The Way of the Clan 9

by Dem Mikhaylov

  Holding the Baroness by the elbow, I pushed her into the teleporter when an emerald spark of a new one lit up right next to me and the thin bald elf fell out of it, holding several long poles of white wood under his arm. Then came characters no less familiar — Kray, Kaylen, Doc, Whisper, Kirea and Roska, along with Tyrant. Kirea had several ruby stakes flashing in her hand, and Kaylen was holding a bag with an open flap in which sealed bottles could be seen.

  “What the hell?!” I roared. “Have you lost your minds?! Oh … you…”

  “The queen is d-y-y-y-ying,” said the bald elf happily, rubbing his palms. “C-c-coool! Let us fight!”

  “Who?”

  “Everyone! We do not mind!

  “Cherry about the scruff of the neck! That’s for sure — we do not mind!” Roska supported him. “A thousand devils! All the rigging to shreds! The fun is here! And you are having it all without us! Why ditch the ship? Make him dance with the devil on the way back into the water!”

  “What?” The Baroness said.

  “Let us fight!” repeated Orbit. “A special fight!”

  “Leave! Or you will be locked here!”

  “No d-damnit! G-go away, s-s-sister! And we will fight! Ros, kick her into the telepo-o-ort!”

  “All right,” I agreed, and gave the baroness the cage with the piglet. “Bring it to a safe place. And we stay here! Roska! And you go home!”

  “No!”

  This was pure disobedience. I could see that she would not budge.

  “H-h-hu-uh…” I sighed. “All right. Busya, good-bye!”

  “I will not leave!” Said a warrior and the head of the Sleepless in unison. “The Queen will be saved? Do you have another crazy ingenious plan?”

  “Save? We did not save-e,” said Orbit, offended. “We just love the f-f-fight!

  And the negotiating went on.

  “Take your chicken!” The cage was returned to me, and the piglet grumbled sorrowfully.

  “I do not understand!” The Baron rumbled. “Should we leave or not?”

  “You — yes,” Whisper nodded. ”We will manage ourselves. Good luck!”

  “Evacuation continues!” snapped the BB. “The Mariners and specials forces — in security! And try to recover at least some of our weapons! It looks like we will be shooting another day!”

  “Yea-a-a-ah!”

  I could swear that Klest from Bloopy were screaming louder than anyone else. The orc drums loudly sounded — elves and people pounded them, but I still liked the rhythm. Definitely liked it.

  “Say hello to the other side!” I said to the pig, and threw the cage into the fog of the teleporter. Then I threw the barrel of viper oil after him. “Where’s my arrow thrower? Go find out anything in this mess…”

  An absolutely insane situation — which once again showed how much the Baroness believed in the power of her brother’s brilliant madness. As soon as he entered the dying ship, the full evacuation was replaced by a partial one, and the flagship growled again, and bared its fangs. Though there were only the fangs left…

  A few wretched rafts danced on the water behind us, and only one of them had some kind of “cannon” contraption. It looked like a broom had swept through the remaining decks, sweeping away all the fighting vehicles. And one side and had disappeared entirely — as if it had been burned by an “atomic” blow. I was sure that things were a little better underwater. But the Black Queen was almost completely unarmed. And still filling with water.

  “The connection with the artifact is restored!”

  “Well then!” The Baroness shouted. “Malice! Details!”

  “What are you interested in?

  “Buoyancy! Firstly! Are we drowning? In detail, but briefly.”

  “Yes, we’re drowning! But I managed to activate the weight-lifting spell! So we’re drowning slowly. We drink too much from the ocean! I sent two dozen Achilots to the teleporters, but they returned and when we said that we were fighting. I sent the Achilots into the water-filled holds. They were now casting poisonous air bubbles! The bubbles lift us up! But this is a temporary measure!”

  “Clear! Activate everything you can! You have full priority! Attention! Everyone! Perform any order of malice immediately! He has the highest priority! Higher than mine! Next … Baron! Will the tanks be able to withstand it?”

