry as much about passing out because she dived while my head was above my knees. Leap of Faith III improved my gyroscopic orientation and would dilate my sense of time by three seconds. Non-stunt people would probably be underwhelmed, but I’d been stunting bikes since I was too young to legally own a license. Three seconds to plan your next move was an awfully long time to make a decision while falling. On the front lines, three seconds of movement was the difference between getting shot in the head and a bullet whiffing past your shoulder. I trusted my reflexes, but this would make them even better. I had a feeling it would also help during Jump maneuvers – especially once I began leaping to truly supernatural heights.

  I confirmed all of my selections, and a warm pressure blossomed inside my skull. My vision blurred, and my heart began to pound as knowledge - too much knowledge - flooded into my mind and body. I twitched and thrashed, splashing water over the sides of the tub. My muscles tightened, my jaws snapped together. When it was over, I was left panting for breath... but I could feel the swirl of new power and focus.

  Grinning like a madman, I pulled myself up out of the bath and sat down on the edge to do my weird Tibetan-Viking hairdo. I shaved my face and my head on both sides, then braided the long, mohawk-like strip of hair tightly along my skull and down the back of my neck. It was split off into two thinner plaits from my nape. Each plait was woven with strips of faded red silk and tied off at the ends with a chipped bronze ring. I stood after that, and had a look at myself in the mirror. The training I’d been doing showed in the way that my body had hardened and leaned out. I looked like I’d been working with a Hollywood personal coach for six months. Not bad for just under a month of hard living.

  There was only one thing that marred my studly appearance. On my left shoulder was a weird black void, a triangular patch of missing pixels about three and a half inches long. It was an artifact of the one and only time I’d died since my upload. It hadn’t caused me any problems, but as I poked and pried at the numb, featureless scar, I couldn’t help but think back to Rin’s warning about ‘corrupted data’. Meh.

  After all that was done, I wrapped a towel around my hips and threw open the door. Karalti was already waiting for me on the bed. She took up about two-thirds of it, a gleaming black crescent of scales and tail, but she’d arranged the furs so that I could lie back against her chest and belly.

  “In Soviet Vlachia, dragon spoons you,” I said. “Let me put on some pants first. You’re still too young to see me stark naked.”

  “Doesn’t bother me,” she replied. Her eyes half-closed as I moved to my pack and equipped my clothing. “I’m naked all the time.”

  “Seriously, don’t make this weird!” Laughing, I crawled up onto the bed.

  Karalti unfurled one leathery wing, arching it over me like a dark tent. As she did, her scent washed over me. It was becoming more adult, somehow: a rich, intoxicating floral scent, like something you’d smell in a rainforest. The name of the right flower was on the tip of my tongue. It wasn’t jasmine… It wasn’t honeysuckle or rose… What was it?

  I was still trying to remember what Karalti smelled like when I fell asleep, and didn’t even realize I’d passed out until the deep velvet darkness resolved into erratic, disturbing dreams. Dreams of war, both modern and fantastic, all of it warped and buzzing like a faulty VR headset. My brother without a face, reaching for me. At the end, as I was starting to rise out of sleep, I found myself floating over a raging battle between the players who’d betrayed me and a monster I’d never seen.

  Baldr, Violetta, and Lucien fought alongside three young dragons in a crumbling temple, dodging falling rocks as their opponent - a massive golden ogre with pits of light for eyes - swung a tree-sized club at them. Dead soldiers and knights lay scattered on the ground like broken dolls, but several were still standing at the perimeter of the battle. Among them was Skyr Arnaud, the Knight Commander of the Skyrdon of St. Grigori, and the Novice Master, Skyr Tymos. Their fully-grown dragons were nowhere to be seen. They were holding off waves of glowing skeletons with hammers and shields and magic. The skeletons were not human... They looked like the skeletons of humanoid birds.

