The Way of the Clan 9

by Dem Mikhaylov

  “What is that?” I was surprised, accepting the item.

  “A spell,” shrugged Doc. “Apparently, special and ancient. Orbit found it - in that air pocket, inside the cleverly hidden hole.”

  “Wow! How did I not see it?”

  “At the time, you were racing the white snake, trying to tie it around an underwater spike,” the doctor snorted. “And it tried to reach your heels with that two-meter spike. It was horrifying … you saved us, Ros.”

  “And you saved me before that. This is the essence of friendship, Doc. But the spell ...”

  “Orbit said that this was ordinary magic ancient garbage, but not knowledge. To give it to someone is stupid. To sell - why the hell do we need a few million? And I do not need such magic. It is something battle related. So feel free to learn it.”

  “Do you realize how important this loot is?” I asked.

  “You will be paying this debt for many years,” Doc laughed, taking out several green elixirs from the bag. “With gold and adventures, boss. It suits me. And the rest of the crew, too. Going to Zar’Graad is fun. And there is much more ahead of us… Okay, keep an eye out. In a meantime, I will give the mammoth a pollen vaccine. It might help … or not … But he will be seeing exciting hallucinations!”

  “Alrighty…”

  Returning to my post, I gently lifted the lid. It was not even a casket. It was a stone box with a lid. Inside were a bunch of mysterious runes. A reddish-black scroll. It looked so old that it was scary to touch.

  I could not resist …

  I opened the menu of messages and wrote to Malice a letter:

  “Found ancient magic. Learning it. “

  The answer came almost instantly:

  “No-oo-oo-oo-oo !!!”

  I immediately cut the connection and reached out to touch the scroll. I read it. Scratched my head. Read it again. What the …

  “Orbit!”

  Silence in response… the pointy-eared elf continued to study the scribbles on the ancient wall.

  “Orbit!”

  One ear slightly jerked, and I took it as a sign to continue.

  “This spell is strange! Why do I need it?”

  “It is imp-portant. Learn, p-please. It is necessary.”

  “My damage will be reduced!”

  “It is okay Learn it, please.”

  “If I must, then I must,” I muttered.

  Congratulations!

  You learned the “Anallaur” spell!

  The effect of the spell: creates a spinning wall of dead air and water around the magician. The tornado “Anallaur” constantly throws air and splashes of water in all directions, diverging farther and farther.

  The required amount of mana points: 3000 for activation and 2000 per minute to support it. Four minutes after activation and continuous use, the cost of mana to maintain the spell will be 5000 points per minute.

  Five minutes after the activation of the spell and continuous use, in the area of the spell will open up the aura of “anh tulossa.”

  Hmmm …

  And so, I became the owner of the new spell. And the elf claimed that it was something to fight with. But I was hoping to get a true combat spell - a powerful energy whip, an acid explosion, an earthquake, or something. Very strange.

  “… I Learned it … “

  “Do not tell anyone a word, Ros,” the elf again reacted, tensely scanning the wall, the pictures dotted with drawings. “Nobody…”

  “Got it. And what It is all for, if not secret?”

  “For everything. And for Roska’s sake.”

  “I do not have any more questions,” I replied meekly, turning off the virtual description of the learned spell. “For Roska’s sake I would even drink acid. Doc, you did not see anything.”

  “I actually did not see it.” The doctor shrugged his shoulders feebly. “Ignorance is bliss — less trembling in the hands when I am operating. But if something suits my rebellious healing soul ...”

  “I will not forget about you, my friend,” I nodded understandingly. “As you won’t about me. We have been together for a long time. A team.”

  “The Ros team,” Doc laughed. “That day at the Karst Caves was a golden ticket for me, Ros. No matter what you say.”

  “Thank him,” I pointed my chin at the meditating elf. “How our furry friend Kolyvan doing?”

  “Nerve poison. This snake almost choked him.”

  “Will he be alright?”

