“I repeat. If you want the ring back, name a reasonable price. Or we’ll name our own.”
“We’re gonna mess you up good, you fuckers! You’re gonna eat dirt. You’re gonna crawl to us on your knees with the ring between your teeth.” Braksed didn’t look like somebody willing to negotiate, and Eredani understood that too. We’d done the main thing: explained to the jerkoffs how to solve the problem. When they cooled down, they would realize it was the only way to get their ring back. There was no point wasting more time on them, so we headed to the Barrows.
“Stop, you cowards! You can’t come out of there.” Every decent word of Braksed’s was set against a background of obscenities, which lent him a new whimsical shade. The player liked to cuss and did it well.
On the map, the reason for our foray lay somewhere up ahead, directly behind a large and very steep hill. If from a distance the hill could have been mistaken for a natural structure, from close up it was clearly handmade. It concealed another two just like it, and together they formed an equilateral triangle, with saddles where they joined, and the entrance to the barrows in the very centre. The closer we got, the more I grasped the structure’s true dimensions — my house would have fitted inside ten times over, if not more.
After walking round the first hill, we began to scramble up toward the saddle, assisting each other. When we reached the highest part we looked around, and an unintentional exclamation of enchantment escaped from me. Not being spoiled in either reality or virtuality, I was easily impressed by picturesque panoramas.
On the inside, the peaks of the hills were cut away to form perfectly circular platforms, the larger part of which was occupied by monumental marble compositions. A bright sign with fiery flashes asserted that the event depicted was the “Battle of the Demons with the Forces of Light.”
Three winged creatures of the Abyss were pitted against representatives of Barliona’s light races, and judging by the sculpture, the outcome of the battle was predetermined. Their massive wings spread out above the light creatures, the nearly defeated demons were petrified in eternal agony. The centrepiece of the composition was an orc, who, with a demon in each hand and a third between its teeth, was fearlessly enduring the pain from the talons of the rampaging beasts.
A she-elf stood to the side. The priestess’s hem blew up, revealing her stockings and coat, which were hung all over with flasks and magic objects. The sculptor had captured her in the process of weaving a spell to fend off accidental tail strikes. Her face was so concentrated I could only feel sorry for her — in that manifestation she would never finish weaving. Just as the human next to her would never bring down his hammer, which was cast high in the sky.
The scale and attention to detail were impressive. You could easily make out the veins on the demon’s wings, the bulging veins on the neck and arms of the orc, even the beads of sweat on the human’s face.
The entrance to the main complex, which was underground, was at the feet of the orc.
“It’s like they froze at the moment of battle,” I said, breaking the ringing silence. “Do you know them?”
“No. I’ve never even heard of such a battle, but I do have a sneaking suspicion I’ve seen the paladin somewhere. I just don’t remember where,” said Eredani. Lost in thought, he approached the sculpture.
“That’s normal at your age,” I quipped. The composition was oppressive, and I wanted to lighten the mood. “It’s called sclerosis. If you like I can bring you some crosswords tomorrow as a preventative measure.”
“Kvalen,” sighed Eredani. The last deer knows that if there are no names on a monument, there’s a reason for it. It has nothing to do with sclerosis.”
“But I’m not a deer, I’m a tiefling.”
“You’re a clown,” he said good-naturedly and turned halfway to the monument.
“Where are you going?” There was nothing else around worthy of attention.
“You go on, I’ll be there in a minute,” he said, waving me away. I looked doubtfully at the entrance to the barrows and set off after him. His air of detachment was disquieting. His gaze fixed on a sheer wall, he began to mumble under his breath. I came closer and listened in.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” He had his nose against the rock and began running a finger over the wall. On closer inspection it turned out that, red as it was, it was also covered in a dark-maroon pattern, which was scarcely distinguishable even close up. Personally I thought it was simple abstractions, but Eredani had other ideas. He walked along the wall, spellbound, gazing at the intertwined lines and geometric figures.
“Are you an art lover too?”
“Eh?” He was momentarily distracted and looked at me up vacantly. “Art? Yes, yes, I love it.”
“Eredani, you’re scaring me.” I observed him closely. His behaviour was strange, like he wasn’t all there, and I’d never seen him like that before. Hugging the wall and fingering it, he was talking to himself absently. “Victor! Snap out of it! Have you been given a task?”
“There is no task. It’s a map,” he whispered. “Part of a map.”
However hard I tried to see something resembling a map or a diagram, nothing happened. It occurred to me that Victor had gone insane from constant immersion in Barliona, or was close to it. Or maybe it was the start of burning up? Both possibilities were cause for concern.
“What map? There’s nothing here, just scribblings. Maybe someone immortalized the winner of a kids’ drawing competition in Barliona, and you got hooked in,” I said, seriously worried. He didn’t respond. “Tiefling Eredani, first position! The advanced course will not wait!”
