On the Lost Continent

by Andrew Novak

  “And I wondered if I might go on a pilgrimage to the lost, though recently rediscovered, continent to worship Astra in the local temple? Could the tender-hearted goddess open a way to Gaerthon? A portal or perhaps…”

  The priestess frowned, causing her round face to lose all its loveliness. There was no more kindness in her eyes than in the gaze of a Wasteland snake, lying in wait for a heedless Walker.

  “Gaerthon is a cursed place!” the NPC hissed. “Forsaken by the Gods! Good Astra follows her valiant husband Ged far and wide. She opens the portals to find him, wherever his heroic passions may take him. There is no place on Gaerthon for Ged and, by that measure, no need to establish a route there. Astra’s temples on Gaerthon are gone forever. Follow the example of the Gods, traveler. Do not seek a way to that cursed place! Beware of sin!”

  As he was leaving the temple, Jack remarked, “It looks like she’s already fed up with questions about this portal, that’s why she freaks out. The bottom line is that we can’t count on the lesser gods… especially since, as Necta said, they aren’t who they appear to be. But who, then? Who are they really, our alter-gods? Is that not the most important mystery? We’ll have to do this on our own. Let’s go to the port in Leuven.”

  * * *

  The Dead Wind understandably drew considerable attention in the little port of Leuven. It stood out among the merchant and fishing vessels, like a kite among ducks. Jack spotted a handful of curious players on the quay in a lively discussion about who might possess such a ship and where they could get one like it.

  As Jack and Lisa strode across the quay to the gangway, maintaining an important and mysterious air, the conversations ceased and surprised, jealous gazes followed the owners of the exotic schooner. The Eternal Wanderer guild boarded and a round of whispers ran through the gathered players.

  Lisa was delighted to be the focus of so much attention. She began to bow and blow air kisses to the crowd. It was all fun and games for her. Jack, however, noticed something else. As soon as they boarded the schooner, a neighboring ship also began preparations to set sail. It was nothing special, the NPC sailors simply came to life. They cleared the gangplanks away without much fuss, began hoisting the anchor, and a few sailors clambered up and began prepping the rigging.

  But NPCs can’t act without orders, right? There wasn’t a single living player in sight on board, which meant they were hiding. Lurking. And why would that be in such a remote, peaceful town? While Lisa was carrying on, Jack examined the suspicious vessel closely. It wasn’t a remarkable ship, just an ordinary coastal barque. A heavy, single-masted vessel with a conventional name. The Prosperity.

  “Wind,” Jack commanded. “We’re casting off. Don’t rush. Set us at quarter cruising speed. I want to see who follows us out of this port.”

  “Yes, Master,” the demon ship crooned in its incredible, otherworldly voice.

  Under the onlooker’s admiring gazes, the Dead Wind cast off from the pier and set a course for the open sea. The Prosperity, of course, left the harbor behind them. Jack ordered the Dead Wind to change course several times, taking the schooner first to the east along the coast, then directing it to turn west. All the while, the black schooner sailed slowly, in no way indicating the speed it was capable of reaching. Jack wanted to be sure. The Prosperity kept its distance, but mirrored each maneuver the demon ship performed, clearly shadowing them. What, exactly, were they expecting? Whoever ‘they’ were, the player or players hiding on board the barque? After all, if the Dead Wind were to raise its sails, they had no hope of catching it. It made no sense.

  Jack took the schooner away from the coast and released his goblins. He had to wait a few minutes for their exuberance to subside after being confined, as usual. The little green monsters pranced around on the deck, expressing delight at their newfound freedom. Then, when they had calmed somewhat, Jack motioned to Hercules and ordered him to send a lookout up the mast. NPCs had perfect vision and the goblin would spot any vessel following them, even at a great distance beyond the Prosperity.

  Lisa finally took notice of the situation.

  “What’s happening? Why aren’t we going at full speed? And why are we decorating the mast with goblins, now?”

  “Take a look at this rust bucket behind us,” Jack pointed to the sail astern.

  “What about it? It’s just a merchant barge. A piece of junk. Not like our ship.”

