by Pavel Kornev
How I hated dying! You can’t even imagine!
What a useless waste of time! And time was at a premium.
I slid the magic skull back into my inventory and invested all my fury into a slashing blow at a skeleton leaning against the wall. It didn’t quench my anger, though. I had to kill someone. Not one, not two even: I had to kill everyone!
“There you are, kitten!”
I nearly jumped. Turning to the voice, I saw Isabella walking toward me along the corridor.
“Finding you here is a job and a half,” she said, grinning.
“What took you so long?”
“Oh,” her eyes rounded in mock amazement. “Kitten has problems?”
I cussed. “As if you can’t see!”
She huffed. “Come on, spit it out.”
“Without Goar, it’s gonna take me a month of Sundays to finish here. And he won’t be back for a while! I need someone to help me!”
“Well, don’t look at me.”
“I don’t! You wouldn’t be of much use here, would you? Think you could spare five Black Trackers?”
She shook her head. “Not the best idea of yours. You’d better ask your friend to hire Julian.”
I shuddered. “Over my dead body! Anyone but him!”
Despite Neo’s confidence in Julian’s loyalty to the Order of the Black Phoenix, I had no intention of buddying up with him. You never knew what might suddenly click in his head…
“Well,” Isabella drawled pensively. “In that case, you’ll have to get yourself a few mercs.”
“How d’you want me to do it?” I swept my arm around the tunnel. “Do you see a guild branch anywhere here?”
“That’s not a problem. I could open a portal to the capital right now, if you wish.”
“Great. I’d love to see their reaction to an undead client.”
She reached out to give me a pat on the cheek but the sight of black flames licking the right side of my mask made her reconsider. “Don’t worry, kitten. Lloyd will arrange everything for you. You need to speak to him.”
I tensed. “Why me and not you?”
“Er... as you know, the relationship between Darkness and Chaos is a bit strained at the moment. I’d better not show up there.”
I chuckled. “How about your mistress’ mark, then? You think they won’t take me for a Chaosite?”
“As long as you don’t hassle priests and paladins, nothing can happen to you.”
“So how am I supposed to get back?”
I had absolutely no desire to leave my skull in the dungeon, then die purely for the sake of getting it back. Luckily, I didn’t have to.
“Just use the portal again. And don’t worry: you’re the only person who can use it,” she said as she began the ritual. “If push comes to shove, you can always port to your crypt. You can do that, can’t you?”
I shrugged noncommittally. She gave me a long look, waiting for an answer, then said with an irate wave of her hand,
“Go on, kitten!”
I stepped into the portal’s gaping mouth.
A SMALL DARK COURTYARD. A glimpse of the sky overhead. Gloomy walls.
Shit! Isabella had missed again. This wasn’t the back yard of Lloyd’s shop. I had no idea where I was.
Luckily, the portal was still open, its magic nature distorting the reality within. At least she’d got that right.
I opened the map and heaved a sigh of relief. I was only a couple of blocks away from the demon vendor’s shop. It was just a stone’s throw away.
A narrow alley took me into a quiet street which led me to the familiar boulevard. From there, I slipped into the shop’s back yard.
I could sense danger in the air. The city was quiet — too quiet, its streets devoid of either players or NPCs. A pall of smoke hung in the sky; a smell of burning was coming from somewhere. The walls were blackened with combat spells. You could tell that the last few days here had been a lot of fun...
ONCE IN THE SHOP, the first thing I did was get rid of the armor and whatever jewelry I’d amassed in the dungeon. Once Ulrich got busy evaluating it, I asked,
“Is the boss at home?”
The shop assistant froze as if awaiting Lloyd’s reply, then nodded. “Go on through, John.”
Mr. Lloyd didn’t appear overjoyed at my arrival. The alchemist simply stopped working on what appeared to be a complicated project and gave me an expectant smile.
Without saying a word, I sat opposite him and laid a piece of bone in front of me.
“You don’t want to take your mask off?” he asked, visibly surprised.
No, I didn’t. Without my Almost Alive ability, I couldn’t pass myself off as a human anymore. And I had no intention of revealing my secret to him.
“I like it too much,” I joked as I shoved the bone toward him. “You’d better take a look at this.”
He frowned, uncomprehending, but still picked it up.
Immediately he threw it back at me. “Worthless junk.”
I produced another bone, framed in copper.
His verdict was merciless. “Disposable garbage.”
I produced one of those framed in mithril.
This time he took his time studying the artifact. “How many of these have you got?”
I dumped all my pickings onto the table. “How much do you think I could get for this lot?”
He studied the motley heap of bones. “It might take me some time to evaluate it all,” he admitted.
