Archemi Online Chronicles Boxset

by James Osiris Baldwin

  Karalti inflated her throat and laughed aloud as she turned away. I watched her spread her wings, and my chest tightened with a strange mix of feelings. Pride, mostly, but also the sensation that I was losing a piece of her somehow.

  "I love you. I'll see you later," she said. "Good hunting."

  I swallowed around the lump in my throat. "You too."

  She took to the air. I started for the building and forced myself not to look back. It was easier that way.

  Istvan was in the War Room, pouring over a set of terrain maps with half a dozen knights, a couple of Yanik scouts, and one of the militia captains. The conversation died as I let myself in and closed the door. Istvan stood, scowling. He'd been hitting the bottle again - the one next to his elbow, which was knocked over and dribbling milky liquor onto the floor.

  "Greetings to the Commander of the Western Wall," he said, acidly. "What can this humble Sheriff do for you?"

  I looked over the assembled men. None of them looked pleased to see me. "Don't give me that shit, man. I didn't ask for Soma to come out like a huge prolapsed asshole this morning."

  Istvan's mouth twitched. If there was one way to this man's heart, it was through ragging on his nemesis.

  "I came to ask you for something," I said. "Vash said to speak with you."

  That got his attention. "Vash? He spoke to you? The Oathbreaker, that he loathes?"

  I gave a testy little sigh. "Yes. And it's urgent. If you guys can suspend your plans for desertion for ten minutes or so, that'd be great."

  The air of the room dropped about twenty degrees. Every man stared at me, anger - and fear - in their eyes.

  "That's what this is, right?" I gestured at the maps.

  Istvan's back stiffened. "Excuse us a few minutes, my druzhina. Give us privacy."

  The other men in the room shot me dark looks as they withdrew from the table and filed out into the hall. The last one shut the door, leaving me and Istvan alone.

  "What do you want?" He asked coldly.

  There was no point in losing my temper with him. Vash had nailed it on the head: the status manipulated the feelings of NPCs, not the other way around. Istvan couldn't help the way he felt.

  "Vash has issued me a challenge to atone by deed," I said. "He told me that if I solo whatever is holding up the caravans in Krivan Pass unassisted and bring proof of what I found, then I'm off the hook."

  "And you think you can do this?" Istvan peered at me through a lock of disheveled hair. "Whatever lurks there has shot down two cargo ships and one warship. It is keeping the Pass wreathed in mist that is impenetrable to scrying, to quazi, to everything."

  I looked down at the table. The maps were of Krivan Pass and the surrounding terrain. "But you and your men were going to risk it anyway?"

  "What choice do we have?" He said bitterly. "Soma is mad. His plans for the Wall will result in certain death for thousands. My honor demands that I not join the army of my enemy as a walking corpse, or a vampire or a wraith. I would rather renounce my station and help the people of Myszno until my dying breath."

  That was exactly what Soma wanted, but I didn't have enough Renown to tell him so. I shrugged. "Talk to Vash about that. Are you willing to give me the SITREP or not?"

  His brow flickered at the modern military term, but he processed it after a moment and nodded.

  "Good." I leaned forward on the edge of the table, studying the terrain. "Start from the beginning."

  Istvan looked around for his bottle, and when he noticed it had tipped over, he sighed. "The beginning... yes. Before the fall of Karhad, we had ships and wagons running through Krivan Pass every day bringing supplies across the Prezyemi Line. There was an earthquake in the Pass shortly after the Demon took the castle, during our retreat. Nothing seemed to come of it, but about a week after we arrived here, one of the caravans sent a distress call. The message said that one of the cliff sides had ruptured and collapsed and they were trapped in the Narrows, which is about half-way through."

  He tapped the map of Krivan Pass. A push-pin marked the narrowest point of the 80-mile valley road, which wound between steep cliffs and mountains to either side.

  “Another cargo ship was diverted to provide assistance," he continued. "It vanished without a word. Soma ordered that a warship be dispatched from Litvy, and that also vanished. We stopped trying after that. Anyone that has gone there, by land or air, has not returned.”

  “Has anyone observed anything weird about the place?” I asked. "You mentioned a mist."