  “Hercules, what’s on the horizon?” Ignoring her questions, Jack turned to the goblin.

  The goblin leader began to chatter, raised his snout toward the mast, and the lookout responded.

  “A ship, a ship! A small ship on the horizon. Very small, I can barely see it!” Hercules chirped.

  Jack explained to Lisa that the lookout saw another vessel beyond the Prosperity, just at the edge of its range of vision, and this one was most certainly faster than the trading barque. It was simply trying to stay out of sight for now.

  “And I’d bet its crew is sitting in chat with the guy following us in the Prosperity.”

  “So, what? Can’t we outrun it? The Dead Wind is faster.”

  “Yes, but they’ll track our course, like Ruger did. The second, faster, vessel will keep following us for as long as it can keep us in view,” Jack paused to think. “Listen. Dead Wind, head west. And keep close to the coast. Maintain this speed.”

  “Yes, Master. As you command, Master.”

  “What are you going to do?” Lisa was growing suspicious, alarmed even. “Nightmare is to the west. Ruger isn’t an enemy anymore, but he’s not here and the other necromancers will attack anyone who approaches their shores.”

  “That’s right,” Jack nodded blithely. “That’s my plan.”

  “Hey, you don’t know them, but I do!” Eloise protested. “It’s a bad plan. Our ship won’t be able to gather any speed unless we buy the local sailing directions, but they’re difficult to get and very expensive for that area along Nightmare’s coast. And without those directions, you risk running aground or breaching the bottom on an underwater rock. If the necromancers catch us…”

  “Then we’ll remind them that Ruger ordered them not to harass us. Calm down, I’ve got the situation under control. Wind, take us closer to the shore. We need to be spotted by those towers over there.”

  “I hear and obey, Master.”

  As the chase continued, the Dead Wind skirted Maxitor’s coast and grim black towers rose up on the cliffs. Precisely where the schooner was heading. The barque reduced its speed but the flyboat behind it, on the contrary, added sails. It could already be seen from the deck. They were afraid of falling behind. But now things were, as Jack had planned, up to the necromancers. Their move.

  And they didn’t disappoint. Three boats under the black flag of Nightmare emerged from the cliffs. Their predatory, pointed prows chopped the waves, whipping up foam caps, on a course to intercept the Dead Wind.

  “Full speed! Wind, twenty degrees to the left!” Jack commanded.

  The goblins were brandishing their crossbows and issuing warlike shrieks. They had it in their heads that their beloved master was going to battle, but quickly realized their mistake and began to grumble with disappointment. Jack wasn’t planning to get cozy with the necromancers. The black schooner executed the maneuver and was now retreating from the dangerous shoreline and pursuing ships. The necromancers began to lag behind… two of their ships turned to intercept the sailboats pursuing Jack. The flagship, however, continued to chase the schooner.

  “What are they thinking?” Jack growled. “Wind, can they catch up with us?”

  “No one will overtake me, Master,” the black schooner crooned. “Simply order me to catch a tailwind, Master, and they will not be able to keep pace with us.”

  “Alright, do it. Catch the wind and fly as fast as you can. Hey, Hercules! Get all the goblins off the mast. This isn’t the time for them to be swinging on the lines.”

  The lookout returned to the deck and the Dead Wind changed
course again. Its sails caught a tailwind, the distance between them and the foremost necromancer boat grew more quickly. The other two necromancer ships had moved in on the ships from Leuven hunting the demon schooner.

  Jack saw a black cloud rising over the necromancer vessels — riders on flying mounts were lifting off from their decks. Multicolored sparks flashed on the ship decks under attack. They had begun throwing battle magic, but Jack couldn’t make out the details at this distance. Lisa brought a spyglass out from the cabin to admire the view.

  Meanwhile, the necromancer flagship stubbornly continued to follow in the Dead Wind’s wake. Lisa swished the tube from side to side, trying not to miss any of the action on the deck of the flagship, although the most interesting events were unfolding where the two groups of sailboats converged.

  She frowned, bit her lip, and stopped shifting the eyepiece. Then she handed it to Jack and grimly promised him, “Now you’ll see what they’re thinking. Watch the ones gathered on foredeck.”

