Keymaster

by Sergey Zaytsev

  “Yes, and the only one here,” Mashta confirmed, continuing her harvest. “You can figure out why on your own. I’ve told you — it’s a useful thing to do.”

  I smiled ironically. Snow, sub-zero temperatures, death of all living things on the surface... One doesn’t have to be a genius to figure it out.

  “No other way to level up your profession, huh?”

  “Yeah. I have to collect twice a day; on this coast in the morning, and on that one in the evening,” Mashta confirmed.

  So, it was the same lake. We just approached it from the other side; that’s why the way seemed longer than it should have. Turns out there is more than one way through the mountains. I forgot to ask her about that…

  “Which is why I advised you to ignore it,” the girl went on, crawling through the mushrooms. “You don’t need it. I barely have enough, and I’m only rank three. But someone needs to do it, so... These mushrooms are rather curious... We export them to Kandauri Fortress. They’re an ingredient in a tanning solution used in leatherworking.” She paused and glanced in my direction, anticipating a question. “I don’t advise picking Skinner as your profession either. We already have — Colin. If someone else picks that profession, he’ll stop progressing. Phage is our Cook; he prepares meals using whatever is available. And he’s also the only Cook in the Fortress.”

  “What about Okhtans and Dalrokts?” I chuckled incredulously. “Don't they eat ‘normal’ food?”

  “The Okhtans will eat anything,” Mashta replied, squeezing the hilt of her dagger in annoyance and accidentally cutting off several unripe mushrooms. “It seems that the world from which they had come from has scarce resources. That’s why they are extremely unpretentious. They don’t give a damn about cooking, which suits me. No Lowling would ever give up a warm meal. But putting in extra effort for the Okhtans...? No thanks.”

  “Do you dislike them?”

  “Not that there’s a reason to like them. They’re fighters... I won’t lie, they are formidable warriors. You can even say relentless, as they know no fear. But we’ve no clue what’s happening in their heads. They could help backstab you for no apparent reason. In general, we are on our own, and they are on their own, which suits everyone.”

  “And what about the Dalrokts?”

  “Talking about food still? Well, no one knows what they eat. I personally ever saw them eat.”

  “Interesting...” Another mystery. Maybe they were actually vampires, wandering around the halls at night and sucking blood from their own while no one’s looking? Brrr... Well, they do have a very gothic look about them, that’s for sure. Ok, Wise, change the subject before your imagination runs away with you. “So, who’s your prospector?”

  “No one. There are no jewelers in this location; trinkets are obtained only through loot. Leveling a profession just for the sake of leveling... There’s no sense in doing that. Don’t you worry — you’ll level up in battle, as most of us do. It’s less of a hassle. I, for instance, have already had enough of these mushrooms,” she admitted. “I thought that I’ll get used to the stench, but, so far, that ain’t the case.” With sudden anger in her voice, the girl added: “Only the Raksh stink worse.”

  I slapped my forehead so hard that it echoed through the cave. The Rakshasa! Damn it, I completely forgot about him! He didn’t remind of his existence when we were leaving the hall for the second time. The cell was dark and nothing stirred within it, and my head was full of new information and concerns.

  “What's that sound?” she looked in my direction suspiciously.

  “Never mind that. Mashta what will happen to the captured Rakshasa?”

  “Why do you care?” she grumbled, throwing a mushroom cap she into to the water. Ripples appeared on the surface, and a mustached, thick-lipped muzzle of a Diver popped out of the water for a second, snatched the offering and immediately retreated into the depths. “That lousy cat almost killed you.”

  Her tone made it obvious that she disliked the Rakshasa, to put it mildly. I wasn’t sure whether the natives had pissed off the outcasts, or was this a personal grudge.

  “So?”

  “Such guests are rare, both Rakshasas and the Dions. But, when captured alive, we usually wait three days before demanding a ransom.”

  “Ransom?”

  “Yeah, something valuable in exchange for their life. The Raksh, for example, usually offer weapons which are always in demand due to wear and tear, breakage, or loss in case of death.”

