Glancing at the gathered crowd, she pulled the pot from her backpack and set it on the shrine’s slab. A popup appeared.
Looks like you want to resurrect an advanced NPC.
Is this correct? Y/N
Devon sighed in relief. Okay, this might work after all. Of course, she only had the one pot, but maybe Veia would cut her a break and give her a two-for-one deal or something. After that, there had to be something else she could cough up to keep the process going. She selected ‘Yes’ and waited for the next interface screen.
And you really think that a Nondescript Clay Pot - Small is a worthy trade for the king or queen of a vassal civilization? That’s interesting.
Devon sighed. “Come on, Veia. Work with me here,” she muttered. “I’ve been too busy trying to save the mortal realm to accumulate a bunch of stuff, you know.”
“Is everything okay?” Kenjan asked, moving close so his quiet words could reach her ears without alarming his people.
Devon glared at the shrine. “Bringing people back requires that I sacrifice items with deep meaning.”
Kenjan looked at the pot. “Interesting choice.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Must be.”
“Anyway, the problem is that I don’t have much. Most of the things I have saved are unidentified magic items that I hoped to get around to identifying.”
“Perhaps one of them would work?”
She sighed. “Yeah, perhaps. Except I was storing them in a chest in Stonehaven’s Inner Keep. Didn’t think to grab them when we got invaded.”
“I see. Hmm.”
You know, the items don’t necessarily have to be in your possession.
Devon’s brow furrowed as she stared at the popup. What other items could Veia be talking about?
Look to your right, genius.
Devon blinked and flicked her gaze in the direction indicated. Kenjan stood to her right, once again clad in the clothing she’d given him. Wait…no. She shook her head in a tiny motion.
I think you’re starting to catch on. Tunic, trousers, and your little clay pot for the Skevalli royal family.
“All right,” she muttered. “But don’t think this is over.” She turned to Kenjan. “I hate to ask this of you…”
Literally.
She brushed the popup away as Kenjan’s brow lowered in earnest concern. “Anything, my liege. After everything you’ve done for us, I will sacrifice whatever I am able.”
“I believe the shrine will accept your ceremonial garb as a sacrifice.”
Kenjan looked down at the shapeless tunic and fingered the hem. “Of course. I—of course.”
He tugged the tunic over his head, but the neck hole got stuck on his ears. Devon was forced to step close and awkwardly help him out of the garment. When he started fumbling with the tie for the trousers, flexing his abs in apparent consternation over how to unfasten the knot, she turned away and let him deal with it.
A couple of long minutes later, Kenjan set the neatly folded garments beside her pot.
Okay, cool. For the magic to work, you must stand near to the individual who is sacrificing his treasured possessions.
Devon rolled her eyes but stepped sideways until she could smell the scented oil in his hair. In response, a popup appeared with five names listed. Among them were Kenjan’s parents, King Jildan and Queen Kiela. The entries were already selected, and all she needed to do was mentally press the ‘Resurrect’ button.
The shrine began to hum, and the crowd gasped as, in the empty space encircled by the Skevalli citizens, multiple clouds of light began to form. Within moments, five humans and—a nice surprise—five griffon mounts materialized in the center of Vulture’s Rift.
The crowd cheered, and Kenjan swept Devon up in a hug, his oiled muscles pressing against her as they hardened when he squeezed. Devon squirmed, but he didn’t seem to notice her discomfort.
You know, even if this side trip doesn’t end up helping defeat the demons, the entertainment is totally worth it.
***
“Aww, now look at them,” Queen Kiela said as she laid a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “No matter how much Kenjan complained about doing his core workouts, it was the right thing to make him continue.”
“Wait. No.” Devon finally wriggled free of Kenjan’s muscular grip. “We aren’t—I mean, your son didn’t need to convince me to marry him to cement our alliance.”
The queen gave her a knowing smile. “It’s good of you to say that. Better to start your lives together with a foundation built on more than duty. But whether you might have been persuaded to come to our aid without my son’s charms or not, what matters is that you did come. As prophesied, you have dragged the king and I from the very halls of Veia’s Palace, restored us to life when our people need us most.” The woman’s face sobered. “But I fear things must move forward without delay. The two of you must formalize your union this very afternoon. You won’t want to delay for preparations and feasts, because the final chapter is surely upon us. You must make haste to the Throne of the Ancients to seize the lost power of Ishildar.”
“Mom,” Kenjan said, “we’re not getting—”
“Wait,” Devon said, interrupting him by placing a hand on his arm. “What’s this about a Throne of the Ancients?”
The queen cocked her head as if confused. “You are the Champion of Ishildar, are you not? We have long known that a time would come when a hero would rise to bring Ishildar’s power to bear against the greatest threat the mortal realm has ever seen. And we’ve also known that one of our firstborn sons, heir to the Skevalli throne, would need to offer himself to you as our dear Kenjan has. Ishildar and the Skevalli people must be joined forevermore to ensure our continued survival.” At this, the queen beamed another proud smile at Kenjan. Devon noticed that his inspection window once again titled him Prince Kenjan rather than King.
