Viridian Gate Online: Books 1 - 3 (Cataclysm, Crimson Alliance, The Jade Lord)

by James Hunter

  Osmark’s hand wrapped around my bicep, his fingers biting down painfully. “Just consider it,” he said. “I do like you, but you’re not irreplaceable. Never forget that.”

  I batted his hand away, gave him a thin smile, and stepped through the gateway and directly into my master suite in the Darkshard Keep, my mind weighed down by the difficult decisions ahead of me.

  I knew Abby and the others would be in the control room, talking strategy for the upcoming battle against the Sky Maiden, but I couldn’t force myself to join them. Not until I had a real chance to think things through. I stripped—glad to be free from my gore-spattered armor—and beelined for the bathroom, stepping into the shower and turning the hot water on full-tilt. In seconds, a cloud of steam rolled out as scorching water splashed over my face and across my chest, running down in a sheet.

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head forward, letting the water run over my neck and cascade down my back, loosening tense, overworked muscles. As I stood there—eyes closed, bathed in delicious heat, listening to the pitter-patter of falling water—I felt like I could finally think. Naturally, my mind turned to Osmark: to his plea for peace and his threat of war. Like any good salesman, he’d given me both the carrot and the stick. Get on board with progress and maybe things would be okay, or rock the boat and risk getting thrown to the sharks.

  My gut reaction was to let the Jade Lord quest die—to keep my head down, mind my own business, and leave Osmark alone. I hated conflict by nature, so there was a certain appeal to sticking my head in the sand and ignoring the looming threat Osmark posed. That was the path of least resistance, the path of least conflict. Moreover, I didn’t really want to finish the Jade Lord quest anyway. Not after what had happened beneath Ankara. I could walk away, forget about the whole damned thing, and hope that everything would go back to normal.

  But, I couldn’t stop envisioning that colossal army stretched out across the Shining Plains like a plague of locust ready to eat me out of house and home. Honestly, what were the chances he’d assemble an army like that, only to send everyone home without so much as a skirmish? That pushed the border of credibility. No, that army was a loaded revolver with the hammer cocked, and Osmark’s finger was already squeezing the trigger. Maybe he wouldn’t fire tomorrow, next week, or even next month, but he would fire eventually. It was only a matter of time.

  Plus, I didn’t trust him.

  Maybe he wasn’t evil, but he certainly wasn’t above lying through his teeth to get what he wanted.

  He’d told me, straight-faced, his army was the direct result of my actions, but I knew that couldn’t be true. Sure, on its face, it was a convincing argument, but the sheer logistics of it didn’t work. I’d only accepted the Jade Lord quest two days ago, and moving ten thousand people into place over two days was nearly impossible. Not to mention, siege engines took time to build. Maybe he could do it with a crew of highly specialized builders, led by a whole team of Alchemic Weaponeers, but even that seemed suspect. Osmark didn’t have a handful of siege weapons, he had two dozen or more.

  No, that would take time. A week or more, easy, and that was with access to unlimited supplies and manpower.

  Only one thing made any sense: he’d been building that army for a while. And since I was the only enemy he had at the moment, the logical conclusion was he’d been preparing to attack me all along. To attack the Alliance and wipe us out root and branch. Was it possible he’d never wanted peace? Was it possible he’d been playing me from the get-go, just like Abby had warned? Setting me up so I’d be complacent? So I’d let down my guard? It hurt to think I could be so gullible, but there wasn’t another solution that seemed to fit the evidence.

  If that was the case, however, then why tip his hand? Why bring me to Tomestide and let me glimpse his forces?

  I stewed on that for a moment as hot water sluiced over me.

  The answer hit in a flash: he’d showed me because he was afraid.

  If he wanted to wipe out the Alliance and set someone else up as a puppet, it would be much easier if we didn’t have the Storme Marshes standing firm behind us. He showed his hand hoping to make me back down so he could crush the Alliance with ease. It all made sense, it all added up. Suddenly, the anger I’d felt after the battle in the Citadel was back, rampaging through me at Osmark’s deceit. He’d buttered me up with flattery and promises that were too good to be true, and I’d fallen for them.

