Deadman's Retinue

by Pavel Kornev

  I opened the next tab in the spell book. First things first, I checked the unique magic of the undead as was my habit. Immediately my attention was drawn to Bone Path.

  Bone Path

  A dead sorcerer has no problem getting into his own crypt, wherever he might be. Bone Path will lead them right through the world of the Dead.

  Seeing as my crypt was already as good as sorted, I unhesitantly chose it.

  Thus encouraged, I opened level-9 spells. Still, they proved to be so impressive that I, miserable excuse for a wizard that I was, couldn't cast most of them anyway, simply due to my lack of energy.

  Why on earth had I had to waste my available points on Intellect and Perception? That made no sense.

  I kept shuffling the spells until I finally decided to study the Trump Up My Sleeve. This was an auxiliary spell allowing me to set up any other spell one level inferior to it, then activate it literally with a flick of a finger.

  As I turned the page, I already had a distinctly bad premonition. Shit! Almost all of the icons there were gray and inactive.

  Seeing as my stats didn’t allow me to use them, all I could do was study the few exceptions. Strangely enough, I soon got lucky, spotting an unfamiliar name amid all the standard attack spells which were way out of my league.

  All-In

  Apparently, this spell allowed me to burn up the entire internal energy stocks of any sorcerer provided I caught him unawares. All I had to do was touch him and spare a little of my own mana. I was a bit worried about the spell’s limitations which required my enemy to have no more than three times my own stocks of internal energy. But still...

  Not bad. This would allow me to make a quick job of any ability-deficient mage.

  But that was me. The majority of normal casters wouldn’t be able to even approach their enemy. Without their sorcerous skills, they were pretty useless.

  Having studied the skill, I paced the room for a while. Unable to keep my excitement to myself, I then walked downstairs into the yard but found it completely deserted. Neo had sloped off somewhere, so I had to go back up. Never mind. My conversation with him would have to wait. I was already lucky I hadn’t bumped into Prince Julian down below. Even though he’d already calmed down a bit, I wasn’t looking forward to any sort of tete-a-tete with him. That was the last thing I needed.

  Once my excitement had abated — and as the sky outside had no intention yet of turning to daylight — I decided to try out my newly-acquired skills. I started by setting up Trump Up My Sleeve. Choosing a spell to go with it was a no-brainer: I used Cloud of Death which took the longest to activate.

  It didn’t happen straight away: the magic just refused to compress. But after some focused effort, I managed to set it up. The spell took shape, weighing down on me quite palpably. Never mind. I’d been through much worse.

  Next, I activated Phantom Skulls but the result was, how can I put it, rather unorthodox. Their fabled “external magic energy storage” turned out to be a real skull hovering in mid-air. So I had to deactivate it: anyone who’d see it would know straight away that I was a Death mage. Did I really need that? Also, its capacity was only 10%, and in order to get another one — I scrolled through the description — my Perception had to be level 15.

  What a predicament.

  Never mind. I could always use it in the dungeons. It wasn’t a good idea to appear in public with a thing like that.

  Having finished with all that, I turned the armchair toward the window and leant back in it, waiting for the day to dawn. I had no other option, I’m afraid.

  Time left: 29 days 6:44:13…

  DAWN NEVER CAME. The night just stretched out and went on and on. The Blood Moon had no intention of leaving the heavens, its crimson disk hanging low amid the dull stars, glowing forebodingly. The eastern horizon remained as pitch black as ever; the sun didn’t even hint at coming out. I was so restless that I rushed around the room, occasionally dashing outside.

  Time was dwindling fast, and with it, so was my life. It was as if I’d scooped up a handful of fine sand which was now slipping through my fingers, each grain another missed chance to earn enough XP before the deadline.

  Shit! Where the hell was Isabella?

  Of course she couldn’t spend all her waking time logged in, but it didn’t make my situation any better. So much time down the drain!

  For the umpteenth time, I left the house and walked out into the street. I didn’t dare venture too far, just took a quick stroll around the neighboring streets. The local priestesses bowed reverently to me: the mark of the Crimson Moon burned brightly within me, my activated Incognito failing to fool anyone. Having said that, its absence wouldn’t have presented a problem, either: those dedicated to the Goddess of life and death were unlikely to be prejudiced against deadmen blessed by their Mistress’ mark.

  A familiar crowing came from above. I quickened my step and went back to the yard. Neo who’d climbed up onto the roof for no particular reason was passing the time by hurling a stick high in the air for Scarecrow to retrieve for his master.

  Yes: master. I had to face it: Scarecrow wasn’t my pet anymore.

  Never mind. I wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

  I grinned and waved my hand. “Hey, come down! We have to talk.”

  The Commander of the Order of the Black Phoenix clambered down. “What is it, Uncle John?”