“This throne… It’s within Ishildar?”
“Where else would it be?” Queen Kiela asked, blinking. “During the centuries when our ancestors paid fealty to the city, the Keeper sat upon the throne, using the city’s spirit to bring protection and prosperity to all her citizens and vassals.”
Veia is offering you a quest: Do I need to spell this out for you?
So, sounds like this little side trip has been worthwhile after all. Maybe hope isn’t entirely lost.
Objective: Locate the Throne of the Ancients
Reward: The world might not end in fire after all.
Accept? Y/N
Devon quickly accepted the quest. She and Kenjan shared a glance during which the queen and king looked on as if it were the most romantic thing in the world.
“I’ve got things handled here,” Kenjan said. “Between your friends and my parents and cousins, we can escort everyone safely back to Ishildar.”
“What about the basilisks?” After defeating the Rift Spinner Brood Mother, the party had enjoyed an uneventful trek to Vulture’s Rift. But Devon figured they’d just gotten lucky.
“I asked around, and it sounds like something scared off the nearby nest of those beasts,” Kenjan said. “Ironically, I suspect we can thank the Brood Mother. Regardless, my family has always defended our tribe against this threat. You’ve brought back our strongest fighters. Together with these fine combatants”—he nodded at the dwarf couple, Greel, and Bayle—“I feel confident we can escort our people on a route that avoids the remaining Spinnerlings.”
“You’re sure?” Devon laid a hand on Kenjan’s arm, which prompted a chorus of awwws from the gathered Skevalli.
He nodded. “And don’t worry. I’ll clear up this little misunderstanding by the time we arrive at Ishildar.”
“Thanks,” she said. “And just so you know, I do think you’re great. It’s just the whole starborn/non-starborn thing.”
He smiled crookedly and flexed his abs, probably without realizing. “I don’t feel bad. And honestly, it w
ill be nice not to have to weigh each of my meals before eating to ensure I won’t get a paunch.”
The king and queen were staring at them in confusion. Devon guessed by the distance that although they couldn’t hear many of her and Kenjan’s words, they had to know something was going counter to their expectations.
She acknowledged them with a nod. “Your people will be in good hands on the return journey to Ishildar. I can see that much. I’ll be teleporting back, and I’ve got room for a handful of passengers if you wish to send any.”
The queen laid her hand on the king’s lower back, just above the waist of his loincloth. She looked faintly dismayed but seemed to be trying to hide it. “I…yes, the elders would certainly appreciate the assistance. But may we offer you anything first, Liege? A meal perhaps?”
“Actually, if your elders can handle a temporary burden, we could really use a boost to our food stores. As much as they can carry would be great.”
“I—sure.” The queen blinked and then glanced at one of the villagers. “Please bring forth the nuts and berries.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
THE RESOLUTE DETERMINATION that had filled Devon’s followers in the days after the evacuation from Stonehaven was gone, and an air of gloom now hung over Temple Square. While she stared out over the crowd, Devon tapped each of her fingertips with her thumb, a nervous habit. It seemed something had changed in her absence, and she had a feeling that an unpleasant surprise was waiting.
She motioned for the Skevalli elders to lay down the sacks of nuts and baskets of dried berries and gestured toward their gathered kin. With grateful wheezes and the cracking of joints, the grandmothers and grandfathers deposited the supplies on the polished floor of the Veian Temple and shuffled off.
Devon hurried to the stairs leading into the square. On the top step, she scanned the gathered refugees until she spotted some of her leadership in a small cluster. Jarleck appeared to be deep in conversation with Hezbek, Hazel, Torald, and Jeremy.
Her jaw clenched as she hurried over and noticed the state of her friends’ gear. Torald’s platemail was so dented that it had to be leaving bruises when he moved, and Jeremy’s velvet court garb was in tatters. The bellows of the troubadour’s accordion hung out of the frame, looking to Devon like the instrument had been disemboweled.
When Devon caught Jeremy’s eye, her friend’s shoulders sank, and he shook his head. Once she drew within earshot, he nudged Torald, who turned and shrugged, showing his palms.
“No luck taking out the glass supply, I guess,” she said.
Both men shook their heads. “We chose the most thinly guarded position on the supply line,” Jeremy said. “Came at them with a full raid force thinking we might disrupt the transportation, then press back toward the player camp and figure out a way to damage the supply itself.”
“And?” Devon asked, her eyes flitting back and forth between the players.
“Dude,” Jeremy said. “We don’t have a prayer of halting work on the ziggurat. I think the supply wagons were trapped to send out an alarm signal. We managed to take out the guards—not without losses, of course—but the moment we tried to damage the wagon and the glass block, it was like the whole savanna came down on us. I think we might have killed a two or three demons for every player that dropped, but when you’re outnumbered fifty to one, that hardly matters. Even when we formed up and tried to retreat, they just overwhelmed us. And with the death penalty causing us to leave behind random items when we respawn, now we’re even weaker.”
