The Way of the Clan 8

by Dem Mikhaylov

  On that memorable day of the "dive" of the flagship, I held out for so long that everyone who knew, without exception, looked at me with great respect. I stayed on watch almost until evening. And left the bridge only when the world around was turning into a foggy gray mosaic. I was walking but completely out of touch with the virtual body. Coming out of Valdira, I crawled out of the game cocoon, fell onto the floor, where Kira, swearing, helped to get me into the bath. There, I passed out.

  Not sleeping for a whole day was bad, even unhealthy, but I never expected that I would be knocked out so much. My brain simply failed and disconnected. I woke up only the next morning, in my own bed, with Kira peacefully sleeping at my side.

  In that early, very early morning, I did not yet know that this was the beginning of a day full of boredom, diluted only by occasional no less boring events.

  The schedule of the rather normal day was as follows:

  Morning. The gray dawn barely visible. I climb to the bridge, and the huge flagship comes into motion, moving away from the next row of islands that had given us shelter for the night. All that we got from the island was stored — cuttings from every tree and bush, any berries, grains, mushrooms, fruits and plants. They split the stones, dug the earth, drank the water, and searched for food — that was the night shift. For several hours, I watch hundreds of ships go across the ocean, constantly practicing various maneuvers. This roundabout did not cease for even a moment.

  Noon. Dinner – everything as it should be for the high admirals. Four dishes on the menu, light drinks and smart conversations sparkling with intellectual jokes. The Baroness was particularly shining, rolling with jokes and witticisms, sometimes look favorably on the most distinguished players, occasionally graciously glancing at the Red Baron, who had managed to execute his order catch up with us in some mysterious way on the second day from the passage through the Archipelagos. The half-naked, hoarse half-orc collapsed onto the top deck of the flagship in an embrace with an empty barrel smelling strongly of rotten fish. He fell right at the feet of the thoughtfully silent Black Baroness. I still do not know what kind of transport he took advantage of. But he succeeded. And so did the greater part of the group sent with him to Al Dra Das. The rest were not so lucky, and they took their places on friendly fleets going far, far behind us, or preferred to stay on the continent. The Sleepless had enough business there too.

  A little past noon. Hunting! The best event of the day. After a hearty lunch, I found myself in a spacious cell, where this or that monster was located, and we battled. Or shamefully ran away. Everything depended on many factors, but the merry laughter of Malice, the Baron, Klest, Bom, Kira, Roska, Orbit, Kaylen, Cray and many others was necessary to me. Sure! The Great Navigator rushes around in the pen, dodging punches, paws, eyes, fins, needles, hammers, sprays of poison or acid, looking very. The first two or three fights took place this way – without the slightest help from the outside. I insisted. In order to gain experience and pump my own spells. And so I gave the whole team an hour-long spectacle of comical gladiatorial battles. The whole armada looked on ... and I was not against it. But if Malice interfered, when I was stuck to the wall and were preparing to strike the last blow, it was counted as the disgraceful death of the gladiator. After several victories and defeats, I spent an hour relaxing. Others wanted to try playing gladiator, too. After the entertainment, I again went into the corral and began to kill the previously weakened monsters in batches, breaking them down for the sake of precious experience points.

  Somewhere by three in the afternoon – again on watch for the evening. Again, contemplation of the waves and of ships playing catch-up. I saw under the water — horrible! Huge jumping fish and the tentacles of unseen monsters, horns of giant narwhals and much more. I was especially impressed by the incredibly large skeleton of a prehistoric shark that had emerged from the water. Naked bones! Not a scrap of scales, skin or flesh. Only a skeleton, a toothy dead mouth, and a whole crowd of people sitting INSIDE of the skeleton, between the ribs, saddling them. The maneuvers were worked out to nausea. Monotone and non-stop. Soon, I saw the shark leaping out again.