  As I watched the trio of players rain down blow after blow on their opponent, I glimpsed what lay behind the ogre’s bulk – a huge door. It looked like a cherry blossom, with five petal-like segments surrounding a small pentagram core. Staring at it, I felt an odd sense of recognition… a feeling that intensified as a man came up beside my disembodied self and turned his head toward me.

  “My Herald,” Matir’s voice was like a thousand dry leaves slithering over concrete. The god was tall and slender, dressed like a rogue in close-fitting leathers and a long cloak made of swirling shadows. Instead of a face, he had nothing but a spiraling void of sucking darkness with an ember of light burning at the very center. “They have found the Gate. We do not have much time left. Heed the message and act.”

  …brrr-brrr-brrr- brrr...

  The sound – faint at first – grew louder as Baldr teleported from the ground to the ogre’s back in a swirl of white vapor. He rammed his sword in next to the monster’s spine, hanging on with gritted teeth as the beast writhed around in agony. A bolt of frost leaped from Violetta’s hand and took the ogre in the chest, slowing it enough that Baldr could climb up on his sword blade, using it like a step to reach the base of the ogre’s neck. He drew a second, shorter sword from his belt, and plunged it into the base of the creature’s skull.

  …BRRR-BRRR-BRRR-BRRR…

  I flailed awake and sat bolt upright, clutching soft fur under my hands. Sweat poured off my skin. Gasping, I searched around for the source of the sound. It wasn’t Karalti. She was still curled around me on the huge bed, her nose resting on the tip of her tail, her wings drawn in against her body. Her breathing was clear and quiet and slow. The fireplace crackled softly with embers. Rain slapped against the thick glass window.

  My HUD was flashing a yellow exclamation mark alert. I’d never seen an alert like this one before. With anxiety gnawing at my belly, I called up the menu, and the vibrating alarm stopped buzzing. The alert was in my Message Center. When I had my HUD read it out to me, my jaw dropped. So I read it again. And again. It got worse and more surreal every time I heard it.

  World Alert: Ilia

  The ruler of Ilia, Warden Scandiva, has fallen! This is a Server Alert to announce the new Warden Protector of Ilia and Knight-Commander of the Eyrie of St. Grigori, Lord Baldr Hyland.

  Chapter 24

  Holy shitdicks.

  This was not good. Like, on a scale of one to bad - and in light of what Rin had told me about Ororgael - we had firmly entered FUBAR territory. “HOW? How the fuck did Baldr become the Warden of Ilia AND the Knight-Commander of the Skyrdon in two freaking weeks? He was like… Level Ten when we left?”

  I sank back do
wn, stunned. I’d been worried enough about fucking Arnaud. The Knight Commander had been the Prince Charming of dragon knights: blond, blue-eyed, lantern jawed, completely punchable. He was the kind of dangerous son-of-a-bitch who’d do anything to preserve the status quo, but at least he’d been largely honorable. Baldr Hyland was not, and I had an awful feeling that Arnaud – and probably his dragon, Talenth – were now rotting in shallow graves behind the Eyrie.

  “There is nothing okay about this.” I reopened my Message Center and brought up a new P.M. window with Rin. “Hey Rin – hopefully you’re doing alright. I don’t know if you got the World Alert about Ilia, but this is really really bad. Baldr is the guy I told you about in regards to Ororgael and the buggy quest. Get in touch when you can. Shit’s going down.”

  I sent it off, and peeled myself out of the pile of furs. Karalti heaved a little sigh, tucking her snout under her foreclaw, and I reached back to lay a hand on her thigh, willing myself to breathe. She was here, unmolested, and far beyond Baldr’s reach. The knots in my shoulders had just started to loosen when someone banged their fist on the door and I just about shat myself.

  “Fuck!” I jumped about a foot in the air, fumbling for a weapon. Karalti reared her head up out of a dead sleep and swiveled it to point her nose at the entry to our quarters, hissing.

  “Who is it!?” I called, once I’d clapped my hand down on my spear.

  “It is Petko. Father Matthias.” The voice was muffled, but recognizable.

