by Alex Bobl
The goblin rolled across the floor, then sprang up on all fours right in front of Attila and raised his paw, about to claw him. Instead, he received a bolt of purple lightning in the face.
The goblin's head — complete with fangs, crimson eyes and other gory details — disintegrated into nothing. His body collapsed in a heap on the floor. What were goblins doing in Steam Tunnels? Weren't they the dwarves' sworn enemies? They had to be, considering they were fighting over the same turf which was, figuratively speaking, their natural habitat. The only difference being, dwarves were sentient and you could play them if you wanted but goblins were nothing but a bunch of savage mobs. The Engineers under the Mountain must have found some way of domesticating them, that was the only possible explanation.
Attila stepped back from the dark pool of thick liquid that had started to spread around the headless body. Turning, he mechanically did what he'd been trying to do when the goblin had assaulted him. He lay his hand on the emerald and pressed.
The emerald sank into the altar. The rays cut in the stone swelled with green light. Then they disappeared as the altar soaked them in. Radial lines of light ran across the floor from the altar's base, then went out. The room filled with a soft popping sound as lanterns all around it began to come on, casting a pale light around their wrought cast-iron lampposts.
"The master switch," Attila muttered, stepping back.
The faint green light illuminated the cave. Attila could now see that it was crowded with trees growing in round stone beds. Deep earth-filled ruts were cut into the rock floor, overgrown with grass and shrubbery. The lanterns' magic glow must have served as sunlight to the greenery — provided the game writers had bothered to consider such details at all.
This greenery formed a complex maze. Not far from Attila stood a small wooden tower barricaded with a heap of stones. Further on, more fake aberrations glittered among the trees. Attila peered at them. What an abundant choice! They seemed to have everything here: another Jelly glowing its toxic green, a Witch Fire droning, three Magnetos crackling their magic; further on, a good dozen Crushers rippled the air above them. This had to be some kind of imitation magic: the aberrations looked perfectly normal when he looked directly at them, but every time he glanced aside, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, tiny colorful runes that seemed to rise over the aberrations and dissolve into the air.
From the door behind him, the roaring of flames and Beast's excited screaming mixed with the sounds of blows and desperate growling. How long would he be able to hold them? With his exosuit, a huge mace and a magic flamethrower... should he be asking how long the goblins would hold instead? Then again, he had no idea how many of them had crowded onto the rotunda.
Attila stepped back toward the little tower and rose on tiptoe, peering into the gloom at the other end of the square cave. This was something he hadn't expected to come across! Shame he couldn't see it properly... he really should take out the God's Eye and send it over there to have a clear picture. Was his sight deceiving him or was it really...
He didn't finish the thought. A gnoll appeared out of nowhere and lunged at Attila, brandishing his sword and kite shield. Attila screamed. The monster didn't follow him though: instead, it disappeared back into the floor. Immediately an enormous wild boar jumped at him like a jack-in-the-box, only to be sucked back under the floor after a few feet.
And they all seemed sort of flat, like cartoons. They would fail to convince anybody. But of course! These were targets for shooting practice from the tower and barricades. Another gnoll crawled out of nowhere and immediately clattered back, followed by a ghoul sprawling his plank-like limbs. Some of the targets moved on rails hidden within the floor, others jumped out at you only to disappear again.
Beast roared. The purple light flashed across the rotunda filled with dozens of shadows.
"You need help?" Attila shouted, raising his mythogun.
Beast didn't hear him. Attila stepped toward the little tower built of roughly hewn logs. He slung the gun behind his back, jumped through the small window and peered at the opposite end of the cave. No, it hadn't been his imagination. Just think what the dwarves had built for their test range cave! Actually, how sure was he that it was a cave? The ceiling wasn't stone, was it? He could even see the wooden beams. Of course. This wasn't a cave at all but a house built on the surface.
"Beast!" Attila yelled. "We're retreating! I've found an exit!"
Now he could make out the black slabs of granite, the steel gate and the narrow gunslits... The far wall of the test range was in fact the wall of the Citadel! Not the real one but a copy. Weak daylight seeped through the barely-open gate. And what was that little marble structure surrounded by a low fence? That was a crypt — or rather, another imitation. A crypt by the Citadel's walls, why? Never mind. He had more important things to take care of.