  Istvan pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Everything about it is Stranged. Not even Soma's telescopes can penetrate the fog. It swirls like steam, but does not disperse. We had dragoons scout from a distance... they said they saw terrible shapes in it, the forms of screaming humans and dragons and other creatures. Soma said that it could be from the mana released by the ships, if they crashed and the cargo and engines caught fire."

  “And Vash expects me to do this alone.” I grimaced and shook my head. “Welp, heroes gotta hero. Do we know anything about the way the caravans were taken out?”

  He sucked his lip in under his teeth and shook his head. “Only that it was sudden. The airships did not even have time to send a mayday. I thought it might be pirates, but…”

  “It could be. No one’s seen the Pass since the earthquake happened, right?”

  Istvan shrugged. “Not seen it and returned.”

  “Huh." I used my menu to take a snapshot of the map, adding a copy to my Inventory. "Welp. Whatever’s going on there, I’ll kill it.”

  Istvan raised an eyebrow. “You sound confident.”

  "Worst thing that can happen is that I die." I rolled my shoulders to work some of the tension out of them.

  "There are worse things than death. And do you know how much firepower that warship was fielding?"

  "Is that like one of those 'how many jellybeans in the jar?' questions?" I asked. "I don't give a shit. Vash gave me the quest, I accepted, and it needs to get done. I need to ask a couple of favors from you before I go."

  His eyes narrowed to pale green slits. "I owe you no favors.”

  "No, but you DO want to stick it to Soma," I replied. "And both the things I need from you will piss him off."

  Istvan thought about that for a minute, then shrugged. "Alright. I confess I’m curious."

  "Firstly, I need a quazi. A fast one," I said.

  "I see. And the second?"

  “Keep Soma away from Karalti,” I said. “If you can.”

  The Captain quirked his lips to one side. “Ahh... yes. I had wondered if he was up to something. He has taking the archivists to find every possible book on dragons, and has been trying to cozy up to her.”

  “He is.”

  Istvan nodded slowly, thinking intently. "Very well. I will do my best, for her Holiness’s sake. You may borrow a quazi. Go to the stables and ask for Temaz. He is a good steed, and swift."

  "Thanks." I saluted, as I had the first time we'd met.

  "Don't thank me yet, Tuun," he called as I left. "Thank me if you succeed."

  Chapter 34

  I took a while to brew some potions, made sure all of my points were spent and my skills and abilities were as high as I could get them. Once I was satisfied, I sat down to record a message. The only option was to use the Journal in the Character Log. I set it up, flagged it as ‘Important’, and began to speak.

  “Greetings, my future amnesiac self. It’s me, Past-Hector,” I said, watching the blinking red light in front of me. “We’re at war, where the risk of needing to die and respawn is pretty high, but we’ve had a problem with dying and forgetting shit. This is a brief summary of everything that’s happened in the last month or so. I suggest you pause this here, go look at your character sheet, then come back. Don’t worry, I’ll wait. For you. I mean, me.”

  After a pause, I rattled off everything I thought future-me might need to know. Where I was, why I was here, who I was with. I forgot Karalti�
�s name every time, so I talked about her, and Suri as well. I listed off the key NPCs and the ones who were significant, but not necessarily here with us: Ignas, Rutha, Masha. I recorded what I knew of Baldr, Lucien, Violetta and the Demon. When I was done, I gave the log a memorable title and saved it, then headed off to the Dragoon Rookery to go on my first quazi ride.

  Temaz was a handsome black, cream and slate blue beast the size of a large horse, and he was nothing like riding a dragon. The saddle was a forward-leaning seat very similar to a sports motorcycle, with straps that went around your legs so you didn't go sailing off to your doom. The up and down motion was jerky and very pronounced, nothing like the graceful serpentine motion of Karalti's back. I immediately gained new respect for the soldiers who were able to shoot - and hit - while flying one of these things.