It didn’t help. He continued to rave and run his hands deliriously over the wall. “It’s a map. It’s definitely a map. How can I tell? It’s too bluffy… indecipherable… Who are they? How do I know? Where’s the beginning? Maybe over there?” He shot off toward the next hill, where the same patterns were repeated. “A copy. It’s just a copy. A bad one. Where’s the map itself? How do I find out? That way!”
I supposed he would run to the third wall, but instead he turned toward the statues and disappeared into a passageway, where a metal mesh was immediately lowered behind him. I ran to catch him, but when I got there I saw only his shadow running down a spiral staircase. “Victor, wait!” I didn’t hold my breath for an answer. “Damn you and your unhinged brain! I’ve gone and got involved with a simpleton!”
A brief inspection of the entrance produced no levers or buttons. In my anger I kicked the cage, but it didn’t help. Wait! I had to try and knock it down with a demon strike.
“Holy Tiamat! It’s…” whispered the newly rematerialized demoness.
I didn’t manage to activate demon strike before Aniram froze, and the surprise reflected on her face had nothing to do with it. A quick glance at the report log informed me that a second before the debuff Aniram had begun to cast an essence-consumption spell, but the guardian of the barrows had stopped her.
“Aniram, I forbid you to consume any essences in the Barrows!” I said, and the debuff was deactivated. With a swish of her wings, the demoness flew up a meter and rained an incensed tirade down on me:
“Three highers! Three higher demons lie here! Allow me to consume them, and everything will change. Mostly for you. I will be obedient, just as you wish. I will take the place of Ireness, which is due to me.”
Notification for player Kvalen
On consumption of the essence of any of the three higher demons, the archdemon Aniram will be destroyed, and you will have to dive into the Abyss for a new demon. We are obliged to inform you that your bonus for random generation has been used, and you will have access to a rank 1 demon.
As if Eredani wasn’t enough, the developers and their tests were pissing me off so much it was beginning to irk. I should tell everyone where to get off, feed all three essences to Aniram, and take the higher demon as a pet. Naturally with the protection of a squadron of lawyers who would assert my client’s right
s in Barliona.
“You’re in the barrows. Can we consider our agreement fulfilled?” I asked Aniram, knowing I had no choice as such. I didn’t want to risk it and jump for a rank-one demon.
“Don’t banish me! There are three highers here,” she said, alarmed, but nevertheless added, “You have fulfilled your part of the agreement. But with my help you can become stronger.”
In lieu of a reply I activated demon strike.
Warning
You have inflicted 0 damage. Magic attack is not applicable to objects in this location.
“Permit me to take just one!” Aniram continued to beseech me. “I will give you three months of peace and quiet.”
“Aniram, you are not going to consume anyone in the barrows, period. You wanted to come here, and I brought you. There was no talk of anything more, so shut up! I have enough problems without you.”
Demonstratively encasing herself in her wings, she went into a sulk and sat down on the orc’s foot. She could not disobey a direct order from her master. Nobody could make me put up with her pouty expression, so I dismissed her. Like I needed a capricious madam for total game happiness!
Pick! I had a pick! Since magic attack was useless, maybe physical attack would work? Retrieving the weapon from my inventory, I took a swing at the mesh. The crossbar severed, and my mood improved. Five minutes later I’d managed to make a hole big enough to climb through.
The steep stairway led down to a very narrow corridor. So narrow that, far from being able to run, I had difficulty moving sideways along it. I stood there hesitant. Enclosed spaces were my second greatest phobia, after heights. The grinding pressure of the walls unnerved me, and even my horns itched with reluctance to go on, but I couldn’t leave my partner alone in that condition. If he didn’t recover his senses in ten minutes, I would write to tech support. Although I had to find him first. I was terrified. If this continued, we would be recuperating our mental health together.
Duty won. Breathing deeply, I squeezed ahead, circles dancing in front of my eyes. The system had picked up on my fear and was visualizing it in this hilarious fashion. The corridor seemed to turn into a crypt, the walls formed from huge vertical tombstones. Time had nearly worn away their inscriptions, but from what remained it was surmisable that the Great Warriors of Barliona were buried there. Definitely. Capital letters.
A turn. A second. A third. The passage snaked, and the farther I went, the more unsure of my direction I became. Eventually I turned into a small room, where I nearly stepped on Eredani. He was crawling on his knees along the mosaic floor, most of which was damaged. But that didn’t stop me making out the general picture — in the middle of a stormy sea lay an island, in the centre of which yawned a pit. The contents of the pit were a mystery, for that part of the picture was missing.
“A map. It’s a map. The entrance must be here, I can feel it.” Eredani’s condition hadn’t improved — he was still oblivious to his surroundings.
“Victor, snap out of it!” I hauled him up onto his feet, giving him a fierce shake as I did so.
“Don’t! Touch! Me!” On top of his lapse of reason, he had also become aggressive. He pushed me so hard I flew against a wall and smacked my head. Even stranger was that I was now a prisoner. Something held me to the wall.
