“WHAT?!” Grygz and the group of Paladins echoed the elf’s astounded exclamation. Only Sharda refrained from expressing surprise‒ just tilted his head to the side in contemplation.
“Are we here for a while?” I asked the gnome calmly, ignoring the elf’s angry shouts. If the father was the same arrogant twit his son had been – after all, Nartalim must have inherited it from someone – there was no point in talking to him.
“What did you do with my son?!” The elf flared, but then help came from quarters I had never expected.
“You just heard it, in plain Game language – he was stripped of his initiation and killed,” Archibald appeared out of nowhere next to us, accompanied by Dolgunata and Sakhray. The druid nodded to me, just barely, in greeting, and then immediately restored her “Snow Queen” face. “What is not clear?”
“It’s impossible! It’s prohibited!” The elf kept protesting, but Archibald was not listening to him any more. Turning towards the group of new players, he pointed at Logir, Sartal, Monstrichello and myself with a curt command: “You are coming with me, the rest go to the Citadel with Sharda.”
“They all must go to the Citadel, brother,” the gnome frowned. We need to set up the anchor and level them up at least to level ten.”
“Tell that to the Viceroy’s Counselor,” Archibald was not even looking in the direction of the gnome. “There he is, by the way, looking for us. I’m afraid if I don’t take them with me, this moment, we’ll never see these good Paladins again. Sharda, cover us! Yari managed to repeat what I did.”
“You’re not for real?!” For the first time in our short acquaintance the gnome lost his Olympian calm and his eyes bulged at me. A surprised gnome was a truly scary sight.
“Damn! We can’t make it‒ they've noticed us. Sakhray: take Monstrichello and Sartal. Nata: Yari and Logir are yours. Portals at the arena only work in portal rooms ‒ get everyone there. Bring them to the Citadel!” Archibald started issuing commands, forgetting about everyone else present. “I’ll deal with the necromancer!" "Levard, what brings you here?” The catorian smiled broadly, whipped his tail angrily through the air several times, spread his arms and made several quick steps forward, as if wishing to hug the cynocephalian who was advancing towards us.
“Run!” Dolgunata hissed, pulling myself and Logir away from the Paladins. Sakhray was busy with the Monster, who was stubbornly resisting like a donkey, and refused to leave the group. Sharda cast a glance at us, Archibald and Levard; then he rushed towards Monster and whispered something to him, and Monster relaxed, allowing himself to be dragged to the side.
“Levard, I heard your student also joined this enrollment!” The gnome turned his wide back to us, and somehow appeared to stand between us and the necromancer, who had just extricated himself from Archibald’s clutching paws. “So how is everything going?”
“He never returned,” the future Viceroy barked, his gaze fixed on our group. “I want to know why he failed. I trained him myself. Zangar could not die.”
“Come on, slowpokes.” Dolgunata did not waste a single second, and kept dragging us further away from Levard. Sakhray with his bunch kept up with us, and within just a couple of seconds we had left the arena, disappearing into one of the numerous passages in the stadium.
“They won’t be able to delay him long‒his level is too high!” Nata said quickly to her brother, peeking out into the arena from around the corner. “Quick‒ the teleport to the Paladins is on the third floor below ground! We need to hurry!”
We ran after the druid as fast as we could. Apparently, she was very familiar with the layout of this stadium; she never stopped even to look around to get her bearings. No, Dolgunata was running forward with determination, making Logir and me follow her. We were running so fast that I was barely able to move my legs fast enough.
“Hi everybody!” I heard a long-forgotten voice as soon as we turned another corner and ran into the stopped druid at full speed, dropping her on the floor and creating a huge pileup of Paladins and druids. Jumping to my feet, I immediately activated my defense, attack and invisibility, trying to get away as soon as possible, but it didn’t help: a thick ring of ice formed around us. Devir, pleased, was enjoying the sight of downed and frozen Paladins and only now did I realize that Dolgunata and Sakhray were not moving: they were literally frozen into the ice. “It’s so nice that you are all here. I won’t have to chase you all over the world. Yari, my congratulations – you were able to complete the Academy, I hadn’t expected this. Logir, you disappointed me. I had thought you were interested in becoming a Headhunter. Sartal… you know it yourself. You were sent to Earth hoping I’d never find out, but I have good informers. You are caught, Paladins. See you soon! Take them! Keep the druids alive, I don’t want to aggravate Archibald more than I have to.”