“Go on, then, have a go. In fact, I came here for something else...”
“Yes!” he shook a demonstrative finger. “I know exactly what you have in mind!”
The demon alchemist jumped from behind the table, pulled one of the tomes from the shelf and opened it at a certain page.
“Look!” he laid the fat volume in front of me. “What do you think of this? Simple but classy!”
I leant over the page and chuckled. This seductive snake of an alchemist had chosen just the right bait to get me interested: a two-item build from the Deadman’s Set. And what’s more important, both of them were exactly what I’d marked down as priorities.
Steel Poleyns of Agility (the Deadman’s Set: 2 out of 13)
Armor: 6
Agility: +1
Dodge: +2%
Armored Gauntlets (the Deadman’s Set: 2 out of 13).
Armor: 4
Damage: 2
Speed with two-handed weapons: +1%
The poleyns were fashioned out of some matte gray metal. Not only did they protect the knees but also covered the calves. They looked rather dainty but judging by their stats, this didn’t affect their durability.
The armored gauntlets were made of black mithril. They were long enough to cover at least half my forearms. Their outer surfaces were studded with short sharp blades.
I caught myself admiring their complex engraved patterns, struggling to draw myself away from the catalogue. Immediately the items’ 3D images became just plain sketches on the parchment.
“What do you think?” Lloyd asked.
No prices were listed in the catalogue. Hoping against all hope, I asked, “How much?”
“Twenty-five grand.”
“How much?”
The alchemist raised his colored glasses. His demonic eyes focused on me. “Well, what did you expect?”
“I didn’t expect anything,” I snapped. “It wasn’t why I came here, anyway.”
“Still, that’s some impressive shit, don’t you think?”
“Very impressive,” I agreed. “You can’t argue with that. But at the moment, I don’t have anything like enough. Also, I can’t afford to wait for their delivery.”
“You won’t need to wait. The stuff is already here.”
Oh really? I fought to curb a stream of expletives and ended up just shaking my head. “I’ve got no money.”
“I could lend it to you,” he suddenly offered.
My eyes very nearly popped out of my head with surprise. Or rather, my only eye.
His offer completely dumbfounded me.
“You mean it?” I gasped. “What’s with all the generosity?”
He laughed. “You shouldn’t confuse generosity with factoring. Do you remember the scrolls you auctioned off? I’ll simply take the necessary amount directly from your auction earnings.”
“Are you sure that my cut will cover it?”
“For sure it will,” he replied confidently, pushing the glasses back onto his nose. “With plenty to spare. So if you agree to a measly interest of a mere five percent...”
He didn’t want much, did he? This rascal wanted to earn double from me: not just from the sale of the items but also from the interest on the loan.
“The Deadman’s Set isn’t the most popular of merchandise,” I said meaningfully. “If I don’t buy this build, you risk freezing your investment for quite a time.”
My suggestion had the desired effect. Mr. Lloyd cringed and leaned back in his chair. “Not a gold piece less. You either take it or you don’t.”
“I will if you drop the interest down to three percent,” I said.
“Deal.”
The ease with which he’d agreed was already suspicious. He must have charged me over and above as it was. Never mind. Money wasn’t important. And game money, even less so.
That’s when I remembered my plans to hire some mercenaries. Oh.
“You see,” I mumbled, “I also need to hire some bodyguards...”
Mr. Lloyd smiled. “You know the going rate. Three percent of the money transfer to cover the costs.”
“The thing is, I’d rather the guild never found out about it.”
“Five percent of the money transfer,” the shop owner adjusted his terms. “Who are you thinking of hiring?”
Time left: 27 days 19:32:18…
IN TOTAL, I’d spent at least three hours at Lloyd’s shop: first discussing the deal’s details and then perusing the list of all the available mercs.
“You’re not interested in players, are you?” Lloyd asked.
“No. And this has to be a long-term contract. At least four weeks.”
“Then you need to check this out.”
The list of available mercenaries was quite long. No, scratch that: it was very long. Virtually endless. They had all sorts. A player could hire a companion of any race or profession, provided he or she could pay. The fees of top fighters went through the roof.
I grasped at first glance that any attempt to hire someone above level 50 would become my first step toward debtors’ prison. Which was why I decided to concentrate on the things relevant to my needs. Seeing as we’d have to work underground, that left me with dwarves and Dark Elves.
I narrowed my search down ever further using a good dozen more requirements. Finally, with Lloyd’s help I’d managed to select five warriors who seemed fit for purpose. The alchemist powered up his calculator and showed me the resulting total.
“Is this for the whole period?” I asked.
“For a week,” he said, shaking his head. “I suggest we tone down our appetites.”
