Lost Lands: The Game - Atlantis

by A. E. McCullough

  The mystical bolt flew straight and true.

  * * * * *

  As the fog cleared from Patrick’s mind, he took in the battlefield in a single glance.

  It was bad.

  About fifty feet to his right, the wizard was standing overtop of Cassie and looked to be about to cast a spell. While off to his left and much closer was Cozad, who was about to strike a killing blow on Gamble. Tao knew he could intervene only on one, not both. His head told him to help Marvin, his oldest friend, yet his heart ached for him to aid Cassie.

  “Jesus, how do I choose?”

  Chapter 31

  Grigoris grinned as he felt the infusion of power from the Outlander’s prayers.

  Technically, they hadn’t prayed to him but to his Father. However, he still felt the energy flow into him. It wasn’t enough for him to break free of his prison but it was enough for him to influence world events. Of course, one of the major differences between him and his brother was the fact that al’Shaytăn tended to interfere directly in the lives of the mortals while he liked to work in the background, guiding and influencing events from afar.

  Just like now.

  Grigoris released the pent up energy in a series of spells that might not change the present day situation but would facilitate a positive outcome in the future. He realized long ago, when you’re playing for the souls of innocents, the long run is the most important aspect.

  Chapter 32

  It was the hardest decision of his entire life but in the end, the Tao mindset won out. It was more tactically sound to save two friends over one unknown entity, even if that individual happened to be the avatar of his wife. The Patrick mindset had wanted to rush to Cassie’s aid but somehow the Tao psyche suspected that she would be fine and he turned his attention to the deadly Dreadknight.

  As a samurai, Tao had access to numerous skills and weapons. As a real world martial artist, a similar but different set of skills but as an ex-Army Ranger, he had an even broader array of skills that he could use in any given situation. It was these latter abilities he drew on at this time. Considering the distance between him and the Dreadknight and the position of Cozad’s heavily enchanted axe, Tao knew that he couldn’t close the distance in time to save his friend…but a knife could.

  Tao drew his tanto, a Japanese style knife crafted in the same manner as a katana and with the same legendary armor piercing point. Flipping it once so that he was holding it by the blade, Tao cocked his arm back and threw the knife. It tumbled end over end and struck point first with amazing accuracy. The offending blade landed right under Cozad’s upraised arms and directly in his right armpit where his plate armor was weakest. The strike caused the deadly Dreadknight to flinch which disrupted both his aim and the power of his downward strike.

  Given the circumstances, Gamble was able to deflect the glowing axe aside with his own magical dagger. As Cozad turned to face his new attacker, the skald slipped into the nearby shadows and faded from sight.

  The Outlanders had actually gotten used to the hollow tone of Cozad’s voice but this time it was different. It held no trace of emotions and absolutely no warmth when he spoke.

  “Tao, I should’ve guessed that you would side against me.”

  Cozad turned his back on the fallen priest and shadow-cloaked skald. Hefting his axe, he began moving towards the samurai. Tao picked up his fallen blades and also moved forward.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

  “Yes it does. Since the day we crossed over, I’ve been wondering which of us is better. It’s like an itch that I just had to scratch.”

  Tao shrugged. “That’s strange, I’ve never even considered this possibility.”

  Cozad laughed. It wasn’t a wholesome sound. “You lie. Every warrior sizes up the competition. It’s only natural.”

  Tao knew what he was referring to and the Dreadknight was essentially correct. When two warriors meet, they immediately compare their strengths and weaknesses against the other. Sometimes this is done intentionally but most of the time, it is an unconscious act that instinctively happens. However, Tao saw a flaw in Cozad’s wording and seized on the opening.

  “Oh? So we have been competitors since we’ve crossed over? That’s strange, I considered you a friend and ally.”

  Cozad paused in his forward motion and cocked his head to the side. “Okay, rivals.”

