Description: A class-specific rare task. Destroy 222 demons at Dorel’s Frontier and fend off attacks until supervisor Tarlin arrives.
Reward:
Experience: +5
Reputation with Light of Barliona faction: +1
1 object from Unending Happiness set
“There’s no need to raise the banner. Go, tieflings, and may the Light be with you!”
Buff received
Argalot’s blessing: Your characteristics are increased by 50% for 1 hour.
I couldn’t help laughing, but a blessing is a blessing. At that moment Eredani and I were the terror of the local demons, but as soon as we arrived at the meeting point, the buff would be disabled. Argalot was the epitome of bureaucracy — useless rewards while-u-wait.
Diabettis and the Tishkin family had managed to level up to thirteen. Their previous hirers had boasted level seven. With our modest five we soon became lost in the crowd, but only until Diabettis’s eagle eyes clocked Argalot’s breastplate. From then on, the mercenary couldn’t help giving it the occasional appreciative glance as he and the Tishkins whispered among themselves. In the end he succumbed: “Can you show me its properties?”
I was going to refuse, but to my surprise Eredani promptly sent him a description of the object. Diabettis, impressed, scratched his head and made another suggestion: “We boost you up for free, and you tell us where and how you came by this object. Deal?”
Poor Diabettis! I could only feel sorry for him when Eredani unleashed his profit-securing skills. The savvy tiefling demonstrated Argalot’s task, which had no restrictions on being passed to other players, and the hired guns were ours, lock, stock, and barrel. The situation played out very amusingly — Diabettis was ready to pay us to participate in the task. Eredani, however, didn’t get too brazen, deciding that the partnership was worth more than a couple of hundred gold. In the end we agreed they would help us for free, and we’d divvy the loot up fairly, the only restriction being that we would not become sidetracked — the sole pupose of the trip was to slaughter demons.
Four stray players also wanted the task, but Eredani wasn’t down with it. Five thousand gold, or stand aside and don’t attract unwanted attention. They had free experience and mob loot to spare.
Dispensing with the formalities, we jogged toward an accumulation of bald cactuses, christened the “Forest of Valor” on a whim of the developers. Yasya and Maestro went ahead as icebreakers and took the first mob strikes on themselves, but the plan soon went awry. Eredani and I were the juiciest morsels for the level-five beasties, and every last parasite considered it their duty to spit a web or something grosser at us, if not actually catch us and eat us alive. Three groups of ten demons held us up for ten minutes, although they did bring us our long-awaited level six. Shame there was no loot, only worthless garbage, unusable and unsalable. After boosting Luck and Trade, I pointed in the direction of a small clearing.
“The entrance is there.”
“You got lucky, we’ve already cleared this wood.” Diabettis stood with us and sent Yasya and Maestro on a recce mission. “Every seventy-two hours, a particularly fat spider is reborn in this clearing, and you have to mess with it for a while, because it spits spiderwebs. It was whacked just yesterday. Have you all got Health elixirs?”
Everyone but myself and Eredani nodded.
“We’ll settle up later.” Diabettis gave us two flasks of a red liquid each. “It restores five thousand Health, and is only to be used for emergencies.”
Eredani: Now that’s concern for the success of an enterprise. In terms you might understand, minimization of basic risk by drawing up a smart response strategy. Learn, student, learn!
Kvalen: I already get that you’re a shitty adviser. Should I deduct your bonus or something as a precaution? Why didn’t you say I’d have to buy it?”
We were distracted from our potential shouting match by Maestro, who, leaning over the roots of a tree and raking twigs aside, shouted joyfully, “I’ve found it!”
In among the roots was a brown stone trapdoor, well hidden — if you weren’t looking for it, practically invisible among the red sand and stones. Maestro and Yasya dragged it aside to reveal a dark narrow vertical shaft. And from deep under the ground came a bone-chilling groan. We all exchanged glances.
“First man go. Torch,” commanded Diabettis, and Maestro didn’t hesitate to dive into the hole. Commercial players were proving themselves more and more to be real pros, prepared for any hardship.
Maestro: Clear! Come on down. It’s a wide corridor.
The tunnel recalled a sewer shaft. Hewn from the rock, it had sturdy metal steps making the descent easy, and led down three meters to a wide and rather gloomy cave. The light from our one torch was not enough to chase the darkness completely away, but we could see hanging chains, spiderwebs, and tree roots breaking through the bedrock.
“I put the stone back. You never know.” Diabettis came down last and produced a second torch. “Yasya, you take point. Maestro, you bring up the rear. Eredani and Kvalen go in the middle. It’s that way.”
“Light over here!” said one of the players, bending down to the floor. I craned my neck to look over their shoulders, and saw a decomposed human skeleton. The lightest brush and it would crumble to dust. The long groan repeated from down the corridor, and this time we could clearly make out the word “Alive.” The players backed up, but not our hirelings. Yasya raised the torch above her head, trying to shed light as far as possible. Which wasn’t far — three meters.
