A Trap for the Potentate

by Michael Atamanov

  Until that moment, I had been just partially listening to the conversation as I looked in thought at the mini-map, showing Max Sochnier's nephew as a black skull (meaning he was more than fifty levels higher than me). I was alarmed by some red text saying this character was on my black list.

  It was a great shame, but Antonius Just was one of the four undying who I promised Taisha to kill for burning down the village of Tysh. A very unexpected coincidence... What was the chance, after all, that a player I was searching for would come to me all on his own? It was easier to win a million credits in the lottery than to have a chance meeting with a specific player in Boundless Realm, which was larger than the surface area of planet Earth. Perhaps this was no simple coincidence, and there was something I was missing.

  All the same, when he spoke of the “twelve guards of Elgar,” I left my considerations and jumped into the conversation, carefully asking my new acquaintance:

  “Maybe it isn't the 'Twelve Guards of Elgar,' but the 'Twelve Élivágar Guardians?'“

  I had a ring with such a name on my finger, and also, the full name of the Mythical Hound Fimbulthul contained the phrase Élivágar Guardian, so I had that word in the back of my mind.

  “Yes, it seems that is exactly what that quest was called,” the Human Healer confirmed carelessly. “But, in any case, it was impossible to get there, so it doesn't matter. We only reached the rapids of the river Styx. But, I have maps of the locations, so I can share them with you and tell you how we got past the tricky spots.”

  Valerianna Quickfoot looked me right in the eyes and nodded in silence. My smarty-pants sister had clearly understood everything about the still unfinished quest, which would most likely give yet another unique Mythical Hound. And I myself understood perfectly how intriguing it would be to finish that mission and thus reinforce the Gray Pack with such a rare creature. But getting to the place on the map the healer had so vaguely described as “three hundred twenty kilometers above the rapids on the Styx,” where no player had ever gone before, would be really hard. To say nothing about completing the unique mission itself, which would probably also be quite difficult.

  Our conversation was interrupted by a ghastly blood-curdling wail coming from somewhere near the river bank. The whole Gray Pack instantly shuddered and turned their snouts to the sound. VIXEN even took off into the sky.

  “That howl has already been going on periodically for forty minutes, sometimes further down the river, sometimes up,” my sister commented. “He's walking around us, but won't come near the camp. I don't know what it is, but your orcs have never fortified this vigorously. I ordered them to make a defensive rampart out of thorny bushes in a semicircle around the tents, and another two rows of sharpened stakes at an angle with the points out.”

  “Only pointing at the dry land? But what if something dangerous crawls out of the river?” I asked, on guard, but Max Sochnier started laughing and hurried to reassure me.

  “Amra, don't you worry about the river. My girlfriend the nereid Olilissa is on guard there, and she's seven meters of pure muscle, shark teeth and a sharp trident in a pair of strong hands. I'll have to introduce you to my sweetheart today. I'll be honest, I didn't want to take her on the dangerous journey, but she insisted and has been swimming behind my galley the whole way. Sea creatures don't find it very comfortable in rivers, and Olilissa is complaining that the water tastes nasty, but the nereid is the strongest and biggest thing in there, so she scares away all the river creatures with her mere presence. What's more, Olilissa has help from my pet Claymore. The three-meter-long blazing-fast swordfish, but my little fish is also feeling like hell in the fresh water.”

  Just then, First Mate Ziabash hardy ran up to me wheezing. The huge orc's hands and clothes were caked in black dirt and swamp muck. His eyes were sagging in exhaustion.

  “Captain Amra! You came at just the right time! The orcs building the camp fortification are saying they can see fast shadows moving about in the distance. Lots of shadows. And also, big red eyes are gathering on the nearest hill, watching us. And there’s also that howl, which rattles the bones...”

  I could sense that my first mate, who'd taken part in many ghastly sea battles, was now feeling close to crapping his pants in fear. I suspect that many of the other orcs were not in the best psychological condition now either, affected by the gloomy atmosphere of the swampy banks of the river of death, the darkness of the moonless night and the monsters gathered around the camp. I supposed now was the very time to show some leadership and invigorate my soldiers.

