Avatar of Light

by Dmitry Bilik

  I turned to my team. “You guys stay here. The commander of Virhort didn’t see you, so there’s no point you sticking your necks out now. Go back to the community and wait in the Syndicate. I’ll just pop over to Virhort and come right back. Hopefully, with Traug. Arts, take my phone, wallet and the keys. You can give them back later.”

  Strangely enough, they didn’t object. I’d already noticed that the Game seemed to narrow down our options, cutting out everything superficial. For instance, there was no such notion here as making small talk or doing things out of politeness. Neither Arts nor Litius were looking forward to a trip to Virhort — firstly, because they didn’t want to, and secondly, because they could see I’d made sense. I wasn’t going there to wage a war, after all; all I had to do was hand over the sulfur and bring Traug back. Provided things went according to plan.

  I handed my stuff to the girl and crossed the road. Just as I pushed the door open, I saw an elderly lady standing in front of the Gates, draped in lots of strange-looking necklaces. She nodded a greeting to me, forcing me to reply in kind.

  “Wastelands,” she said. The dust she’d placed into the Gatekeeper’s hands whirled upwards, enveloping her, and disappeared together with her. One moment she was here and the next moment she was gone, leaving only a few flakes of dust floating to the floor.

  My own trip was nothing to write home about. My jump to Purgator proved to be perfectly mundane. I only rearranged my pants, feeling the prickly wool rubbing against my particularly tender bits. I really needed to sort this problem out ASAP before I got myself a nasty rash. How was I supposed to explain to a dermatologist that I was allergic to teleport travel?

  It seemed to be quite busy outside. Players hastened past, some of them running. A group of them were gathered noisily nearby; I could hear shouting by the community gates. So that’s where I headed.

  To my surprise, I found two guards by the gates. One was human, the other one local — orange-skinned and poorly dressed. Both wore identical breastplates and were armed with halberds. It was those two who made all the racket, shouting their heads off:

  “Quick, quick! The gates are about to close!”

  I could see some commoners in the crowd — the timid Purgs I’d noticed during my first visit. I had to elbow my way against the crowd’s flow in order to get to one of the guards.

  “Excuse me, sir? What’s going on?”

  “The Kabirids are here,” he pointed downhill. “They’re about to storm the city.”

  I looked outside. A Kabirid army lined up in neat close ranks a few hundred feet away from the city wall. All of them in full armor, their bat wings fitted with sharp steel ends. Many-headed dogs, at least ten foot tall, strained at their chains in front, barely contained by several Kabirids each.

  “It’s all gonna kick off in a moment,” the guard said. “All hell’s gonna break loose. It’s at least two hundred bats we’ve got there.”

  I didn’t hear his last words very well because I’d already dashed uphill toward the castle. There was no telling what the Archali might do to their prisoners once they’d realized they were fighting a losing battle.

  Because angelic blood might really flow today, by the looks of it.

  Chapter 10

  ALREADY IN THE LAST CENTURY, the Canadian Laurence J. Peter had pronounced his famous principle, stating that “in a hierarchy every individual tends to rise to his level of incompetence.” Before, I’d always tended to view it as a funny joke. Only now had I understood how right the man had actually been.

  Putting it mildly, the Archali top brass didn’t jump at their chance to shine. Some of them just froze in place, their faces masks of fear. Others spat out direct orders in hysteria-tainted voices. But that was here on the lower walls. The angelic HQ must have been set up in the castle busy working out its defense tactics. Me, I was on my way to get there — which I finally did, much to my own surprise.

  Your Athletics skill has increased to level 6.

  Big deal! True, it hadn’t come easy: by the end, I wheezed and gasped like a beached whale. I wouldn’t want another interval jogging session like this in a hurry. It took me quite a while to regain my breath in order to speak. When I could finally form a few words, I said to the guard posted by the castle gates,

  “I need to see the Commander.”

  “Human, are you nuts? Can’t you see what’s going on here?”

  “I need to enter!” I thundered in a voice which would have terrified anyone, myself included. The Archalus guard hesitated but stayed put.

  I had no time to wait for him to make up his mind. I drew the knife and lunged at him. Which was rather cocky of me because the guard stepped back and bared his spear.

  Never mind. We’d taken fortresses stronger than theirs.

  [ ∞ ]

  I ducked under the spear shaft, closed in on the Archalus and pressed the knife blade to his throat. He gulped nervously; I sensed the blade touch his Adam’s apple. The second guard started in our direction but I stopped him with a single movement:

  “If you get any closer, he’s dead. Now you: turn round. Don’t do anything stupid or I’ll slit your throat. Good,” I waited for my hostage to turn his back to me, grabbed him by the base of his wing and brought the knife to it. “If you move, you’ll only be able to fly in your sleep. This is moon steel, in case you didn’t notice.”

  “I did.”

  You could hammer ten-inch nails in with his voice. The amount of hatred seething in it rivaled that of two girls who’d shown up at a wedding in identical outfits.

