With its rattling and creaking wheels, our vehicle slowly rolled into the city’s outskirts. Malice stretched out his hand and the abandoned clay hovel near the road was suddenly smashed by a huge boulder, instantly crushing the fragile structure. Smashed by a boulder, which was followed by acid rain. For a couple of moments, the small area of terrain richly moistened with acid. The boulder slowly sank into the acid-corroded earth...
“Aggrs,” explained Malice. “Dilettantes. Hiding...”
Looking at the smoking acid, I said nothing. That was power ... a one handed gesture and several aggr players simply evaporated...
I had something to envy.
“A little of the journey remains,” said Malice, misunderstanding my silence. “Soon we will leave the caravan. And we will go further - to the north, into the depths of the desert. To the ruins of Mirny.”
I nodded. And my journey in search of Mana continued...
Chapter Four.
The city of Mirny.
The great northern desert, on the lower edge, was covered with a dense chain of perfectly protected sentry posts. A new line of defense. There was a chain of posts that passed through the desert to the north, almost reaching the first oases and settlements. One of the links of the old chain was a small town with the name Mirny. Now only ruins remained where it once stood. And the guard posts. In those terrible days, the whole desert rebelled against strangers. The war was everywhere. Links of the chain burned one after another - guard posts were destroyed, defenders were dying with weapons in their hands, civilians fled away. The last one was the town of Mirny. The unknown magic was so strong that even stone and clay houses burned.
The army of Algora began the rapid consolidation of the newly opened posts. There formed a protective chain in same arc, but already much closer to the southern edge of the formidable and inhospitable desert. All this I learned from a subtle but colorful book called "The Deserted Massacre". The essence of the long tragic events - the slow advance of the army of Algora to the north – was stopped. And since then, no military maneuvers have been undertaken — they preferred to wait at the very edge of the desert. Desert warriors would kill guards of Algora. We had to be very careful.
Another book advised is to pick up some bright red flags with a black mysterious letter. In the case that we were ambushed. We did not have such flags. Therefore, our detachment raised green-blue flags, telling all interested persons that we did not harbor malicious intent towards the inhabitants of the desert and we would not linger here - a simple journey to the nearest oasis and back. Ninety percent of the time it worked.
Sitting on my camel's back, I looked around. Everywhere around me, I saw the sandy endless sea with gently sloping sand dunes. Not a blade of grass. Not a single stone. Only the yellow rustling sand. The detachment moved quickly. Sandy express.
A message popped up from the gaming system — the heat had reached considerable heights. Thermal shock was almost inevitable — provided mirages. An interesting prospect for someone who was going to go out into the open sea tonight. I even imagined the Black Baroness on the battle bridge of the flagship, stomping her boot impatiently, waiting for the Great Navigator. And I imagined myself prancing in the desert, bursting into a merry, happy laughter...
Malice had prepped well. When I looked around the Sleepless warriors, I was impressed. There were two healers, judging by the auras and equipment. One paladin with a two-handed silver club, two swordsmen, one with a sword of fire, and the other with ice. Two combat mages with different specializations. One armed with a crossbow, and the other with a classic longbow. And two more players without any visible weapons. They did not have specialization. One was a warrior with two axes, their hilts sticking out from under his cloak. I think he was a carrier — a colleague of Bom. The last player remained a mystery. He was dressed simply, without the slightest hint of class affiliation. He looked friendly, but at the same time silent. He looked somehow strangely at the world - tilting in a peculiar way, looking at the ground, rarely looking in front of him, never looking at the sky.
A universal combat brigade. Classic. And I stay in it as a valuable cargo - about this and there can be no doubt. Since apart from me and Malice all the players are in the range between two hundred and two hundred fifth levels. I am against their background is a pygmy, and Malice is a real giant - he is looked at with great respect. What is interesting is that none of the combat unit has pets with them. Did not take them. Apparently not required. Alternatively, some other reason.
Why did I look at the players around me?
What else was there to do when you are in the middle of a practical wasteland? I looked at the ladies and gents who, in turn, looked back at me without embarrassment. They had heard my name. Everyone was interested in seeing Rosgard live. They also tried to search where is the Tyrant, staring for side of my saddled camel, stared askance with suspicion for it – whether not the wolf is disguised?
We did not talk amongst ourselves. I was not going to begin the first conversation. And they obviously were told not to bother me with questions. Even Malice silently swayed on the back of a neighboring camel, silently moving his lips, reading the lines of an old book in red leather binding with squeezed golden fire pattern on the cover.
Therefore, until the destination, the detachment walked in proud silence. Then, when we did not go around the long sandy hill, but crossed directly over it, my eyes opened to such an amazing panorama that I completely forgot about the lack of conversations and my boredom.
Here it was ... Mirny.
The sandy, wavy sea rested against a dark, smoky, protective wall made of fused sand. The wall rose about fifteen meters, encircling the city. Its upper edge resembled a strange wavy pattern - the way a child would draw a sea wave if one asked for it. A line dancing up and down - sagging sections of the wall. These "failures" reached almost to the ground in several places. That is, if the city defense failed — the intruders could pass easily.
