The Battle

by D. Rus

  The Priest was winning. The risk of death decreased. He was leveling up faster than the remaining foes could slash his health in half.

  "Prepare to counterattack!" General Frag said, getting up with effort and looking at the battlefield as if bewitched.

  The First Priest was now coming down hard on his enemies. They had fallen into their own trap and were now retreating. But only a dozen made it out of the no-portal zone.

  Their personal portals snapped shut. The First Priest was left alone amidst the camouflaged gravestones and the live carpet of spiders.

  "It’s time!" he whispered soundlessly and fell to the ground.

  At once dozens of portals opened. A mighty wave of raging Children of the Night covered the demoralized enemy army.

  "Open the gate!" General Frag cried out as he darted downstairs to lead the counterattack.

  The First Priest’s body lay in the middle of the battlefield. Lloth, in the form of a fair maiden, bent over him and tenderly passed her hand over his bloodied hair.

  Chapter Ten

  The nucleus of my identity hung in the Great Nothingness, drooling like a blissful infant. Myriads of blocks of other people’s knowledge, skills and memories flickered all around, forming a giant mess resembling a broken puzzle. I blindly snatched at one fragment after another, felt it, listened to it, tried to taste it – I was seeking something of my own, something familiar.

  Slaying a hundred enemies had cost me. The delicate vessel of my mind had shattered. Its priceless shards got lost amidst waste banks and foreign junk.

  I grabbed another fragment: Spanish as the native language – not mine. Off you go! The next – a lust for boys. Yuck! I crushed it with aversion, tossing the useless crumbs aside. Another one – mom, mommy! I burst into tears as I pulled it toward me, but a second later I realized that it wasn’t mine... I carefully released it.

  Apache helicopter pilot skills, adrenaline dependence, sabotage school memories, the first lesbian experience – no, no, no!

  Panic started to creep in. This was a divine mind spinning its web at a frightening speed, forging an ideal servant out of me as it forced the fragments of other people's experiences into the matrix of my mind. Mithril jawbone glue served to hold together the new Frankenstein’s monster.

  A hissing voice was lulling me to sleep, assuaging my fear and my will to resist.

  "My fine Priest....you are the best of them all! Here is the hatred of the white, the black, and the oriental! Here’s the knowledge of anatomy, the field torture skill, and the ambitions of a true leader. Take all this, and then some more, and yet some! You shall seek power, trample over the innocent, you'll be ruining lives and crushing cities! Here come piety, repressed fears, and a rare phobia – I shall easily rule over you! Personal devotion, the magic of the blade, the spark of Chaos! Oh, what a priceless prey... My plaything!"

  My arms dropped helplessly. I had nothing to hold on to, no one to ask for support. What could one man do as he drowned in a swamp?!

  Only that smell... Wild strawberries... How refreshingly familiar! Where was it coming from?

  From somewhere far away came a quiet, throaty laugh, like ringing bells. The intimate whisper that used to arouse the male essence... Ruata?

  It was as if a beacon’s blinding ray ripped through the impenetrable darkness. The fragments of my mind flew to the light like moths. A crystallization center had emerged. My former self rapidly took shape around it, forcing out everything that did not belong.

  "Bitch!" a hateful voice hissed above my ear. "Whorish broad! I ban you forever! Be you damned and cast into the Halls of Gloom right after your first death! The gods will shudder at your faith!"

  The hissing receded into the distance. I raced toward the alluring scent and the sweet voice calling me, like a stupid duck toward a hunter’s lure. For me, it was a savior’s call.

  "Ruata!"

  I jumped up on the narrow bed. Instantly I broke into a violent cough. My throat felt like a rusty water pipe. My eyes were so dry that they hurt. I barely forced my numb muscles to obey. Was I in someone else’s body again?!

  I looked and sighed in relief – I was myself.

  Next to me stood the deathly pale and exhausted Ruata. A sullen warrior towered next to her. Strength and power emanated from him, creating a heavy air all around. The prince of The House of Night! The real one!

  The sulky she-elves had lined up along one wall, the tense male ear-choppers along the other. What is all this?! I thought.

