by Pavel Kornev
Despite her green skin, shaven head, broad shoulders and burly build, she didn’t strike me as being an uncivilized savage. She was clad in a pair of sandals and a loincloth. Her bare breasts with big black nipples jiggled in unison with her jumping and arm-waving. The bone castanets in her hands struck a distinct rhythm, their harsh tapping giving me a headache and a strong desire to get out of here.
And the light! The lamps blinked in unison with the rhythm. From time to time, their incessant flashing filled with the ominous glow of fresh blood.
A transparent vortex spun in the air above the shamaness’ head. I got the impression that it was feeding her some kind of power from other worlds. No idea what would happen in case of her death: all this force just might break loose — and if it did, what would become of me?
This was a very bad time for dying. If I did, I’d lose so much precious time on respawning. Then the white witch was sure to get to me here in which case losing an eye would be the least of my problems.
“Uncle John...” Neo’s beseeching voice reverberated through my head. Still, I didn’t twitch an eyebrow but carried on observing the she-shaman instead. Or rather, looking for her weak points.
A simple blow to her bare back could very easily kill her. The thing was, killing her was only part of the problem. I also needed to destroy her magic. The spells of Chaos weren’t stable; all you needed to do was hit the right place at the right time.
My gut feeling told me to swap the sword for the cursed bone hook. As soon as I touched it, the shaman’s green skin became covered in a fine web of thin lines.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. These were all of her vulnerable points: all the main arteries, the liver, the kidneys, the gap between the ribs opposite her heart, and most importantly, all the points of mana concentration.
Such a good thing I’d leveled up Execution! Served me well!
I darted off, merging with the shadows dancing around the temple, and reached the center of the room. The orc woman must have sensed something because she began to turn round. Unfortunately, she was hopelessly too late.
Leap! Quick Strikes!
I leaped behind her and sank my bone hook three times into her soft flesh.
In the neck. Under a shoulder blade. In the ribs.
The hellish black fire that now inhabited the hook disrupted the flow of power, but still the transparent vortex continued to pump her up with more. The shaman began convulsing, then exploded with a blinding flash, splattering the interior with her body parts.
Some explosion that was! It made my ears ring.
The Player Arkha, She Who Dances with Spirits, is killed!
The Stop the Desecration of the Mountain Temple quest is complete!
Experience: +20 000 [193 319/200 000]; +20 000 [193 363/28 300]
Undead, the level is raised! Rogue, the level is increased!
Achievement received: the Defender of the Order of the Black Phoenix!
I laughed. It had been worth the risk. Definitely worth it!
Just then the vortex changed shape, forming the outlines of a human body.
The laughter froze on my lips.
“You!” thundered the ghost of the Grand Master of the Order of the Silver Phoenix. “I’ll trash you, worm!”
The merciless light that the ghost had been exuding the last time I met him was now gone, replaced by a dull gray glow. Still, he was just as strong — probably, even more so. He hadn’t created the vortex: he was the vortex.
A bolt of gray lightning struck the room, only to be swallowed up by the darkness which came out of nowhere.
“Go away!” Neo shouted. “You don’t belong here!”
The Grand Master growled as the darkness swallowed him up, erasing him from reality. Shame it couldn’t kill him: all it had done was kick him out into dimensions unknown.
Neo ran toward me. “Thanks, Uncle John!”
I raised my hand, stopping the flood of his gratitude.
A sharp pain pierced my empty left eye socket. As if in unison, my eye which topped the hilt of my flamberge began to glow with a blue light. The white witch was somewhere around!
“Port me out, quick!” I shouted.
Unhesitantly Neo swept his hand through the air, ripping it apart. I stepped into the portal.
I was standing knee deep in murky water. This wasn’t the territory of the Lady of the Crimson Moon! That bastard kid had ported me to some God-forsaken swamp!
Did I say God-forsaken?
Not really. This was somewhere in the vicinity of Stone Harbor.
“What the hell? Neo?” I demanded, studying the remains of the bridge washed away by the flood. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The boy gave me an embarrassed smile. “I’m afraid I still need your help, Uncle John.”
Time left: 25 days 04:27:08…
“WHAT THE HELL?”
That was all I could say once I’d climbed out of the bog. “Neo? What the hell?”
These were the only three words that kept turning over in my head. Anything else was too strong to use in polite company without taking stock of the situation first.
Neo shrank back under my furious glare. Still, he stood his ground. “He won’t give it up,” he said, apparently meaning the Grand Master. “We need to kill him.”
“You can’t kill somebody who’s already dead,” I snapped. “If you want to feel safe, hire yourself some bodyguards!”
“Bodyguards?” Neo appeared lost. My suggestion seemed to have come as a complete surprise to him.
