Clan Dominance - the Sleepless Ones 2

by Dem Mikhailov

  “Take the stuff, Ros!”

  Disregarding her shouting, I bit my lip pensively, looking at Kyre, drowning slowly like a brick, reclined, with my hands behind my head, and asked her,

  “I really can’t remember whether I’d given you any permission to take my glass.”

  “Ros... Ros... I’m drowning...”

  Kyre somehow managed to thrust her arms forward and exhaled in relief, scrutinizing me with eyes that spoke murder.

  “I’m sorry, but you haven’t got permission to board this ship,” I replied gruffly, pulling my leg out and making a single lazy move to push the boat away.

  “Ros! I’ll drown!” Kyre said as she started to submerge again.

  “Well, that can’t be helped,” I guess, I said (out of sheer generosity).

  “I... Was wrong to have taken your glass without your permission,” Kyre bubbled, reaching her hand out. “Ros-s-s-s-s...”

  “OK,” I sighed, steering the boat closer to my drowning paladin. “That’s progress enough. Grab my shoulder and open the trade interface.”

  Kyre grabbed my shoulders, drew a heavy sigh, and said (or, rather, roared).

  “I still say you’re...”

  “Yeah, I’m me,” I agreed. “Trade. Have you been overdoing the greedy pills, or what? You could have dumped all the extra stuff and swim.”

  “Yeah, right! Like I had a full pack of rat pelts free to do with any which way I can!” Kyre countered, feeling all peppy again. “I’ve got lots of really good stuff there. Let’s trade.”

  “Let’s,” I said, confirming the transfer of items without even looking, grunting in surprise when the backpack got some thirty items heavier.

  “Phew...” the girl exhaled in relief. “So, there we are.”

  “There we are,” I nodded, looking around me. “But where is ‘there’, I wonder? Blue sky, check. Clouds, check. Let’s see...” I took a careful sip from a wave, smacked my lips, and concluded, “It isn’t salty; at least, it restores your XP and there aren’t any system messages.”

  “Give me a second,” Kyre answered, crawling onto my back and pressing her whole body against me. “Where could I have put it? Oh, I’ve found it.”

  Paddling in time with my hands, I managed to look over my shoulder to discover that Kyre had taken a book out of her pack and was reading it attentively — all of this while lying on my back.

  “Hey! Do you think I’m a cruise ship? Need a beach chair and a coffee?”

  “Stop whining, Ros,” Kyre replied. “I can’t read and row at the same time. So, where were we? We’ve already raised the stone up to the fiery face and sworn the oath. What does it say here? It will open the road to the Halls of Sorrow, and that’s where we are, Ros; we’re in the Halls of Sorrow!”

  “Perfect!” I grunted, taking a few more swigs of water to get my HP back to the maximum in the most cost-effective way imaginable.

  “So, what next?” Kyre said pensively. “We need to go all the way through the anguish of the soul. So that’s what we’re going to do now.”

  “How exactly?”

  “By going through the anguish of the soul,” the impertinent girl declared, pointing her finger into space. “We’re heading that way. I’ll fill you in on the details on the way.”

  “So I’m the one to row, row, row this boat gently down the stream?” I inquired, turning toward where she’d been pointing. I squinted my eyes and saw something like a mountain peak jutting out in sharp relief.

  “Exactly that. Row and listen. This book contains something resembling a poem; a faux Edda, if you will. No rhyme and plenty of information, even though it’s all really nebulous. Listen to this: “Walk through the fires of rage to find the ocean of sorrow. That’s exactly what we’ve done. The flames in Myrthe’s stone mouth is her rage, and, at the same time, the transition to the next level of her soul. Another book mentions the grief-stricken soul of Myrne crying so hard that she’d cried a whole ocean of tears, and this is where we’re rowing now.

  “Oh, damn! I’ve been drinking them!”

  “Relax, Ros! All of this is just a game. It appears that we’ve gone through two cycles, fire and water.

  “You should have warned me first. So, what’s to follow? Some other test of one’s mettle? Pride and prejudice?”

  “Once you cross the sea of tears, you’ll find the remains of love,” Kyre said in a breaking voice that made me wince. “Love must be on that shore; we’re rowing toward love!”

  “Yeah, but it’s just me rowing,” I pointed out. “So what’s the point in this kind of love?”

  “Ros! This is metaphorical!”

  “It might be, but it’s me doing the physical rowing. Read on... poet that you are.”

  “The next cycle...”

  “Give me a break for a second! What else do they say about this coast of love? We’ll have to know what to be ready for.”

  “The coast of love... Here are a few more verses. ‘There is no threat or violence there; it’s a small bastion of hope.”

  “It does, doesn’t it? Sounds rather menacing. And absolutely intriguing. Fire, water, and earth. Rage, sorrow, and love... I am scared of imagining what’ll come next.”

