On the Lost Continent

by Andrew Novak

  Chapter Twelve

  Astra’s Temple

  RECOUNTING HIS ADVENTURES to Sartorius, Jack himself began to better understand the meaning of what was happening to him. Or, rather, the lack of meaning. It depended on how he looked at the relationship of Alterra’s Gods. When he slowly and thoughtfully said it aloud, it made more sense in his head. The connection between events and the explanation of all the absurdity started to become clear.

  Chronos had found himself in trouble, so Jack need to free him, as Necta requested. She had warned him about the Younger Gods — and it was true. They were trying to interfere in his search for the missing Chronos.

  Astra’s lovely little priestess in Maxitown hissed like a snake at anyone who asked about a teleport to Gaerthon. Ged had sent the last of his War Hounds to prevent Jack from getting near the temple. He even used his own image to scare off visitors. Sartorius had said that the AI could do that, could make its own decisions. And the priests obeyed him. They’d prepared the undead guard, which was surely Ged’s work as well. In Astra’s temple, the one on Lahitte island, he’d most likely be met with similar resistance.

  He talked and talked, and even became so fascinated by his own story that he didn’t pay attention to the nausea. Then, he suddenly felt so heavy… Sartorius’s face wobbled before his eyes, blurring and sinking into the darkness which was rapidly flooding over Jack.

  Jack felt he was being swirled through space into the rainbow tunnel through which his consciousness usually traveled to Alterra. Only now it felt wrong somehow. The rainbow tunnel curved and quivered while Jack felt he was but a speck of light traveling in the opposite direction.

  The picture vanished. Cold flooded over him. Someone’s icy hands ran over his shoulders and down his neck…

  Once he came to, he was lying on the ground. Goodwin was standing over him with a bucket in his hands. The cold fingers probing Jack’s face turned out to be streams of water. The old man had splashed a bucket of water from the East River over his head.

  Jack pulled his arms under himself, bracing against the floor, and sat up in the middle of a water puddle.

  “You can’t play in that condition,” Goodwin said worriedly. “At least not for long. You’re exerting yourself. This can aggravate your-”

  “Who cares! I need to be in the game. It’s only the beginning, do you understand?”

  “I do understand, but…” the old man reached into his pocket for some pills. “But you need to conserve your strength.”

  “Your pills don’t help,” Jack croaked. “I’ll tell you what, Goodwin, it’s time for you to take a little walk through the ghetto.”

  “Too risky.”

  “I know. But you’re going to be very careful. You need to go to the Verrazano-Narrows bridge. There you can sneak along the bank and won’t catch anyone’s attention. Find Old Greta. She set up her safe house just under the bridge. Tell her Jack the Tramp sent you. Explain what’s happening to me, and she’ll give you a potion. Her potions always work. Better than your pills.”

  Goodwin shook his head.

  “A witch doctor. What does she know about radiation sickness?”

  “Greta uses the Walkers, so she knows about all the ailments we can bring from the Blighted Wasteland. Of course, her swill won’t cure me, but it’ll help for a time. Go to her. And tell her I sent you. Don’t forget! Say it right from the start. Otherwise she won’t even talk with you.”

  “Everyone thinks you’re dead,” Goodwin reminded him. “Are you sure it’s wise to reveal yourself?”

  “To Greta, yes. She hides from everyone too. Deals only with Walkers. She’s afraid that if someone learns of her talents, they’ll drop her into a cell to cook drugs. Omegas only know to use healers in this way. Go now, Goodwin. Go, don’t argue. I know what I’m doing.”

  The old man left, muttering unhappily under his breath. Jack sat there for a moment longer. Then, when he felt he could stay on his feet, he stood up, reached for the bucket Goodwin had set next to the door, and splashed his face with the cold water.

  That was better. Don’t enter the game! What an idea. What did he know? What else was there to do? Was Jack just supposed to twiddle his thumbs while the radiation sickness ran its course?

  He wiped his face with his sleeve, put the helmet on and turned on the console. He passed through the sparkling tunnel, paid out the fine of five gold for exiting the game outside of designated areas… and saw a white spot hovering in the clear night.