  Orcus threw aside the heavy curtain and barged in with a worried look. Seeing me sitting on the bed, my face distorted with pain from the gripes in my throat, he breathed in relief, "Sir! You’re awake!"

  I managed a smile. "Count on it. How long was I out? And what’s with this show?"

  Orcus froze for a moment, obviously shooting private messages, then tried to get me to lie back down again. "Please, Sir, don't worry! How are you feeling?"

  I pushed away his mighty arms indignantly. "Hey, quit putting me to sleep! I’m fine as long as bad memories aren’t stirred up. But I’ll deal with that later. Report!"

  The counterspy put on one of those guilty professional looks. "Max, you were out for two months! We didn’t know what to do!"

  Now that got to me...

  Suddenly my ears got blocked as I fully recalled the evil hissing and the sticky darkness.

  Orcus continued to jabber as if justifying himself, "Magic didn’t help! Even shitting on the Fallen One’s altar would not force him to respond! Questions were piling up! Our allies panicked and severed all communication, and there you were, in a coma! So we pulled you into the Crypt and waited. A week passed. You were still out. Spiders multiplied all around, trying to seal you up in a cocoon. Clearly Lloth’s doing! And who’s an expert on her? Ruata, of course!"

  I looked at the shaking princess clinging to the broad chest of her husband. A fine girl, yet so unlike the rest.

  I rubbed my temples as I tried to keep my mind in one piece, then wrinkled my nose and said hoarsely, "Do you understand that you can’t die now?"

  The princess nodded silently. Her face looked emaciated. Dark shadows showed under her eyes. The aura of divine damnation was noticeably bearing down upon her subconscious mind.

  I gratefully accepted the cup of herbal tea that Orcus handed me, drank greedily, then went on, "We’re in the same boat now. While Lloth lives, you risk eternal postmortal torture."

  Ruata shrugged indifferently and snuggled even closer to the prince’s mighty frame. "I don’t care. Everything I do is for my husband’s sake!"

  The prince smiled tenderly and landed a kiss on her luxurious hair. "My unlikely Drow..." His gaze then settled on me, and his voice became like steel. "We were promised undivided authority and freedom from the bonds of false wedlock in return for our help. Resentment in the clan is running high. The opposition’s showing its fangs. Ruata’s bigamy is undermining our authority. Having two princes really hurts warrior morale."

  Orcus’s cheek twitched nervously, yet he nodded affirmatively, "Max, we didn’t have any alternatives."

  "It’s fine, thanks," I said. "I confirm the promised rewards, but..."

  The prince tensed up. The she-elves reached for their blades inconspicuously.

  "...but they will be in effect only after The Counsel of Twelve. Every vote there matters. I am counting on your help and understanding: we still have a common enemy – the Gods of Light."

  The true prince of the House of Night nodded slowly. "Agreed."

  I thought for a second, But what if?... Hm...

  "Ruata, what if you become Yavanna’s Priestess? Not the First Priestess, sorry to say, but still a Priestess? Lloth’s hatred knows no bounds, you desperately need a new patron."

  The princess gave her husband a pleading look as she whispered dreamily, "The goddess of flowers, spring, forests and fertility, the almighty Valie!"

  The prince nodded encouragingly, and Ruata kneeled gracefully, tilting
her head back and exposing her defenseless neck, "I am ready, First Priest!"

  Swallowing hard, I replied somewhat hoarsely, "The goddess shall be summoned in two days. Her abode stands ready, but Aulë is still working on the bridal bed. They are hammering away without rest. The dwarf seamstresses are trimming it with golden lace, the most tender down was taken from the Shimmering Swans. The smith promises to make the whole world tremble in ecstasy with this piece!"

  The prince and I exchanged knowing glances and smiled synchronously. He was alright, even despite his whole ostentatious alpha-male act. I could see the two of us downing some beer together over one of those guy talks in good company.

  Barely suppressing geriatric groaning, I rose to my feet. It did not befit the First Priest to show weakness and welcome guests laying down. Anyway, I couldn’t sit still until I did what I had unconsciously dreamed about in the Great Nothingness.