  “Madness,” Kyre said softly. “Next comes the madness of a woman betrayed by her own beloved man. Yet there’s virtually nothing written about it. There’s just a short mention of insanity, and that’s that. I believe that that will be the most problematic area, with aggressive monsters and a bunch of other surprises. Listen to this: “Streams of blood, scars, and wounds! All the temples fell in the storm of madness. The miasma of evil will poison your souls and infect your minds with doubt. That’s the description. And if you want a dessert, there’s also ‘a dark horror crawling from the cracks’.”

  “That’s nice,” I said. “Pleasant, too.”

  “Pleasant? What could possibly be pleasant about it?”

  “Knowing what’s in store for us. It’s been said loud and clear that it’s dangerous there. The miasma of evil... Well, that must be the air. Fire, water, earth, and air; the same being rage, sorrow, love, and madness. I am more concerned about this strange ‘coast of love’ with its ‘bastion of hope.’ Those are the places where you have to prepare for the worst.” I fell silent for a moment, and then asked, “So madness is the final station? That doesn’t sound all that nice.”

  “No; it’s next to last. But there should be no problems afterward — Myrne will meet us at the foothills of the ice peak. If we’re to believe the book, her body is buried in the ice, and her soul is still roaming wildly. No monsters can reach this place.”

  “That sound good. If we’re to trust the book, of course. Incidentally, what book is that?”

  “Does it really matter, Ros? A book’s a book,” the girl sighed, placing the book back into her inventory.

  “Right on. So what’s going to happen once we reach the icy peak? Not a fight with a high-level boss, I hope?”

  “Nope, nothing of the kind,” Kyre replied.

  “You haven’t really given me an answer,” I said, my eyes still fixed on the coastline approaching slowly.

  “I know!” Kyre said with an unexpected burst of emotion. “Your questions only make it worse. Trust me, Ros, had it been my will, I’d have told you everything. But Gosha tries to cover every base, even the ones that don’t exist! Secret services have nothing on him in terms of keeping things private. Damn!”

  “Hey, chill,” I looked at my irate partner with some surprise. “I won’t ask any questions. Just chill.”

  Kyre seemed not to have heard anything.

  “You actually saved him IRL and dragged me out of the car! You took care of us! I called Gosha and told him directly that Ros could be trusted. But he became as stubborn as a mule.” Kyre went silent for a while, and then stroked my shoulder. “Sorry, Ros. A clan is a clan. I’m repulsed by the whole thing no end... but I’m not allowed to divulge anything; I can only explain the stages we’d passed and give you a gene
ral idea of what we’re supposed to do. The goal is simple enough; we have to pass through all the locations and reach Myrthe’s soul without dying; there is no respawning here. We’d get thrown back to the “mainland,” and this quest would remain closed for us forever.

  “I understand it inasmuch as you’re concerned. But what if I buy the farm? Will you be able to get on with it on your own?”

  “We’re a quest couple. According to the rules, we must finish it as a couple. It’s a required condition. So neither of us can die. As for locations, I have no idea of what’s in store for us. Books only contain vague hints, but we should be prepared for everything.”

  “We were supposed to have gotten to Level 60 at least before coming here,” I reminded her.

  “Yup. But the temple opened earlier, and Gosha decided to take the risk. That's the deal...”

  “We’re up that malodorous creek sans paddle,” I grunted, looking at the pop-up message.

  Achievement unlocked!

  You have received an achievement: Swimmer, Tier 2.

  You can see the table of achievements in your character's menu.

  Your reward: +2% to motion over water.

  Current level of the bonus: +3%.

  I dismissed the message, estimated the distance to the shore, and started singing, hideously off-key,

  “Row, row, row the boat gently down the stream! Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.”

  “Ros! Do I look like a dream — a figment of your imagination, maybe?”

  “Whatever gave you that idea? That’s just the way the song goes.”

  “Can’t you sing another?”

  “Oh here we go again. And it’s the captain who chooses the music.”

  “I am the captain. You’re the rower.”

  “Who?”

  “The one who rows. They chain them to boats, you know.”

  “Right? Well, then, walk the plank or there’ll be a row!”

  “Ros! I was only joking!”

  “Some joker you are.”

  “Would you like me to sing you something?”

  “With jokes like those, who needs horror films?”

  “Would you like me to sing you a song?”

  “Hey, that’s it. I’m rowing in silence. Just please don’t sing, for the love of all that’s holy, o fair Paladin.”

  It took us about half an hour to get there. Some twenty feet away from the shallow golden shore I finally found the bottom and stopped my swimming marathon.

  I stood there, neck-deep in the water, looking around me worriedly, but there was nothing remotely dangerous or menacing around me. The beach sprawled in every direction; there were palm trees in front, shaking their green heads lazily, brushed by the playful breeze. Between the trees one could see tall blades of grass and an abundance of field flowers. Birds were chirping cheerfully, and there were bunches of feathers floating through the air; some of them soared all the way into the cerulean blue and dove down again.