  Late evening! Ahead there was another island, which the forwarder let us know of with a long, joyful cry, promising rest to the tired players. The ships slowed down one by one — they approached a fairly large patch of land, densely overgrown with jungle, covering the slopes of the mountains and descending to the very shores of the wide beaches. The island was abounded in bays and lagoons, and black yawning half-submerged caves. The Baroness chose two or three lagoons, and there she fixed the ships. With the roar of chains, the anchors descended, and hundreds of capacious boats flew to the shore, the achilots scurrying along the bottom like insatiable piranhas. This night shift again.

  I had hardly gotten off the bridge when I heard the first echoing blows — trees were falling. They were breaking through vines and branches. The beaches lit up with fires, and there was the sound of guitars and drums. I saw the dancing joyful players the next sea day, exhausted. By the time I drank the first sip of wine, the air was filled with the roar of monsters being killed, reluctant to part with their own meat, skin, feathers, claws, and teeth. We let our beasts out to feed. Among them, I saw Tyrant and the beasts of our team, as well, including the mammoth Kolyvan. Roska sat proudly on the back of the wolf, leading the animal into battle. And every evening I noticed that behind Roska were more and more wolves – foreign beasts, temporarily released by their owners for a walk. Already, no fewer than two dozen of the fanged hunters accompanied my daughter in her campaigns. Orbit came too — he had always been among those looking for something "interesting". And often they found it! Once they returned in a wild hurry, pursued by a strange creature resembling an armless lizard.

  Night. Dancing with Kira among the flaming digital fires, and sometimes with the BB or Goldie. Then I went to the real world, not forgetting to say goodbye to my daughter, who was already falling asleep, and my friends. We had dinner in the real world. After that, Kira and I stomped to our bedroom, where we immediately fell asleep. Well, or we paid attention to each other— enjoying a few short moments of reunion.

  Morning ... and again the watch ... and so on. Three days in a row.

  Over the past few days, I had raised nine levels, which pleased Malice and me immensely. He promised that, in the very near future, we would deal even more with battling monsters. There were thousands of them in the neighborhood, after all. Each point of experience was necessary.

  In addition to this, my companions also grew too. The guys mostly hunted at night, carving up all the animals on the islands. And there was plenty of competition! And not only friendly. After all, the islands on the "dotted line of salvation" were not only welcoming to the Sleepless and their allies, but in general, to everyone who could get on the islands. Unpleasant meetings were not uncommon, but so far, it had cost little blood – the enemies who were breathing down our necks simply retreated. And the reason for this was extremely simple – caution.

  It was very simple and very cruel.

  The armada of the Sleepless came out on the campaign first, and was the most prepared for a sudden emergency start. The rest had to improvise on the go. The strongest of our competitors managed to group together surprisingly quickly. Even too quickly. And then they launched all available boosters and rushed after us, sparing neither money, nor ships, nor people.

  But the time difference was critical.

  After all, we arrived to the next island always first and always before sunset. And the island turned out to be always exactly where it was needed, ideally adapting to the leader of the fleet. Clearly not without very powerful magic. Our pursuers did not have time to catch up with us until sunset, although they destroyed their ships and resources, and exhausted their crew, trying to shorten the distance between us. Very few did it. We had a plan, while the rest of the clans occupied the islands according to the principle – go up to where you can swim out of their last strength, and set up fo
r the night.” Only they should have been making their moves at night to begin with.

  The main misfortune was that, between several islands, teleportation was possible. Therefore, it was always possible to receive guests...

  I knew about several of the five foreign fleets breathing down the backs of our heads. Among them were the Architects.

  And the Black Baroness had had a short conversation with Ral Darovan, who had suddenly appeared near our place of refuge — this dark horse from the clan of Architects, a real legend, one of Valdira's oldest players. The topic of their conversation was not a mystery – the Archs were suggesting that the Sleepless give them the Great Navigator in exchange for the most powerful mass teleports of divine origin that came from the hands of the Ancients. And the Archs said, in direct text – on the continent, the influence of Sleepless will come to an end, they will be torn to pieces from all sides, little by little we will pinch off pieces from their territories, their reputation, their trade deals and political influences. Soon, the Sleepless will only be a beautiful fairy tale… Of course, the BB did not go for the deal, politely declining the offer. It was the end of the second day of the Great March.