  We flew north-east over the Sarviz River, plunging almost immediately into mountainous semi-tropical terrain that wouldn’t have been out of place in Brazil or Argentina. The Highlands were very high, a spread of mossy green hills thick with rainforest, tumbled black mountains, turquoise blue lakes, sinkholes, and streams. It was lush and green, nearly unspoiled, the kind of wild place I had always wanted to see when I was a kid. The air was sweet and fresh, ruffling through the cleverly placed vents on my helmet. Ebisa and Rin were both very good at what they did, and on the journey, I found myself thinking of the King's Blade. I missed her common sense and her cold, shrewd humor, and Ignas's stern but steady presence. In the weeks we'd spent in Vulkan Keep, I'd started to look up to him a bit. I missed the food we all ate together, too - the heavily spiced stews full of fatty lamb and sweet red wines of the Raven Court, the bustling beer halls and food stands of Taltos.

  There was little evidence of civilization at five thousand feet. There were small villages here and there, about one every fifty miles, but hardly a soul on the roads below. The terrain was too severe to enable much farmland. The mountains were monstrous, and by the time we reached the mouth of Krivan Pass, great snow-capped volcanic ranges loomed fifteen thousand feet or more over the narrow, shadowed valley where the Pass began. The shipping route ran between high, sheer cliffs formed from hexagonal pillars of black basalt. The sun was setting, the rising golden moon was starting to rise behind the span of a crumbling stone bridge that spanned the entrance. On the right was a ruined keep, half-collapsed and abandoned. The road was wide and clear for about half a mile, then plunged into a thick, lavender-tinted mist.

  Temaz and I landed on the road beneath the bridge, lured by traveler's rests built into the volcanic stone cliffs, with firepits, hitching posts, and bed-like depressions worn into the stone floor. I fed the quazi some fish and ate some trail rations, set a timer for three hours, and wrapped myself in my cloak to get some shut-eye and refill my stamina.

  Two hours later, the earth shook me awake.

  All of my Californian instincts kicked into gear as soon as the first tremor caused the ground to roll beneath me. Cursing, I scrambled up as small rocks rained down from the cave roof. The quazi was going ballistic outside, screeching as he struggled to take off into the air.

  "Balls!" I half-crawled, half-ran to the door, dodging a chunk of basalt the size of a brick that nearly brained me on the way out. Temaz swung from his reins like a kite on a string, flapping up huge clouds of dust in his panic.

  "No you don't, you goddamn turkey!" I jumped forward to catch the reins before he tore the hitching post free. It took a few goes, but once he heard my command, he hovered down low enough that I could grasp him by the second pair of reins - the ones connected to piercings through the skin in the corners of his mouth, behind his beak - and gently pull on them to guide him to the ground. He quaked underneath my legs as I pulled myself onto his back, and I didn't have to urge him to take to the air - away from the bridge, which was raining car-sized blocks of stone onto the causeway.

  When the carnage was over and boulders were no longer tumbling from the cliff sides, we flew north, straight into the mist. It was like a blanket pulled over the world; it muffled sound and clung to my armor like soft, grasping fingers. Breathing became more difficult as the minutes passed, and the quazi's stamina dropped more quickly.

  It was dark by the time we closed in on the Narrows. The night hung around us, damp and heavy. It was almost silent, except for the gurgle of water below. The straight tunnel-like passage gave way to a tight twisting labyrinth of hair-pin turns and hidden corners, and the ground here was fucked up beyond belief. Jagged shards of stone lanced up toward the sky, pitfalls dropped down into the earth. Parts of the cliffs had fallen inward. The stream that flowed below us had diverted into these sinkholes, bubbling as it drained. There might have been a road down there before, but there sure as hell wasn't now.

  And there, about six hundred yards away, was the hulk of one of the airships.

  "Damn, son." I tilted my bodyweight and gave the quazi the signal to land. The panting bird soared down, heading for a ledge created by the ship as it had fallen and sheared off an area of rock. The ground around it was a treacherous honeycomb of caved in tunnels and channels. "Okay, birbface. Stay here."

  Temaz chattered his beak, darting his head and flaring his eyes. He rustled nervously after I dismounted, pawing at the ground with his wing claws.

  "Staaay." I gave him a pet on the neck, then went to look for a way down.

  The hulk had landed belly-first and broken up over the remains of the road and the river. The back of it had disintegrated, scattering parts and pieces everywhere. The front half had mostly survived. It had driven a huge amount of earth up under its keel as it had slid across the shattered road and into the river.