"Beast!" he yelled, jumping down to the floor.
Beast backed off, forcing his bulk through the doorway, blocking it. Attila could see the hatch on his back — and above it, between the exosuit's broad shoulders, a ribbed sphere flashing purple mithrinol light.
The helmeted head whirred round as Beast looked at him.
"We're already on the surface! That's the exit!" Attila pointed at the cave's far corner. "Quick, run!"
As he stepped away from the tower, he didn't even notice walking right into yet another Magneto. This one, however, did go off even though it wasn't as powerful as a real one. An electric charge hit Attila; he cried out, jumping and dancing on the spot. Grinding his teeth, he finally managed to force himself away from the aberration. The palms of his hands felt on fire. Dragging one leg, Attila hobbled across the hall. Only now did he realize that Beast wasn't in the doorway any longer. Goblins poured through the opening and flooded the hall. They ran on all fours, their pointy ears flapping.
Beast, where was he? Aha! He was already behind the altar, scrambling to safety.
"Go for the Citadel!" Attila repeated just in case, not entirely sure Beast had heard him. Then he hurried after him.
They moved in synch: Attila across the center of the hall, threading his way between the trees and leaping over earth-filled ruts, while Beast mirrored his route scrambling along the wall. His steel feet clanged over the floor, the ribbed sphere behind his back pulsating with light. So far, the goblins didn't seem to notice Attila in their chase after Beast.
Suddenly Beast turned round. A large mass rose above his shoulder. This was the mithrinol cannon which had been folded at his side. This one was even bigger than the one on the power cart. Why hadn't he used it earlier?
The cannon made a deep popping sound. A purple flash illuminated the cave. Momentarily blinded, Attila stumbled onto a stone pedestal, hitting his knee. He cussed. When he could see again, he discovered that the wall of the rotunda had collapsed in a heap of rock. A gray cloud hung in the air; goblins' body parts were scattered everywhere, covered in sand and dust as if breadcrumbed. Why so much dust? Had the blast actually pulverized the rock?
The outline of the exosuit bled through the cloud. Beast was backing off, peppering the remaining goblins with purple fire.
Way to go, buddy! Attila dashed for the gate. Beast, too, turned round and clanged his massive steely legs, following in his wake. A whole group of flat gnoll-like targets jumped out of the floor to one side of him; he pointed his flamethrower hand at them, showering them with fire. The cheap plywood went up in flames.
Attila was the first to reach the gate. A strip of cool light lay across his face. Squinting, he pushed the heavy gates open. The hinges creaked.
A small yard outside was surrounded by a stone wall. Beyond lay the buildings of Deadville. The sun was hiding behind the ominous blue and purple thunderclouds that sped across the sky.
Beast had only a few paces left when Attila noticed a flat gray rock in his friend's way which looked suspiciously like a discharged Catapult. He had a bad feeling about it. Too late though — he didn't have a chance to
warn Beast before he trod with his heavy foot onto the rock.
With a crackling sound, the exosuit swayed. Beast bellowed as he staggered, losing his balance, and rammed the gate with his head. A bell-like sound of metal hitting metal echoed throughout the hall.
"Bummer!" Beast roared, collapsing by the gate in an avalanche of clanging and clattering. "Such a race ruined!"
He scrambled back to his feet and barged through the gate. Behind them shadows flitted amid the trees, growling.
"Bar the gate!" Attila put his weight against it.
Beast followed suit. The gates of the Dwarven test range snapped shut like a pair of giant jaws.
Chapter Seventeen
"Please put the helmets on. In a few moments we will commence data transfer."
The woman in the red suit took a long pause. Then she turned and nodded to a man in a lab coat who sat behind her at a table groaning with equipment. His fingers fluttered across the keyboard.
Yanna hovered in the doorway, checking the room for any guards but found none. What she did find, however, was another open door in the hall's opposite wall. Which explained why she hadn't noticed the change in the VIP visitors at once.