A wall of ice formed around me, and the world exploded in a myriad shards when the cold penetrated my shield and reached my unprotected body. The darkness mercifully engulfed me almost at once, but before I fainted, some sarcastic part of my mind noted that we had not been killed. Somebody wants us alive, even if not quite undamaged. It’s unlikely that after you turn into a piece of ice you can stay even relatively intact.
Darkness gradually faded, turning into something shapeless and dark red. My head felt like it was breaking to pieces. Making me moan; I needed to take an elves’ potion right away, or else this kind of pain was liable to make one go mad.
“Yari, are you alive?” Logir’s voice was terribly hoarse and raspy. I tried to answer and realized it was really hard – I could barely inhale, let alone say anything. I tried to open my eyes and failed: I was lying face down and had no strength at all to turn over. But I needed to let the femorc know, at the very least, that I could hear her. I found a way out and mumbled:
“M-m-m!” The headache intensified, making complex circles float in front of my eyes.
“Sartal, are you here? Monster?” There was silence. Either they weren’t here, or they hadn’t come to. Or maybe they had never been with us.
“I can’t move, Logir said pitifully. “We are sitting in some kind of cage. There’s a large empty room. There’s an altar a couple of yards away from us. And some strange writings on it. Something weird is going on. Yari, say something already!”
“M-m-m! Gr-m-m!” I was able to extract another sound and tried to at least roll over onto my back. It didn’t work and I nearly threw up even from this minor effort. What was going on with me?
“My father will find us!” The femorc kept weeping. “And Archibald! He always finds what he needs. They will find us, you’ll see! The mages let us out of the Academy at just the first level! I don’t want to die…”
The femorc started crying silently. Gathering all my willpower, I made a superhuman effort: rolled over onto my back and opened my eyes. Something crunched, but I did not pay any attention to that. I was much more concerned about the glum picture I saw before me: Logir was sitting with her back to me, half embedded in a boulder of slowly melting ice. Bending my head down I saw what had crunched: my legs were turned to the wrong side in a very unnatural way.. There was no pain – it was simply dulled by the ice in which they were. Apparently, they were frozen all the way to the bones; that’s why my body was so unnaturally fragile.
The location where we found ourselves looked more like a gloomy cave than a room: it had rough stone walls, long stalactites were hanging down from the ceiling… but part of it had some signs of civilization: there were tiles on the floor, the walls were painted gray, there were even a few torches on the walls dispelling the dark. The snow-white altar was the center of that civilization, and that’s what the femorc was looking at. What upset me most of all was that I couldn’t kill her. In principle, I could have reached her with the artifact if I tried. But it would be the girl’s final death, and I really didn’t want that. On the other hand, giving the mages an additional fighter would not do either. I should think of what to do while no one is here.
“Grm-gr,” my throat still refused to form sounds into words, despite all my efforts. Pain started seeping through the cold that numbed my lower body, fighting with the pain reigning in my head. At first it was just an echo of pain, but I realized very well: the more time passes, the worse I will feel. Twisting one more time, I pulled an elves’ potion out of my inventory and poured it down my frozen throat. Welcome warmth spread through my body, and finally the pain left it. I had given myself at least twelve hours of healthy and adequate interaction with reality.
“Logir?” Another attempt to say something was finally successful. It was a little hard and my throat itched a little, but I could talk. “Are you OK? Did you have any damage?”
“I can’t move,” the femorc replied through her tears. “I can’t feel my arms and legs. I can only look forward.”