And tone down I did. The new total was virtually a third of the earlier price.
Lloyd nodded. “You can afford this.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, doubtful.
“The scrolls you brought were first-rate. They’ll pay for all of this with plenty to spare,” the demon grinned, baring his small sharp teeth. “My commission won’t even make a dent in it.”
I snorted. “Had they been as first-rate as you say, they’d have sold a long time ago.”
“Give me a break, will you?” Lloyd threw his hands in the air. “That’s not how things are done at an auction! Also, a bunch of players are sitting on their money waiting for the artifacts from the Tower of Decay. As soon as the Spawn of Darkness auction off the loot they don’t need, everyone will spring into action.”
“Why are they dragging it out, then?”
“Meaning?” he said in surprise. “They haven’t taken the Tower yet!”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “How’s that?”
“The Lord of Decay has put up a good defense. The Spawn keep fighting him for nothing. They just can’t prevail.”
“”Oh,” I drawled in surprise. “Who would have thought...”
Lloyd chuckled. “Never mind. It’s all irrelevant. Are you ratifying the contract?”
My heart bled as I nodded.
“Excellent!” He marked something down in the catalogue, then lobbed a round gold medallion to me, stamped with the emblem of the mercenaries guild. “Take this. It’s a control amulet. You have twenty-four hours to activate the contract, after which your account will be debited. Oh, and one more thing,” Lloyd pushed his glasses back onto his forehead. “Each mercenary has to have a deposit amounting to his weekly wage. Non-returnable upon his death, so please go easy on your fighters.”
I heaved a sigh. “Got it,” I slipped the control medallion into my pocket. “How about the stuff I bought? When can I get it?”
“Ulrich will sort that out. Go and ask him.”
I rose from the table, bade my goodbyes and went back into the shop. Seeing me, Ulrich produced two boxes and laid them on the counter. One contained the poleyns, the other the gauntlets.
Deadman’s Set: Altered
Deadman’s Set: Saved
Yes! Twelve items down, one to go! Far out!
The poleyns fit me like the proverbial gloves while the gauntlets seemed to fuse themselves with both the armored sleeve and the vambrace. All the other items’ stats immediately soared. Even my flamberge seemed to have been imperceptibly modified, its blade glowing with a cold white light.
Just then Mr. Lloyd emerged from his hole. He gave me a critical once-over and chuckled. “The only thing you still need is a helmet. But it’s an extremely rare item. I might ask a few collectors I know...”
“Why not,” I agreed.
“Please pass by again,” he said, then added as he headed back to his workshop, “I’ll transfer the money for the bones to your account.”
I clenched my fists a few times, admiring the precise workmanship of the gauntlets’ articulation and the fine joints of black mithril.
But as soon as I stepped outside, a flash of blinding light lit up the courtyard, banishing shadows. Everything faded into a colorless blur. Even the magic of the Deadman’s cloak was impotent against the light’s furious energy.
Blinded and disoriented, I lost the possibility of merging with the shadows. Luckily, the shop had a back door, obliging the attackers to split up. So in the end, I was only hit by two bolts of lightning, neither of which had managed to kill or paralyze me thanks to my resistance to magic.
The sorcerers lurking behind the wall of brilliant light attacked again, but I’d already dashed off. Their spells hit the shop’s front door, smashing it to bits.
Should I run back? I couldn’t. They were sure to be waiting.
So I darted across the courtyard. A few blurred figures flitted toward me. I thought I glimpsed a dragnet in their hands. I chose against engaging them in a hopeless confrontation. Instead, I used the Trump Up My Sleeve.
With a popping sound, the yard filled with the murky gray haze of the Cloud of Death. The movements of my pursuers became disjointed; the net they’d cast had missed its mark, allowing me to dive under it without getting myself entangled.
Leap!
Circle Strike!
Leap!
Once behind their backs, I blindly brandished my flamberge, catching the unsuspecting sorcerers’ legs, then shot out into the boulevard and ran for my life. My enemies’ wounds prevented them from chasing after me; even regular fighters hadn’t expected my maneuver. Still more pursuers continued to pour out of a side lane. I stealthed up while on the run, narrowly escaping a slowing spell they’d just cast in my wake which had turned the air into thick jelly and forced time to speed up. I was saved by my own momentum which allowed me to escape the spell’s range and turn a corner.
As I ran, I tried and failed to conjure up the bone path. Several times I began casting the spell only to lose my concentration and have to start again and again.
Bastard!
Another sheet of light flashed behind me. I hurried to dive into a service alley between some houses. A flame-streaked ball rocketed past me, then burst with an ear-shattering explosion that made the ground shudder under my feet.