  By the evening of the third day, Ral Darovan arrived again. He went straight to our fires, greeted all of us loudly and then walked along the coast to the Baroness, standing by the water. Another conversation took place. They talked loudly, not at all embarrassed by those present, and hiding nothing.

  One can say for sure, that the Architects, as well as several other old and powerful clans, whom they represented officially, suggested that the Sleepless create a certain Alliance of the Old Ones acting according to the principle and rules of the mythical round table of the knights of King Arthur.

  Why?

  The Archs, and several other old clans, were being attacked.

  By whom?

  By the young and daring.

  A new generation of players, several new clans – that is who bit the hoary oldies of Valdira. They struck mercilessly, with a merry gleam in their crazy eyes. And now the Architects, the Ancestors, Swamp Creatures, the Knights of the Covenant, the Golden Gills, the Sharks of the Abyss and other "old men" were suddenly under attack.

  The old continent had long ago been divided among the powerful of this world. Long ago, everything was completely divided, from the rotten swamps to the cities. The old men ruled everything. And as soon as the fleets moved away from the mainland, a real revolution flared up on the shore. There were speeches, and someone, with an unwavering hand was throwing torches at the roofs of the clan villages— someone else was already dragging siege machines to the citadels...

  Of course. All according to the laws of the genre. A cat and a mouse game!

  Those who had gloated over the misfortunes of Sleepless yesterday had been put in their place. And then they had sought a way out of the situation immediately. They tried to pass it off as such — that it was necessary to collect the immense forces of the oldest and most powerful clans of Valdira into a single fist cut down the youths who had dared become rowdy. Otherwise, the younger generation would mess everything up. After all, the threat was quite real — almost all of the old clans had gone on the distant sea voyage. The defense was not merely weakened — it was virtually nonexistent.

  But the creation of the Alliance of the Eldest Ones was not urgent. They continued to try to convince us that it was — they were screaming with all their might, using colorful metaphors and comparisons, laying upon us gloomy forecasts and terrible prophecies of a universal apocalypse. I felt ambivalent feelings — after all, my friends and I represented that very "young" generation they were speaking of. However, either we did not have such ambitions, or there was simply no time for us to implement them. I felt no piety for the oldest clans of Valdira. It was funny — as if the parents went to the country house on a weekend, weeding out the garden and digging potatoes, and their kids arranged a carnival party in the apartment...

  After the proposal, the BB again remained calm — I concluded that she knew about the situation on the continent, saw the full picture, but tried not to show her feelings about it. The Head of the Sleepless politely thanked the messenger, and then sent him away — not immediately away, but first towards our bonfires, offering him to taste the grilled fish and wine called "Brutus' Sweetness". For now, there were no orders for the future — but I realized that, like many, I saw only the tip of the iceberg. The most important things were hidden from us. Behind our backs. We had already left the old mainland, and the BB still remained there — in spirit, at any rate. She continued to conduct her political dances.

  But I also had something else to think about. My thought— was this good for Rosa, or not? After all, if the old system collapsed, then you could build something on the ashes, on top of the rubble. For example, a big bright temple for a new young goddess ... hmm...

  Whatever the case was, the campaign continued as usual. A strenuous sprint across the water, which ended, every day, with drinking, dancing, and devouring unknown fruits and meats.

  As for the war…

  Oh, it was all around us. But the Armada of the Sleepless, at the moment, consisted of a huge number of ships. I somehow decided to undertake counting them, but got lost in the four hundreds — and anyway, I only saw our nearest entourage. A number of warships we did not see were following us. There were cargo ships, as well. They constantly lagged behind.Most of the attacks occurred in the morning, when the armada was removed from anchor and began to gain momentum. At that moment, enemy raiders appeared, spitting on a full night's rest, went into the open waters before us and managed to overcome a dozen nautical miles. But they were quickly overtaken.