  I was looking for a suitable gun, but I could not find one, nor any ammunition. If I found a huge sphere filled with poisonous liquid — acid, fire or lava, or anything else unpleasant — I immediately dragged it to the group of gunners fussing around a monstrous catapult, or a dozen smaller guns. In less than five minutes, we formed a considerable hill of various caliber shells. At least two dozen players worked under the leadership of the Baron, unquestionably carrying out his brief instructions. It was he who ordered the clearing of wide paths on the decks. A large part of the deck had ceased to be a dump.

  “The forty-ninth catapult is ready!”

  “A hundred and thirtieth is ready! Crossbows! Bolts and acid are available! But no explosives! Looking for explosives!”

  “Two hundred and seventieth in the ranks! Explosive bolts are here! No poison!”

  “The rod of thunder is activated and aimed! The tank with mana is two-thirds empty! We are waiting for the order!”

  “The fifth and eighth r-r-ready! The bolt stock is small! Urgently needs replenishment!”

  “Three hundredth in the ranks! The stock of shells is full!”

  “The seventeenth is activated! We need mana! ...”

  Frivolous and unreasonably joyful reports came from different directions all at once. The Flagship team was preparing for battle — as for me, I did not worry for myself, but for Roska. We would be transferred to the nearest location of revival. And what would happen to my daughter of divine origin?

  Bom continued to drag stones to the white log to strengthen its base. Cray helped him. Red runes were flashing on its surface. The elf fixed pegs and poles onto the log in a mysterious way, and ruby stakes pierced it log right through. He was the last stake stuck in the corpse of that tree when the elf began to decorate the sticks sticking out on the sides with all kinds of pendants, continuing to purr some kind of merry song.

  A sort of Christmas tree had appeared on the bridge. And this “tree” was crowned not by a golden star, and not with bells, but with the grinning skull of some eerie creature. The wind blew through the empty eye sockets, and the colored ribbons were stuck between its teeth, and the coarse green symbol on its forehead was slowly spreading. Odd …

  Kaylen snatched two bottles from her bag and began drawing a large circle around the “Christmas tree” using black powder. Kirea did the same, but her powder was red, and she drew a smaller circle around the diameter.

  Um…

  What was this nonsense?

  I could understand some of it.

  It was the tree from the Dark Edge.

  There were ruby stakes from the destroyed island temple.

  The piece of amber that swayed at the end of the pole – it seems, from the Wings of War.

  In the meantime, Orbit finished hanging decorations and decided to finish the business with some “merry” garlands. Oh, I had not seen these for a long time —a long twine with many ears, skulls and individual bones strung up on it. No less than twenty objects. The nightmare tree was enveloped in foliage from skulls, bones and ears.

  The elf, who fell to his knees eagerly, drove a big black knife into the pile of stones at the base of the tree. He sprinkled it all with a glowing red liquid. He poured a black dense liquid from another bottle from above. His hands moved with surgical precision.

  A girl stood on the remains of the rail and diligently recorded a video. Strange. It smelled of something very unusual … um … for some reason, it smells like a musty underground marsh. Disgusting …

  I was not standing idly. Curiosity did leave me, but my conscience did not allow me to become like her. So I raked the garbage off the bridge. At the same ti
me I found a flag, a mug with the remains of coffee, and a gun. The perfect combination … I had only to wrap myself in the flag, pick up the gun, sip some cold coffee, scornfully look at the approaching enemies and say with a contempt: “Come on, cowards! Attack!”

  As soon as I saw the ear garlands, it became immediately clear— it was the tree which smelled of death. Everything was connected with the class of Orbit—spirit talker. However, preparations were not complete, and everything continued. Who was Orbit going to call? And did he really think that, with the help of a ghost squad, he could repel the attack of several enemy fleets? No way.