  “What the hell do you want with Julian?” I asked, not even trying to conceal my irritation.

  He shrugged. “I just remembered your advice.”

  “What advice?” I asked, uncomprehending.

  “To recruit more followers,” the lad explained. “Don’t worry, Uncle John. Julian can’t hurt you. It’s part of the deal.”

  “Oh, thanks a lot!”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, oblivious to the sarcasm in my voice. “I only have one temple. If it gets seized or desecrated, I won’t be able to respawn. Julian will keep an eye on it. You know what, Uncle John? I thought about it and I came to the conclusion that I don’t want to die.”

  I patted him on the head. “Top marks. You’ve made the right choice. If you have problems, come and see me.”

  There wasn’t much I could do to help the leader of the Order of the Black Phoenix... but if ever the need arose, why not give him a hand? If the truth were known, I owed him one. And although for most people this was only a game, it certainly wasn’t for either of us. I might be a human being and he only a piece of binary code, but was the difference between us really so great?

  An uncomfortably cold shiver ran down my spine. Still, I didn’t give in to paranoia. It would serve no purpose to think of myself as of an NPC endowed with fake memories of the real world.

  I’d simply spent too much time in VR, that’s all. I was a human being, a man of flesh and blood. I had a soul, of all things!

  Neo tensed up. “Are you all right, Uncle John?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said. “I just need to kill someone. No, I’m serious. I need to get some practice. You don’t happen to know of a dungeon nearby, do you?”

  The boy thought for a while, then shook his head, hesitating. “I could go and have a look around...”

  “Please do.”

  Just then I saw a crimson flash in the window of my room. Was Isabella back?

  I hurried up the stairs to the third floor. Just as I flung open the door, I came face to face with the High Priestess of the Mistress of the Crimson Moon.

  “Where the hell have you been?” I demanded, unable to control myself.

  “Easy!” she said with a dangerous squint of her eyes.

  I had no intention of toning down my anger. “Easy? I’ve been waiting for you for the last ten hours! Ten hours down the drain!”

  She flashed me a malicious smile. “Kitten,” she started in her best heartfelt voice which promptly reverted back to her usual sarcasm. “You seem to be forgetting that normal people have login restrictions! I came as soon as I could! Stop your hyster
ics!”

  I forced myself to calm down and crossed my hands across my chest to make sure I didn’t strangle her.

  “Have you found a dungeon?” I asked, dropping the subject.

  “Yes!” she shoved me aside and walked out onto the landing. “I’ll open a portal as soon as Goar turns up. He should be here within half an hour.”

  “Oh, great,” I hurried after her. “Do you have some kind of a basement I could use to set up my lair?”

  She giggled. “Kitten missing the underground?”

  “Sort of,” I replied, unwilling to go into detail. “Someplace where they won’t kick me out.”

  She stopped on the porch and pensively looked around the empty courtyard. “I think,” she said hesitantly, “I know just the place for you.”

  We went out into the street. Neo tagged on behind. Although he’d grown several years in the blink of an eye, it hadn’t affected his boyish behavior. He whistled softly as he continued to throw the stick to Scarecrow darting between the houses.

  “Isn’t it time to turn your attention to the Order’s affairs?” I reminded him. “Like wars with your competitors or striving for world domination...”

  Neo laughed and tapped his temple. “It’s all under control, Uncle John.”

  I couldn’t tell whether he was joking or completely serious.

  ISABELLA HAD TAKEN US to an abandoned graveyard. In the gloom of the night, its tombs and listing gravestones filled me with a sinister premonition. Its listing gate was overgrown by tall grass. The moon flooded the cemetery with a macabre red glow studded with the black gaping holes of looted crypts. Scarecrow’s resounding screeches complemented the picture perfectly. The whole scenario was enough to give you goosebumps.

  “So what do you think, kitten?” Isabella asked with a smile.

  “Absolutely not,” I snapped. I remembered only too well the player’s zeal in mopping up a similar graveyard back in the playpen. Somehow I didn’t think this would be any different. Where else would you look for the undead if not in an abandoned graveyard?

  “Are you unhappy about something?” she asked in surprise.

  “I just don’t want to wake up with a sharpened stake in my heart.”

  “First of all, you don’t sleep. And secondly, there’s no stake that would see you off!”

  “Don't put words in my mouth!” I snapped. “This is exactly the sort of place where they’ll come looking for me first. Not even me, it could be anyone. The last thing I want is to cross paths with some overly zealous paladin.”

  “But nobody’s gonna-”

  “No,” I repeated. “It won’t work. I need a basement in a respectable neighborhood, preferably guarded.”

  “You don’t want much, do you?” she snorted. “You have no business being in town. There’re simply no abandoned houses there.”

  Neo climbed the gate and pointed into the distance. “What’s that, then?”