  Oh. Good. It wasn’t Baldr, come to steal my dragon while I was in my pajama pants. I climbed over Karalti’s tail and slid to the floor, stumbling over to where I’d left my shirt, and began to dress manually before remembering that I could just equip shit. I did so - my Nazari armor and the Steel Militia Spear, both of which now felt completely inadequate.

  I opened the door to find Father Matthias standing there, fresh and tidy, but with the kind of strained pleasant expression I read as ‘outwardly calm, but internally screaming’. He was smoking, as usual, and smiled around the stem of his pipe. “Good morning, Rytier. Is something the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Well, my mortal nemesis just became the Warden of Ilia and the Commander of the Skyrdon of Saint Grigori.” I adjusted my belt. “That was a thing that happened.”

  The priest’s lips twitched in a small wry smile. “Believe me, your concern is shared by many. Andrik just called an emergency meeting in the great hall and is holding audience with a number of very tired ministers, diplomats, and Suri.”

  “Guess I’m not in ‘adviser’ territory yet,” I replied.

  “His Majesty may wish to discuss the Ilian problem with you in private later on,” Mattias replied tactfully. “I don’t suppose you would be up for an early morning walk?”

  I looked back at Karalti. She had flopped her head down onto the pillow I’d vacated and was snoozing away. “Sure. Why not?”

  Ten minutes of walking later, Matthias led me along a marble path that went down into the natural cavern spring behind Vulkan Keep.

  “Karalti is growing incredibly fast,” he remarked, “I had no idea the Solonkratsu matured so rapidly, given that they are said to live so long. This is an incredible observation opportunity for someone like me. We have not hosted a true dragon in Vlachia for a century or more, and never one as young as Karalti.”

  “She just about doubles in size with every level. I think she’ll slow down from this point on, though.” I had my spear resting over one shoulder, swinging it from side to side as we walked. “And I guess it makes sense. Most baby animals don’t stay babies for very long. Humans are kind of an exception to the rest of the animal kingdom.”

  “True enough.” Matthias drew on his pipe. He had been hitting it continuously since we left my quarters, burning through the entire bowl of tobacco. Worry lines were etched around his eyes. “Speaking of the dragons – we never did have our talk about Matir.”

  “Nope.”

  “What do you already know of him?”

  I thought for a couple of minutes. “I know he’s one of The Nine. God of Darkness, old as dirt... and that’s about it. I know his basic portfolio, but he didn’t really enlighten me very much. I can only guess why he wants me to go to Myszno. Do you know anything about a Draconic prophecy regarding the ‘Herald of the Hidden Seed’? He keeps calling me that.”

  “Unfortunately not.” Matthias shook his head. “The dragons did not record their stories and prophecies in written form. They transmit their knowledge through oral traditions and the sharing of their blood. As with the Mercurions, blood has great power and meaning for them, being the stuff of magic.”

  I frowned. The dragons of the Eyrie had known of the prophecy, but they hadn’t been able to talk about it because of the geas that kept them enslaved. “I’m pretty sure it relates to the Dragon Gates. I have two ongoing quests that touch on it.”

  Matthias nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t help you with those, but perhaps the history and mythos of the Black God will be of use to you.”

  “Hit me.”

  “Matir is the second eldest of The Nine. The eldest is Veles, the Lord of Time and Magic. Matir is the God of Darkness, and his twin sister, Rusolka, is the Goddess of the Ocean and the ruler of the Deep Hells. Matir and Rusolka were born without a mother, brought into being when Veles first manifested the 87 Names of Darkness by mixing his blood with the shadows cast by the moonlight spilling onto the earth, which bore Matir, and the sea water, which bore Rusolka.”

  “Huh. Neat.” I nodded.

  “Matir and his sister represent the two sides of the Darkness element. One is creative; the other, destructive. In all the myths and stories I’ve heard, Matir is demanding, mischievous, quixotic, and paradoxical. He was easily the most commonly revered god among dragons, though his worship was rarely conducted in the open. There are mystery cults dedicated to him here as well. We do not only worship Khors in this land. The preeminence of the Forge Father is a relatively recent occurrence in Vlachia.”