  However, I would keep my thoughts to myself — I was not the expert. So I would continue to rake away garbage and try to be ready in case of my daughter being in danger. I did not bother with the protection of Kirea – she would survive, if anyone. I would keep an eye on the elf — we cannot allow his death either. The whole ritual was balanced on him— and it was some complicated ritual. And the most interesting thing was that the ritual could not be considered a spell. It was only knowledge. Roughly speaking — if I open a water tap and water splashes out, I would not have done a magical thing at all. I would have only performed the everyday ritual available to anyone who already knows how to turn the tap. You could accidentally achieve this. But if I clapped my hands cold water would come out of nowhere — that is not just knowledge, but real magic. A spell. This was what I needed — after all, in the wet and dark cave An Gdar the elf made me read something with great enthusiasm. Wait … what was that fluttering at the top of the tree?

  The scrap was familiar! I’d seen it before and held it before! And there was my flask — the elf put it at the base of the strange totem. Orbit was pouring “dead water” over it. This already spoke volumes. And this was a direct reference to one very specific person who suffered from a lack of flesh and who had an extremely bad character. That’s bad…

  Anrull …

  The scrap from his divine cloak, the water saturated with the divine emanation of death, mysterious symbols — all together, it looked like a phone number already dialed.

  He decided to call Anrull?

  Leaning against the railing, I only shook my head — making a huge effort to keep silent. There was something to be afraid of— the last time the skeleton tried to take my heart out. Literally.

  “Yes! Exclaimed Orbit happily. “Yes! Yes! Oh yea-a-a-ah!”

  Twisting in a strange dance move, he spread his hands and bowed his head, becoming very much like a medieval royal jester.

  “What about the music? And the b-b-bones?”

  “Already here!” A vortex appeared on the bridge.

  Whisper had returned. And with the bones … many bones! Dozens of different bones flew to the deck, and they rolled with a thud to the edge and froze in a chaotic order. At the entrance to the bridge, three half-orcs and two elves waved thoughtfully, holding the most incredible items for the current situation- musical instruments.

  Three large drums — orcish, original, stained with red and black paint. One elegant violin in sparkling black lacquer. And a richly gilded guitar.

  “Great! This works,” he added to Whisper, who continued to sow the bones.

  “Notes!” An impromptu music stand was placed before the musicians, donning a huge, simply huge scroll from someone’s obviously violently tattered skin. On the other side there were many lines and signs. I was certainly not strong in musical literacy, so I continued to do everything possible to protect the bridge — I continued to raise and strengthen the shields. If they stopped at least part of the arrows and magic — it was already good.

  “P-p-proceeeed!” the elf drawled, stretching his whole body.

  “We begin to play, ladies and gentlemen!” Whisper gave the order, and several stunned musicians hesitantly took up their instruments. We were not to speak.

  And the music began …

  I had expected to hear something mournful and sad — there were bones and dust, and the ritual was connected with death. But my expectations were wrong. The music poured out rhythmically, and the sounds of the guitar were added. It was not just strumming and grunting. They were loud. Skilled. The best players around.

  Looking up from watching the players, I looked at the “tree” in the middle of the bridge and was speechless from a shock — Orbit was dancing around it. Kaylen followed him, and so did Cray, clumsily. Kirea, Roska and Doc stood aside. And here was Whisper — flailing, flapping his hands, clapping his hands…

  “Ros! C-c-come!

  “Me?!”

  “You!”

  “God damn it!” I muttered and jumped to the “tree”, taking a position right after the Whisper.

  “Oo-ooh, this is fun!” Roska jubilantly shouted, dancing next to Kirea the Protectress and Tyrant.

  “Dancing is good for the heart!” Doc noted.

  I did not answer. And did not even look at them. All my attention was directed to the dance. I did my best to make no mistakes. And I did not have time to think of whether I was doing the right thing, because I was taking part in a very suspicious ritual.

  “Fire!” The roar of Baron came through. We circled around the white pillar in a mysterious dance, and ghostly fireflies began to flash around us.

  Fire sounded. We had hit first! And hit with everything that was available. Wands, crossbows, catapults. The water around boiled, and red waves rushed to our sides. And above our heads, on the only surviving mast, a huge battle flag was flapping. If they saw us now — and millions of spectators did! — They would be amazed.

  “The creature!”