  “In nine minutes and thirty-three seconds, all the negative effects will subside,” Doc reassured me. “Our mammoth will not die. By the way, he already has seen everything! Our Kolyvan! On the surface, under the water, under the ground, in the sky.”

  “Not a mammoth, but a hero,” I confirmed, stretching my arms out to the sides and planting two thorn trees in the corridor. “Just in case, Orb, how long are you going to take?”

  “I must be thorough...”

  “We have to follow the blue arrow,” I reminded.

  “And the deadly yellow too-o-o...”

  “What arrow?”

  “…”

  “Deadly yellow,” swallowing nervously, Doc reminded me of the elf’s insane words.

  “Just great … I won’t even get an answer,” I got angry.“Again he falls into a coma. Orb! After three minutes, we are moving! The water level rises!”

  I was not lying – when we got here it was dry, and the stone under our feet was only slightly moist, covered with white spots of dried salt, small scraps of algae, pebbles and sand. Now, cool water rolled gently around my feet. There was a growing,menacing roar in the distance. An Gdar’s dungeon intended to drown us like kittens.

  It made me nervous. Delays made me angry. The oppressive atmosphere forced me to remain in constant tension. But I held back and intended to continue in the same spirit. My group was small and its members came here only for my sake. If they needed loot, it would be easier to go with Bom on his extremely tedious affairs. The half-orc wouldn’t offend his friends. If they needed entertainment, they would have remained with Roska and Kira, who continued to fish, and had a beautiful view of the entire central area of the Ring of the World, where something happened every other second.

  But they went with me - and found themselves in the cold mud, in the dense darkness. The new Karst Caves.

  Therefore, I waited patiently and stoically put the maximum weight on my shoulders. Figuratively speaking, my legs twitched, my knees were cracking, my spine crunched, and my eyes crawled out of their orbits. But I held fast. And I knew perfectly well that we were still alive not only because of my genius (non-existent), but also thanks to the increased professionalism of Doc and the devilish mind of Orbit. Thanks to our bald conductor, we had avoided many problems. We did not fall into the traps and the paws of the monsters of the dungeon.

  And there were plenty of terrible and even nightmarish creatures! And we certainly weren’t able to beat them. Many times, we found ourselves at intersections and forks, where some corridors were marked in red - arrows, circles, blots, prints of “bloody” paws and hands, scaly skulls driven into crevices and carelessly painted with red paint. Twice, we tried to pass along the corridors marked as dangerous. We had explored them just a little, and then stopped and tiptoed back.

  We had seen the shimmering crimson inscription above the mysterious monster that was moving around in the deep mud. The four hundred and twentieth level. Slimy Deathgrabber.

  The second time we left even faster — literally flew out of the passage. But managed to notice the figures staggering towards us. The sixth hundredth level. Hellcord. Something huge flew past behind us, but we managed to hightail it out of there like antelopes.

  It was a mystery how Orbit sought out relatively safe passages in this deadly dungeon, reading numerous clues and somehow finding them under a thick layer of dirt, moss and debris.

  I upheld our survival on the chosen path, taking some blows, responding with fire to fire and making quick, tactical decision
s.

  Doc also helped, with his healing and supporting magic, nullifying and compensating for my mistakes as a leader.

  Kolyvan defended the riders, with his thick forehead acting as a shield. And the mammoth was our main physical force — literally flattening the opponents with the help of a monstrous club stuck in the trunk. If the enemy got closer, tusks and legs came into play.

  So that is how we advanced…

  The elf finished his cognitive meditation in ten minutes, and our rest, to my relief, was over – the tidal water had almost risen to the knee and was not going to stop there.

  We lined up in our scrawny combat formation and moved on.

  “Over theeeere,” pointed the elf, slapping his hand on the head of Kolyvan.

  The mammoth raised his club and gently slapped a scarcely distinguishable spot near the ceiling. Something like a light gray patch on a dark gray background. I would hardly notice it so quickly – especially not in this lighting. A powerful blow caused the patch to crack. The next blow finished the job. Pieces of material similar to dry clay flew into the water. And then our ears filled with a thin and mournful cry … the trembling and buzzing sounds emanated loudly, forcing the surface of the water to vibrate and filling our ears.