  I pondered that as we veered down another path and left the Keep’s sculpted gardens behind us, passing into the humid grotto. Water trickled in thin streams down the walls, flowing into gutters that kept the path clear. It was as warm as a steam bath. “Are you hinting that you’re part of one of these cults?”

  “If I were, would I ever admit it? Matir is the god of secrets, after all.” Matthias replied.

  I was briefly taken aback by the sudden note of bitterness in his voice. “Something is stressing you out. What is it?”

  “Nothing.” He jerked his head toward the corridor, arched his thin brows, and kept walking.

  As we pushed on into the caves, the sound of water got louder – loud enough that anyone would have trouble hearing a quiet conversation between two men. Matthias held up a hand when we reached a particular spot, and I slowed my pace.

  “Here,” he said. “One of Vulkan Keep’s many small secrets. The steam and noise here makes eavesdropping difficult.”

  “I figured this wasn’t just a social call,” I said. “What do you need to tell me?”

  Matthias sighed. “Where to begin with this rosszarcú…? Ugh. The short of it is that while you have been hunting the Slayer, I have been observing at court and counselling the Volod. The Slayer’s motive is now utterly obvious to me.”

  “Go on…?”

  “You should know, Rytier Hector, that I am a pious man.” Matthias regarded me with wise, piercing eyes. “I began studying at the seminary in my teens, and dedicated myself to the path of the sage, studying medicine and crafting, the ways in which magic and machines interact with the body. In doing so, I traveled the country, and came to believe that the best expression of faith is when we act in a spirit of acceptance and kindness. All of the Nine are popular in the country… Khors is the god of the city, because the city is where most industry takes place.”

  “Okay.”

  “I have learned that His Majesty has been tak
ing steps to use the Church of Khors – and only Khors – to cement his rule of Vlachia.” The priest looked down. “Each of those murdered men was part of a secret ecclesiastical council the Volod established to plan for a takeover. He wishes for us to be monotheistic, and intends to enforce this on his nation.”

  Nothing like a good political conspiracy to start the morning. “But why? He’s a Corvinus. He already has the throne. It’s not like he’s illegitimate.”

  “Yes and no. Andrik is not the Corvinus who was intended to rule,” Father Matthias said. “Andrik is young, and his coronation was beset with controversy. He is city-bound, and he has still not wed or even produced an illegitimate heir - and not for lack of trying.”

  “I’d have thought that would be a mark against him, if he had fathered a kid outside of wedlock.”

  Matthias shook his head. “Bastards are entitled to inheritance in Vlachia. Historically, our kings rarely married. They had a harem of courtesans who competed for his favor. The first one to bear a son became Queen. We have adopted more continental habits of marriage and succession during these last few centuries, but the laws of inheritance have not changed. Even an illegitimate child is better than none, and given the number of affairs Andrik has had, the lack of an heir is disturbing.”

  I rubbed my jaw. “Hmm.”

  “Besides, that, a number of the Voivoidar are not happy with his decadence, or how he pushes the Church above all other estates.”

  “So this council is the target. We know that Kanzo is killing priests in line with the virtues of the Church,” I replied. “I guess that symbolism could fit in with a political motive. What do we know about each one of the members?”

  Matthias looked distinctly troubled now. “Yes. Father Abel was the court tutor and one of the greatest sages of the Church, though he was an extremely conservative man. Father Darko was a firebrand and would surely have supported a monotheistic takeover by Khorsian faith. Orban represented the Forge Brothers and was the Forgemaster’s protégé - and Forgemaster Toth is very much an idealist, the kind of man who believes heart and soul in the benevolence of the church-as-ruler. Father Erik was a young and passionate priest known for his ability to fundraise and motivate crowds, and he was involved in the shaping of young minds. A lot of our junior clerics are recruited from orphanages. There are only three other members of that council who yet live: High Forgemaster Agoston Toth, whom I just described; Voivode Janos Lanz of Czongrad, and the king himself.”