  “And if they don’t pay?”

  “That can happen too,” she shrugged. “Especially if the captive is a low level or in some way guilty in the eyes of their own people. We still wait three days nonetheless. Then we release them and practice our combat skills on them.”

  “Call a spade a spade — you kill them.”

  “Why are you being so rude?” Mashta stopped harvesting and looked at me with reproach. But then, as if remembering herself, she started justifying their ways. “The Lowlings don’t practice such things, we don’t like it very much. The Okhtans are those who’re fond of it. Fighting is in their blood. But it’s all fair — one-on-one combat, with relatively even levels. If the captive manages to win, Initox lets them go. Double true. As a reward for their valor.”

  “I can imagine how such a prisoner would run for their life,” I remarked mockingly. “I can just picture it — eyes bulging, running away as if the devil himself was chasing them. I doubt that they think about valor as they are doing so...”

  Mashta grinned. “If they lose, then their soc goes to the Fortress Vault. Such are the rules of our way of life. I’m not the one making the rules.”

  That sounded harsh. But, when in Rome, you do as the Romans do. It was not my place to condemn the established order. More importantly, I had two days left to level and figure out what’s going on before the Rakshasa gets thrown into the arena.

  “Give way!”

  A warning cry interrupted my thoughts. Turning my head, I froze in surprise. Like some kind of a snake, a line of Kobi was advancing from the darkness. Quickly moving their stick-like legs, the artisans marched past, holding huge sacks on their feeble backs. Two or three times bigger than their carriers, the sacks were full of something heavy that was spreading the smell of... coal. Who knew that such unpresentable and frail-looking creatures possessed such incredible strength? They carried those sacks like ants. Catching up, I managed to count at least two dozen of them before they disappeared into the darkness. There were probably no less than fifty of them in total. I remembered where I had already seen a couple of such sacks — at the hunting camp.

  “Where are they taking all that coal?”

  “Either to the Dions, or the Raksh. Our Fortress has two unique types of resources which ensure trade between the natives and the outcasts — these mushrooms and coal.”

  “As I thought... You guys seem to be in a real pickle here.”

  “In a what...? Oh, I understand. How do I put this...? According to a legend, everything that could be burned was cut down a long time ago. Essence Crystals are now being used in magical lamps, and coal is used for heating. And coal is in high demand, more than anything else, especially because the Raksh use it in weapon crafting.”

  It was impossible to determine how long this location has been here, as the lives of the valley’s inhabitants were probably shaped by the location’s, that is, the game’s history, which, I assumed, differed from the history of my “real” world. They might’ve believed that they’ve been here for hundreds of years while they, in actuality, existed for only a year or so.

  “Are they going to walk through the mountains and across the valley like that?”

  “You’re one really curious guy, Wise,” Mashta chuckled, her hands gently placing the loot into her bag. “Don’t worry, they are seasoned travelers.”

  “No one will harm them?”

  “You’re finally starting to get it... The natives hate us with a passion and consider us hellspawn almos
t as much as the Creepoars. We are invaders to them, as Madogost used to be theirs. But the tiny Kobi don’t care about the mutual hostility, though they’re natives too. And this is our lifeline. You saw for yourself what professions we are allowed to study here and at what level. Nobody can survive here without trade and Kobi’s craftsmanship services; neither we, nor Raksh, nor Dions. You offend one of them and you will not live to see another day. All races unite against the offender. It’d be cheaper for their own kind to slaughter them than to quarrel with the Kobi.”

  The Kobolds suddenly no longer seemed amusing and harmless to me.

  “Move aside, human!”

  A snake-like hiss made me lean back against the wall. My fingers instantly clutched the sword’s hilt, but I didn’t draw my weapon. Four Okhtans, like shapeless shadows, emerged from the darkness of the tunnel. Like the Kobi, they also had no need for light, confidently moving in complete darkness. I managed to recognize the names of those who had escorted me to the Cradle the day before. They didn’t pay the slightest attention to the Lowling, as if she didn’t exist, but they all glanced at me with hostility. Aggressive lads, exactly as Mashta had told me. I also thought that everyone except humans and Lowlings seemingly had night vision. I even felt sorry for our races. But maybe we had something else going for us?