  “Rivals? What, like Pepsi versus Coke? Or Ali versus Frazier? Those are rivals. Hell, even when Muhammad Ali was stripped of his heavyweight title in 1968 and banned from pro boxing, Smokin’ Joe Frazier was a huge supporter and an advocate of getting Ali’s ban lifted. There ain’t too many rivalries worse than them.”

  “That’s….that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “Really? Up until a few minutes ago I thought we were friends.”

  “Only the dead are my friends.”

  Tao shook his head. “That is a lonely path you have chosen.”

  “The path to power is littered with fools and weaklings. I am neither. Sartael and I will rule over this land with an iron fist. All shall know fear.”

  “To quote Master Yoda, fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.” Tao shook his head and brought his twin swords up to the ready position. “And that I cannot allow.”

  Cozad seemed to paused as he tried to remember who this Master Yoda was that the samurai was quoting but couldn’t. Somewhere buried deep inside his psyche, Edward pounded on the chains which kept him bound. The more the Cozad mindset contemplated the identity of Master Yoda, the more slack the chains gained. Not enough for him to break free, the chains still held him firm but at least he could move. Ed considered screaming out the answer but decided to keep that knowledge to himself. Maybe, just maybe, this was a weakness his friend could exploit. Cozad was so frustrated that he couldn’t remember, that he just screamed and attacked.

  Tao dodged to one side and countered with his own attacks. Just like that, their conversation was over and the two warriors began their deadly dance.

  * * * * *

  When the gryphon riding Sanguine Bolt crested the edge of the forest, he saw the battle raging below. He now knew why his mount had vectored to this location and why his gryphon called on the hippogriffs for aid. An army of goblins were attacking the village of Crooked Creek. Every building save one was ablaze. But more than that, the goblins had the support of a dozen wyverns and one cockatrice.

  It was common knowledge throughout Hyperborea that gryphons and their kin were the mortal enemies of dragons and their kin. Each species constantly sought each other out in an effort to annihilate the other. According to the local lore, gryphons and hippogriffs were the favored steeds of the lost elves of Hyperborea. After the disastrous duel between the High Mage of Atlantis and the Goblin King, a great rift opened between to three kingdoms. There are even stories of open conflict between the Dragon Kings and the Elves. But that all changed when the elves disappeared from Hyperborea. Where they went or why they left had become the stuff of legends. And ever since that time, the two species had been at odds with each other.

  As the gryphon and hippogriffs swooped in on the town, Sanguine Bolt noticed that the rooster-headed serpent had someone pinned down with one of its massive claws but he was still too far away to be any help. Suddenly, the cockatrice’s head was knocked backwards when a bolt of pure energy exploded on the inside of its open mouth. Roaring in both pain and surprise, the massive dragon-kin turned towards its newest attacker.

  An explosion near the back of the hamlet caught Sanguine’s attention and he immediately recognized his former friend. Leaning forward in his saddle, he drew his wand and nudged his gryphon steed toward the black robed wizard. The question remained, would he arrive in time to save whomever Sartael had targeted?

  * * * * *

  Calli was alive. That was her first thought following the explosion. She didn’t know why or how, just that she was alive. Whe
n she felt the sword throb in her hands, she realized what had saved her. But more than that, the shining silver sword wanted to retaliate against the black robed mage.

  Callistra had never trained with a sword but Cassie had played softball since she was a little girl. Taking a solid baseball grip on the hilt, she swung it as she would a bat. Given her sitting position, it wasn’t a very strong swing but it was enough to make the wizard pause in his attacks.

  Sartael stammered as he stepped backwards. “What? How? How is it possible that you can wield a Holy Avenger?”

  Callistra forced herself to stand up. The pain in her ribs was nearly enough to make her pass out but she ground her teeth together and brought the holy blade up. “Simple. I believe.”

  Sartael’s head jerked back. “Believe? Believe it what?”

  “The Holy Trinity.” Every second Calli held the blade more strength flooded into her system. “I told you there were more powers at work here than you could ever imagine.”