  I got up on Fimbulthul to get a better view of my squadron and what was going on around me, then loudly commanded:

  “Shrekson, as an experienced Fortifier, I need you to get to building right away! Ziabash, tell your orcs my order: they must not stop working on the fortifications for a single second! And at that, break off all the soldiers into groups of ten and send one group at a time to the galley. Our soldiers there will be given good weapons and armor.”

  Foreman skill increased to level 32!

  Foreman skill increased to level 33!

  Here my gaze caught on Gnum Spiteful, the level-50 Dwarf Mechanic, who crawled out of one of the tents, looked around with her eyes tearing up in the bright light of the fire and started limping in my direction in a bouncy gait. Everyone in my army knew Gnum as a reckless dwarf adventure-seeker with fierce mannerisms and a complete lack of self-preservation instinct. Even the savage orcs were wary of contact with her. But I knew that the bearded lady hadn't yet fully recovered from a very severe, nearly deadly wound. But I really needed her help right now.

  “Gnum, may your beard be burnt! Take your crutches and go help with the construction! Look after the wild cutthroats, most of whom are not able to tell a saw from a hammer. But first...” here I noticed that the Dwarf Chef was still standing helplessly next to a pile of his things, “help this walking misunderstanding. He's one of your kind, after all,” I said, pointing at Tondik Exuberant. “He needs to pitch his tent and set up a field kitchen. After the long march today, the soldiers want to eat, so help him get to work!”

  Foreman skill increased to level 34!

  After giving the most necessary commands, I went off to the edge of camp, in order to watch the fortification work and, at the same time, catch a glimpse of the monsters my first mate said were gathering nearby.

  Mhm... The situation was a bit worse than I was expecting. There was obviously not enough construction material for anything resembling a serious defensive bulwark, although my orcs had already cut down all bushes and trees near the camp. The wall of stinging plants reached waist height at its highest point, and was generally even lower. The orcs were sharpening stakes and driving them into the ground, but it was obvious that they wouldn't be enough for decent defense. And the worst part was that, as for the great many monsters, Ziabash Hardy hadn't been exaggerating one bit. Hundreds of pairs of red eyes were observing our camp carefully from the nearest hill and, with every second, the enemy was getting reinforcements, pouring in from all the nearby swamps.

  Successful Perception check

  Experience received: 160 Exp.

  Swamp Spirits, Ghosts, Banshees, skeletons of all kinds of creatures that had drowned in the local swamps... Among the enemies there were a good deal of undead from levels eighty to one hundred. And at that, the undead were peacefully coexisting with living creatures, also from levels eighty to one hundred: Plague Rats, Jerboas, Swamp Wolves, Leshies, all kinds of poisonous snakes and unbelievably huge insects. Despite the variety of species, this army of all stripes had no internal conflicts and was simply standing on the hill, growing in number with each passing minute.

  I was extremely displeased to see the enemies had significantly higher average level than my orcs and already equaled us in number. In the case of direct wall-to-wall conflict, we already had quite low chances and, in an hour or two, the situation threatened to become utterly hopeless.

  “Apparently, there's
no avoiding a battle,” the thoughtful voice of the Human Healer rang out behind my ear, also having come to evaluate the situation. “And much to my dismay, there's no respawn stone nearby...”

  “We didn't see a single respawn point in our whole day traversing the desert, either,” the mavka added, also looking in fear at the enemy forces gathered in the distance. “So, the closest place is that oasis we left a day ago. It's a pretty good slog, for what it’s worth... Maybe we should retreat to the galley?”

  But I really didn't like my sister's suggestion of retreat. If I did manage to get the three hundred wild orcs on the Tipsy Albatross, then together with its crew of one hundred and fifty, we'd be packed like sardines in a can. And also, if I thought about it, we couldn't just hide on the ship forever, right?