  At first I didn’t see anything. Then gradually I made out the squat silhouette of a tower in the dark, powerful and grim.

  Isabella followed our gazes. “It’s a guards’ post. It’s unused at the moment.”

  “Has it got a basement?”

  “No idea.”

  “Let’s go and check it out, then!”

  We crossed a field. Grass rustled softly underfoot. The air was warm and still. Peaceful. The further we got from the graveyard, the clearer I realized that there was no way I’d ever make it my home. But a tower in the middle of a field... that was something else.

  I was so engrossed in admiring its nocturnal expanse that I very nearly fell down a deep ravine on the edge of which the building stood.

  “Watch out!” Isabella snapped, grabbing my hand.

  The door of the tower stood wide open. I peered inside and saw a spiral staircase which went both up to the first floor and down into a basement.

  Soon after I’d begun my descent, I found myself in a rather small stone cellar with a high ceiling. It must have been used as an arsenal at some point, as well as for storing torches. Now, however, its shelves were empty; a thick layer of dust covered the floor.

  I tried opening and closing a grate that barred the entrance. The rusty hinges creaked their protest.

  “Kitten!” Isabella called from above, apparently not wanting to follow. “You okay?”

  “Give me five minutes,” I replied as I opened the crypt-building ritual. It turned out to be ridiculously short: in fact, it was more like a service module intended to work in automatic mode. Which made sense. An ordinary player couldn’t become a Lich: I was the only honorary exception.

  Did that mean that all this had been for nothing? Was I supposed to go through life without owning a crypt?

  Go through life? Yeah right.

  I wasn’t going to hold my breath but I still poked the necessary inscription.

  Immediately I lost control of my own body as the dead man took over me. His bony hand drew the wretched hook from my belt and began etching strange symbols into the walls, the bone blade going through the stone as if it were butter.

  The basement turned significantly colder; its darkness was replaced by a deadly pale glow. Frost glistened here and there, its patterns becoming more complex. Fancy carved panels made of bone appeared out of nowhere. I sensed the vault filling with the energy of death.

  It felt just like coming back home.

  The thought made me shudder — but luckily, it didn’t affect the course of the ritual. The Lich within me continued to adorn his new dwelling.

  Finally, my hand hung listlessly, signaling the return of my control over my own body. By then, the vault’s floor and ceiling were the only spaces free of magic writings. A bone throne arose right opposite the entrance.

  Very well. A throne is better than a coffin, I suppose.

  With a mental chuckle, I lowered myself onto its rock-hard seat. A powerful flow of energy flooded unexpectedly over me.

  This was my home. This was where I belonged. To hell with them all!

  Would you like to make the Crypt you new login point?

  Yes! Absolutely! I would like it very much, thank you!

  Still, no matter how many times I clicked the dialog box, it remained inactive. The only thing I could do was close it.

  How’s that for bad luck?

  I felt anger stir within me, which overpowered the delusion spawned by the game. I rose from the throne and shook my head to clear my mind which reluctantly — too reluctantly — finally obeyed me.

  I heard the sound of footsteps coming from the stairs as Isabella came down to the crypt. Immediately she recoiled and ran back upstairs. I slammed the bars shut after me — which were no longer steel but fashioned of human bones — and hurried upstairs after her.

  “What a creepy place,” she shuddered as she saw me.

  I shrugged. The energy of death didn’t affect me anymore. A deadman wouldn’t be afraid of a crypt, would he?

  Neo seemed to have cleared off somewhere. I surveyed the nocturnal landscape. “How long are we gonna wait for Goar?”

  “He’ll be here soon,” Isabella said.

  I chuckled. Yeah right. Having decided not to waste any more time, I started walked away from the tower, ticking off the paces in my mind. Ten, fifteen, twenty...

  “Where d’you think you’re going?” Isabella demanded, anxious.

  I ignored her question. “Wait there!”

  After thirty steps, I considered it far enough to build a Bone Path. The spell wasn’t the easiest. It required a good dozen special gestures while uttering the incantation in a strange language. I got lost several times and had to start anew. Finally, the magic energy exuded by my hands dissolved with a flash.

  Was that it?

  Not really. No idea what kind of a portal to the world of the Dead awaited necromancers, but in my case, it was a grave.

  The earth parted. I tumbled down into the darkness.

  Immediately I was jerked back to my feet, staring in a
mazement at trees made of human bones. Their monstrous fruit shaped as skulls stared back at me in grim curiosity. The tree trunks were studded with sharp fragments of bone.

  The malicious energy of this world drew me in, syphoning my energy. I shuddered and dashed along the path meandering amid the spooky trees. I must have gone at least 300 feet when I saw a pillar of pale glow coming down from the sky.

  I dove into it. The next moment I was standing inside my own crypt.