by G. Akella
Clapping him on the shoulder, I picked up the razorback's reins and started toward the portal window.
"Good luck to you, too, Roman..." I heard my friend's farewell at my back...
Great Forest. Northern Border. Meckean Mixed Forest. Zone level 240-250.
"Squads one and two! One hundred yards north! Saverus, shields! Squad six controls the exit zone! My lady! Do you sense anything?"
The forest breathed a rich cocktail of scents into our faces. Not having a spot of my own in the battle formation, I took a position behind the dragons to the right so as to not get in the way, and set to examining the surrounding woods. It was stunning! Though I'd seen art of the Great Forest from the guys working one department over, but those images couldn't begin to compare to reality. The colossal trees appeared to prop up the very firmament. I felt as though I was back in the Mariposa Grove, only instead of sequoias we were surrounded exclusively by deciduous trees. The grass underfoot was a velvety lawn-like carpet; the underbrush and copses dotted the landscape around the living swaying skyscrapers; and I couldn't spot a single piece of deadwood or a stump. You could see for over a mile in every direction, but I saw nothing but vegetation. The undead must have done a number on the local fauna, but neither were any of them in our field of vision.
"My lady?"
"I sense nothing," the magus shook her head. "Either the Forest is quick to destroy the aural traces of its enemies, or the undead have left."
"Understood." Sheathing his sword, Kan threw up his arms, summoning his lizard. "Mount up! We're headed north! The first recon unit, keep three hundred yards ahead! The second and third, one hundred yards to each side! The fourth, take up the rearguard! One minute and counting!"
"How beautiful..." Reece exhaled with awe, studying a giant oak next to which the troops exited the portal.
I couldn't well argue with him. A tree with a diameter exceeding fifty yards wasn't so much a tree anymore as a bloody government building...
"Keep it moving!" Raena gave him a shove in the back. "You don't have a banjo yet, anyway. Avail yourself of one first before you start shopping for the right tree."
"Banjo? Why would he need a banjo?" Donut inquired.
"He'll tell you all about it later," the sorceress promised without turning around. "He might even sing for you if you ask real nicely."
There came a crunch behind me, followed by satisfied champing sounds. Turning around, I experienced what one might call a culture shock—Gloom was gobbling up acorns!!! The boar's eyes expressed a mix of shock and suspicion. It was how a human might look when trying roast silkworm larvae for the first time. Seemingly edible, delicious even, yet hardly comme il faut...
"Glad to be home after a long exile, huh?" I sniffed, climbing into the saddle. "Don't worry, I'll tell Auntie Alyona to prepare a shipment of delicacies just for you."
"Fall into field formation! Squads together, shoulder to shoulder! At a trot! Go, go, go!"
Bringing Gloom in line with Vaessa's lizard, I gave him a mental order to follow the knights bringing up the rear. Saverus' mages were all assigned to their respective squads of ten, while the rest of us—myself, Vaessa, Raena, Reece and the players following us—comprised squad number eleven. Though I normally rode in the vanguard, or wherever I felt like riding at any moment, this wasn't the time for reckless antics. Our ragtag band couldn't have been easy to command, and it was the least we could do not to get in the way, so we rode in the back, with only the scouts behind us, performing the function of sentries. Our main priority now was to cross the Erantian border as quickly as possible. And if the map was correct, it was just over three miles north of here. Vaessa wasn't sensing any undead presence, but that hardly mattered, as I wasn't burning with desire to run into any light elves, either. Neutrality was all good and well, but given the bad blood between them and their dark brethren, I would sooner avoid such encounters, just in case.
"...and the mushrooms here are to die for!" I heard a voice behind me.
Bonbon had found a grateful listener in Reece, and the mage now stuck to him like a fly. More curious was the fact that Raena had likewise begun to hearken to the bald physicist's pontificating. As for the former teacher, he was clearly glad to have found new students. I supposed it was hard to shed old habits after doing something for twenty years. Especially when that something involved teaching young kids the ways of the world.
"Just you wait," Masyanya butted in from the back of the line, interrupting Bonbon. "He'll be telling you about the local dryads soon. He and my darling boyfriend had themselves an encounter a few months back. It was something else, to hear him tell it."
"I don't know any local ones," the warrior objected. "But the ones near Ellorian, sure. They've got a very unique style, almost like emo."
"Come again? Emo?"
Of course. The Gascon and Raena knew all about dryads, but this...
Listening to Bonbon expound on the romanticism, sublime love and hyper-emotional antics inherent to the representatives of the Earthly subculture—and if anyone knew all those intricacies, it would be a teacher—I suddenly realized that I was looking forward to crossing the elven-human border with a strange mix of anxiety and sadness...
