Deadman's Retinue

by Pavel Kornev

  His difficulty level changed from yellow to red, as if he’d just received at least another dozen new levels.

  Actually, that’s exactly what had happened.

  General Malik

  Bone Lord

  I froze, open-mouthed in amazement. Which was a mistake. My moment of hesitation had prevented me from dodging out of the way when he shoved me with the open palm of his hand. The sheer force of his will knocked me off my feet, dragging me across the floor and smashing me against the wall.

  No death magic involved: this was pure unadulterated force.

  Having thus rid himself of his closest opponent, General Malik turned to Goar and cast paralysis on him. The spell proved so powerful that it immediately immobilized the paladin. He could neither run nor fight off all the undead that now came for him.

  Before I could scramble back to my feet, the resurrected monks had swept Goar off his feet and began ripping him apart. Their claws scratched along his armor, penetrating any joints and visor slits and tearing through the vulnerable flesh.

  Bloody Ax hurried to his aid but froze too, immobilized in mid-step.

  Shit! The monks went for the immobilized dwarf all at once. The only things that had saved him from imminent death were his powerful armor and the healers’ support. The cleric removed the paralysis, allowing him to brandish his ax some more, but Malik immobilized him again almost straight away. This time, his magic affected the healers as well.

  The Bone Lord kept spewing out spells in double time, incessantly resurrecting the slain monks and casting attack charms. The Dark Elfa just couldn’t keep up with him, so she switched to the defense and conjured up a dome to protect herself and the other Drow — but still an occasional spell managed to penetrate it.

  The mercs’ health began to dwindle. Also, a few of the monks let the dwarf alone and turned their attentions to the Drow, forcing them to abandon their support roles and use their staffs to defend themselves.

  Dammit! If I didn’t kill Malik now, we were toast! And he was just plain unkillable! If I’d been unable to deal him much damage in the beginning, I could forget all about it now.

  A ring of phantom skulls swirled around him; the sheer amount of shields wrapped around him made the air crackle with magic. It would take me a month of Sundays to finally smoke him, and time was something I just didn’t have.

  Unless...

  I stealthed up, then bounded across the hall until I stood behind his back, and went all-in.

  Oh yes. I activated All-In. It had taken all of my energy, but it had also stripped my enemy of his magic abilities.

  The moment I touched his bony back, an invisible bond joined us. Almost immediately, one of the phantom skulls slammed into me. The impact sent me flying across the room, but it didn’t matter anymore as All-In continued to syphon my opponent’s energy.

  A blinding sphere formed in the air between us.

  A flash.

  I was empty as a drum.

  Although I now didn’t have a single drop of mana left, my enemy was in the same boat. He stopped casting spells; his shields had dissolved; his movements were now devoid of their fluidity.

  Hold on to your hat, mister!

  Haste!

  Nothing.

  Shit! I didn’t have enough energy to activate it!

  I threw magic to the wind and charged, swinging my flamberge in the air.

  Quick Strikes!

  And immediately afterwards:

  Lightning Reflexes!

  Having received a good whack on the head, Malik seemed to spring back into action, brandishing his staff with all the fervor of a deranged windmill. Somehow I managed to parry his every blow, then leapt back out of his reach.

  He barged after me. Our clash proved merciless and not exactly favorable for me. Although I’d managed to deal him a few powerful blows, he only received cold damage. The few times my sword penetrated his armor, it failed to sink deep enough into the Lich’s flesh. Now his staff went through my phantom breastplate like a knife through butter.

  Both of us momentarily stepped back, only to pounce at each other with a renewed force. This time I put my faith into Dodge, preferring to avoid blows rather than deal them myself while the mercs got their act together. Unfortunately, they were still tied up in combat with the monks, and then...

  Then General Malik turned back into the Lich.

  His reverse transformation had been fast and apparently painful. I jumped into action, taking advantage of the brief pause as the monster momentarily lost control of his metamorphing body. I lunged forward, dealing him a stabbing blow that penetrated his bone chest right through.

  I turned the sword in the wound and pulled it out, then hit him again. As we exchanged a series of blows, my health began to shrink — but the monster’s advantage too was now depleted. Now we were fighting on equal terms.

  On equal terms? I don’t think so!

  I performed one combat combo, then another, finally breaking through his defenses. Now I was the one dominating and forcing him back. A sorcerer can’t beat an executioner in a fencing match!

  I needed to kill him before he regained his magic abilities. So I kept pressing. Blow after blow.

  Malik went on the defense but it didn't help him.

  Scythe of Death combo!

  Damage dealt: 658

  General Malik has been killed!

  Experience: +5 000 [173 319/174 000]; +5 000 [1173 363/174 000]

  Achievement received: Fratricide!