The guests slammed their helmets on, their visors still open. A pink light came on inside them. Yanna could see the faces of those sitting close to her. They shifted in their seats for a while; then they stopped moving, staring ahead of them. A few faces relaxed into stupid smiles; others frowned.
Then all eyes rolled into the backs of their heads, turning into blind white pingpong balls.
Yanna bit her lip and stepped into the hall. She walked quickly along the wall, turned a corner and headed for the door visible behind the back-row seats. The woman in red stopped talking to the operator. She must have detected the movement out of the corner of her eye as she turned her head to Yanna but didn't dare call out for fear of disturbing the audience.
Hugging the laptop, Yanna kept going. Most of the visitors sat motionless in their helmets — but not everyone. One woman in an evening dress was making jerky movements with her arms, her clenched fists battering the armrests louder and louder. A man in an expensive suit was shaking his head, turning it left and right, left and right...
That's Alpha learning to control people in the real world, Yanna thought. To her surprise, she felt almost calm. Total control, that's what he needs. For him, Gryad is only a test ground where he can study people's mentality and their behavior in the extreme environment of the Lag.
She was almost two-thirds of the way across the hall when the door behind her swung open. Baboon Face barged in, accompanied by three of the guards. At that very moment, a good half of the trance-like guests transformed: some of them dropped to the floor while others jumped to their feet; a few people squirmed in their seats.
The woman in red opened her mouth, about to speak, when Baboon cut her short, "Stop or I'll shoot!"
A stout man in a corner seat tried to stop Yanna, all his movements mechanical and stiff. He grabbed at her lab coat. Another rose, reaching his arms out for her. Yanna squirmed free of the first one's weak grip, slammed the laptop's corner into the other's throat and rammed the door with her shoulder as the stomping of feet grew behind her back.
She shot out of the room into a short corridor leading to an indoor balcony that overhung the building's reception hall. A dainty narrow staircase led down to the floor below. A security guard hovered on the top step, making sure no mere mortals ventured into the VIP area.
He stared at Yanna bug-eyed. "Excuse me!" he attempted to reach for her elbow but the surprise effect worked against him. Yanna slid past the open-mouthed man, flew down the steps and wormed herself into the crowd below. Unhappy voices rose around her; someone pushed her aside. Elbowing through the crowd, Yanna hurried toward the exit.
She'd done it! She had the laptop and she was out safely! There's the door, just within her reach...
Someone grabbed her hand.
Yanna swung round. The ginger-haired guard — the one who'd let her in in the first place — was holding her tight.
"I've been looking for you everywhere," he began. His expression grew puzzled. "Why are you wearing a doctor's coat? Is this our uniform underneath?"
"No, I just..." Yanna glanced back and blurted, unexpectedly for herself, "Bagrov's been attacked!"
"He what?"
"You see those people on the stairs? Disguised as guards? There're more of them upstairs killing the VIP guests! Terrorists or robbers, I don't know!"
Ginger let go of her and bolted toward Baboon Face who'd just appeared on the steps. As he ran, he pulled out a walkie talkie, shouting into it.
The few seconds it took was enough for Yanna to slip outside.
The city was in turmoil. Ambulances and police cars sped past her. A chopper with the markings of the Ministry of Emergencies hovered overhead. The protestors' crowd had grown considerably. Having run down the steps, Yanna found herself in its midst.
She hurried toward the curb just as a young guy pulled up on his brightly colored scooter. He wore a shirt of an intense blue color and a pair of leather pants. His dreadlocks too were dyed blue under a helmet printed with the Union Jack. He chomped noisily on his gum. A digital player was taped to the handlebars. A set of speakers mounted on the front forks blurted out reggae music, drowning out the city noise. He really looked like some space junkie but Yanna didn't care. She stepped toward him and glistened her eyes meaningfully: Take me for a ride?
The kid stood up proudly, checking her out, and nodded at the back seat.
She took it and clasped the kid around the waist, realizing only now she was still wearing the lab coat. She must have looked well and truly weird.
"Where to?" the kid shouted over his shoulder. "What's the address?"