  I shuffled over to the wall and pushed away the ear-choppers who held their arms out to support me. I then pulled out Lloth’s Spider Dagger. Everyone gasped.

  Without turning to them, I summoned up my soul’s strongest forces and drove the blade into the monolith wall with a crunch. A sharp blow to the hilt was all it took to snap the artifact in two with a mournful sound.

  A savage hiss echoed across the astral world. A cascade of system messages informed me of the catastrophic impact on my factious relationship with Lloth. Divine mercy is a fragile thing indeed.

  It was done. Gone was the miracle weapon, the risky temptation to lose myself in the chaos of someone else’s mind and stolen knowledge.

  Of course, looking at things rationally and according to that little worm of greed lurking deep within, perhaps I shouldn’t have broken it. Leaving it stuck in the wall might’ve been better. But humans are weak, and I feared temptation. Frodo sought to destroy the One Ring for a good reason.

  Ruata gave a nod of approval. "To be honest, I don’t know how you survived. Men can’t bring Lloth sacrifices – you’re too logical and rational. When you let another creature’s life experience pass through you, you inevitably lose a part of yourselves. And you grab that which doesn’t belong to you. Women take only emotions – passion, love, hatred. This gives our aura a sweet, attractive force as well as a great potential for empathy and mental magic."

  I nodded understandingly. The things Lloth had called me as we fought – "Ideal Priest" and "Desired Plaything" gave me an insight into the goddess’s ritual secrets.

  Knowledge is a headache. The full understanding of how the dagger worked sent shivers down my back and made me want to get rid of the perfidious gift ASAP.

  I shook the Prince’s hand and kissed the Princess’s before they left. Then, I started digging into the current situation.

  My clan had done alright in my absence. The staff had followed a modified D-day plan, making pointed strikes at the enemy, locating those in charge and pretending to be allies with them. During the hours that had passed in the real world, the Guards of the First Temple raised the siege from five of the Alliance’s castles and managed over a hundred subversive acts.

  Nice trophies had been acquired. Our siege machinery yard had practically tripled in size, thus creating a shortage of mechanics. A single trebuchet required a well-trained crew of nine people.

  The bowels of my castle had filled up with captives – a hundred fifty new permas now awaited their fate. Both the secret and the openly declared enemies were agitated. They gave their best to try to defame us. Yet the fear in their eyes only made us stronger.

  Adamant was of key interest to them. They had tried to steal the Yu-Huang Bell three times. But every time they ran off with it, a sixty-foot-wide ball of fire would spring up somewhere in the AlterWorld, and the precious artifact would be found back in its proper place.

  Over seven thousand warriors of the invasion forces had lost the goodwill of the Macaria forever. But then, an unexpected calamity: the goddess grew indignant at the mass slaughter of her followers. She showed her worst side. With a scandal, she cursed and banned three of the clan’s priests. It was unclear how the whole affair would’ve ended if the Fallen One hadn’t intervened, dragging the shrew goddess away into the distant skies.

  The enemy was at a loss. The speed of our clan’s responses surpassed every calculation. My men were always well-rested and slightly higher in levels than before. All thanks to the crypt which had been turned into barracks and a relaxation center.

  In five real-world minutes, all the warriors on our payroll would get a full day’s rest. Solid meals, free nap time, quiet entertainment, and three hours of leveling up. Three was all we could manage at that time as we’d seized only six of all the stations.

  The seventh station was the exclusive domain of a group of five expert Vets. They used it to painstakingly train a group of assassins with the help of some serious financing and gear collected from all over the world.

  Quiet zombie cussing could be sometimes heard from Station 8. Fuckyall’s guys were fighting like maniacs down there. The fallen paladin had made himself relatively comfortable. He had a heavy curtain around the section he controlled. There were soft rugs, a bridal bed, and padded stools behind it.

  Our treasury was filling up with chests of octagonal coinage. Our platinum, gold and silver supplies exceeded eight tons. It was hard to tell how much the warriors had kept for themselves. There were plenty of opportunities to sneak things out, and it wasn’t the best time for administering lie detector tests, politically speaking.