Behind the wall were the first of the city buildings. Like melted cheese lying in the sun. The windows and doors led, the walls curved, the roofs went down. The overall impression was that the local houses were made from wax first, after which they were placed in the cold sand at night and waited for the rising sun to shine - which vividly melted the wax, severely distorting the outlines. Here and there, thin observation towers, looking like melted candle cinders, rose up in the sky. In the very center of the ruins, on a manmade hill, was the former fortress of Mirny. Faded, with fiery designs etched along the pillars… As if, under it, a volcano had woken up. Or…
“As if a hydrogen bomb had gone off,” Malice spoke for me, putting away the book. “Take away the flags, comrades. They will be no use to us here.”
“Why?” I asked in surprise, watching as the soldiers removed the green and blue flags.
“Because the Desert dwellers are categorically against any visits to the ruins of Mirny, by anyone,” explained the mage. “You see that sign?”
It was hard not to see a huge sign painted on the wall, depicting something like a red skull with a deep crack passing along the right side of the forehead and into the eye socket, with an open fanged mouth.
"Wow," I sighed, looking anxiously at the scaly red skull. "So, what does that sign mean?"
“That we cannot cross here. Otherwise, the soldiers of the Dead Sands will come and give us a boo-boo. All right, go ahead!”
Slapping his palm against the neck of the melancholic camel, Malice moved on. I followed him, the warriors of the Sleepless surrounding us. I felt like I am Indiana Jones. Only instead of a sexy assistant, I got Malice. Or was he thinking of himself as the brave Indiana, and myself as ... hmm...
With every step, the dead city was getting closer. The skulls painted on the walls – I got the impression that their mouths were opening wider. And as soon as we got close enough, we would immediately be swallowed, and then spit out together with black sand in the form of scattered bones. The horror…
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“So,” mumbled Malice. “Listen carefully. This is what you need to do in these ruins ... I am talking specifically about you. We have other tasks - to look around, protect you, but you may have to stay alone, in which case there are elixirs for increased endurance that I will give you, as well increased speed of running. And an upscale amulet so that you may see the traps and avoid them. Their dispositions are constantly changing, so we do not have maps of the minefield.”
"Obviously,” I nodded, accepting the amulet willingly and holding back the extremely inappropriate laughter building in my throat. The fact was that the amulet given to me looked like the wings of an eagle with wings spread wide. A beautiful bird. And all would be okay, if the eyes of the amulet didn’t look like ... you got the impression that the eagle was kicked on the tail and his eyes popped like a cartoon’s in astonishment...
I almost choked on my own laughter and then went on, in a dull voice:
“Then?”
"Then you need to get to the very center of the ruins. To the central square, that is next to the fortress. You cannot miss it. The fortress itself will be your guide. Do you see the portal at the entrance? That is the gate to the fortress.
"I see it," I confirmed, understanding that, in this case, the portal did not mean a magical teleportation device but a normal entrance. "Understood. Then?”
"When you get to the square, you will understand that there is nothing left of it," Malice continued, handing me massive crystal bottles filled with liquids. "There's something like a field there — yellow and black. There is still a lot of ash and small bones. There is an opinion that the terrible spell that melted the city of Mirny was activated there - on the central square. But the opinion is unconfirmed. So for now, let's forget it – though if you suddenly find out if it is true, do let your wise mentor know!”
"If you are the mentor, you should tell me," I remarked.
"Yeah, yeah!” Said the magician, and continued. “The whole area is a continuous field of sand and bones. However, here and there, a massive stone sticks out. Remains of collapsed buildings and collapsed towers. Following these, you'll get to the very center.”
“Got it. And then?”
“Then you will start singing any lyric song and slowly performing a striptease, carefully twisting the pelvis so that the beam of the midday sun falls alternately on both your buttocks ... When you get sunbeam with your left butt cheek for the fifth time, then ...”
“The hell?”
“Kidding."
“Asshole…”
“Again, just a joke. You don’t have to do anything terrible,” said Malice, grinning. “Just jump into the sand feet first and drown.”
"Are you joking again?"
“No. Not at all. You will jump into the quicksand and drown,” he repeated slowly. “But only not some regular quicksand, but only where you see the whirlpool of pure black sand, spinning without the slightest mixtures of yellow. This is important!”
"I am stunned ... okay, fine, I get it. The swirling whirlpool of black sand without yellow sand.”
“Do not make a mistake! There are smaller whirlpool there too! Do not rush. Make the right choice. And only when you are one hundred percent sure – jump in.”
“And if I make a mistake?”
“You will die. And that is all. And a second chance will not be presented - those who have already drowned in the quicksand once will not be able to enter the secret sanctuary. We checked many times. If you make a mistake – you go home.”
“Alright ... What sanctuary?”