  My next horizontal swing sliced through his neck, lopping off his head. As General Malik slumped to the ground, the dead monks crumbled to dust.

  I looked behind me and cussed. Only one Drow healer of the three had survived.

  Shit!

  I wasn’t so much worried about the money as about the time wasted. Until I’d replaced my losses, it would be too dangerous to carry on.

  I rummaged through the Lich’s remains and found a money bag stuffed with gold and precious stones, as well as several magic scrolls and a pot of some potion. I was about to reach for the staff but snatched my hand back just in time. The staff looked vaguely familiar; I was pretty sure it was part of the Deadman’s set. Although I couldn’t be certain that the staff would automatically add to it, I didn’t want to risk it. So I called the Drow girl and told her to take the staff for herself.

  After a moment’s hesitation, I called the surviving mercs.

  “Search the bodies and wait for me,” I said, then stealthed up and started ascending the spiral staircase.

  The place upstairs resembled an abandoned hangar with an impossibly high vaulted ceiling, windowless walls and an enormous double gate at the other end. Still, there was no sign of a runway outside: the gate opened out into a precipitous drop.

  Aha! This was Bone Dragon’s lair!

  And it stood empty. The den’s owner hadn’t respawned yet. I would be lying to you if I said I was upset by the fact. A creature like that could have all of us for breakfast without even noticing.

  Anyway! We’d made quite a bit of XP already. We'd better not outstay our welcome.

  But what about the mercs?

  Me, I could return to the Tower of the Crimson Moon via the world of the Dead. But the living had no business to be there, which meant I couldn’t drag them along. Nor could I pause the contract in order to summon them at a later date in a new location.

  What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t turn them into undead, could I?

  Pensively I returned to the hall downstairs. “Go back to the dungeon’s entrance,” I told the mercs. “I’ll send somebody to fetch you.”

  I should have thought about it earlier and ask Isabella for another portal scroll. Shame I hadn’t thought about it. Never mind. That’ll teach me.

  I activated the Bone Path and stepped into the grave which had opened up before me.

  Time left: 25 days 08:59:33…

  THE CRYPT felt good.

  Oh, yes. It felt cozy and comfortable
as hell. I slumped into the bone throne and spent some time just sitting there, trying to free my head from all the recent concerns and developments. For the first time in ages, I was feeling if not exactly alive, then whole and at peace with myself. My health had long restored; my wounds had healed. Still, I really didn’t feel like getting up. The crypt’s atmosphere seemed to have a calming effect on me, putting me to sleep and urging me to take it easy.

  What the hell?

  I sprang to my feet and set off in search of Isabella. Under the gloomy glare of the Crimson Moon, I crossed the field, walked through the graveyard and entered the maze of narrow little lanes surrounding the town’s Tower of Power. According to the marker on the map, Isabella was already online somewhere in the neighborhood of the temple.

  That’s exactly where I found her. She was standing on the temple square surrounded by a dozen other priestesses.

  They were a sight! This was a motley crowd if ever I’d seen one. You could see straight away this was a Chaosite bash. Not a light-colored garment or a black habit in sight: all of the priestesses were dressed every which way. Some were wearing steel armor, others leather gear while yet more had limited themselves to cloaks and gowns. I don’t even mention the paraphernalia of hair styles. Some of them were stunningly beautiful, others ugly as sin. What else can you expect from Chaos?

  I didn’t dare approach Isabella and froze within the archway of a nearby building, gloomy as a raincloud. However, she tensed, cast a furtive look around her and hurried across the square.

  I stepped further back, merging with the shadows. She followed me.

  “What’s up, kitten?”

  “I’ve done the Bone Dragon hill,” I said. “I need a new location.”

  ‘Oh?” she rearranged the sash of her cloak which covered her too-revealing armor. “How’s it goin’?”

  “I’ve got 1,200,000 XP.”

  “You think a month is enough?”

  I nodded. “Well enough.”

  “You’d better be sure of it,” she ran her long groomed nail across my breastplate. “There'll be no extra time.”

  “You could have helped me!” I exploded.

  “I am helping!”

  “But not enough!”

  “What more do you want?” she exploded too. “I’ve just become the High Priestess! I’ve got a whole bunch of side quests! I haven’t even got time to breathe!”

  I winced. “Never mind. What about a new location?”

  “You’ll have to wait, I’m afraid. First I have to go to the small council. Then I’ll drop by and give you the teleport scroll.”

  She stepped out from under the arch but I stopped her.

  “Wait up there. My mercs are stuck by that hill. Could you bring them back here?”

  “Not a problem,” she said. “Anything to keep you happy, kitten!”

  “In that case, do you think you could send some nice fat quest my way?”