Just then, Devon noticed that Torald’s greatsword was conspicuously absent. He seemed to follow the direction of her gaze and nodded, once again showing his empty palms.
“Shit,” she said.
The men nodded.
“Mayor Devon?” Hazel asked quietly. “I’m afraid it gets worse than that.”
Great. Devon took a breath and focused her attention on the little scout. “Go ahead.”
“Well, I did manage to find the ingredients for Hezbek’s potions. Went ahead and gathered enough for quite a few batches.”
6 x Quest complete: Component gathering, now with DANGER. (repeatable)
“If you wish to choose which potions I brew with them, we can speak later,” Hezbek said.
Devon shook her head. “It’s fine. Your judgment on these things is always great.” She turned back to Hazel. “And?”
“Well, I couldn’t help thinking about how I made things harder on you by taking Zoe into the swamp and then getting trapped with her, so I thought I could make up for it by scouting for real. After I’d gathered what Hezbek needed, I took a detour to the south to check out progress on the ziggurat.” The little scout pressed her lips together as if reluctant to deliver the news. “Unfortunately, I doubt disrupting the supply line for a little while would have saved us in any case. The building was 92% complete.”
Devon’s eyes widened. So fast? “How long ago was this?”
“Just yesterday evening.”
She ran the math in her head, estimating the rate of construction based on the 60% completion stat Devon had gathered when she’d first scouted the installation. It was drawing toward evening already. If she wasn’t mistaken, the ziggurat would be completed…tonight.
“Crap,” she said, running her hands through her hair. “All right. Hope isn’t entirely lost. Anyone seen Owen and Hailey recently? I have a lead on how we can finally use the city to win this thing, but I need their help to locate the structure.”
Torald’s brow furrowed as if he were trying to recall something. “Yeah, actually. I saw Owen at least. He came through about an hour ago, said he and Hailey had split up to cover more ground.”
“Do you know which way he headed?” Devon cursed herself for not getting his messenger contact. Her avoidance of out-of-game contact was not worth the consequences. After this, whether it made her uncomfortable or not, it was time to get over her aversion.
Torald shook his head. “He just said he was going to check out some structures to the north, and that Hailey was heading southeast. He also mentioned that your friend Emerson had nominated himself an unofficial helper and that he’d tagged along with Hailey despite the woman’s hints about working faster alone.”
Devon sighed. Great. Just what they needed right now, Emerson spending enough time with Hailey to notice that the woman never logged out. Put together with the failed payment to her bank account, their boss was going to start to think something strange was going on. But at least his presence with Hailey gave her the means to contact the woman.
She opened up her messenger interface and selected his contact.
“Hey,” she subvocalized. “Where are you guys? I think I might know how to win this, but I need Hailey’s help.”
There was a delay of just a few seconds before Emerson responded.
I’m not far. About ten blocks east, two south. I can see one of your Stone Guardians. Guessing it can see me, too.
But, Dev, there’s something up with Hailey.
Oh no. He’d figured it out. Or at least, he knew she was no longer the ordinary player avatar she’d been. The pressure of the situation started to press in from all sides, squeezing the air from her lungs.
Devon closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep breath.
“I’ll be right there,” she subvocalized, closing her eyes as she wrapped her hand around the Greenscale Pendant and activated Ishildar’s Call.
Awareness of the Stone Guardians sprang to life in her mind. She felt their ponderous bodies and ancient, alien minds. Through their perception, she became aware of different areas of the city, the peace that still filled the streets despite the threats beyond Ishildar’s borders.
Through one of the golems, the Guardian nearest Temple Square, she perceived Emerson pacing in front of…what was this? It seemed that there’d been a recent collapse of a building facade, and the man was stalking back and forth in front of the caved-in entr
ance, stopping now and again to peer through cracks between the fallen stones. He occasionally called something through the gaps, though the Stone Guardian’s perception didn’t pick up the words.
Was Hailey inside? Was that the problem…she’d been trapped in the structure when the wall collapsed? But that didn’t make sense. If Emerson were concerned for her safety, he would have said so.
All right. The man wasn’t far from Temple Square. If it turned out she needed to enlist help in digging Hailey free from the rubble, it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to run back and gather more people. But until she knew more, Devon didn’t want anyone else involved.
She glanced at Hezbek. “Can you let Tom know that I’ve brought back food? I’m sure being reduced to half-rations hasn’t helped our people stay strong. Since it sounds like we face a battle within the day, everyone should eat their fill.”
The medicine woman nodded, a grim look on her face. “It will be done, Keeper.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
HA. EMERSON TOTALLY had the hacker now. Yes, this evildoer could disguise network traffic with all their fancy tricks, and they must’ve done something to change up the regular patterns for Hailey’s avatar. But the game still had a notion of three-dimensional geographical locations for every object, NPC, and player in the world—it was a requirement for displaying and simulating the world and conveying the game state to the players’ minds. And for the information about players’ actions to be hooked up to the correct visual representation, network updates also included tags to identify the entity who was performing the action.
Throne of the Ancients: A LitRPG Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 6) Page 23