  As far as I knew, the Tipsy Albatross was preparing to go back down the delta of the Styx into the sea right after unloading, returning to its usual cyclical trade route. In any case, the trade galley couldn't make it very far up the river. So sooner or later, we'd have to come ashore, where the situation would only be worsening with every hour. What was more, if we couldn’t handle the dangers here, how could we ever hope to get higher up the Styx, where both the concentration of monsters would be higher, and their level significantly more respectable?! No, we needed to deal with this problem right here and now.

  Battle was inevitable, everyone understood that perfectly. As they also understood that, with their numbers and high levels, the swamp beasts would simply wipe the floor with us if we didn't change our defense strategy. I got up on the icy-white hound to a slightly elevated area and called my orc cutthroats to attention, pointing to the pitiful attempt at a defensive bulwark:

  “This border is pointless! Only a creature with no legs couldn't jump over it! Dismantle three sections of the fence at once, purposely leaving seven-to-ten-step-wide gaps. Remove the stakes from these passages, using them to reinforce the other parts!”

  The savage orcs were bewildered by the order, not understanding the reason for my decision. I had to chew the idea over for them, explaining my plan in detail:

  “There aren't enough of us to reliably hold the whole perimeter. So, we should concentrate in smaller sections. Keep in mind that there are only stupid, brainless undead and wild creatures against us, which will certainly run down the most obvious path precisely to the gaps I left. That is exactly where we'll meet them!”

  I jumped down and walked along the barrier, choosing a place:

  “Make the central passage here. I’ll be posted here with the Gray Pack and I swear by my ears that no one will get past me! The main passage will be defended by the Ogre and Naiad, and I'll place thirty orc warriors with wide shields and long spears with them. The spearmen's mission is to hold the enemy back while our bolts mow them down. I'm sure that fifty crossbowmen will be more than enough. To the left then will be the very strongest orcs from my guard, led by Ziabash Hardy. Fifty soldiers with yataghans will stand at reserve behind the defensive bulwark and help with defense wherever needed. That division will be headed by our mountain troll... Where is he, by the way?”

  “Right here, Captain Amra!”

  Said the muscular, level-65 Troll, overgrown with reddish fur, his hands dragging on the ground as he pushed his way through the dense crowd of orcish soldiers. I could now read his name: “Vaash.” Before, his opinion of me was too low, and I could only see him as Troll Enforcer.

  “Vaash, you have earned my confidence with your bravery and strength. You are the one I'll entrust to command the reserve division. You and your fifty fearsome orcs will have to stop the enemy, if they get through our defense at any point. If you do well enough tonight, you'll get a whole hundred to command!”

  Vaash thumped on his chest with a huge fist and roared out so loud that my Goblin Herbalist even got the deafened effect for a few seconds. Overall, my confident speech had a very positive effect on my subjects, and I heard shouts glorifying the captain's name from all directions. The orcs were clearly inspired.

  Foreman skill increased to level 34!

  Foreman skill increased to level 35!

  I called them all to silence and continued:

  “While we still have the time, everyone keep building and, at the same time, reinforce our defenses by digging out a ditch in front of our fortification. This is a swamp and the ditch will quickly fill with water, so the monsters will have no way to get to us except through the three passageways we leave open!”

  Foreman skill increased to level 36!

  My skill grew again, and just in time. It was getting easier and easier for me to command the wild horde, giving orders to my subjects and setting them to work, which then leveled my Foreman skill even more and increased my influence on the orcs. I waited for their enthusiastic cries to die down and continued:

  “Proud warriors! Now, all of you will receive good armor and weapons so you can really make a name for yourself in the upcoming battle! Once you get your weapons, Ziabash Hardy will assign you to a division. Whoever doesn't end up defending the three passageways will line up along the defensive bulwark and defend their section. But if there aren't any enemies near you, don't just stand around and pick your noses, take up crossbows and shoot enemies over the barricade! Valerianna Quickfoot, you're in charge of the ranged soldiers. You are all to obey the mavka same as me!”