“The most important thing is you’re alive; we’ll deal with the rest.” I started wriggling from side to side, trying to free myself from the ice. I heard another horrible crunch, as if a dry branch was breaking in the forest, and my legs completely lost connection with the rest of my body. Had it not been for the armor, part of me would have stayed in the ice. I could not sit up to break the ice with my fists or my artifact, so I dared to try the last thing I could do at the moment: brought out my pet. Even though he was pretty uncontrollable, I was going to try and convince him to break the ice. That was the most important thing. After that we could deal with Logir and the cage.
Rragr appeared in all his glory: a half-meter tall prowler, looking for something to grab and stuff into his face. I had been naïve enough to think that having eaten the worm’s heart would improve his qualities‒for example, make him bigger, stronger, smarter and more agreeable‒ but none of those dreams came true. My pet had just gobbled up the heart without any visible effect, and now was on the lookout to gobble up whatever else. Seeing that there was nothing edible in the vicinity, Rragr settled next to me, upset, and stayed still, waiting for instructions.
“Break the ice,” I pointed at my legs. Noticing that it did not elicit any reaction whatsoever, added: “I’ll give you a treat.”
“Gra?” The furry wonder showed some interest, rising to his feet. A few moments later he repeated demandingly: “Gra?”
“Ice first,” apparently, the only word Rragr understood from my sentence was “treat” and now he insistently demanded one. Having received no answer from me, the dismayed Neanderthal sat down on the floor of the cage and whined quietly, telling the world of the unjust and dire fate of the Paladins’ pets. He was not showing any intent to break the ice.
“What an interesting thing you have there, I see,” I heard a surprised voice and immediately hid the pet. The last thing I needed was for him to be killed before I even figured out how to control him. Devir came up to the cage and made a face, seeing my legs. “Aren’t you a masochist, Yari! Does it hurt?”
“It’s bearable. You’d better think about what happens when Archibald finds us. Then everyone will hurt!”
“You are hoping for the connection that Dolgunata created? I hasten to disappoint you – it only worked in the Academy; don’t hope that my teacher will appear here in a minute. First he has to deal with my present.” The mage shrugged his shoulders, walking around the cage. “But in general, I am now interested in you. Not everyone can bring a pet from the Academy. Actually, it’s the first time I’ve ever heard about such a thing. Besides that you were able to get away from my mages, even though the druid helped you with that… I always liked extraordinary individuals. In effect, I am not going to hold you back: you can go wherever you want, but only after the ritual. I don’t want the catorian to interfere with it.”
“What ritual?” I was taken aback totally, not expecting such unprecedented generosity from my main opponent. I was surprised that Devir even deigned to talk to a common Paladin, but now he was saying he was going to let me go. Somehow that did not fit in with my impression of the crazy player.
“You will see,” Devir responded with a smile. “You have front row tickets to the show. After it’s all over I am inviting you to the Sanctuary‒ let’s have a talk. I am not such a demon as you wish to see me, and I know how to take a loss. By getting out of the Academy you beat me, showing that my students were inadequate. I understand that very well, and don’t hold a grudge against you.”
“What will happen to my group?” I looked at the back of Logir, who was sitting very still and hanging on to our every word.
“Since when did it become your group?” Devir asked in surprise. “They betrayed you, tried to trade you for their own lives, framed you… They will die and it doesn’t matter who will clean the Game of this trash: Archibald or myself. I’ll do it quickly and painlessly‒ something I cannot promise from the Paladin. He would have to punish members of his own class as cruelly as I am going to do now with my transgressors.”
Devir turned around and shouted:
“Let’s begin!”