  Having followed the four with a cautious glance, I turned to Mashta and found that she had already finished with the mushrooms. A much bigger and heavier sack was now on her shoulder.

  “I suppose you wonder why they didn’t hurt you?” she inquired, catching my stare.

  “Well, why would they?” I shrugged, trying my best to calm my heartbeat and look imperturbable. It wasn’t easy. Damn those yellow idiots. The sudden meeting with them made me shiver. They managed to leave an unpleasant impression the day before. “I already got the gist of what’s going on here. If the Okhtans get their panties in a twist and attack me in the Fortress, or anywhere close by, they will have to answer to the Dalrokts.”

  “Panties in a twist... You express yourself in a very interesting way. By the way, Wise, this was our night shift,” Mashta winked conspiratorially, lowering her voice for some reason. “Chzher always sends small groups for the night shift. Losing such groups won’t affect the Fortress’s fighting efficiency. Caraster is the leader of these four and he’s pissed off by the fact that they have to do night shifts instead of having fun at the raids. So try not to irritate him, with either words or stares. I might not always be close to save your ass.”

  “Thank you for your help, Mashta. I'll remember that.”

  Chapter 14

  “Come, Wise. We should hurry. The night shift is over and ours has already started.”

  “Can I help you with the sack?” I offered.

  “Like hell you can!” she brushed off my offer rather rudely, as if I had hurt her. “Don’t poke your nose around it! Leveling is sacred, and I carry my burden with pride. Improving the porter skill rises your endurance. But that alone is never enough.”

  I grinned. Basic etiquette goes through the window in the game world, it seems. Those who rely too much on the help of others risk leveling up slower as whoever is helping them would end up getting the XP and any other reward that comes with it.

  Our clothes soaked up the smell of the lake like sponges, and it lingered even when we got about half a yard away from it. I followed Mashta in silence for some time, analyzing and arranging information in my head, not pestering the girl with more questions. New ideas swam up to the surface very soon. I thought about the quest that Rawrk had given me.

  “Mashta... That Rakshasa... How did he get here? Aren't all the exits guarded?”

  “You're talking about him again,” she grumbled. It took a while before she answered. Either meeting with the Okhtans worsened her mood, or my questions finally got to her. I decided to let her be. The more I learn in the first few days, the higher my chances of survival become. “‘You will be surprised, but this is the first time I saw a Raksha get in so easily. The place where the Raksh was hiding is a dead end. We studied it for a long time; down to the smallest pebble. We often train there with the slings. It’s a hundred foot long branch and a dead wall. Initox personally went there to check; nothing had changed. It had been a dead end, and a dead end it remained. The Raksh won’t confess, not even under torture. Our Fortress’s reputation with his faction is full of hatred. Miracles began happening the moment you appeared.”

  My ears perked up and immediately I stumbled, distracted from the road strewn with pebbles and gaps. I envied Fury and her night vision. I need to urgently recharge Tinnie.

  “Miracles? What do you mean?”

  “Look at yourself,” Mashta chuckled. “Didn’t you notice that no one here has any pets? And you arrived with two! That’s pretty incredible.”

  “It’s simple, I think. The problem is probably the XP that pets draw to themselves. I figured out how it works. At level 20, you need two and a half hundred thousand XP, and at level 30... More than a million, I think. I hope you don’t kill them so as to avoid sharing.”

  “What are we, mass murderers? Hell no!” Mashta dismissed my assumption with indignation. “How dare you even blurt out such a thing?”

  “Let’s not get emotional, shall we?”

  “Well, I am a woman, ain’t I? Shouldn’t I be emotional?” she snickered. “Okay, okay... You are almost right. About the XP part at least. But pets in Lunar Rainbow don’t resurrect. If you lose them, that’s it. At least until you escape from this damned place.”

