The Way of the Shaman [06] Shaman's Revenge

by Vasily Mahanenko

  Four days! What has happened in Barliona during this time? What has happened in reality? Are they looking for me?

  A blaring amulet returned me to the game at hand. As I was rummaging for it I simultaneously opened my mailbox and sighed despondently—another several thousand letters. And another several hours of sorting them ahead of me.

  “Speaking!”

  “Daniel, this is Marina. Can you spare me a minute?”

  “Marina?” At first I didn’t quite understand which Marina, so it took me a second to get my bearings. “Mirida the Farsighted!”

  “Marina,” the voice on the other end confirmed.

  “I think I have time right now. I’m listening.”

  “Daniel, what do you think of meeting today to have a chat? I’ve put off this conversation for a long time and finally decided that it has to happen. What do you say?”

  “Let’s meet,” I agreed. I no longer felt anything negative toward Marina. What difference was it what she did a year ago? The important thing was what all had come of it.

  “How about today in the Golden Horseshoe? I’ll treat you to the best dish in Barliona.”

  “Deal! Around five in the afternoon, okay?”

  Even though I hadn’t expected her call, I had been planning on seeing Marina for a while and simply hadn’t gotten around to it. It was either one thing or another. Since she’d just called me herself and offered to meet…

  Hold up! How did she know I was in game? Had she dialed randomly and gotten lucky? Paranoia is of course nothing but paranoia, and yet…I should think about this.

  I began to go through my mail but stopped at the fifth letter in stunned shock. I guess today is an incredibly bad day for Shamans. This was easily the last thing I expected.

  Hey Mahan! We’d like to invite you to take part in a show we are making called ‘The Legends of Barliona: A failed project of Phoenix.’ Anastaria, Leite, Magdey and Barsina have already confirmed their participation. We will be shooting in two days. The show is scheduled to air in a month and a half, during the clan competitions. Sincerely, Editor in Chief of ART Media.

  I glanced at the letter’s date and couldn’t help but growl in anger—the show had already been made.

  “Darling, do tell how the taping last night went…” I asked Anastaria, trying to control of my feelings. “What do they mean by ‘failed project?’”

  “Who knew you would abandon the game, babes? We met up, had a chat, looked at some footage and discussed why it’s not worth joining the Legends of Barliona. You know, the same old stuff.”

  “In other words the entire gang got together and publicly discussed a clan none of you belong to—without even giving a member of that clan a chance to speak for it?” I seethed, making an enormous effort to keep from yelling at the girl. Enough is enough! It’s time to stop giving her reasons to mock me by showing my emotions! I can play the Ice Queen too! Maybe I’m still hurt, maybe my emotions still struggle to erupt at every turn, but still I’m capable of harnessing them or at least trying to. Am I a Shaman or what? “Given my temporary absence from the game, the taping of the show should have been delayed. As it stands, I’ll have to question its legitimacy publicly and demand that it’s taken off air.”

  “Hmm…” Anastaria said pensively. “I swear someone’s abducted and replaced you, Mahan! I mean, where’s the outburst? The fit and the tantrum? It’s beginning to seem to me that you’ve graduated from daycare to kindergarten. That is, you’ve stopped picking your nose with your toe but you’re still wearing diapers. As for ‘temporary absence,’ you shouldn’t forget, darling, that I was in the clan too and that it currently exists at all thanks to the fact that I decided not to destroy it entirely. So I showed a little weakness and allowed you to save face in front of the other players. As a result I’m well within my right to discuss it whenever I want and with whomever I want.”

  I am the Ice Queen. I am the Ice Queen!

  “You surrendered your right to speak for the Legends of Barliona the moment you quit. As the head of the Legends, I will officially declare you incapable of speaking for my clan in any capacity…”

  Energy level: 30. Stop, you angry Shaman!