  I’d never wanted any of this—the faction, the burden of responsibility—and as a result, I’d been blind to the truth. All because I didn’t want to embrace my new role in this world.

  Well, no more …

  I killed the water and stepped into the frigid air, goosebumps breaking out along my skin as I toweled off, slipped on fresh undergarments, and donned my armor. Instead of triggering the internal port feature, I trudged through the Keep and up the never-ending spiral steps to the control room, simmering in my rage and using the extra time to think about what we should do and what I would say to the others. When I finally crested the stairs and shoved my way past the wooden doors standing sentry against intruders, I found the circular room mostly empty.

  The usual hustle and bustle was absent—no Dwarves talked mining, no bureaucrats discussed trade earnings, no clansfolk lodged complaints. Instead, Abby, Vlad, Forge, Cutter, Amara, and Chief Kolle sat around the hulking central table, sipping at mugs of potent Western Brew while talking in somber, quiet voices. Despite our victories in the recent past, they looked defeated: faces long, backs slouched, heads bowed. Every eye turned on me as I marched in, and a palpable relief seemed to invade the air as they released a collective sigh.

  No one spoke, though. They just stared at me expectantly.

  I cleared my throat and dipped my head. “I’ve been an idiot,” I said, feeling the hot edge of anger churn in my gut.

  “No, Grim Jack,” the chief said, sympathy flashing across his bluff face. “Much has happened—”

  I held up a hand, cutting him short. “I appreciate that, Chief Kolle. I do. But I have been acting like a gullible idiot. I never should’ve trusted Osmark—I should’ve listened to you all, but I wanted peace so bad I didn’t. Well, that’s finished. Tonight, I visited Tomestide and I saw an Imperial army ten thousand deep, with enough siege equipment to bring down Rowanheath ten times over. And then? Then Osmark gave me an ultimatum: abandon the Jade Lord quest or, in ten days’ time, that army is going to be at the Rowanheath gates.”

  Everyone was silent, even more somber than before.

  “But that’s when this realization hit me like a baseball bat to the back of the head,” I continued. “This was always his plan. Always. He never wanted what I wanted. He was just biding his time, stringing me along until he was strong enough to roll in here with his troops and his siege weapons and crush us flat. And since I’m being honest, I have to admit he might be able to do just that. That army …” I trailed off, shaking my head. “Well, I don’t know how we’ll win against that. But I’ll tell you this for damned sure—the Empire isn’t going to beat us without one helluva fight. Maybe Osmark will grind us down in the long run, but not before we kick his teeth in for the trouble.”

  “But to do that—to have any chance at all,” I said, leaning forward, hands pressed down against the table, “we need to have all six Murk clans at our backs, and I think Osmark knows that. He saw what we did against Rowanheath and he saw what happened to Carrera, and that was with a handful of warriors and a platoon of mercenaries. Imagine what we could do with all six clans and Rowanheath under our belt. I think Osmark’s afraid of us, of what we’re capable of, which is why he made this move. He wants to keep us weak and unprepared for as long as possible, which means we need to complete the Jade Lord quest no matter the cost. It’s about survival and it’s for the greater good of everyone in the Crimson Alliance.”

  I paused, staring around, meeting each of their gazes in turn as they absorbed my words. “Ultimately, though,” I sa
id after a time, “this isn’t my decision—at least, it’s not my decision alone. Everyone at this table has skin in the game, so whatever we decide … Well, it needs to be our decision.”

  For a second, no one spoke.

  “I have never trusted this Osmark,” Chief Kolle finally offered. “This was always the path we were destined to walk, I think. So, let us walk it proudly. Defiantly, as is the way of our people.”

  “I am in agreement,” Amara added. “Let us see how his siege weapons fare in the muck and mire of the marshes. He will find we Dokkalfar are no easy game.”

  “Damn right,” Forge added. “I didn’t wanna step on your toes, Jack, ’cause you’re our leader and a good guy, but that Osmark’s a real dickbasket. I don’t wanna make no deals with him. Me? I’m a patriot—my blood runs red, white, and blue—and I don’t truck with no empire. Not since 1776. I’d rather go down in flames doin’ the right thing than survive by compromisin’. So, I’m in all the way.”