  The second guard kept his eyes firmly upon us, so in the end I had to put the fear of God in him, too:

  “Step back five paces. If you start playing a hero, your friend here will never be a good angel again. And you, move it!”

  I’d already realized that I was now deep in it. There was no way back: it was sink or swim. Honestly, I had no idea how we were supposed to even enter the castle. That was the easiest place for them to capture me. And even before that, I still had to cross the courtyard which was now teeming with Archali. If they attacked me all at once, my three remaining time rewinds would be of little help.

  “Harness the gryphons!” I heard as I walked through the gates. “We can’t let the Cerberi demolish the wall!”

  Their clamor filled the courtyard. Still, soon we started to attract attention. Situations like these make you realize that popularity is hugely overrated. It’s a terrible feeling when an entire busy square goes dead quiet and all eyes turn to you. Unkind eyes, mind you, ready to cast a nasty spell or pull out a javelin out of their invisible inventories.

  Still, Lady Luck seemed to be on my side, as I heard Commander Vifeil’s voice which thundered over the courtyard like an avalanche,

  “What the hell’s going on here?”

  I didn’t see him: the guard I’d captured was a big guy, and his widespread wings completely blocked my view. I had to hold him slightly back and rotate him a little, steering him manually, so to say.

  “Commander,” I said, “I’ve come to discuss our agreement. But they wouldn’t let me in.”

  “So you decided to take one of my guards hostage?”

  “I wouldn’t have hurt him,” I pushed my prisoner slightly away from myself, just to illustrate my words. He took a couple more steps, swung round and drew a sword out of nowhere: a standard-issue angelic weapon identical to the one Kaf had used earlier. Which made sense because he’d left his spear by the front gate.

  Th circle of feathered creatures around me began to close in.

  “We have an agreement!” I shouted.

  Vifeil shrugged. “It’s not a good moment, human. Just in case you haven’t noticed, we have a Kabirid threat to contain.”

  “We have an agreement!” my voice quivered with passion. “You asked me to bring you ten grams of the Devil’s Sulfur in exchange for my friend. The agreement had no provision for grace time! I’ve brought you the dust. Does the Commander’s word mea
n nothing now?”

  I reached into my bag and showed them the sulfur in my open palm. The local sun played with its color, making it glitter with every shade of yellow, from a deep pear to a light golden. It might have been this glitter that convinced him. Or it could be his Abbas councilor who was now whispering something into the Commander’s ear.

  Your Persuasion skill has increased to level 8.

  Your reputation has changed to Vigilante.

  “Bring that Korl here,” the Commander finally said.

  A couple of Archali dashed for the castle. In the meantime, Vifeil approached me in a laborious heavy gait. He scooped up the sulfur from my hand, tasted it of all things, and nodded. “Where did you get it from?”

  “You don’t expect me to give you an answer to this, do you? Not in front of all these witnesses.”

  “I just hope you haven’t repeated your Korl friend’s mistake,” he looked deep into my eyes as if seeing all the way through my soul.

  I didn’t bother to answer. Pointless trying to lie to him when he had an Abbas — a walking lie detector — standing just next to him. Also, the two Archali had already reappeared, escorting Traug.

  Unlike Arts and Litius, Traug was bound hand and foot so he couldn’t make good speed. He wasn’t in a good shape. His unwashed long hair was matted, and the habitual tipsy glint in his eye was gone. A sober Traug is not a pretty sight.

  “You okay?” I asked him.

  “Not really,” he wheezed. “I’m thirsty as hell. They didn’t let me drink, did they?”

  “That’s a lie!” Vifeil thundered. “The prisoner had plenty of bread and water!”

  Traug spat on the ground. “You can keep your water, teetotaling bastards.”

  The air overhead filled with the rustling of wings as Ilya landed in the courtyard, accompanied by a few buddies of hers. She’d already changed her translucent robes to full armor — and still she looked quite delectable. Her surprised gaze alighted on me for only a moment; then she walked to Vifeil and reported:

  “It started.”

  “Put the gryphons on the wing! Make sure no Kabirid infiltrates the city!”

  I trotted over to him, “Commander? Are we free to go?”

  He shrugged the question off. “Just get outta here.”

  I hurried to cut through Traug’s bonds, so tight his skin was covered in bruises. He hurried to rub the sore places.

  I grabbed him by the shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Traug, we need to dash. We have to take cover in the Community. You must run like there’s a pack of rabid dogs chasing after you.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  I nodded. We didn’t need to discuss it any further. So we darted off downhill toward the entrance into the mountain. At the moment, that was the only shelter we could afford.

  In the meantime, the battle had commenced. The unleashed Cerberi celebrated their freedom, headbutting the city walls which crumbled under their rock-hard foreheads. The first Archali blood had spilt as some of the defenders had proven too slow on the draw. A powerful demonic horde took to the wing behind the Cerberi ranks.

  Still, the angelic legion was already speeding through the air to apprehend them. Vifeil led them into battle, his sword enveloped in blue flames. Their gryphons spread their wings, snapping their sharp beaks with impatience. A group of local Archalus commoners charged on toward their death, all of them wannabe players hoping to slay a Seeker and win his or her identity.