  I sighed deeply, trying to calm my shaking. All that I wanted was to strangle Anastaria with my bare hands. I couldn’t care less about the level disparity between us or my lack of Shamanic powers. I’d never felt such an intense desire to kill another person—not even during my rehab period. How could she be so low? Such a two-faced bitch? When she needed something—like for example a bonus for gifting Yalininka’s ribbon—Anastaria played the role of a lamb. When she didn’t have to wear a mask, she turned into a complete beast. I loathe her!

  My heart was thumping in my chest and I wanted to yell, curse and tear something to pieces—to turn over the entire world and make it feel sorry it was ever born. Viltrius hid himself to avoid any trouble. The guards were diligently playing the role of castle ornaments, afraid to stir, and yet I wasn’t about to take my rage out on my own people, or programs or whatever…That’s not what I hired them for. A single clear idea occurred to me at the moment—I had to go and create something. It didn’t matter what—as long as I could channel all of the emotions that were overwhelming me into it.

  Design Mode welcomed me with its tranquil, but already forgotten, darkness, as if saying, ‘Don’t worry! In a second we’ll show the world that it does no good to anger a Shaman.’ No sooner had I formed an abstract form, swiping aside all the recipes I already knew, than it turned into Anastaria’s head—disfigured by terrible lesions and scars. The image of the ideal woman had become so horrible that I was even taken aback. All of my emotions vanished in one fell swoop. There was neither hate nor love nor pity nor revulsion. As I gazed on this disfigured image of Anastaria, I realized that I didn’t want to create this. This wasn’t because I didn’t want to corrupt Stacey’s appearance. That didn’t bother me at all. The problem was that if I was responsible for creating this, then all of my reputation with the High Priestess would evaporate entirely. Elsa would cease to exist for me—replaced by an Elizabeth who was as stock and curt as only NPCs could be.

  I swiped the misshapen project aside and sighed deeply. I was the Ice Queen and therefore I had to create like one. Whatever emotions tormented me earlier had no place in Design Mode.

  A new project took shape before my eyes. I reached out to it mentally, wishing to imbue it with the form of a sphere—the shape easiest to work with—but suddenly the sphere melted and Anastaria appeared before me again. Covered in lesions and scars.

  Okay, start over. Time for the third project. The fourth. The fifth. Exit Design Mode. Enter Design Mode. The sixth. The seventh. Exit. Enter. The eighth.

  All right…I should probably consider what’s happening now.

  Whatever I imagined and whatever mood I had when I began to create, I could only produce a single image—a disfigured Anastaria. If I used a recipe, the items came out like they were supposed to, but any attempt to start from scratch yielded the girl’s head. This was all very strange and it quite rightfully gave me pause for thought about my own capacity to exercise self-control. Am I really incapable of managing my own emotions?

  As if! Dear Design Mode, come over here one more time. I have something to discuss with you. Something serious!

  A disfigured Anastaria appeared before me yet again, but this time I didn’t discard her. It was time to be creative.

  This horrible face of the girl is the product of my current state of mind and feelings about her, and those in turn are all due to the scene preceding my recent exit to reality. I can’t change any of this now, and I should accept it as a given. Yet no one can forbid me from remembering the time we had spent together. It doesn’t matter that all of that was just a game to Anastaria, while for me real feelings were at stake—those emotions, those experiences were real. And that’s exactly what I needed right now.

  I recalled our first meeting. The girl’s condescending s
mile, seeing yet another low-level player breaking his back to extract some ore. I remembered our first date outside of Beatwick, when we spied on the Kartossian troops from a distance: how we set up the tent, our first conversation, the laughter in the girl’s eyes when I told her my story…

  The image of Anastaria began to improve. Little by little the awful lesions grew smooth. The scars began to dissolve. Her shoulders straightened out and her lower lip, cleft by some terrible weapon began to fuse together, once again resembling the perfect lips of the Paladin Siren.

  I remembered our haggling when Anastaria wanted to figure out whether I was the creator of the Chess Set. Our first embrace, when the girl stood as still as a statue. Her attempt to use the Siren’s venom, my kiss, the revulsion on her face, her unconcealed anger when she realized that the venom had no effect on me.