  “The crying of the tide,” guessed the Doc. “An organ? No … more like Scottish bagpipes. The water rises and presses on some air pocket, from which the air comes out through a thin hole, making this sound … wow ...”

  “What did they write about birds?” I asked, overcoming the desire to remove the lock from incoming messages.

  “What birds? Ah! Give me a sec…”

  Doc took a little more than a second, but soon he exclaimed excitedly:

  “Bingo! Goldie reports that the birds at the top of the cliff have calmed down a little bit. But they are still a little restless.”

  “Goldie?” I was surprised that Doc chose her for communication.

  “Yeah, so what? She’s from the Sleepless …”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Excellent. The tide began to cry. But somehow it did not cry enough – the birds are still flying.”

  “It is not enough to blow the flu-u-ute … you still have to plaa-aa-y it …”

  Appreciating another statement of Orbit is and not understanding much of it, I stared at his pointing finger and found that he pointed to the streams of water spilling from the holes in the wall. Then he mimicked a flute.

  Holes in a wall about the size of my fist. I could plug them - at least a couple. If I used my knees and head, I’d block a few more, but then the pressure of water would simply throw me back. Wait…

  So that was it …

  If the tide played the role of human lungs, continuously blowing into the stone “flute”, then I had to become the “fingers” plugging the holes. And with that we would give birth to a certain melody. I and the tide would become a flutist – the tide blows, I play. So exiting …

  “What holes do I need to plug?” I asked a logical question, resolutely getting up from under the stream of water hitting the wall. “Ouch! For god’s sake! What the heck?!”

  The next second I was dancing, shrugging my shoulders and legs. Around me, in the water, thousands of blue electric sparks were gleaming.

  “I am healing you,” Doc reacted, throwing a clot of greenish-white magic towards me. I was under great electrical stress.

  “Eels across the wall?” Suggested the doctor, covering me with an aura. “Ros, better get out. If you are hit with a discharge, not static - I might not be able to save you. You will incinerate.”

  “Oo-ooh,” Orbit said with respect, looking at Doc a little differently. The mammoth took out his trunk and knocked the healer on the shoulder, also showing respect.

  “This isn’t the time to make jokes!” I roared, rummaging in my bag.

  A vial filled with lilac liquid with scarlet and black swirl. The elixir promised comprehensive protection for alchemists conducting dangerous experiments. It gave resistance to some acids, poisons, and fire. Including a little defense against electrical discharges of all types, except divine and dark. But I hoped that the local eels were producing ordinary electricity. After drinking from the bottle, I shrugged, and stepped back to the wall and repeated the question:

  “What holes do I plug?”

  Instead of answering, the bald elf spread his hands, indicating that he did not know the answer.

  “You honestly do not know? Or do you only want to look at the electro-dance performed by me?”

  “Hm-m-m-m…”

  “Orbit!”

  “Do not knoo-o-ow…”

  “Boss, just plugging isn’t enough,” my second companion butted in. “If It is a flute - you have to play a melody. Continuously ...”

  “Tell me, do I look like a flutist?” I said, standing in the water, which was still affected by the electric current, and twitching all over. My hair stood upright.

  “Not really,” Doc confessed. “But we are also far from them, unless Kolyvan conceals the talent of Berbiguier Antoine…”

  “Whose talent?”

  “Antoine Benoit Tranquille Berbiguier…”

  “Ooo-oh,” The elf shook his head in ecstasy, and the mammoth once more patted the healer on the shoulder with his trunk and simultaneously shook his huge head, making it clear that such talents weren’t his forte.

  “Screw you,” I muttered, rolling up my sleeves. “I will do it at random. Hmm … and if I press wrong, I won’t be punished by an electric discharge?”

  “Most likely, boss! Nevertheless, we will reanimate you! I with magic, and Kolyvan with trunk-to-mouth method.”