"In a moment! Just go!"
He was about to pull off when Baboon ran out of the building followed by the ginger-haired guard and a few men in black. They immediately singled out Yanna's white coat in the crowd and made a dash for her, forcing their way through the ranks of protestors. She heard indignant voices.
"Who are they?" the reggae lover wondered, casting a look back.
"Just go!"
He leaned forward, clinging to the bars, then turned the throttle and nearly wheelied as he gave the scooter gas. They made a sharp curve and entered the busy traffic. Baboon and Ginger ran toward the road, waving their hands trying to stop a passing car, throwing themselves literally under the wheels of the honking vehicles.
* * *
Attila and Beast stood on the roof of a gloomy angular structure. Attila could never understand the game designers' idea behind Deadville's buildings: rows of dark windowless towers forming a skyline of cubes, pyramids and rectangular blocks. Not a single window between them. Why would you need a house without windows? What purpose would it serve? There was always one stairwell inside each of them: a long echoing tunnel zigzagging all the way up to the roof in a succession of straight lines. No frills whatsoever, everything purely functional. The only exception was a recurring statue cut in the buildings' walls: the torso of a man with his hands raised overhead as if supporting the roof. Only the torso, arms and head but no legs. The man had no face either, just a flat stone surface. The statue was spooky, striking as something created by a malicious mind devoid of anything human.
The other weird thing was that the local stone had reflective properties. It wasn't shiny like a looking glass but rather like well-polished metal, mirroring dull and blurred outlines of other buildings around. The resulting picture was weird and ugly — not pleasant to behold. If you crouched on the roof, you too could see the reflection of your face — and it didn't look quite right, either. It was still you but not quite yourself. It felt like looking through a thick slab of something that exposed your secret nature, turning you into a hungry-eyed serial killer.
They had climbed the building in order to get their bearings. The exit from the Dwarven test range now lay far behind. The
dwarves hadn't ventured outside after them. Most likely, the soulless Engineers under the Mountain simply couldn't exist on the surface so that even Alpha couldn't change their preprogrammed nature. Once Attila and Beast had left their aggro zone by exiting the caves, the dwarves stopped chasing them.
Now they stood on the roof's edge, looking at the city. The wind howled all around them, tousling their hair and beating their faces. This was almost like back in real life. The ragged clouds revealed patches of sky, crimson and swollen, then sealed them again — a bit like wounds did when you drank a magic elixir.
"So! I observe no armies of the Dark," Beast rubbed his screechy gauntleted hands. "Behind the trees over there, is it River Castle? Can't see anyone there, either. Looks like the Pioneers haven't received our message, man. No one's arrived."
"Not good," Attila answered. "This could only mean that everything's lost."
"Not necessarily. We can always try and get inside the Citadel, the two of us. I'd love to know where Wayfarer is. If he's dead, you can kiss our money goodbye. I did ask him to give me the password, didn't I?"
Beast walked along the edge, studying the streets below. Deadville had virtually no vegetation. It was as if greenery was afraid of this place or simply wasn't able to survive here.
"D'you know the city's story?" Beast asked, turning back. "It appeared out of nowhere. One night a thunderstorm began and there was this huge flash of lightning reaching from the Citadel all the way here — so in the morning, the city just stood here. No one inside. From what I hear, the Highlanders have a name for this statue guy — He Who Has No Face, or so their clan wizards call him. When the Highlanders first moved to River Castle, they wanted to mine this stone: it has some very special magic, apparently. They wanted to pulverize it or whatever, hoping to craft it. They organized an expedition and even bought a whole load of equipment from the dwarves. Didn't work. Either they couldn't cut a single piece of it or the expedition perished, I can't remember. It's been a while. But you can still see the reflections of the expedition members if you look at the walls. They're sort of locked inside. And they change over time. They don't look like humans any more — or like Elves, I don't really know which races the Highlanders accept. They're all pale and spooky and they look almost the same. Apart from them, there's not a soul in the city — not a monster or animal in sight. This is an empty city, man. Lifeless. Doomed. D'ja hear me? Attila? It's empty, apart from Him Who Has No Face."