  Sartael furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s because you don’t believe. Come on, let’s test your magic against the might of the Holy Trinity.”

  Callistra took a step forward and swung the paladin’s blade again. It was sloppy and slow by the standards of a veteran swordsman but it seemed to do the job. But more than that, a white light which had begun in the pommel of the sword ran up the length of the blade and with every swipe radiated outward and seemed to eat at the black illumination given off by the wizard’s caduceus.

  Sartael cast another killing spell. Once more it was knocked aside by the holy blade.

  As the witch continued to move closer, she kept swinging the sword back and forth. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Cassie recalled one of the nuns at Saint Gabriel School citing Psalms Ninety-one. Sister Mary had repeatedly called it the Qui Habitat, the Psalm of Protection. Giving the dark wizard a crooked grin, she couldn’t help but recite part of it out loud.

  “I will say of the Lord, he is my refuge and my fortress. In him I will trust.”

  Sartael was vexed. Somehow, the witch had been able to draw on the powers of the Holy Avenger blade lost by the fallen paladin. It shouldn’t be possible. She was a vampyress and a witch; one of the minions of Chaos. However the wizard believed his eyes. Nevertheless there was more than one way to skin a cat.

  “Okay Callistra, I will test your theory.”

  Pointing his caduceus at the ground, Sartael used its powers to influence his own wizardly spells and opened a portal to the Abyss. A huge pit of fire appeared between them with a howl of rage.

  Summoning a demon was always a bit tricky and potentially dangerous to the summoning mage but with the witch wielding the Holy Avenger, whatever fiend answered his summons would automatically focus its rage on her since the blade was a bane to its very existence.

  * * * * *

  Whitney couldn’t believe her eyes. The cold reality of being stuck inside the game was becoming more and more harsh. At first, the pure excitement of being ‘Pixi’ was overwhelming. She could fly, change her size at will, turn invisible and even cast spells. It seemed like a dream come true.

  Then, Roland had died.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind she felt that Steve was gone also. She knew if she ever made it back home, it would be strange not to hear his New Yorker accent on the guild chat channel. Even when they had been chased out of town and she had to use her magic on the townsfolk, it still felt like a game or better yet, a dream. Well, not so much a dream as possibly watching some super intense 3D fantasy movie directed by Quentin Tarantino or Peter Jackson.

  Whitney had to admit that it was sad to think of the loss of Kaslene and Earl and the sacrifice they had made but the reality of their situation hadn’t sunk in, at least not until this battle. When the cockatrice had attacked Tao and all their pet wyverns had suddenly turned on them, she had been scared. Almost too scared to do anything but watch. All around her, men and women fought and died by spell, blade or beast. The screams of pain had been horrifying. Even though she kept telling herself that this was nothing more than a game, their blood looked the same. It even smelled the same if not magnified.

  Honestly, she probably would have stayed frozen in fear if a stray arrow had not clipped her wings. The pain had shocked her into action. Turning invisible, she began casting her spells but now she was careful about selecting her targets. The goblins looked and acted like monsters, so it was easy to use her magic on them. The Peacekeepers not so much. Not saying that she didn’t cast her spells on them, she just refrained from using her more powerful and deadly spells on them.

  That was until one of the Peacekeepers had broken through the defensive barrier and rushed the small band of archers nearby. Mathias had recruited about ten bandits and they were using an overturned wagon as a perch. The archers peppered wyverns, goblins and Peacekeepers with their deadly arrows.

  However, Mathias and the other archers had their backs to the rogue Peacekeeper and Whitney suddenly realized that she could lose another friend. And not just lose them. She would have to witness their death, all the while knowing she could’ve prevented it.

  Even as she pointed her wand at the charging Peacekeeper and summoned forth five flaming balls of fire that streaked across the sky to blast the warrior in the back, she had an epiphany. Even if it seemed unreal to be inside the game, this was real. They could die.