  Jack trained the instrument on the foredeck and observed the events there. Yes, there were several people in black crowded on the forecastle of the necromancer vessel. One lifted his arm and the blade of a dagger flashed. Another kneeled before him and exposed his neck. The dagger dropped sharply and red splashed over the deck… and the ship immediately gained a dramatic increase in speed. Jack even started in surprise and nearly dropped the spyglass.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  “A black ritual. Necromancer magic in action.”

  “And the one they sacrificed? What, did he want it? Like a volunteer?”

  “Well, yes,” Lisa turned away and stared at the waves over the side. “Exactly that. Now, do you understand what I used to do in Ruger’s castle? In fact, some victims even enjoy it.”

  Jack fell silent and tried to imagine what it would feel like to take part in one of those rituals. True, Lisa had told him that was how necromancer magic worked, but seeing it with his own eyes… the way that man laid his own neck under the knife with a grin… Totally batshit crazy.

  It took just a few minutes and the vessels were almost equal in speed. The Dead Wind hadn’t lied, they wouldn’t be able to catch it. But the necromancers were keeping pace.

  “Lisa, how long does this spell last?”

  “Depends on the mage’s level. Probably no longer than fifteen minutes, though.”

  “Ah, then we’ll just wait.”

  The effects of the black magic ended sooner than fifteen minutes. Their pursuers began to lose speed and the distance between the necromancers and the aft of Dead Wind slowly, but steadily, grew. Another bright idea popped into Jack’s head. He opened the chat menu and… Bingo! Sartorius was online.

  Jack quickly typed:

  Sartorius, hi! How’s life? I hear that you finally switched over to the dark side. Listen, we didn’t part on good terms. I hope there are no hard feelings?

  His reply came right away.

  Hello. What hard feelings? I’m actually grateful to you. Ultimately, our journey helped better myself. I discovered new sides of myself. Or, rather, not new, but genuine. Sides that were hiding deep inside, that I was trying to hide from myself. Granted, living in society, we have to hide our natural urges, but now I’m uninhibited.

  The tiny pencil began to scribble in the chat window as Sartorius wrote something else. Jack shook his head. This was a man who loved to talk, often complicating the simplest things. What was the point?

  The scribbling pencil paused. Jack glanced at the pursuing vessel, then the shore, as it floated away into the horizon. Yeah, too far, probably. Chat was no longer supported at this distance.

  Of course, if Sartorius had gotten the chance, he’d have immediately proceeded to pour his little heart out, like the time they sailed along the great river. People like him just needed to get things off their chest, to explain their extraordinarily keen emotions to someone. But Jack was in no mood for other’s emotions.

  “Wind, set a course for Gaerthon! We’ve wasted enough time.”

  * * *

  The sea voyage should have taken several hours, even at the speed of the Dead Wind. Jack decided to put those hours to good use, so he logged into the Shell and opened the Key Wardens’ forum. The most interesting stuff would be, of course, in the private sections, but there was plenty of curiosity about the discovery of Gaerthon on the publicly accessible areas.

  He couldn’t find anything in the Battle Seekers’ forum, except the usual idle chitchat of the players. It goes without saying that a few players made mention of the search for Gaerthon. One even complained about their Master not being overly concerned with the topic. Otherwise, the guild was more occupied with raiding their neighbors and reselling pets. Their domain was far from the sea.

  In short, nothing specific. Yet, someone was still trying to follow the schooner out of Leuven. As for their Master, Jack learned that his character name was Brandt Ironfist. A level 32 Scand. Not much of a name for a guild leader. He didn’t visit the forums and practically no one spoke about him. A mysterious individual.

  Afterwards, Jack turned to the help pages and searched for any reference to the fiery, winged beast. He did it mostly just to soothe his conscience. Information about phoenixes and gryphons was common knowledge, but those were pets, which didn’t attack without a command from their owners. Although unusual, they sometimes appeared in certain quests as independent combatants and even in those instances, they had stats. And neither of these creatures could compare in strength with the beast that appeared on Nevil’s island. Well, that, and their appearances were different. All he could do was hope that Egghead found something.