  “There is no threat or violence there; it’s a small bastion of hope,” Kyre recited the words again, having crawled off my back at last.

  “A tropical paradise,” I made my own conclusion, following it by a puzzled shrug. “You could have used it for an ad.”

  “Right on,” Kyre’s voice resonated through the air. “Just another Bounty ad. A taste of paradise indeed.”

  “It doesn’t work in this context,” I said with a sigh, moving forward cautiously.

  “Why is that? The scenery is the same. This is better, in fact,” Kyre looked surprised.

  “There’d have to be a hot girl in a bikini,” I said, instantly snorting like a walrus from the spray of water drops dousing my visage.

  “You bastard!”

  “I am!” I said, and then roared, “Stop and don’t move! This is a routine check!”

  "Ros, are you in your right mind?

  “Take a look,” I pointed with a motion of my chin.

  Something grey and black flashed amidst the trees... and it was looking like a large creature.

  A few seconds were spent in agitated expectation. Then I exhaled and cursed under my voice with a feeling of incredible relief.

  “Hm-m... Deer? My partner identified the animals frolicking in the distance, albeit vaguely.

  “They are,” I confirmed, making a splashing noise as I landed. “And there’s a bunch of them. All kinds. A whole horned family. But we can leave that for later. And now, tell me, what did you stuff into my backpack?”

  “Have a gander yourself,” Kyre shrugged. Actually, I was grabbing all I could from the clan’s vault; I barely managed to take it all with me.

  “Let’s see now,” I was beginning to get really interested, so I took a look at my inventory. Once I did, I gasped. There were chain mail suits with their dull glow, helmets, greaves, a few swords looking like they’d thirsted for blood, ironclad shields, three quivers filled to the brim with arrows, steel boots, a few rags, and a few scrolls with battle spells.

  I rummaged through the contents of the pack trying to figure out just what could fit, wincing — none of it would be of any use once we’d leveled up — for me, at least. All the items had an emphasis on Strength and Defense; nothing but the shields with any bonuses to Stamina. Scrolls... Four with battle spells, and one spell of Greater Healing. The arrows... The arrows were all right, but...

  “Is your bow in your pack?” I asked Kyre over my shoulder; she’d been doing the same as me, namely, going through her inventory.”

  “A bow... damn... do you mean you haven’t got one?”

  “I haven’t,” I sighed. “Arrows are as useful as toothpicks in this situation. What’s with the scrolls?”

  “Grab these,” Kyre made a gesture with her hand, and in an instant there was a bunch of stuff at her feet as she dumped the contents of her backpack onto the ground. Then she bent down quickly, picking a few books and hiding them in her backpack again.

  “Not that bright a strategy, is it?” I said gruffly as I started to sort through the items.

  “Eh?”

  “You’re not showing me any of the books, and you make an effort to hide them. What if you get killed? What would prevent me from digging through the precious content of your sack in that case?”

  Kyre replied nothing and started to undress all the way down to her stylish bathing-suit.

  I was surprised and asked, “Where is the diaper?”

  “I’m not the kind of noob that wears standard and ugly underwear, what do you take me for?” Kyre sounded equally surprised. “Hold on a sec... are you still wearing your Créche diaper?”

  “Give me a break,” I said as I shook my hand in amazement. “Who cares what I’m wearing underneath my pants? The main thing is for the pants to be armored! Why haven’t you taken anything with you to boost Stamina? And why would we need seven similar swords, four bronze maces, and a silver trident? And this? A two-handed ax for a Level 70 player with the minimal requirement of 100 Strength points?”

  “I’m telling you; I just grabbed all I could get my hands on.”

  “You’re not that good at grabbing,” I said, hanging my head in sorrow. “Had I gotten into your clan vault... Anyway, you gets what you got and you rocks with it. There are twelve top-level scrolls in your pile. Three for combat, three for healing, and two for divine blessing. Not that much.”

  “Keep the scrolls,” Kyre said. You’re the mage, after all. I’ll be protecting you this time.”

  “Are you sure you have enough HP?” I grunted skeptically. “Nope, partner. You need to grow a bit before you deal with the front line. And make sure you stay behind my back as we go.”

  “HP? I’ve dumped everything from my last five levels into Stamina! The rest has been distributed between Agility and Strength. And I also have a really cool shield for my level, and my craft sword definitely deals more damage than your spells. You’ve seen the rest of the equipment; it’s all about Strength and Defense. I might be small, but
I’m already a mini-tank with teeth!”

  “All right, then,” I said, having pondered this for a while and coming to the realization she’d been right. “But get a few healing scrolls and a few combat ones, just in case. Got any spells of your own?”

  “I know Lesser Healing and Lesser Purification. Healing is almost up to Tier Two, but I haven’t got much mana, and I haven’t been doing anything about my Wisdom, either.

  “So, the standard set, then,” I summed up, and, having looked at the shore for the last time, commanded, “Let’s go.”

  “What about the rest of the stuff?”