  It was a lot for a teenager to grasp. Hell, she didn’t even have her driver’s license yet. But at that very moment, she made choice. Actually, she made two choices. One, she was not going sit idly by and let anyone hurt her friends. And two, she was going to remain true to herself. That meant from this moment forward, she was going to be Whitney, not Pixi. Pixi was her avatar. It was a character inside a game and that was where it would stay.

  * * * * *

  The moment his arrow of energy exploded in the cockatrice’s mouth, Mathias regretted it. Not because he’s saved Tariq’s life but because the damn rooster-headed serpent was now angry at him. The huge dragon-kin covered the intervening gap with one flap of its mighty wings and crushed the wagon he had been using as a perch. Fortunately for Mathias, he was nimble and had already abandoned his former position. The deadly serpent roared with anger and swung its head back and forth, trying to get a bead on the offending half-elf.

  The half-elven archer contemplated calling forth another arrow of energy but when he spied several creatures flying in from the east, he held back and waited. There was no telling if they were friends of foes and since the cockatrice didn’t know where he was at the moment, there was no reason to betray his position.

  * * * * *

  Tariq was alive. It hurt to breathe but he was alive. Rolling over onto his stomach, the assassin pushed himself to his knees. All around him, the battle raged but for the moment, no one was targeting him which gave him a chance to take stock of the situation.

  The remaining wyvern riders had joined up with the remnants of the townsfolk and were fighting side by side against the goblins, the Peacekeepers and the rampaging wyverns. The goblins still numbered in the hundreds, although there was only about twenty of the Peacekeepers left. The villagers had gathered around the Outlanders and were holding their own but they were clumsy and outnumbered. Sooner or later, the goblins would break through their defenses. Then, there were the wyverns. They had taken to the skies and were constantly swooping down on the defenders, swiping them with their dangerous beaks or worse, striking out with their scorpion-like stingers.

  Hearing a scream of pure hatred, Tariq glanced over his shoulder and did a double-take at what he saw. A flaming pit that radiated pure evil had opened up between the dark robed wizard and the beautiful witch. A huge clawed hand could be seen clutching at the lip of the hole in an attempt to gain enough purchase to pull itself up.

  “Holy shit!” was all that Tariq could think to say. The wizard had summoned a demon and it wouldn’t be long before it entered this p
lane of existence.

  The assassin frantically looked around. The cockatrice was off to his right with his enchanted katar still lodged into its eye. Tariq knew that if it came down to a fight against the demon, he would need his weapon. It was the only enchanted blade he had and nothing short of a magic weapon would even scratch the fiend’s hide.

  Then, his eyes landed on the epic battle between the samurai and the dreadknight. To the assassin’s surprise, they actually seemed evenly matched. Both were wounded but neither would back down.

  Tariq instinctively knew what he had to do. Grabbing up a fallen dagger, he faded from sight.

  * * * * *

  As soon as Tao had engaged the dreadknight, Gamble had slipped into the shadows and off of Cozad’s radar. There was an old idiom, out of sight out of mind but that didn’t mean the skald had left the area.

  Gamble waited until the two warriors were fully entwined in their battle before he uncloaked and rushed to the side of the fallen priest. Kastle had valiantly fought the dreadknight but had been no match for him. The priest was bleeding from numerous wounds including a large gash that had split open his abdominal cavity and the skald could see that his intestines had spilled out.

  The Marvin mind-set knew from first aid classes back home that you weren’t supposed to move an injured patient but he was sure that the Red Cross hadn’t considered the fact that he might be in the path of two titans battling each other with medieval style weapons.

  Grabbing the priest’s arm, Gamble dragged him several yards away. Ripping apart the priest’s cloak, he applied pressure to his wounds in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding. It wasn’t much but hopefully, it would be enough to save his life. Hearing a screech coming from the skies, Gamble looked up and spied the incoming gryphon and hippogriffs. Not knowing if they were friend or foe, the skald decided that discretion was the better part of valor and pulled the priest a few more feet back to hide behind the corpse of a fallen wyvern.