  Before Jack finished reading an article about phoenixes, he felt a touch that had nothing to do with the game.

  “Jack, where are you?” Lisa’s voice reached him from afar. “I thought you came back to reality. You’re not on the ship. Seems like you’re here, but not totally. Or not? Let’s check.”

  Jack disconnected and tugged the virt-helm off. Lisa was lying next to him, pressed close, and was focused on her inspection.

  Night had already fallen in reality and Jack decided to show her just where he was at the moment.

  “Is that how you raise the dead, wicked little necromancer?” he murmured. “It’s dangerous entertainment.”

  But he didn’t get a chance to show Lisa the hazards of a necromancer’s profession. They were distracted by a knock at the door. The visitor rapped softly, but insistently. Lisa heaved a sigh and moved away. Jack pulled his pants on and padded to the door. Standing on his doorstep was… Clive, the Deputy of the Battle Seekers, in the flesh. Granted, he looked less formidable without his armor, but still easily recognizable. Clive looked like an experienced fighter in real life, too. Tall, beefy, guarded movements, seemingly thickheaded. But his watchful gaze betrayed him as a streetwise, dangerous man.

  Jack tried to conceal the fact that he recognized his visitor and asked:

  “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “Jack the Tramp, I want to offer you a deal. My name is Clive.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “A good one. Profitable. I need you to go somewhere in the Wasteland and bring something back. You’ll have detailed instructions and payment is five hundred panbucks.”

  Jack gave a low whistle. “A fortune. Ninety percent of omegas have never held that much in their hands, let alone seen that much.” Too much for just a “good deal”.

  “Well,” he said slowly, “you’re off to a good start. Where’s the place and what’s the item.”

  “It’s a small thing, fits in a backpack. You won’t even break a sweat carrying it,” Clive promised.

  “The place, tell me about the place,” Jack reminded. “Quit stalling,”

  “A tall building, thirty floors, in the Dead Strip. They also call it the Middle Finger.”

  “I know it,” Jack nodded, “They call it worse names than just the Finger. No, not happening. Too dange
rous. There’s only death there.”

  They called that valley the Dead Strip for a reason. Almost no vegetation grew there and no other place has a worse reputation. Walkers wouldn’t set foot there. Been that way for as long as anyone can remember.

  The Dead Strip was already known as a forbidden place, even when Jack was just learning his trade and making his first trips into the Wasteland. It was a place to avoid at all costs. They said that those who went in didn’t survive. Jack didn’t know exactly what happened to them. All the rumors said something different. But one fact remained: there was not a single Walker in the ghetto right now that had traveled to the Middle Finger. Those who had, had died long ago.

  “That’s why the compensation is so good. Five hundred,” Clive repeated patiently. “That kind of cash doesn’t come easy.”

  “No,” snapped Jack. “What good are five hundred panbucks to a dead man? Besides, I have things to do. So, you can find yourself another Walker. I’m sure you can find some lunatic for five hundred. A few lunatics, even. Good luck, Clive.”

  He was about to shut the door and put an end to the conversation, but Clive stuck his boot in the doorframe and said:

  “I know you have things to do. On Gaerthon, right?”

  Clive looked at him sedately. Or perhaps he was only pretending.

  “What are you talking about?” Jack retorted. “What do you mean, Gaerthon?”

  “You discovered the way to the lost continent. And bragged that one could get their hands on untold riches there. Tomorrow, all of Alterra will hear about it,” Clive pulled his foot back. He already knew that Jack wouldn’t cut the conversation short. He even smiled.

  In that instant, Jack wanted nothing more than to ruin that smile with something heavy.

  “You’ll pay for this,” he growled “I only look harmless. My appearance is like that, deceptive. But in fact, it would take me the blink of an eye to make you change your mind about lying.”

  “Yes, and that’s not something I want,” Clive stepped back. “I placed a few of my guild members to outside Egghead’s house on Sapphire Shield. They saw who was at that peacock’s house while I was buying the Gaerthonian relics.”