  The Kabirids’ well-planned attack lasted barely a minute. By the time Traug and I had reached the mountain’s foothill, all hell had broken loose, turning the place into a veritable mayhem. You couldn’t see the sky for all the winged creatures intertwined in their strife. The defeated ones rained to the ground — some silent, others screaming in agony: a blood downpour which showed no intention of stopping.

  “Traug, come quick!” I kept shouting even though I couldn’t run any faster myself anymore. My Vigor had long been at zero, blinking a warning red light. But that wasn’t the worst thing. We’d almost made it, anyway. We turned another corner and… and stopped dead in our tracks, facing the Community’s closed gates.

  “You bastard!” I shouted, slamming the wood.

  “That’s it,” Traug said in a voice that promised nothing good. “Sergei, I want you to stand behind me. It’s not as if we’re gonna live, but at least we can try to sell our lives dearly.”

  The truth of his words was immediately confirmed by a burly Kabirid who fought his way toward us past the cordons. He landed on the road below some distance away and tilted his horned head, studying us, then produced a trident and a net out of thin air and began advancing, looking like he’d done it all a thousand times before.

  “Shit,” Traug pressed his back to the wall. “Sergei, don’t let him throw that thing over you.”

  He didn’t have to tell me. I could see that the net was charmed, its filaments changing color under the sun like the iridescent petroleum film on water. This didn’t bode well.

  Still, I had my own problems to consider as another Firoll visitor had landed on the mountain trail right on top of us. This one was a wannabe commoner — apparently, the Archali weren’t the only ones using commoners to plug holes in their personnel numbers.

  The second Kabirid lunged at me. His short spear pierced my shoulder, impaling me on its shaft. Looking utterly bored with the sheer drudgery of it all, he lifted me in the air, about to shake me off his spear into the abyss.

  I didn’t approve of his plan.

  [ ∞ ]

  I crouched and drew the knife. The spear whooshed over my head and thumped against the gate. In two leaps, I was already upon him and struck out at his outstretched hand.

  The moon steel didn’t let me down, piercing all the way through his weird armor which seemed to be made from a gazillion of tiny crystals. The liquid that gushed from his wound singed my fingers, burning them so badly I nearly dropped the knife.

  The Kabirid screamed like a marketwife would at a thief. He tried to pull his spear out of the gate but only made his situation worse because I had no intention of chivalrously waiting for him to retrieve his weapon and defend himself. I thrust the knife into the joint connecting his pauldron to the breastplate, then turned it in the wound.

  Your Short Blades skill has increased to level 12.

  By the time he’d managed to work his spear free, it was already too late. The Kabirid’s eyes glazed over behind his crystal helmet; all his movements became awkward. He was bleeding like a pig.

  By then, I was already behind his back. I locked his head under my arm and slit his throat. See you in hell!

  You’ve killed a Commoner who was hostile to you.

  That was the extent of the message. My Karma hadn’t suffered, but I’d received no skill or spell bonuses, simply because my opponents hadn’t had any. Wretched commoners! The worst thing was, removing his armor proved a job and a half, simply because he showed no intention of crumbling to dust The only thing I gained in the end was his spear:

  Ancestral Spear of the Krune Clan

  Increased damage to Archali

  Decreased damage to humanoids

  Minimal damage to Kabirids

  My whole body shuddered with the energy overload. I was covered in goosebumps, my veins coursing with what felt like electric current. I needed to get a grip. One day I would be perfectly calm in the heat of a battle. I’d be killing and slaying without batting an eyelid. One day, maybe. Right now I had our hapless grave robber to rescue.

  I shoved the trophy weapon down my inventory and hurried to Traug’s rescue. He really could use it. He could barely move: he was forced to stand with his back pressed to the cliff just to make sure the Kabirid couldn’t ensnare him in his net. In the meantime, the demon kept attacking him with his trident, looking for my friend’s vulnerable spots.

  Oh. There was no way I could get close enough to him with my knife. I could have used the spear, I suppose, but with its low dama
ge against the Kabirids it would be of less use than a chocolate teapot. First, I needed to find out this guy’s allegiance.

  I donned the Avatar and chuckled with satisfaction. I still couldn’t get used to the fact that Kabirids could serve Light. And judging by a billowing cloud of white haze he exuded, the guy was an innocent sheep in wolf’s clothing. Exactly what my Katzbalger needed. The only question remained, where to aim it.

  Traug was having it tough. The Kabirid had already wounded him, so my friend seemed to have abandoned all idea of attacking him. Still, I didn’t dash to his aid like a headless chicken. Instead, I watched the demon as he attacked, making a mental note of any potentially vulnerable spots. Firstly, his inner thigh, which seemed to open up conveniently every time he bent down. Secondly, his armpit area. No idea what made me decide to concentrate on it. It’s just that the thought of hitting him near his crotch made me shudder. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. So it looked like I might have to dismember him.