  Isabella sniffed. “You don’t want too much, do you?” She paused, then snapped her fingers. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Lloyd asked me to tell you that he’s got something for you. A bone crown from the Deadman’s Set, I think. Are you interested? Here’s the description...”

  I shook my head without even checking out its stats. “No way. The shop is being watched. Last time they very nearly got me there.”

  “Who, your wretched best buddy?”

  “His mercs.”

  She chuckled. “To tell you the truth, the vampire gentleman who wanted to sell it is well-known to us.”

  “You don’t mean Count, surely?”

  I can’t say it made my day. Back in the Kingdom of the Dead, the inopportune desertion of the three vampires had really thrown a monkey wrench in the works.

  “The very man,” Isabella confirmed. “Lloyd asked him to put it on hold for you. Count’s prepared to wait for a couple of days. If you’re interested, pop in at the Old Archer Inn and speak to him directly.

  “Are they still living up in Mark’s attic?”

  “That’s what Lloyd told me. That’s it, gotta dash. Ciao!”

  She blew me a kiss and sashayed after her fellow priestesses who were already making their way to the temple. She was in an excellent mood. I wish I could say the same about myself. I just hoped that their so-called small council wouldn’t last long. Time was at a premium.

  I pensively scratched my mask with my gauntlet and headed back. When I reached the watchtower, I tilted my head back, admiring the crimson moon hanging in the sky like a lantern. Still, almost immediately I glimpsed torchlight in the tower’s upper windows, followed by the sound of voices.

  Had they posted guards here? That would be logical, but still the presence of strangers seemed to bug me for some reason. Cussing, I descended into the crypt and slammed the bars shut behind me.

  The moment I slumped onto the throne, my anger subsided.

  It felt good. Very good.

  Still, I shouldn’t let my guard down.

  Reluctantly I climbed to my feet, paced the room for a while, then sat back down.

  Bastard! I hated waiting. And above all, I hated wasting time.

  However, this bout of anger didn’t last long. My anger slipped away into the soft comfort of drowsiness. I seemed to have sunk into a complete immobilizing lethargy and...

  Had I just dozed off?

  Possible. My poor brain, exhausted by constant lack of sleep, needed a brief respite..

  THE PRESENCE of somebody in the room awoke me. I opened my only eye, taking in the pitch blackness welling in the corridor outside. Mechanically my hand closed around the hilt of my sword. The darkness dissipated, releasing a bloodied figure.

  Neo’s hands grabbed at the bars. “Uncle John, please help!” he whispered. “He’s desecrating the temple!”

  “Who?” I demanded, shaking with indignation.

  “The shaman.”

  “What shaman are you talking about?”

  The boy’s body convulsed. He was turning translucent as if dissolving into thin air. Still, he managed to hang on to his material form. “Uncle John, please help!” he pleaded. “This will kill me!”

  I stepped toward the boy but froze halfway, my initial indignation tempered by the memory of the white witch. The last time I’d visited the mountain temple, I’d lost an eye — and I had a funny feeling I wouldn’t come away quite so easily this time. I didn’t want to take any risks, so I asked,

  “What about Julian?”

  “I can’t find him!”

  “Can’t you do it yourself?”

  “The shaman’s being protected! Quick! There’s no time to lose!”

  His figure flickered again. This time it took him much longer to regain him shape.

  “Please help...”

  “I can’t!” I shouted. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time? That wretched witch very nearly killed me!”

  “If you kill the shaman, I’ll port you back myself straight away,” he sniveled. “Uncle John, please! I don’t want to die!”

  Well, how about me? Did I want to die? Not really.

  To hell with it all!

  Would you like to join the quest Stop the Desecration of the Mountain Temple?

  [ Yes / No ]

  For a brief moment, I stared at the message. My hand clicked Yes against my will.

  Dammit. I just couldn’t leave Neo in the shit, could I?

  Also, a quest meant more XP. I just had to take the risk.

  Neo breathed a sigh of relief. The bars flung open. The darkness beyond it thickened, forming a portal. I’d already stealthed up. Cursing myself to hell and back for making such a hasty decision, I dove into the portal’s black hole with my flamberge at the ready.

  Bang! I dropped to the stone floor and rolled over to duck behind the nearest pillar. As it turned out, no such precaution was necessary. The orc shaman was contorting and making faces in front of the altar, completely absorbed in his ritual dance. Also, the temple lamps which flooded the place w
ith their blinding light kept blinking, their flashing creating a myriad of fleeting shadows. I took cover within them: I wasn’t in a hurry to attack.

  The orc didn’t turn out to be at all what I’d expected. No idea why I’d thought it would be an NPC. It was in fact a player — and a woman to boot. A she-shaman.