  Everything I had achieved up until that point instantly evaporated. Anastaria again became horrible and disfigured, yet I clenched my fists in triumph. That’s it! I understood the principles! I shouldn’t remember the moments when Stacey revealed her true nature. I was an artist! I had to force myself to temporarily forget the girl’s entire vileness. I had to perceive her as the ideal woman whom I had once loved.

  And whom I loved to this day!

  Our first kiss. Our sojourns in the Date House. The heavenly smile that played on her face when I made yet another blunder. Her embraces. Her exiting Barliona—when she’d dissolve in my arms like Snow White. The look in her stunning hazel eyes. Her voice. Her laughter. Her hands. Her voice when she’d whisper ‘I love you’ into my ear.

  You have created a model of The Lovers’ Pendant. In order to instantiate the real item please speak to the masters’ guild. The pendant’s creation will form an intimate connection between two players—allowing them to communicate telepathically without expending Energy.

  Item class: Epic. Ingredients: Diamond. The pendant requires a consensual binding between the two players. The pendant requires the two players to be married in Barliona. All players in Barliona are notified of the pendant’s abilities.

  You have created an Epic item. Your reputation with all previously encountered factions has increased by 200.

  Skill increase:

  +1 to Crafting. Total: 16.

  +5 to Jewelcrafting. Total: 165.

  You have received the title ‘Blessed Artificer’ Level 5. Quest available: ‘Creator of Light.’ Description: Speak with the hermit living in the foothills of the Elma Mountains. He shall help guide your craft in the proper direction. Do you wish to accept the quest?

  It had been a long time since I’d seen so much system text. It had even begun to seem to me that those happy days I had spent in creation had vanished once and for all. A Blessed Artificer. I accepted the quest to speak with the hermit without a second thought, since it didn’t mention rewards or penalties or time restrictions. Let it linger in my quests list. What mattered most at the moment was that I had managed to overcome myself. It’s true that the mere mention of Anastaria evoked in me a savage desire to smear her across the nearest wall, but that was just blind rage. This was a conscious, deliberate and premeditated desire.

  I did it!

  “A binding for lovers?” Anastaria’s thought immediately invaded my mind. “I can’t leave you alone for a second.”

  I glanced at the system time and sighed with relief—only thirty minutes had passed since I had entered Design Mode for the first time. That meant that James, one of the developers, hadn’t lied to me. When I would craft earlier, they’d simply disconnect me from the game while they integrated the item I was making into the Barliona lore. Now they couldn’t do this, so the introduction of the pendant to Barliona required time and approval from the masters’ guild. I was certain I’d get it in any case. After all was said and done, I had gnomes of my own in the masters guild!

  “Don’t worry, precious,” I told Anastaria, staring with astonishment at my vibrating amulet. Someone wanted to get in touch with me. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “Speaking,” the amulet wouldn’t shut up, so I kicked Anastaria out of my head and answered the call.

  “Yo, Mahan! This is Reptilis. Do you have a minute?”

  “I think so,” I replied with some surprise at hearing from the kobold. I didn’t even know he had an amulet for me. I don’t recall giving him one.

  “I’ve just witnessed one of those lovely events we players like to call a global notification. Something about Harbinger Mahan, Earl and blah blah blah, has managed to create some epic trinket of global significance. Judging by its properties, I could really use one of these. What do I have to do to create the pendant of my own?”

  “Diamond,” I replied, still in shock. That’s right! The notification had mentioned that all players would receive the news of my creation.

  “That’s all?” Reptilis clarified suspiciously and it was only then that I realized that the Corporation had for some reason decided to hand me an absolutely unbelievable opportunity to enrich myself. If two lovers can communicate with each other without spending Energy on it, then…Let’s say I charge a million gold for a pair of pendants—how many players will be ready to spend such money? I would imagine an enormous number…! Something’s not right here! I don’t have much faith in the altruism of the Corporation and its representatives. I don’t even grant the title of Baron to whomever, since I still haven’t fully understood what obligations I take on in doing so. What if I’ll have to meet with the Barons I’d ennobled once a week and listen to their reports? I’d only given the title to a couple players, including Magdey, so the likelihood that I’d receive extra requirements was very high. And now there was this Lovers’ pendant. Should I charge to craft it? How will Eluna and Elizabeth react to this? After all, the family was one of the social building blocks of Barliona and only perhaps the Corporation had any right to make money off of it. Any players wishing to get their grubby hands on the family idyll would be punished to the full extent of in-game rules. That is, by decimating their Reputations and Attractiveness. Did I really need this? No, I did not. However, the idea of having to craft pendants for huge numbers of lovers also didn’t appeal to me.