A motley procession appeared from behind a large stalactite which apparently covered the entrance to the cave. Two groups of mages were bringing in the unconscious Paladins, whose hands and feet were tied: Sartal and Monstrichello. Next to be brought in were Olzar and Dangard, tied up even more elaborately than the members of my class. Throwing the tied-up victims down next to the altar, the mages dispersed around the cave, trying to avoid the upgraded part of it. New participants in the proceedings appeared next. A grey-haired elf mage stepped out from behind the stalactite, strutting regally and looking arrogantly at everyone including Devir. A long cloak train behind him was not touching the floor: it was held up by two servants. The elf approached the altar, and magically a soft armchair appeared, with elaborately carved armrests. Sitting down and casting a contemptuous look at the tied-up bodies, the grey mage seemed to turn into a statue, ignoring the outside world. At that moment another mage appeared from behind the stalactite, looking at everyone just as arrogantly. Then another. And another… Seven high-born mages – that was all I could think to call them – settled around the altar, and all became stone-still waiting for the show to begin. I had thought that all the actors were already on stage, but I had been wrong: the mages started coming out, running, not wanting to delay the noble guests; the mages spread around the entire cave. As far as I could tell with my lack of experience there were about two hundred of various beings that appeared before the inflow of visitors trickled down, and then HE appeared. Someone whom I had not at all expected to see here. Levard, Zangar’s teacher‒ the cynocephalian necromancer who was almost the Viceroy of the Emperor‒ honored the mages with his presence. The necromancer was immediately provided a dais a couple of yards away from my cage, to give him the best view of both the altar and all the participants of the proceedings.
“Brethren!” As soon as Levard had taken his place, the first of the high-born mages took the floor. “This session of the Minor Circle of the Mages Of the Harti Sector is now open! Today’s Minor Circle will be held in the presence of guests: His Highness the noble necromancer Levard, and one who is a reason for this session: Paladin Yaropolk.
“Why is the Paladin still alive?” suddenly asked one of the high-born mages, whose race I did not know. Green skin, three eyes, a very disproportionate mouth, no nose at all and webbed hands. Sort of an oversized frog that had grown to the size of a human and learnt to walk on two feet. “Do we need witnesses?”
“We would all like to know that,” a gnome, another high-born mage, seconded him. There was not a single human among the seven mages sitting around the altar, so one could say with certainty that nothing good could be expected from that bunch.
“The paladin is a guest rather than a sacrifice for one simple reason: my students failed.” Devir responded, bending in a deep bow in front of the high-born ones. “It will not be possible to kill Yari. Despite my orders, my students were unabl
e to prevent Yaropolk from gaining level 11 in the Academy. At this point even the “Black Death” won’t help us, so I am calling on everyone here to accept the fact that we have two guests, and not just one as we had initially planned.”
“You shall deal with him immediately after the ceremony is over,” the elf ordered, and Devir bowed his head.”
“Whatever you order, Your Highness. Your will is the law for me. Paladin Yaropolk will be declared my personal enemy immediately after the ceremony. Only the Sanctuary can protect him from my wrath.”
“We have no doubts of your qualifications, master,” another high-born rumbled. He looked like a huge monster made of earth. Was he an elemental spirit, maybe? “I accept the right of the necromancer Levard and the Paladin Yaropolk to be present at this session of the Minor Circle.”
“I accept the right…,” six more confirmations sounded in the cave, when Levard interrupted:
“I want to talk to Yari. After the ceremony. I will decide his fate myself. I release Devir from the quest. From now on Yaropolk will be my concern. I hope there are no objections?”
High-born mages exchanged glances in bewilderment, losing their aura of arrogance just for an instant. But then they nodded silently. No one dared to object to one of the most important beings of the Game.
“Let’s start the ceremony!” The elf proclaimed after administrative issues were settled. “The floor goes to master Devir!”
The unperturbed mage strutted to the altar and pointed at Olzar. He was immediately yanked into the air and placed on the altar.
“Olzar was not one of my students,” Devir began, “but he was supposed to replace Ahean, who happened to be assigned to a different sector. Olzar failed to follow my instructions several times. Started an open struggle with the druid Dolgunata, a student of Paladin Archibald, which brought the entire plan to the brink of failure. It doesn’t make any sense to list his transgressions; it’s simpler to state what he did well. The answer to that is simple: nothing! I consider him unworthy of representing our class, and ask the Minor Circle to make the decision on his fate. He has been brought down to level one.”
The Beginning (Dark Paladin Book #1) LitRPG Series Page 48