“Do you remember the shop where we stopped once in the capital? Speak to the owner. He’ll arrange it for you.”
Stubbornly the boy shook his head. “The Grand Master won’t stop until he gets what he wants. It’s either him or me.”
“So kill him yourself!”
“I don’t think I can.”
“You managed to get rid of him quite easily,” I reminded him.
“The mountain temple is my place of power,” he explained. “Outside of its walls, I’m no match to him. He turned coat and joined the side of Chaos. Orcs’ shamans perform their pagan rituals in the sanctuary of the Silver Phoenix. Night and day they keep pumping in their power.”
I cussed. “Are you suggesting I traipse back across these marches to the temple? Are you serious?”
“Not at all,” he shook his head energetically, sweeping his red mop out of his eyes. “It’s only his spirit that lives in the temple. You can’t harm it. The Grand Master’s body is buried in the tunnels under the lighthouse. We’ll need to steal his remains!”
“Mmm. It might actually work.”
“Uncle John, please help! I beg you!”
“No, wait,” I gestured him to stop. “Why don’t you exhume him yourself? Why don’t you ask Julian to do you a favor? The local Lord of the Tower is allied to the Darks. You’ll have absolutely no problem with him.”
Neo breathed a heavy sigh. “The Shadow Puppeteer has switched to the side of Chaos. He won’t let us harm his vassal.”
How do you like that? It never rains, it always pours! Now I was supposed to kill an immaterial being which had sworn its allegiance to the local lord!
“They’ll let you through, Uncle John,” Neo hurried to add, as if afraid I might say no. “You have the mark of the Crimson Moon on you. The servants of Chaos won’t do you any harm.”
Yeah right. They wouldn’t do me any harm, sure — until they caught me red-handed.
On the other hand, was I a thief or just a pretty face?
Then again, I’d got 40,000 XP for defending the temple. This seemed to be a much better way of leveling up compared to smoking mobs non-stop day in day out. Also, I couldn’t just leave the boy in the shit. I could do him a favor, I suppose, and get a bit of leveling out of it. Nothing wrong with that, was there?
Not really. Dangerous, that’s all.
New quest available: Kill the Grand Master of the Order of the Silver Phoenix.
Acce
pt: Yes / No
Yes, dammit! Yes!
Neo jumped with joy. “Yes!”
I hurried to dampen his ardor. “I’ll have to take Scarecrow away from you for a while. A bit of aerial recon never hurts.”
“It’s all right, Uncle John! Whatever you say!”
Reluctantly, the dead black phoenix hopped off the boy’s shoulder onto my steely vambrace. With an unhappy shriek, he dragged his talons across my armor, trying to get a grip.
“Come on, buddy! Take to the air!” I ordered.
Scarecrow soared into the sky and banked into a steep turn over the hills, rapidly turning into a small black dot. Still, the contact between us wasn’t broken, allowing me an excellent bird’s eye view of the town.
Stone Harbor appeared much busier than the last time we’d been here. To one side of the jetty, the townsfolk scurried to and fro, building a fort. The fortifications next to the bridge over the river’s second arm were also being restored.
The Tower of Power looked unusual. It wasn’t pitch-black as before: it appeared to be doused in shadows which swirled slowly around it, rising up to the spire, then floating back down.
“Do you know how to kill the Grand Master?” I asked Neo.
The boy’s face darkened. “No, but-” he beamed in a toothy smile. “But I’m sure you’ll think of something!”
I sighed. “Sure I will.”
I kept getting a flashback in my mind, some distant memory I couldn’t quite place. Something that I’d been told about killing disembodied beings... but what? Never mind. It would come back when I really needed it.
“If I don’t come back, I’ll meet you in the crypt,” I warned.
I headed toward the remains of the bridge and began jumping from one trestle to the next.
The water had long receded; the river had returned to its natural level, so I had no trouble getting to the far bank. I jumped off the bridge into the mud and reconnected with Scarecrow to study the surroundings. The road which snaked between the hills appeared deserted — but still, a shiver ran down my spine.
It was nothing, really. I simply remembered how I’d been chased down this road by the hell hounds. It was a miracle how I’d gotten away then. Nothing short of a miracle...
A sense of foreboding swept over me. Ignoring it, I strode on toward the town. It would be stupid to expect that the spade we’d left in the cellar was still there. And you wouldn’t catch me clawing through the dirt with my bare hands. So I needed to get some proper tools first.
There was also something else. I opened the tab describing my Incognito ability and spent several minutes reading up on my new possibilities and setting up a new false name for myself. To a lot of players, seeing one’s profile’s settings set to private was like waving a red rag at a bull. And now all they could see was a character called Lazarus walking down the road. If you didn’t look too hard, you would never have realized that this was a player and not an NPC. Having said that, if they did start to look hard, no amount of Incognito would save me.