My partner returned to the mosaic as if nothing had happened.
“Three heroes. An island. Two islands. No. One is a copy. I know where the start is!”
He jumped to his feet, and was illuminated by a bright white light. I had to turn away and screw my eyes up so as not to be blinded. Until now, the process of him levelling up had been infinitely more subtle. With a dull groan, he fell to the floor and curled up in embryo pose. It wasn’t enough for the system, and a second wave of light engulfed him, after which the field clamping me to the wall disappeared, the torches were extinguished, and we were in total darkness. I fell to the floor in shock, trying to make out anything in the darkness, and crawled in the direction of where Eredani should have been lying. My spatial awareness didn’t fail me, and I soon felt his hand. “Victor?”
“Brody?” His voice was hoarse, but calmer.
“What happened?” I asked, throwing myself at him. My emotions were making themselves known.
“Where are we?”
“Don’t say you don’t remember anything.” A shiver ran through my body. The darkness of the Abyss hadn’t aroused discomfort, but here underground, the enclosed space was unbearable. Only the game interface punctuating the impenetrable darkness helped me get a grip.
“What I remember has nothing to do with the dark,” he replied and, judging by a shuffling sound, sat up. “Do you have a video?”
I made a video clip of the crazy chase and sent it to him. “So that’s how it works,” he said.
“Since everything’s clear to you, can you explain it to me?”
“What don’t you understand? I’ve just enacted a scene.”
“I thought you’d gone mental, or started to burn up. What was the task? Was that seizure at the end from leveling up?”
“Not only that. I’m not a Barliona thrill seeker. It was the first time like that,” he chuckled. “I don’t know how to explain it clearly. I started boosting Cartographer and saw a map on the wall. Don’t ask how I knew it was a map, but I just had to find the start, and looked for a symbol to find it. Everything else became unimportant. Signs on the walls led me to the mosaic. I deciphered it and whited out. There’s no rational explanation and you can’t control it with your mind.”
“A unique task?”
“Yes. Multi-layered, like your Matthew’s. And it requires good clan support.”
“Sounds like a load of nonsense. How does it fit in with your conspiracy theory?”
“God knows. I’ll insist to the commission it was an accident.”
“Maybe we could sell the scene?”
“You can’t sell something like that,” he said with a sigh. “Usually players with tasks like that are specifically sought out and offered membership of a clan. It’s mutually profitable.”
“Write to the developers,” I said. “It’s too dangerous—”
“Brody, I’m a prisoner on a special deal, not an idiot,” he cut me off angrily. “I know better than you what threat such a task poses me. I’ve already written everything and refused. Let’s get out of here.”
“You cannot refuse,” the darkness roared. I assumed it was a prompt response from tech support. “The path is difficult and challenging, but it is yours alone. Give peace to the stricken!”
“Me?” Eredani asked in disbelief. It seemed to me the whole scene had shell-shocked him. “What a twist!”
The torches were rekindled to show us the way out. Eredani stiffened, reading a message.
“Listen, I have a feeling all the most interesting stuff in this Barliona of yours happens to prisoners,” I said and clapped my partner on the shoulder. He didn’t respond. The torches flickered their displeasure; we took the hint and headed for the exit.
When we emerged under the glorious Barliona sky, I sighed hugely with relief. Eredani sat down in the shadow of the statue and motioned for me to join him. “Brody, we have to alter our plans slightly. Somewhere here on the island is a high mountain, and inside it is a deep lair. In that lair…”
“Is a crystal coffin?” We’d had to read Pushkin at school. “It’s too early for you to be thinking about that, Victor.”
“I’m not thinking about a coffin, Brody. All I can think about is Snow White,” he sniggered, amused.
“This has shades of necrophilia.”
“Almost. In that lair is an explanation of where to find information about these heroes.” He nodded toward the monument. “They vanquished the great Evil and incarcerated it on the island. They didn’t tell anyone exactly where, but they couldn’t die without at least leaving a clue. So they created a map with the coordinates of the island, divided it into three parts, and each of the heroes took their third to t
he grave. The task is to find out who they are and where they’re buried, find and assemble the whole map, and go to the island to cast Evil down into Chaos. The heroes made a mistake by not returning it there immediately. It’s a long task, but doable.”
“How did you manage to get mixed up in this?”
“Cartographer, damn it. Hermit said there were loads of barrows, even in the wide world. The player has to obtain access from the guardian and have Cartography as their main speciality. Arguably nothing unique. The developers didn’t take into account that I might also fit the criteria. I just received official confirmation from tech support that nothing critical happened. They strongly recommend completing the scene. Everything’s agreed with the commission.”
“Congratulations,” I said, hiding my sadness with difficulty. “So you have a straight path to the top clan. They can use your knowledge and abilities, and in turn help you find the map.”
A Second Chance Page 27