  Which turned out to be Sartorius’s frightened face. “Jack, what happened to you? Where did you go?!”

  “I’ll try not to disappear like that anymore,” Jack said, clearing his throat. The words came with difficulty. “It’s the illness. If… No, don’t you worry about that. I’ll be with you on Gaerthon for as long as I can.”

  * * *

  It was still nighttime in Alterra when the Dead Wind approached the islands.

  “Look!” Jack announced. “That’s Gaerthon before you. The lost continent.”

  Sartorius looked longingly at the blurred silhouettes of the mountain peaks rising into the night sky over the ocean. The mountains were black; the ocean waves danced with silvery sparkles, reflecting the moonlight.

  The mage must have felt the full gravity of the moment. It was written all over his round face.

  Jack wanted to grab him by the collar and shake him, saying, “Look, alpha, look! I’m just an omega from the ghetto, a second-class citizen, an outcast… and I’m giving you a grand gift! I’m giving you the entire continent, this vast land of hills, rivers, thousands of inhabitants, monsters and treasures hidden in its abandoned cities. So what if it’s here, in virt? That means my gift is worth even more since virt is better than real life where we get sick and die. I’m giving you happiness, Sartorius, so surely you can help me in exchange for a chip? Surely you can give me the right to enter New Atrium?”

  But of course Jack didn’t grab and shake Sartorius. The mage must arrive at it himself. He was already moving toward it. Jack could see it in his enthralled gaze with which the alpha stared at the forgotten continent.

  Although they’d spent a lot of time in the game already, Sartorius told him that he was perfectly able to stay longer in order to finish at least part of the quest ASAP. He wanted it all and he wanted it now.

  Jack ordered Dead Wind to deliver them to Lahitte island. He’d already taken care of the Hydra and the Hound, so they’d be able to go directly to Astra’s temple.

  The schooner dropped anchor in the waves just off the coast. Sartorius jumped into the water and waded behind Jack to the shore. His eyes devoured everything — the hillsides, the small village on the coast, the moored fishing boats rocking in the waves. There was nothing particularly special about the scene. Stoglav was full of these fishing villages. But here, on the lost continent, this landscape held tremendous meaning and great charm for the alpha.

  That was good. Let him appreciate the view.

  Jack immediately led Sartorius along the familiar path uphill. While they walked, he noted special areas. “Here is where I spoke with Necta’s ghost,” and “I fought with the Hydra over there.” Then he followed with a picturesque description of the battle with the monster. Sartorius listened attentively.

  While they were walking to the temple, the weather had changed. Dark clouds blew in from the sea. It started to drizzle.

  Jack didn’t like it. He remembered the lightning storm that had destroyed the entire town on Scand island. But for now, it was only rain, and not even very heavy at that.

  “Last time, Ged himself tried to dissuade me. Something similar may happen this time,” Jack warned. “Don’t listen to it. We are working on a quest for Dark Necta, and she is feuding with the Younger Gods.”

  “Yes, yes, I remember,” replied the alpha, looking around in anticipation.

  “First, we’ll do a test. Go ahead, go up to the temple. Right to the door.”

  Incessantly looking around, Sartor
ius stomped up to the building. Nothing happened. He put his foot on the step and waited… walked up another step, then another…

  “Now look,” Jack winked, joining the alpha.

  As soon as he neared the entrance, a ghost appeared at the threshold of the temple. Astra was always depicted as an attractive young woman. The goddess’s specter turned out to be incredibly sexy, even in her vague, shadowy form.

  “Halt, traveler, the ghost’s melodic voice was sorrowful and plaintive. “Do not disturb the tranquility of my temple. I am Astra, merciful healer and protector of all travelers. Remember how many times you have prayed for my protection when you found yourself in trouble. Now is the time to repay my kindness. Leave this place of sorrow to rest in peace. It is condemned to oblivion, for that is my desire.”

  Raindrops fell through the bodiless shadow, but it still seemed that Astra was crying.