  A huge and familiar face appeared on the surface of the water. Red, smoking. Here was our giant friend the dinosaur.

  “Hold on! Close the command bridge!”

  A multilayered magical veil was woven around us. We danced inside the glowing well filled with rhythmic music, and hundreds of ghostly fireflies danced around us. And dozens of ghosts. They flew and walked with us, repeating our dance to the best of their ability. And here was the familiar figure of the crabber with its golden claw, and here was the spider running along the deck, here were the kobolds rising right out of the stone and happily joining in the dance. At each new turn, a series of ghosts rose upward. It was like an upward spiral. And with them grew the tree, which, in the beginning, had hardly towered above us— and now it reached the height of a two-story house. And it continued to grow.

  Hit…

  The Black Queen flinched like from a RAM hit. The air was filled with fire and acid. Smoky death around us. We continued to dance inside the vortex, as mages died one by one around us. They did not think of themselves — only about us. Everyone was now thinking only of us. And about our dance. The musicians. Huge pieces fell off of the flagship. We were shaking in agony. We were preparing to die and went towards death with a circular dance.

  “Unga! Unga Anrull! Oh great one! Unga Anrull!” The strangely howling voice of the elf crumpled and distorted, echoing multiple times in my ears.

  The air darkened at once. Primordial blackness poured in. Here he was…

  “O-o-o-oh,” said one of the living mages still near us, in a complete daze. “Oooh-oh-oh ...”

  Nothing had changed. Without interrupting the dance, I glanced behind my back and almost fell — a step away from me was a dancing, grinning eyeless skeleton in a fluttering coat. Anrull had appeared. He was much smaller than usual, but I think he wanted to fit in to this dance.

  A dizzying howl appeared suddenly — the howl of all those ghosts who had danced and woven around us before. They had turned up the volume. The black, swirling fog blended with a green glow and rushed up to the sky, where black, somber clouds appeared.

  “Friend! Be revealed!” The elf’s said. “Come on! Sness!”

  “This is fun!” A familiar, but already half-forgotten angry hiss came from behind my back. I did not have to look back — I saw the shadow of a man with a snake’s head. There were now two gods behind my back. Two dark god
s. And they were dancing with us …

  A few more colors were added to the green and black mist. All mixed with the gray and brown ghostly dregs, a howling tornado rose into the air. The cloud shroud struck the face of the dinosaur, and he convulsed in agony when hundreds and hundreds of ghosts filled the deadly dark fog.

  “A great dance of spirits! They did it! This is the great dance of spirits!”

  The drums were beating, the violin was crying, the guitar was weeping … we continued to dance. And over our heads a black and terrible funnel slowly opened. The masts began to fall down, and another host of ghosts joined the feast.

  We continued to dance …

  A strange howling sound, clinging to the soul, swept over the crimson ocean as a harbinger of future events. Strange pictures lit up before my eyes — as soon as I glanced around somewhere other than the floor, any object I saw was immediately highlighted with a red, flashing contour.

  “I cannot stay from it …,” I admitted with a slight groan. I managed to “click” on the virtual icon surrounding one of the small ships that had already fallen into the hazy misty shroud. A slight flash … The demolition behind me was incredible. I immediately saw a few lines from the gaming system about changing my status to a much darker one.

  Already the ship I chose was shrouded in ghostly light, and long winding tongues of reddish fog stretched out from it — they reached for the white tree with ruby branches, which had grown to the height of five floors already. On the decks ran victims and beasts, their life draining out of their mouths. We not only destroyed everyone – we could also suck the life out of them …. The howling ghosts gleefully cried out, absorbing the reddish glow and becoming stronger. One by one, my friends did the same, and already a few alien ships glowed with that suicidal light. And then Anrull stretched his bony arms forward and sharply closed his hands. And we saw how two ghost frigates broke into chips: a projection of two real frigates. The picture blinked and disappeared. And then the real ships flew to pieces. Anrull killed their souls. The ships, and teams. The crimson waves quickly scattered the wreckage. The survivors of the strike were floundering in the water, but they were not lucky — the ghosts finished them off.