  With the Spear in hand, I edged closer and held my breath, listening for the telltale sounds of scavengers. But there were no bodies and no monsters, and no smell of ozone. That was odd: it had been carrying a shipment of mana.

  "Huh." I jumped up onto a tall piece of wreckage, then leaped across the rapids to land on the hulk resting in the water. The rail, turned on its side, clanged under my boots. The rushing water had stripped the airship down to a metal and wood skeleton. Balancing carefully, I explored the twisted desk and then dropped down inside to search the hull. Mana had to be stored carefully, in pressurized metal or crystal tanks bound with copper wire. There was nothing like that in the ship, and no corpses or perishables. The food was missing; gold wasn't. I found all kinds of valuables in trunks and caskets. Coins, nice clothes, books, and jewelry. The galley and supplies of food and water looked like some giant had reached in and cracked it open like a walnut to get at the meat inside.

  When I left the galley, I went out onto the debris in the river and began to search for the mana-fueled engines that had powered the ship. Eventually, I found one: a great big disc-shaped thing made out of crystal and precious metals. It had been cleanly punched through the middle, as if something had driven a giant spike through it. The crystal around it was hazed, but not shattered. There was not a single drop of mana remaining inside.

  "Looks like it was extracted. Do pirates have the tools for this? But pirates wouldn’t leave the treasure behind." Frowning, I crouched down on the edge of it to examine the edge of the hole and see if I could figure out what they might have used to cause it. Just as I was reaching my hand out, a rumbling boom rolled through the valley, bucking the wreckage up under my feet and sending rocks skittering down from the cliffs.

  I yelped, arms windmilling, and managed to stop from being thrown headfirst into the water before another boom shook the causeway. "What in the shuddering fuck...?"

  The quazi called out, his voice distant and echoing, but I couldn't see him. The mist was getting thicker, and when the next boom tore the air, it felt closer but sounded further away. The wreckage I was standing on groaned under my feet.

  They were footfalls. The steps of something colossal.

  Cursing, I leapt up and landed lightly on the main hulk, then sprung up again as the next quake sent the bowsprit and upper railing tumb
ling into the water with the screech of metal on metal. Fear lanced through me as I ran back along the shuddering deck, which loosened under my feet with every earth-shaking step. I jumped off the end, hit the ground rolling and scrambled away just as the road split and crumbled.

  "Shit fucking goat... cocks!" Teeth gritted, I blurred into vapor to avoid plunging into a fresh sinkhole. My feet slipped on the liquifying gravel, then gained traction on solid rock.

  Boom. Crunch. Boom. The moonlight vanished, and a shadow fell from the north end of the canyon, distorted and stretched by fog. An armored foot the size of Karalti appeared from around the corner, smashing the causeway like a sledgehammer smashing into a pane of glass.

  "Lord have mercy." The breath caught in my chest, even as I scrambled back and bolted for cover.

  The thing that loomed forward into the chasm walked like a zombie. Not the fast, scampering kind that the Demon fielded - the relentless, limping kind. There was something bestial in the length of its arms and the way it hunched its shoulders forward. The resemblance to anything organic ended there. It was a machine - an armored colossus of charred, blackened steel that was crumbling with rust. The face was an eyeless, skull-like mask, topped with a back-sweeping crown of jagged obsidian. A gleaming inky corona suffused with a brilliant white glow hung just behind, framing the titan's head like the blazing halo of a Russian saint. It steadied itself against the wall of the canyon with one hand. In the other, it carried a massive black spear with a curved, glaive-like blade. The weapon looked entirely familiar. I glanced down at the Spear of Nine Spheres. Almost a perfect match.

  As the titan shambled out into view, it revealed its other weapon: a curled scorpion's tail that flexed in the air just above its head. Each segment of the tail floated apart from the others, linked by arcs of flickering white mana. I had never seen that color of mana before... but I had seen a machine as big as this one. In a brief, surreal vision I'd had a couple of weeks ago, when the Ruby of Boundless Strength had merged with the Spear of Nine Spheres, I'd witnessed a titanic mecha-like thing striding through a desert, part of an ancient funeral procession attended by thousands of mourning dragons.