  Once everything sank in, I sighed and went back to myself. Self-reflection made me tense. Either I’m a truly great leader devoting myself heart and soul to my cause, or quite nuts. After all, the instinct of self-preservation is supposed to come first.

  When I pulled up my stat windows, I was stupefied: level 329! That was what had made Orcus stare in awe. Sure, thank you, Lloth, but damn you and your gifts!

  I didn’t see any borrowed abilities. My identity had gotten restored as its normal self, without any extras. Good. Other people’s knowledge and thoughts seemed more like a threat now.

  But the eight hundred thirty undistributed character points and the hundred sixty three talent points excited my greedy pig. It was hard to grasp the new height I had attained. So I sat back down on the bed, opened up the calculator and began to think.

  My own survival was no longer critical. The issue with Lloth had been partially solved. I’d fed her the Sun God’s Patriarch and thus repaid my debt to her. Now she would need the Fallen One’s permission to meddle with my postmortal fate.

  All of my latest actions were filled with risky ventures, indicating that one should never underestimate the historical weight of an individual. You can be a top leader and still constantly find yourself reaching for your sword.

  The responsibilities of a feudal lord, my punishing staff and my godly abilities always forced me into the first line on the battle field. Those who cast DoTs and debuffs from behind their allies’ backs were numerous. Yet the clan leader was the Sacred Banner – the one and only. Few doors could allow his mighty frame to pass through.

  The image of a giant Russian bear surrounded by a pack of angry dogs inspired the right configuration for my army.

  I allotted three hundred points for Strength. Let them snatch at my paws, dangle from my neck; let them all come at me at once, bringing me down, and I will get up and shake them off with ease. No one will pin my hands behind my back and push my face in the mud! No more resorting to the Creator’s Spark to claim a badass freebie!

  Another three hundred I put into Agility. I liked what I called the Dance of Battle. It was much easier to slip between the smooth sides of the blades if your agility was going through the roof. I learned that during the battle at the Sun God’s Temple and came to greatly miss the enchanting patterns that steel traces in the air. Pushkin got it right: there is an ecstasy in battle!

  The rest of the points went into Constitution. Was I a tank or some humble turtle?! I
can’t go bare-ass at nearly eleven thousand HP!

  I will wrap myself up in armor and double my stats with artifacts, I thought. Then I can bravely face the border and engage a hundred thousand Chinese in a fair battle. Although... that would’ve been too much. The Chinese were fanatical farmers and used the Macarian Blissful Death. Rumors had it that no warrior in the Emperor’s Guard was below level 350!

  After allotting points, I felt my blood boil from the stimulation. My muscles filled with mithril. My wooden joints got replaced with an ultra-modern composite material with a zero friction factor. A super-computer processor whirred inside my head. I felt like I could slash a faraway mosquito’s eyebrows right off its face by flinging a dagger at it.

  I easily ripped off one of the steel orbs decorating the bed posts. With a little effort, I crushed it into an oval, leaving my fingerprints in it. I now had hydraulic excavators for biceps.

  The Talent points took me a while to distribute.

  First and foremost, I grew thirteen of my zombie pets into a fully fledged platoon – twenty-five strong. I maxed out their levels and was stunned – a team of 300-level monsters right in my pocket! Where could I get that many Soul Stones? I couldn’t do monsters below level 250 now – no XP, no loot. Was I to farm raids in the Inferno? Looked like I might have to.

  I then applied several buffs to my pets, which gave them the highly appropriate "mega" prefix.

  And surely I upped my auras, warrior abilities, and brutal combos. Now I became a true warrior, not a wizard hiding in a can.

  I rose to my feet and stood around a bit, stretching out and getting used to my new, wider dimensions. In theory, the body still needed a month to catch up to its new power. But I was hoping I could mentally control the growth process and keep my current height. I didn’t need to be an ogre over seven feet tall and have to force my way through doorways.

  Speaking of doorways. I cast aside the curtain and walked out into the common hall. I was instantly met with happy cries from my clanmates: "Sir Laith’s recovered, fuck yeah!"