Diabettis said, “Maestro, go with Yasya. Take the torch. I’ll go last. Move forward slowly.”
“Let me out of here!” One of the players screamed hysterically and clung to the wall. “I’m not going any farther. Where’s that damn ladder? Let me out!” Before we had time to react, he ran back into the darkness. A short cry, the sound of someone hitting the ground, and the player’s frame went blank.
“A dumb way to die,” Diabettis said matter-of-factly and looked at the other three. “Are we going to have problems with the rest of you?” Their simultaneously shaken heads were like something from a synchronized swimming program.
“Excellent. Yasya, move out.”
“Careful with the walls.” Eredani warned. “The ceiling didn’t fall down accidentally. Find a clip from a second before the collapse.”
Yet again my partner demonstrated the advantage of intellect over action, figuring out what had happened in a matter of seconds. I watched the video clip. The panicked player had run with his arms out wide, knocked something protruding from the wall, and triggered a rockslide. Maestro studied the wall and delivered a clear-cut verdict that it was the lever of some mechanism. We moved cautiously forward and found several more traps, some with triggers on the walls, some on the floor. You had to give the frightened player his due — he helped us avoid a bunch of problems.
Fifty meters on, we encountered a difficult situation.
“Which way do we go now?” Diabettis was standing at a T-junction. The passage split into two identical corridors, to the right and left, although according to the map we needed to go straight ahead. We hesitated, a brief examination of the corridors making nothing clearer. A decision needed to be taken, so I took the responsibility upon myself and said:
“We go right.” All seven players stared at me expecting me to justify my choice. “The right hand rule. The principle of getting through a labyrinth. When there’s no other logical choice, that’s the rule to go by.”
While everyone was figuring out how to react, a strangled whisper emerged from the left-hand corridor: Alive here! Quickly! Come to them! Alive!
“Yasya, quick, but careful!” ordered Diabettis. “Maestro, rear guard.”
The right-hand corridor weaved like a drunken hare. Tripwires, levers, and slabs to avoid stepping on — it was more like a treasure trail than a secret passage. Unfortunately, we lost another two players. Accident or simple lack of diligence, one slipped next to a pressure slab and sa
t down on it, triggering a huge spear to fly over his head. He got away with a slight scare, but the friends walking next to him were skewered, ready for spit-roasting. Their recently acquired level eight didn’t help. Diabettis gave a heavy sigh. Three fighters down, and we hadn’t yet reached Dorel’s Frontier.
The evil whisper was a constant reminder to keep moving, and eventually we came out into a wide hall. Diabettis cross-checked with the map. “Dorel’s Frontier is directly above us.”
They are close! Quicker! They’re alive! The whisper was very close now, coming, it seemed to me, from the entrance to the hall.
“The staircase!” shouted Diabettis. “Up! Maestro, stay here and cover us!” And so the sacrifice was determined. Yasya flew up the steps and busied herself with the upper hatch. Dull thuds and scattering dust indicated progress being made, but time was pressing.
“Let me have a go,” suggested the last of the random players. “I can barely stand. I want to sleep.”
We are here! Alive! There they are! Light streamed into the hall from the passage, radiating from the ghosts of humans, elves, orcs, and dwarves. Even in death the defenders of Barliona could not come to terms with defeat. They swept toward us in a great white tidal wave.
“Everyone up!” shouted Diabettis, before falling flat on his face and activating Retreat. The function worked superbly, throwing him high toward the ceiling and leaving snares where the player lay. An interesting use of the mechanics. Eredani and I looked at each other and did the same. Diabettis caught us in the air and dragged us into the passage, Maestro followed us, and Yasya quickly pulled the heavy stone back into place. The frame of the player left below went blank instantly; the ghosts were anything but well-meaning. A stupid death. Completely unnecessary.
“There’s a spell on the rock. It’s safe here,” said Yasya, speaking for the first time since we’d met. Low, as though three-packs-a-day, her voice was better suited to a worldly-wise lady of fifty than a young girl.
“Location Dorel’s Frontier.” Diabettis looked at the properties on the map. “You guessed correctly with that right turn.”
“I reckon the result would have been the same if we’d gone left,” I said. “The ghosts started whispering after we took the turn.”
“A door.” Diabettis again spoke brokenly, before lifting his torch and illuminating the space we found ourselves in. It was a stone oubliette, a few metres square. One door, one passage. Nothing else.
“I propose we continue tomorrow,” Diabettis said after checking with the clock. “We need sleep. We’ve been working non-stop for nearly three days. Our reactions are slow.”
“No complaints here,” said Eredani. “Tomorrow after four. We need to chill too.”
Diabettis left Eredani the torch and nodded to the Tishkins, who immediately melted away to reality.
“Can I ask a question?” I managed to say, before the hired killer followed his troops out. “Was it you who levelled up Braksed and Kurtune? What are they like?”