SINCE MY LAST VISIT, the town had changed considerably for the better. Gone were the abandoned houses with boarded windows. The streets were heaving with guards and the townsfolk, and even some newly-arrived players. Overall, the crowd didn’t strike me as overly respectable — what would you even expect from Chaos? — so once again I was happy with my ability not to attract any unwanted attention.
Having said that, I wasn’t entirely invisible. Guards in the streets did notice me, and so did the shadows of sorcerers flitting along the dark alleys. Luckily, it had all come to nothing, thanks to my mark of the Mistress of the Crimson Moon.
In any case, I had no intention of roaming around the town any more than was absolutely necessary, so I headed for the pier. I pushed the door of the familiar armorer’s shop.
The dwarf behind the counter gave me an obsequious smile. “How can I help you?”
“I need a pick and a hoe.”
Even if such an unorthodox choice of tools had baffled him, he didn’t show it. He came out from behind the counter and invited me to follow him.
“Take your pick.”
I grabbed the tools that were the closest to me, paid and left the shop.
I cast an appraising look at the lighthouse and winced. The flame that fluttered atop the tower appeared skittish; its angry reflections hurt my only eye. Tears rolled down my cheek. I lost all desire to approach the wretched place.
Nonsense! I gritted my teeth and started toward the base of the hill. Still, I was wiser than to dive headlong into the Grand Master’s lair. I sent Scarecrow on in front, but the intel he fed me back wasn’t good news. The lighthouse was well guarded. I noticed several posts. Also, the gate was no longer wide open: not only was it shut but it was also guarded by two shamans. That, and the barracks which lay nearby.
Apparently, the ghost of the Grand Master left nothing to chance, hiring a good fifty orcs to guard his remains.
The bastard!
I cussed, returned to the shop and bought a length of rope.
Time left: 25 days 02:54:55…
I DECIDED not to wait for the sun to set, so I headed off to the lighthouse without further ado. In this case, darkness wouldn’t help me because orcs had excellent night vision. Also, the only way the guards could detect a stealthed-up rogue was by using special amulets of shamans’ magic, and for this, the amount of light made no difference.
So there was absolutely no point in hanging around here until sunset. I already had much too much on my plate.
I cleared the first roadblock quite simply by sneaking past the guards. The orcs were too busy preparing their chow to sense the presence of a stealthed-up stranger. But when I reached the second post, Scarecrow sent me the image of a puny green-skinned creature whose face was covered in tattoos. I decided not to try my luck. I turned back and climbed the side of the hill, seeing as it wasn’t too steep anyway.
Having gone round the green-skinned guards, I started up the trail, but almost immediately Scarecrow warned me about an approaching patrol. I dove into the thick grass. The orcs went past without noticing me.
It felt so good to be invisible! As well as swift, agile and deadly. And above all, alive. But let’s not dwell on that...
I knew better than to approach the lighthouse’s gate. I gave it a wide berth and walked along the fence. The garden looked unkempt. In one particular place there was a linden tree whose thick branches overhung the stone wall. It took me a few attempts to hitch the rope over one of its boughs. Climbing it was a piece of cake. I propped myself up on the bough and spent some time looking for a magic alarm system. No matter how hard I peered around, I could see no traps.
I plucked up the nerve, slid over the fence, climbed down the tree and sneaked over to the tower.
Sadly, three paladins of Chaos were hanging about the front door. They looked the business: clad in full armor and armed to the teeth. They might not have been shamans, but they still had quite a few magic abilities between them. Not even a mouse could sneak past them. Having said that, I hadn’t expected this to be a walk in the park.
So I knew better than to waltz straight through. Instead, I parked myself around the corner and contacted Scarecrow again. At first, the wretched bird refused to approach the lighthouse point blank, but after a while he concurred, folded his wings and dropped toward the gate.
With a blinding flash, he disintegrated. A panic ensued. The orcs rushed around like headless chickens. Discipline meant nothing to these green-skinned savages, so I wasn’t at all surprised when the paladins left their post to join all the others. I’d have been surprised if they hadn’t.
I promptly ran up the steps, opened the front door slightly and slid into the cool gloom of the lighthouse. I hurried down the stairs, but the very first steel grid turned out to be locked. Not that it delayed me for long: all I had to do was give it a good push before the lock creaked and snapped open.
Apparently, brute force wasn’t such a bad th
ing sometimes, especially if you gave it some thought first.
I closed the bars behind me, descended into the corridor which ran deep inside the cliff, and started walking past all the walled-in graves of former lighthouse keepers. The tunnel was dark; the only source of light I could make out was a ghostly silver glow at its far end.
No guards here. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to penetrate the Order’s inner sanctum.