  “You are clearly on a roll today, lover of lecherous demonesses,” I growled, trying to look at the wall. “Whatever, I am pressing them!”

  “Do it, boss!”

  And I pressed – I resolutely leaned forward and thrust a clenched fist into the left upper hole …

  Chapter Twenty-One.

  The power of bad music.

  Hardly had I punched a hole in the rock, as two things happened at once: the endless weeping of the cliff grew louder and more tearful, and I was bitten by some bastard floating on the other side of the wall. And that’s not to mention the electric discharge that pierced my body. Angrily yelling, I almost randomly hit my second fist and plugged another hole. The weeping of the cliff began to resemble the roar of a capricious child. I was shaking in electric agony, my hair stood on end, my clothes were wet and smoking, and clouds of smoky steam rose to the ceiling. I smelt beef steak …

  “Holy saints!” Wailed Doc, backhand whipping me with a magic whip. “Holy saints!”

  God … I was in a masochists paradise.

  “I hate music!” I croaked, hitting the wall with my forehead and closing the third hole.

  The cliff roared like a church organ. I was thrown from the wall. I fell onto the smooth stone floor, which was flooded with water, slipped a couple of meters down, and fell silent. It seemed that even my tongue was roasting …

  “Holy moly!” The dumb doctor danced over me. “The news is going insane!”

  “What news?” I whispered, slowly rising.

  “Reading aloud, boss! Do not move yet, I will heal you,” the shrouded palms of the doctor rested against my shoulders, and the life that had dropped to two-thirds started to rise. “Just listen …”

  The messages were not pleasing.

  The birds were on a new frenzy, dramatically widening the diameter of the tornado, catching with their blows a dozen hovering scouts from various clans. The cliff Tidal Death attracted everyone’s attention. More and more forces concentrated around the giant rock. Everyone was very interested in the essence of what was happening. But no one knew anything - except the Sleepless. And they mysteriously contemplated the horizon and rallied their ranks.

  The “locals” persistently prayed and just as stubbornly remained silent. None of them were giving assignments related to the cliff.

  Just after I plugged the t
hird hole of the stone “flute” with my own head, players began to die near the cliff. Tens of them. And that was serious.

  Suicelli. They committed mass suicide. Not out of malice - from the inability to continue to live. The crying of a rock was heard not only by us - it was perfectly audible outside. Moreover - the whole body of the rock vibrated to the beat of the incoherent melody. The sound wave was so powerful that the resonating echo was carried very far. The Suicelli resembled an animated light bulb with a sting — unusual harmless creatures. But when the timbre of wailing changed, the Suicelli flailed from side to side as distraught. They were shaking. Inside of them, the sound grew, … and then the creatures simply struck themselves with their own stings. So, a mortally wounded scorpion pierces his back with a sting in the desire to quickly find death. Only scorpions did not explode like a nuclear grenade. But Suicelli did…

  Dozens of powerful explosions shook the sand strip from the part of the cliff nearest to the Wing. And there were many players awaiting the outcome of the unexpected bird’s dance. And then the explosions began to be heard - unusually strong for such small creatures. The tanks survived. But the magicians, healers, archers, necromancers and other “sickly health” classes died at once and flew to the distant location of the revival, having not had time to understand anything. The majority were wounded. Many lost parts of the equipment, weapons and artifacts. If you had a crystal staff with already reduced strength … it did not take much to destroy it. Small pets were killed quickly.

  Overall – the effect was that, a couple of minutes ago, several powerful dynamite charges exploded around the cliff. And I had detonated them. I blew up lot of players – and in the most amazing way. I rammed the stone wall with my head.

  Such were state of affairs …

  “Shit!” I hissed.

  “Malice is swearing,” added Doc. “He was thrown three times by the explosions, shook on the beach like a rag chased by the wind, and then a polar bear that lost its balance fell on top of him. This saved him from the fourth explosion. But a black rhinoceros collapsed on the polar bear. Oh, snap… he is still asking about the door.”