  “You could thank me in some other way, of course, but I’ll leave that up to you,” I hinted diplomatically. “I won’t insist. Although…Reptilis, you used to have Crastils. Tell me, where could I get some? I really need one more.”

  “I already gave them all to you.”

  “They’ve been temporarily removed from my possession. So I’ll ask you again…”

  “A Crastil…No, I don’t have any more. But I could find some, if it’s that important.”

  “It is—I can’t stress it enough. If you get me a Crastil—the pendant’s yours.”

  “There aren’t any more Crastils in the place from which I, uh, temporarily removed them from—as you put it. I’ll have to do some research about them to quote you a price for my services.”

  “What services?” I asked surprised. “I’ll craft you a pendant in exchange for you finding me a Crastil. Seems to me like a fair deal.”

  “If it takes me several months to find a Crastil, then I’d probably rather just go without your trinket and be done with the thing,” Reptilis explained. “I don’t feel like getting involved in some dubious venture. Finding things in Barliona is how I make my living and spending two months without pay on looking for a Crastil doesn’t strike me as a good bargain.”

  “Makes sense,” I agreed. “I don’t even have an objection. Let’s do it this way—we’ll make an agreement in which you give me a week of looking, and in exchange I’ll give you the pendant. For free!”

  “And if I don’t find anything during that week?”

  “Then you’ll get a pendant made from your own Diamond. I won’t charge you for the labor. All you’ll lose is a week’s worth of searching.”

  “Agreed. I’ll send over the contract. I won’t work without it.”

  “Sounds good.” I lo
oked over and signed the short contract. “I have some information about the Crastils that might help your search. Here’s what the High Mage of Anhurs told me…”

  I related to Reptilis what I had learned about the cave of the Ergreis. It was all up to him now—if he wanted the Lovers’ pendant, then he’d get me a Crastil for it. I wonder who his girl is…

  When I got off the amulet, I received a new mail notification. Without thinking, I opened my mailbox, scanned several letters and sat down wearily on the ground…Oh for the sake of Karmadont!

  Hundreds of players, if not thousands, had sent me letters with a single request: that I craft them the Lovers’ Pendant. In exchange, they offered money, items, favors—even a ticket to an audience with the Emperor. Some of the letters weren’t even offers so much as threats, but the gist was the same: Craft us a pendant. Everyone wanted the ability to communicate without using an amulet or losing Energy.

  “Viltrius,” I called my majordomo. “Do we have Diamonds in our treasure vaults?”

  “We have two Blue, three Green, five White and one incredibly rare Black Diamond,” the goblin reported.

  “Bring me the black one. I need to make sure this thing works.”

  “As you ordered, Master,” Viltrius vanished and reappeared holding a black stone in his hand. “A Black Diamond.”

  The chunk of black glass in my hand did not seem at all exceptional. It was unpolished and uncut and looked more like a hunk of obsidian than an invaluable crystal. The only thing that set the Diamond apart from other Jewelcrafting ingredients was that it glowed with and emitted an internal light. I’d never imagine that black light could be a thing, but the Barliona devs had somehow managed to create just this effect, even if as a mere a visual trick. I stuck the Diamond in my bag, opened a map of Anhurs, found the coordinates for the masters’ guild and blinked to the location. It was time to register my invention.

  “Master Mahan,” the door-gnome greeted me with a bow. He was simultaneously the guard, the steward and the doorman of the master’s guild. After all, if a master liked to manage the doors, why not give him some extra work too? “May I inquire as to the purpose of your visit?”