  “And you know where I stand, Jack,” Abby said, really smiling again for the first time since Ankara. “Osmark’s as bad as they come, no matter what he says. I’m glad you finally see that, too. Let’s fight him tooth and nail on this.”

  Vlad was silent, his gaze hazy and distant—strangely thoughtful. “I do not speak much on my background, because I am Russian. And a proud Russian. The Motherland, it flows in my veins as surely as the stars and stripes flow through Forge. Still, my homeland has a long history of corruption and tyrannical leaders, and that is why I sided with you, Jack. I sided with you because you have power, but you don’t want it. And that? That is good. Not so Osmark.” He shook his head. “He is a man who only wants power, and such men are more dangerous than rabid bears. Such men must be stopped.”

  “Well, you know I’m not going to say no,” Cutter added, the last to weigh in. “I’ve never been a fan of the Empire. Not out of idealism, you understand. It’s the bloody taxes. I’ll fight taxes to the death, mate. Plus, if I have to follow anyone, I suppose you’re an alright sort, Jack.” He shot me an encouraging wink.

  I grinned—Cutter might not have been noble, but he was honest. Something I’d always appreciate about the thief. “Alright, then,” I said. “Let’s go take a trip to the Twilight Lands and put this thing to rest.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT: Twilight Lands

  I lingered in the sacred glade with the Horn of the Ancients clenched in one white-knuckled hand. It was a simple instrument of beaten brass covered in hair-fine inscriptions that spiraled from the battered mouthpiece to the gently flared bell. It couldn’t have weighed more than a pound, but for some reason it felt impossibly heavy in my hand, dragging me down with the weight of its implications. All I needed to do was raise it to my lips, give one little puff, and the Twilight Lands would open to us.

  One puff to set us on a crash course with the Empire.

  One puff and I’d come face-to-face with a dragon, who might burn me to a crisp.

  One puff and my world would change forever, one way or another.

  I took a deep breath, pressing my eyes shut, hand flexing around the horn, pressing into the metal until my palm hurt from the strain. Was this a risk? Yes. Was killing the Sky Maiden morally questionable? Possibly—especially if what we’d heard in the Citadel was true. But I just couldn’t see a better choice, or another way forward, and as Chief Kolle was fond of saying, “There is no reward without risk and no change without challenge.”

  “Well let’s not dawdle,” Cutter said from behind me. “That dragon isn’t gonna slay itself, and I’ve got better things to do than stand around in some dank, musty cave. Like drink and gamble and spend all my hard-earned gold.” His words were as confident and cocksure as ever, but I knew him well enough to catch the hint of worry and fear lingering just beneath the surface. One of us might die here. Maybe him. Maybe Amara. Maybe all of us.

  Slowly, I surveyed each of my teammates in turn. As I scanned their faces, I saw that same worry, that same fear—though tightly concealed—in each of them. There was something else there, too, a hopefulness of things to come. A hope that maybe this was the road to a better tomorrow for all of us. I also read solidarity in their faces: for better or worse, we were in this thing together, and whatever waited for us on the other side … Well, we’d face it together. Suddenly, the immense weight of the horn faded and it was just an old piece of brass.

  Just one more quest item on the road to something better.

  I smiled, nodded, and raised the horn, pressing it to my lips and giving it a short blow. A single clarion note exploded out like a bomb blast, shoving me back a few steps as a wave of arcane power flooded into the stone archways surrounding the glade. In a flash, an eyeblink, the archways ceased being crude lifeless rock and became something more: gateways to other realms. Other worlds. Each of the doorways was covered with a spectral sheen of shifting purple light, and each looked out onto some new and fantastical landscape.

  “Wow,” Abby said, her voice muted and oddly reverent. “This is incredible.”

  I agreed completely. I’d never seen anything like this.

  One doorway showcased an endless desert of cracked yellow hardpan, as flat as an ocean with a single pyramid—hulking, ancient, and crumbling—marring the horizon. Another peered onto the gray sands of a beach with white rocks jutting up; water, the color of a nosebleed, crashed endlessly against the shore. A third led to an orchard of towering wild apple trees with a small winding road leading to a crystalline lake in the distance. A beautiful, peaceful place—or so I thought, until a horror as large as a tractor-trailer, with a forest of black tentacles, broke the surface of the water before disappearing back into the depths of the lake.