  The last bit was filled with undisguised annoyance and bitterness. She didn’t slow down or turn around, not wishing for me to see her upset. I saw with what interest she and her comrades observed my little ones. Now I understood why. This didn’t help improve my mood. I sincerely hoped that I wasn’t right about the fate of pets in Lunar Rainbow.

  “Not only that, but we aren’t allowed to have a Uniq,” Mashta sighed loudly, “and you appeared with one. The Okhtans turned green with envy when they saw you. If they could take it away, they would have done so. But a Uniq doesn’t serve anyone except its master. It turns into a regular piece of iron otherwise. Maybe that's why you are still alive; not just because Initox forbade them to hurt you. He wants to see what happens. This is something new for all of us; it breaks the routine of everyday life.”

  I have more surprises than you think, I thought. The Service Center menu made it clear that there is no such thing as clan registration in this location. The outcasts were a group that exists only through mutual agreement. But I’m still a member of a clan. My clan. Good thing that when updating system settings, the check mark that displays the clan name next to the player’s resets. Let it remain so. I already had an idea of what to do about this. It could serve as a trump card in a difficult situation, if anything. Difficulties were likely to arise in the near future. The atmosphere here is... explosive. So I should make sure it doesn’t hurt.

  “Something new in your everyday life, you say... By the way, I have another question. Tell me, how many humans have come here before me?”

  Mashta stumbled, then turned around and stared at me through her curls. She had a stranger than strange look, pensive and suspicious at the same time.

  “Is something wrong?” I calmly asked, interrupting the prolonged pause. Fury soundlessly jumped out of the darkness, Tinnie still on her nape, made a couple of eights around our legs and fell back into the dark.

  “You would’ve found it out, anyway,” Mashta shook her head, making a difficult decision. “This story is already water under the bridge. You see, the natives sometimes get together and attack our Fortress. During the last such assault, the Fortress survived only thanks to a miracle; at the last moment, the Okhtan and Dalrokt troops arrived, as they were just returning from the ‘pocket’ raids. The clash was brutal. Madogost was recaptured, but four dozen of your kind who were responsible for guarding the Fortress that day were sent to The Mausoleum. The Okhtans seized the opport
unity and expanded their diaspora at your expense. The last newcomer of your race appeared ten days ago. He didn’t even have time to reach us as the Dions finished him off. You were luckier, Colin noticed you in time.”

  I listened to her in silence, thoughtfully biting my lip. Something dark lurked behind that story. Mashta was obviously keeping something from me. She was feeling uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other, as if she was somehow guilty herself. But there was no point in pressuring her now. I’d better wait for a more suitable moment, when the trust between us is stronger. She will probably admit it on her own then.

  Ten days ago, huh...? Swing and a miss... The last one who went to the Inferno before me was that Sybarite guy, and that was only three days ago. A few days before that Stinger earned himself a ticket to the Inferno. Another miss. I was hoping that each Inferno was tied to a specific penalty area, but I was wrong. Bummer.

  “Yours is a happy life here,” I said hopelessly. “Shall we keep walking?”

  But Mashta didn’t move.

  “You haven't heard the funniest part yet, Wise,” she voiced in a promising tone. “Why wait...? I better throw everything at you at once.”

  “So kind of you...”

  “I know, right? Are you familiar with the ‘epic quest’?”

  “What's wrong with it?”

  “Everything, damn it! Everything is wrong with it! Starting with the fact that...”

  “Stop. Let me guess... No one else got to the Shriek Citadel?”

  “We tried to solve this little problem more than once,” Mashta smiled bitterly. “Every thirty days, all outcasts above level 20 draw lots and twenty of us leave for the raid. And every time the result is the same. Initox pulls us out of The Mausoleum using a strategic supply of socs. The Citadel is impossible to beat. We haven’t found a way. We don’t know how to open a portal and leave this dull world. We are stuck here, Wise. How’s that for fun?”