  Jack didn’t give a damn about any of it but Sartorius was touched. He paused and would have stopped if it hadn’t been for Jack who stubbornly walked inside.

  Since the giant ghost was blocking the entrance, they had to pass between the thighs of the goddess. Gliding through the mist of Astra’s ghost, Jack thought that his head must be in a very interesting place.

  “Don’t stop, Sartorius,” he called over his shoulder. “Chin up! You probably always wanted to get into the Lovely Astra like this…”

  Once inside, he looked around. Jack could hear Sartorius’s excited breathing next to him. They stood in a round hall. Shadris’ light, hidden behind clouds, barely trickled through the hole in the spherical dome.

  Directly under the hole in the center of the hall was a pool about ten feet in diameter, surrounded by low walls. A towering statue of the Goddess rose up on a cylindrical pedestal at its center. It was tilted slightly, her hand extended to greet her visitors, so the stone palm fell above the altar which was built into the side of the round pool.

  “Now a priestess will attack,” Jack said in a low voice. “Are you ready?”

  Sartorius adjusted his grip on his staff. Outside, the specter went on in her mournful voice:

  “…I am Astra, merciful healer and protector of all travelers. Remember how many times you have prayed for my protection when you found yourself in trouble…

  Jack and Sartorius kept to the sides, awaiting an attack, while moving slowly down toward the altar. Now it was obvious that the wind had carried handfuls of dead leaves through the hole in the roof and the entrance, which lay in heaps everywhere. Rainwater, falling through the hole, was already beginning to fill the shallow pool. The pedestal of the statue at its center had turned into a round island. The falling drops created little ripples in the pool; the leaves bobbed on their tiny waves, spinning in circles.

  “A sorry sight,” Sartorius murmured. “Beautiful, ominous and sad.”

  Everything on Gaerthon was still filled with a sense of mystery and beauty for him. This was his dream, after all.

  A rustle and a light tapping sound came from the darkness enveloping the walls. Something was stirring in the heaps of fallen leaves, scrambling up and shaking them off.

  Six figures in white rags stepped into the lighted area under the hole.

  “Priestesses,” muttered Jack, “several at once. And not skeletons, like in Ged’s Temple. Look… Are they alive? Almost alive, no?”

  When the white-robed priestesses came into the light, it became clear that they weren’t as tempting as the living priestesses in the temples on Stoglav.

  Their tags read,

  Awakened Priestess of Astra

  Expertise, 30

  Disease, 35

  “Awakened!” Sartorius read. “Of course! Ged is a harsh god. He leaves death in his wake, but Astra loves life. So, she put her handmaidens into a deep sleep!”

  After centuries asleep, the NPCs looked almost eerie: lean, with blue-tinged skin and dirty, matted hair.

  In their emaciated fingers, they held short wands that looked nothing like a weapon. Not at all like the undead in Ged’s temple. But Jack didn’t rejoice. He was expecting a catch.

  And it came. Six dead priestesses, moving as one, yanked their wands up and aimed them at the intruders. The orbs crowning the wands flared green.

  Creeping vines shot out at Jack and Sartorius like hundreds of snakes. They forced their way between floor slabs, creeping through the cracks with the rustle of dead foliage.

  The pool, too, frothed and discharged another bundle of green vines. A few stems darted for Jack’s face, but a swipe of his sword destroyed the pestilent little twigs. Only then did he notice that the stems were bristling with thorns.

  Sartorius reacted promptly, releasing a roaring jet of scarlet flame from his staff which illuminated the room with hot light. The predacious plants curled up from the heat and turned to ash, crumbling before his eyes.

  You receive damage!

  You lose 2 hit points!

  Whether the fire had singed him or an especially quick vine had managed to scratch him, Jack couldn’t tell. He hadn’t noticed anything. As the fire beat against the nasty vegetation creating a path toward the wicked priestesses, Jack attacked the one directly in front of him. Trampling the new shoots spilling from the pool, Jack burst towards his opponent and sliced her in two with a sweep of the Shadow of the King.