  Now in a normal voice, not shouting at full throat, I turned to my sister:

  “Valerianna, you're our main damager, and strike force. You're experienced in battle, so you decide where best to position yourself to do as much damage with your magic as possible. Don't be stingy with the mana. The enemies are high-level, so you'll get good experience for killing them, and with every new level, your mana will be totally restored. But at any rate, I have more than enough mana potions. I bought plenty in Dotur-Khawe, so take as many as you need.”

  “And what should I do?” the Human Healer asked, overhearing our conversation.

  “What a strange question!” I exclaimed in surprise. “You stand behind the soldiers and heal the wounded. Only spend your mana on healing, paying no mind to the enemies. Basically, the upcoming battle is a test of your professional abilities. If you prove yourself to be a skilled healer, you can come with us right to the upper reaches of the Styx. But if you act dumb and don't manage to heal the wounded, I'll personally send you to respawn, I promise! By the way, healer... I don't see any pets with you. I'd never in my life believe that such a high-level mage doesn't have any. Where are they?”

  Antonius Just paused for some reason, as if deciding whether he should obey a player just one third his level. But then, he chuckled awkwardly, and three bright flying pixies showed up next to him. The miniature girls had variously-colored sectile butterfly wings behind their backs. Every pixie was the size of my pointer finger, and all three of the winged beings were totally naked without the slightest hint of clothing.

  The Naiad Trader shook his head in reproach and brought his nephew down a peg with the words: “You're a damn shame! You need to meet a normal girl, not spend day after day doing nonsense in this game.” And my sister walked up closer and commented on the healer's unusual winged pets:

  “I saw pixies like that in the corporation's online store. Pixies restore mana for their master, which is very useful to any mage, and they also cast strong spells on enemies. But they cost fifty credits each. And I seem to remember them being dressed in different colored skirts made of flower petals...”

  “Yes, the pixies really are from the store, and were initially clothed,” our new acquaintance agreed easily. “But I had a good reason to change their appearance. They're much cooler this way! And the pixies don't only charge mana, they make my magic reserves a whole sixty percent higher! They've very useful companions for a mage, and they are nice to look at!”

  Knowing my sister well, I could see that Valerianna was distinctly disapproving of such a vulgar choice, and also didn't have a friendly opinion of our healer overall, alth
ough the mavka didn't confirm that aloud. However, Valerianna voiced a different thought completely, which needed to be considered before the upcoming battle:

  “Amra, I'm surprised so many totally different monsters aren't fighting amongst themselves. That is very strange, because it really shouldn't be. Wolves are made to hunt rats, and undead to attack the living, but for some reason that isn't happening. It seems to me that, if we can understand the reason for our enemies working together, we'll immediately realize how to fight them!”

  * * *

  Taking advantage of the fact that the other players were busy, the mavka took me aside and asked, barely audibly:

  “I can see that you don't want to say anything in front of the others, but you can be open with me. What's wrong with our healer? You were looking at him like you wanted to strangle him with your bare hands.”

  Hmm, I didn't think my private thoughts were so obvious. I hoped very much that the other players hadn't noticed. My sister understood me much better than the others, though. I had no secrets from Valeria, so I explained the reason for my doubts:

  “Antonius Just is on my blacklist. He was one of the players who attacked the goblin village of Tysh, and even took direct part in the murder of Taisha's sisters. I gave Taisha a promise before the gods of Boundless Realm to kill this man. But he found us. And now, I have quite a dilemma: ignore an oath I swore before the gods of Boundless Realm with all the resulting negative consequences like severe debuffs and streaks of bad luck or lose an experienced, high-level healer, which would be very undesirable before the upcoming heavy battle.”

  “Is that it?! I thought it was something serious,” my sister chuckled, showing her sharp predatory teeth. “To appease the gods of Boundless Realm, you just need to make sure Antonius Just doesn't survive this battle. Just make it all look like a coincidence, so the healer and his relative Max Sochnier don't suspect us.”