  There was a storm. A howling storm with furious roaring foams of water. It happened on the second day, after lunch. The sky suddenly became dark, the wind rose, and we smelled a thunderstorm. And then the wind turned into a storm ... so strong that we were all knocked down. In the water, it seemed like a mud pump had been turned on, stirring up all the water, twisting it into an underwater tornado.

  And the armada powered through it. With the help of spells, artifacts and rather skillful maneuvering. If you could call it that. The Black Queen went forth, breaking the waves with her nose, covering herself with the crowded escort ships. Losses were small. Nothing horrifying. But the loss of progress was significant – for five hours the Sleepless fleet pushed towards the continent at a reduced speed. And the amber beam that emitted from my chest persistently pointed clearly towards the storm.

  It was not difficult for me to guess that it was precisely this, which the despicable organizers of the race wanted to achieve - to slow down the leaders.

  Moreover, it was not difficult to understand that while the Sleepless were trekking through the bad weather, the enemies following us, trying to narrow the gap between us.

  The Immortals were sneaky devils.

  The Baroness, Malice, Baron, Klest and the others from the "top" were gloomily silent that day. Restraining their emotions.

  But how calm it was the next day! For four hours, the weather was totally clear... The ocean looked like a carefully smoothed sheet. There was not a single wrinkle on the water. Not even a sheet, but a polished wooden countertop. And we were like still figurines upon it. Malice shouted, showing the heavens a very indecent gesture.

  It was clear that we were not going to wait for favorable weather — we went forth on firepower. But at what cost? Now, hundreds of scrolls had been used up, dozens of artifacts had spent their energy and strength, and huge underwater monsters were forced to push the ships or drag them along. A sea of resources and forces was spent.

  But the fleet broke through. The sails were once again filled with a fresh, fair wind. The sailors shouted joyfully. Hats were thrown up with glee! And then there was a vibrating, wicked howl from under the water – in the water kingdom, an oncoming current was awakening. Soon, moving forward required the same effort as swimming against the current of the river. Yes
, it was possible — but the scrolls were burning again, the artifacts puffing and smoking, the hulls of ships dragged by dinosaurs...

  The weather stopped giving us frills only towards the evening of the third day of the hike.

  We went forward, overcoming everything necessary. And at the same time, we realized that this were only the timid first bloom. The journey was not even ripe…

  This soon proved to be true.

  At lunch on the fourth day of the hike, a hurried report came from the scouts. The report read as follows:

  "Forest is there on the horizon!"

  Hardly swallowing his oyster soup, Klest slowly wiped his lips with a white towel and asked:

  “What?”

  "Forest is there on the horizon! Right on course!”

  How to understand the phrase, forest on the horizon? After all, we were in the open ocean. It could not be that we had already reached the end of the trip...

  “What are your directions, cap?”

  The Baroness was now asleep – right in the game, lying in a hammock suspended on a bridge in the far corner. The Baron was somewhere on the escort ships along with the Malice. Therefore, the decision had to be made by Klest. And he instantly showed his innate wisdom, cheerfully barking:

  “Get the BB — we have a state of emergency!”

  What a dashing captain...

  Chapter Fourteen.

  Forest on the horizon...

  "I do not like that flora,” said the still sleepy Baroness, who was using magic to hover at the height of a three-story house above the upper deck.

  I personally agreed with her conclusion, but the officers on the main bridge were clearly puzzled by the commander's indefinite statement. Therefore, all continued to wait in silence, looking up and down at the slender legs covered with black skin, which were dangling over their heads.

  I was not the only one who remembered perfectly that, besides being the commander-in-chief, the BB was also an attractive woman in both worlds. Therefore, a man whose heart and bed is already occupied should not look at her lower limbs. Kira was omniscient.