  Another portal, this one off to my right, caught my eye.

  A barren, desolate land of rolling hills, covered in ashy pale dirt and dotted with patches of withered scrub grass and stunted, bone-white trees poking up like oversized skeletal hands. In the distance, colossal twisted spires—adorned with spectral green windows like glaring insect eyes—scraped a star-studded sky the color of an old bruise. A city. One which easily rivaled Rowanheath or even Ankara, though dreadful and dreary. I couldn’t be sure, but every fiber of my being said that had to be Morsheim, the land of Serth-Rog and home to the long-dead Vogthar.

  I shuffled over to the Morsheim portal, my feet moving against my will, and reached out a tentative hand, stretching toward the twisted city beyond.

  My fingers stopped short, though, jamming up against an invisible barrier as solid as glass. These doorways were locked, then. Restricted areas, barred until I had the right quest to open the way. Idly, I wondered if there were more areas like this glade scattered across Eldgard—some sort of primal hubs for players to access different realms of existence, locked during regular gameplay. An interesting notion—and the gamer in me couldn’t help but chortle in glee, imagining all the unique quests and loot likely spread through those lands—but it was a notion I’d have to ask about later.

  I had a dragon to find.

  It didn’t take me long to locate the portal to the Twilight Lands. “That one,” I said, jabbing a finger at a gateway with a giant volcano spewing an endless stream of molten rock high into the air. I stepped forward, but Abby’s hand fell on my forearm, her normally gentle fingers squeezing down, stopping me in my tracks.

  “Can I just have one minute before we go in?” Unlike her steely grip, the words were soft, almost pleading.

  I nodded.

  She led me off to the side, away from the others, and drew me close. “Look, I know we agreed to fight Osmark and I know to do that, we need to do this.” She dipped her head toward the portal. “We need to get the artifacts and kill the dragon …” She trailed off, glancing away while she fidgeted with her dress. “But I still feel really uncomfortable about it. I mean after what happened back in the Citadel … I dunno, it just feels wrong to do this. I can’t explain it, but I can’t shake the feeling either.”

  �
��I understand completely,” I replied, meaning every word. “I’d never say this in front of Amara or any other members of the Dark Conclave, but I believed every word the Priestess said. She had no reason to lie to us. Nangkri probably killed Arzokh and her family for some gold, which is incredibly crappy. But we need to think about the faction, Abby. This isn’t about us, not anymore. Like it or not, we’re in charge and that means people are depending on us. A lot of people. And what’ll happen if we fail? Osmark steamrolls us in two weeks and destroys everything we’ve worked for.”

  “Yeah, I know that,” she said, bobbing her head in agreement. “Just, just promise me one thing …” She glanced up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “If there’s any way to bargain with Arzokh, to find a peaceful solution, tell me you’ll at least consider it?”

  I hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, of course. I don’t know how things will shake out, but if there’s any other way, we’ll do it.”

  She leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, before letting go of my arm.

  I shot her a lopsided smile in return, then spun and headed into the breach, shuddering involuntarily as frozen power splashed across my skin, freezing me to the bone.

  The cold didn’t last long, though.

  Nope.

  A wave of sweltering heat bludgeoned me like a baseball bat, far worse than anything I’d experienced in the game so far. The Storme Marshes could be awful with high temperatures and overwhelming humidity, but not like this place. Not even the sweltering Barren Sands of Ankara came close. Perspiration instantly broke out across my brow, rolled down between my shoulder blades, and left my shirt and pants sticking uncomfortably against my skin. I staggered, slipping over to one side as I took a moment to get a handle on my surroundings.

  The sky overhead was devoid of stars and black as the bottom of the ocean, though a vast battalion of clouds—angry red things—floated by on an unfelt breeze. The ground beneath my boots was gray, lifeless, and studded with spars of sharp rock like gigantic teeth. Nothing grew here—no flowers, no trees, no life. It was a dead place, made for the dead. I was in a canyon with towering walls of craggy rock flanking me on both sides.