“Yes, twice. Thoroughly okay guys. They have their foibles, but who doesn’t? Quiet, responsible. I had no problems with them. They paid and went on their way. Good clients. Sorry, I can’t give you any more details, we have our principles.”
“No worries,” I replied, surprised. It was strange that our image of the Vartalinskys was so inconsistent with Diabettis’s.
Eredani stayed to while away the night in solitude, and I stepped out of the pod, didn’t undress, and fell onto my bed. My alarm clock went off three hours later, telling me to get up and off to work. My body protested, as did my eyes.
“Bro, are you going to work?” Matty’s voice penetrated through the layers of sleep. “Hey, Mr. West!”
“Eh?” I sat up, abruptly awake. Alarm clock! My phone showed half an hour had passed. “I’m on it. Thanks for the call.”
“No problem.” Only now did I notice he was standing in the doorway, cleanly shaven and dressed to kill.
“Where are you off to?”
“I’ve got to pop out for a couple of hours. I’ll tell you later.” He took a swig of coffee, looked at the clock and, on the way out the door said, “Don’t go back to sleep!”
Coffee and breakfast would have to wait until the office. I climbed into the car, pressed the Work button on the GPS, and fell asleep.
At work I was met with the unpleasant news that my group had been reshuffled, just the one problem child remaining from yesterday’s newcomers. He didn’t react to any attempt to establish contact, answering irrelevantly and withdrawing into himself. The new kids were a quiet lot too, as if they’d been selected for a failed facsimile of yesterday’s group. I was forced to take the reins from the newly self-effacing Helen and manage the group myself. The lesson wasn’t great and I let the students go early. When everyone had dispersed, Helen came to me.
“Brody, do you have any homework for me?”
“No. The next topic’s easy. Go home and chill.”
She sighed and stepped closer. “Brody… Bro, are you busy this evening?” Her full-on gaze made me feel uneasy.
“Very.”
“What a pity,” she sighed again. “You know, I’ve wanted to tell you for ages… you’re so clever. It’s so interesting to be with you. I’m so glad you came to our company and we’re together now. I’ve never met a man like you before.”
She extended a hand to my chest, and I took a couple of steps back. That was all I needed! The pause dragged — she drew her horns in but didn’t retreat. Not good. I took her hand and led her to a huge mirror. “Helen, what do you see?” I asked in my office tone.
“We-e-ell, I see a respectable, interesting man and… a no less interesting girl,” she said, batting heavily lined and shadowed eyes at me. She flirted so childishly I felt sorry for her.
“Someone has a problem with their perception of objective reality,” I said harshly. “Personally, I see a mature old Winnie the Pooh and a little Piglet. The best I can offer is to buy you a big balloon. Would you like blue or green?”
Helen blushed and retracted her hand. “Pi… piglet yourself!” she threw back, turning and running out. The only thing I regretted was not having done it the day before. You had to nip these things in the bud, and without excess snivelling. I wasn’t interested in children.
Maria came in. “Brody, it’s good I found you alone.”
“Maria,” I interrupted. “There were no hints from my end.”
“You mean Helen?” She adjusted her glasses quizzically and waved a hand. “I’ve just seen her in tears. Pay no heed. You’re her third prince this month. It’s an age thing.”
“Yes?” I was surprised at her womanish levity. “Well, that’s okay then. I really don’t need that right now.”
“God bless you. We have more important problems. A suicide case has made himself known.”
“And what do we do?” I was shaken by the news. It’s not that such events were rare for the times. On the contrary, statistics showed big mental health problems emerging in society. Usually sufferers were put in a pod for therapy under total control of special Imitators.
“You do nothing. I’m just letting you know so you can make allowances in your lessons. Psychologists are already working with him — in the guise of the fellow candidates you saw today. Don’t hinder them, just present your material and forget about it. They know what they’re doing. And don’t let Helen into that group.”
“I hear you loud and clear, Maria. I’ll be discreet. Can I ask you something?”
“Why?” she guessed. “Because he’s a genius, Brody. Such people need looking after. They’re chosen by God, and we need them.”
She made her exit and left me to my bewilderment. What other surprises could I expect from the company? I didn’t want to think about it. And I had no desire to keep coming to work. Perhaps I should become a Diabettis and live solely for pleasure?
Returning home, I opened the auction and flicked through beginner spell scrolls. Five players against 22
2 demons wasn’t an easy ratio to reconcile oneself with. I chose the most indispensable one and called Buy-Sell. The time had come to splash a little cash.
Chapter 7
WHEN I ENTERED Barliona, Eredani was entertaining himself with his demon fish.
“Now round!” The beastie span on the spot.
“Good boy! Beg!” The handler teasingly lifted the tidbit higher.
“Fo-o-od!” the pet responded plaintively.
My partner expertly mimed a deep three right into its maw, which was followed by satisfied chomping and a yawn.
“And you had the nerve to complain about your demon,” I sniggered. “You can chill in front of the fish tank, enjoy a water show, play basketball, all the while levelling up your marksmanship. Advantages all-round!”
A Second Chance Page 29