“This is the most important part. After passing through the right whirlpool, you will fall into a tiny stone room under the ground. It will seem to be underground. But we are not sure. But there are no windows, so do not check. The room is square. There is one way out, but beyond the threshold is a solid wall of rustling black sand rising upwards - like a waterfall in the opposite direction. This is your elevator. When you have finished all your business, you will jump into the black sand, and it will throw you out to the surface near the edge of the former square. And you will get out. Or, we will help, if we are not busy. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“And now, about what to do in the sanctuary - everything is very easy, accessible even to those of deprived intellect. In one of the walls in the room, there is a deep niche. Inside, there is a stone statue carved from a suspiciously red sandstone. Even purplish. The statue holds the palm of his hand out in front of him. And in the palm of his hand there is a black thick liquid. Brilliant such. You need to bend to it — and drink all the black liquid in one go. Only like this! Do not try to scoop up the liquid with your hands, do not poke it with your finger and lick it, and in no case should you try to tilt the statue or drop it! Just bend over, and drink everything from his palms like vodka. Do you understand?”
"Yes ... I understand. And that's all?”
“Yes. Then when you get out, we go deeper into the desert. We know the place where the magic canopy is interrupted. From there we will use teleport scrolls. We will have to give up the camels. For this voyage, and for lapping the liquid from the hands of the statue, you will be rewarded with four percent of mana for a period of six months. In six months, two percent of the four will be lost. In another six months, another percentage will be lost. And the last percent will stay with you forever. The bonus works only once — you will not be able to return to the statue. Not even after two years. We tried.”
“And have you lapped from the statue’s hands?”
“Are you kidding? I licked them dry! And asked for seconds! But, alas…”
“Got it… A last question before we got there - how do you know all this? About the correct whirlpool, about the idol, about the rest? And yes - I do understand that the secret should be kept. And I will keep silent about the bonus.”
"Almost by accident," replied Malice. "There was an opinion that this was the entrance to divine hell. So some of us went in to several whirlpools. Then they accidentally got into the right one. After that, trial and error. Ros, please! Do not make a mistake! Only go into the absolutely black whirlpool! It is near the center of the former square. The exact place changes, but it is always somewhere in the center. When you jump, hug yourself, squeeze your legs, for accuracy. Do not screw it up. You cannot be too careful. The bonus is huge. You’ll be sorry to miss it.”
“I understand,” I nodded.
"I myself, my first time, spent thirty minutes there, I could not understand for the life of me whether the whirlpool was black or whether there were three yellow grains of sand in it ... Well, get ready. We are about to violate the property of the Dead Sands Clan.”
I looked up and shuddered - a huge red skull hung over me, and the black river of sand, which flowed from its fanged mouth, seemed about to cover me over...
We were at Mirny ... ten steps away from melted wall.
Here was a line, which players would not cross. In the south, the world of Valdira is much more welcoming — affectionate, calm, down to earth. There, too, exists danger, there too is a place for the fallen and the survivors, the winners and the losers, for traitors and devotees. But it seems contrived. The most terrible moments are hidden, like the leaves of ivy hiding the walls of fallen fortresses. And here, everything is in plain sight – here are the results of a terrible war. And though you understand that this war is not real, that it is invented, that it is only a game legend created for the future of the world ... involuntarily, you perceive everything viscerally. As in real life.
And as for me — judging by my feelings — I didn’t feel like we were just entering the next game location. We were entering a city destroyed by the brutal war, where lives were broken, where families were separated, where the houses were in ruins. It was as if I had seen, firsthand, the screaming people leaving their native shelter and rushing off to the dark desert sheltered by a starry night, where the ruthless warriors of the sands were already waiting for them... And now, they still burned wi
th thirst for revenge. It was still possible to get assignments, in the nearest southern cities, for destroying soldiers of the desert clans. An eternal vendetta...
We were met with an ominous silence. Like everything in the canon - oppressive silence and emptiness. But I involuntarily cringed, and tightened the reins in my hands. And the rest of my companions gaped at the broken doors and entrance gates. There was a flitting of dust, in a bizarre dance, outlining the silhouettes of ghostly creatures in the air, making us even more nervous. We had hardly reached the main street – once, it must have been buried in greenery, and filled with residents and guests hurrying to where they needed to go. Now, only the sand is everywhere. Entire waterfalls of sand poured from the roofs of houses and flowed out of the windows. Everywhere, dead movement. The movement of sand...
It seemed that, for the first time, I realized what the terrible namesake of the Dead Sands Clan really meant – it was right here in front of me. Movement was everywhere, movement from all sides, rustles making you shudder, grab for your weapons. In this movement and noise there was no life, there could only be death ... Damn! My imagination was having a go at me! And all because of the damn history in the booklet, and because of the words of Malice about the magic of the Ancients... I began to be horrified, to imagine all sorts of terrible things...
While I was thinking, the fighting guards changed positions, surrounding Malice and me. And the feeble mages also took their positions, ready to take the damage in place of us. We were covered with a dense, multi-layered canopy of magical fields and auras. The interface enthusiastically squealed, and flashed many lines. The system was happy, and I was not - something in this tiny town was having us take as much precaution as we did in the raid on the legendary Outland. And we have many fewer forces than last time. This is not a raid squad. It is just a tiny band of renegades. From the gloomy faces of the surrounding players, I could see clearly that they were ready to accept their own. Still - they were too tense. One of the girl healers was shaking with excitement, squeezing a modest-looking wooden staff.
The Way of the Clan 8 Page 8