  Then he rushed to another but didn’t quite make it. A new batch of vegetation manacled his ankles and held him in place. He had to do some more salad-chopping.

  Meanwhile, Sartorius fussed around the pool, burning everything around him. The remaining priestesses, staggering and rustling their shrouds, shuffled their feet toward the center of the hall. Obeying their flickering wands, more shoots kept growing out of every nook and cranny.

  Jack freed himself from their green bonds. In three strides, he reached the nearest the priestess who retreated. They were weak in a melee, but they continued to summon more spiky vines. There were just so many that Sartorius could barely turn all the climbing shoots to ash.

  You receive damage!

  You lose 2 hit points!

  A long, flexible vine whipped him right in the face, aiming for his eye.

  You receive damage!

  You lose 2 hit points!

  And, worst of all, Jack could not reach the Awakened Priestess through the new bunches of vegetation. The shoots and vines grew faster than he could crush them. Vines were everywhere. They hung from the ceiling, swaying and trying to hit the players’ faces with their barbed shoots.

  You receive damage!

  You lose 2 hit points!

  Jack was forced back. He ducked, brandishing his sword blindly overhead while trying to free his legs from the green trap.

  His vision was growing dark. His body, weakened by the disease, couldn’t withstand the stress of the battle. The room swam before his eyes. The vines blurred.

  Sartorius had also retreated. The vines kept pressing onto them. They had won.

  The Heart! The Fiery Heart of the War Hound! It was a powerful artifact, but how did it work?

  He freed his feet from another set of vines tightening around him, hastily opened his inventory menu and whipped out the Heart. How did it work?

  Then he was struck by another spasm. His hands cramped. Involuntarily he clenched the Heart.

  Everything exploded. For a fraction of a second, the hall filled with living vines lit up in a bright flash. Then everything was clouded in red.

  The icons in his menu changed all at once. Instead of the usual pictograms, those were new symbols: red, depicting a curling silhouette of linked arcs, like a tongue of flame. There were some other characters… all of them red. Now the whole scene was tinged with shades of red, as if he was looking through tinted glass.

  What’s more, the number 10 appeared in front of him. Large, very noticeable.

  Backing off in incomprehension, Jack mentally reached for the icons. Several vines, writhing, rushed swiftly after him and lashed out at his legs and chest. Except he couldn
’t feel his legs or chest. His body felt different. It had become strange and unfamiliar.

  You receive damage!

  You lose 0.2 hit points!

  The black sword clanked to the floor. Jack could no longer hold it for some reason. His hands felt the stone slabs of the floor’s rough surface.

  You receive damage!

  You lose 0.2 hit points!

  Oh, ho. What’s this now? A tenfold reduction in damage? Oh, and his health bar had also grown longer. These little babies didn’t affect it at all. Well, this was new.

  He tapped the linked arcs. The floor, covered in writhing vines, fell away. Jack was airborne.

  Those were wings, he realized. The arcs were wings. And what if he tried the tongue of flame?

  Once again, he became momentarily blinded. A jet of flame struck the floor beneath him. He looked right and left, turning his head, but the fiery stream followed the direction of his gaze.

  Meanwhile, the number in the corner of his vision was changing. Instead of “10”, it was now “9”.

  Jack, not very skillfully directing his transformed body, glided over the floor and made a circle around the pool. He turned his head, sending fire in all directions. The number was already at “7”. If it was a countdown, he needed to land before it finished.

  Jack banked another turn, wider than the last. The vegetation, roasted in the flame, instantly turned black and crumbled. Well, Jack only assumed they’d turned black because he saw everything only in the red spectrum.

  His emaciated opponents lingered in the piles of crimson ash. Their gowns no longer appeared white — they were pink. The number dropped down to “6”. It looked like Sartorius had run out of mana. He was no longer burning the vines around himself but was backing away, brandishing his staff.

  Jack lunged at the priestesses, releasing a jet of flame. Their pink rags caught fire. Senselessly waving their wands, they scattered. Smoke plumed above them.

  “5”…

  Jack banked into another circle — but by now, there were very few new shoots. He kept scorching the ones he could see.