Erantia. Borderlands. Southwestern Forest-Steppe. Cairog's Girder. Zone level 240-250.
The forest ended abruptly, and we found ourselves out in the open. The landscape shifted just as abruptly as we entered a new zone. A broad steppe sprawled before us as far as the eye could see, vast and shimmering like an ocean of molten silver. Gusts of westward wind smashed against the ashen rocks, the air permeated with the tart, bitter flavor of wormwood. Sparse corpses dotted the hillsides way out in the distance.
"Feather-grass is abloom," Myrrha said quietly in the channel. "Reminds me of home..."
"Recon unit one, move out half a mile ahead! Two and three, quarter mile from either flank! Four, in the rearguard! Move it!" Kan's roaring orders wrested everyone from contemplating the beauty of the Erantian steppe, and the host continued its way north.
Our pace appeared to have slowed. Evidently, the only ones who could quickly traverse the steppe were Native Amerikans and young women in Russian national garb and kokoshnicks, traditional women's headdress that had become a curious fashion trend in my last few months back on Earth. Reality was somewhat different, however. You needed to move at a reasonable clip to avoid your mount's hoof from slipping into some critter's hole, which was exactly what ended up happening to Donut's moose a few hours into our journey. The animal's broken leg was healed, and the rogue obviously came out unscathed, but from there on the shapeshifters continued on foot. Thankfully, lizards didn't have hooves, and their feet were so broad that no rabbit hole was a danger to them. As for my razorback, he had the good sense to watch where he was stepping. The moose, however... Alas, the size of their antlers had zero impact on IQ—that much I knew from experience.
After a full day of nonstop riding, having covered a distance of over ninety miles, we made camp for the night on the bank of a small lake sandwiched between two hills. Exhausted and salty, I proceeded to try and remove Gloom's armor while most of the guys gathered firewood for campfires. "Try" being the operative word, as the razorback flat-out refused to "disrobe." Apparently, with his stamina boosted by fifty percent, the black beast felt quite comfortable in his new getup. I'm not playing tag with you today, you rogue. In fact, if you thought that I'm dying to spend hours each fussing with your armor, think again! So, if you want to keep wearing that thing, be my guest.
Dusk encroached undetected, and soon the dark cover of night fell over the swaying ocean of grasses. A myriad stars popped out on the night star, and the waning red moon cast a thin strip of light onto the water's surface. A remarkable silence fell over the landscape, as if some invisible operator had turned down the sound. All you could hear was the soft crackling of wood in the campfires, the splashing of fish in the lake, and Myrrha's soft singing as she strummed her guitar. The girl had a deep, lov
ely voice, and she soon gathered a real crowd around her campfire. With the realm lacking familiar forms of entertainment, seasoned fighters, both male and female, stood nearby with bated breath, listening to the comely archeress sing in a foreign tongue of a foreign world. I waved to Vaessa as she turned to me, indicating that I wouldn't be sitting down, but stood still behind her with my arms crossed.
“Take me out tonight
Because I want to see people and I
Want to see life
Driving in your car
Oh, please don't drop me home
Because it's not my home, it's their
Home, and I'm welcome no more.”
There's a kind of magic in these campfire songs. And people like Myrrha will soon be worth their weight in gold, I thought to myself, watching the tranquil, somewhat estranged face of the singer. Maybe I should ask her to teach Reece, after all...
“And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten-ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die.”
All of a sudden, Bonbon joined in.
“Peaches come from a can
They were put there by a man
In a factory downtown!”
Donut chortled into his fist, and a light smile touched Teetotaler's lips...
"You're an ass," Masyanya turned her icy stare to the bald man, choking on indignation. "Ruined such a good moment!"
"I've had quite enough of that maudlin drivel to last a lifetime," the warrior waved her away. "If I had a nickel for every dumbass student who rolled up to the school blasting The Smiths or Depeche Mode from their car speakers, I'd be a millionaire."
"You're just suppressing the romantic in you," Myrrha said softly in the silence that followed, her mouth parted in a coy smile. "The dreamer inside that's yearning to break out."
Bonbon threw his head and hands up to the sky.
"This is the dream," he said earnestly. "We're all living it. You, me, even them," he gestured at the knights gathered around the campfire.
"So, what now? We can't dream of anything else?" the archeress inquired, cocking her head.
"Well, no..." the bald man shook his head, nonplussed. "You can and should continue dreaming, just as long as it doesn't ruin what we already have..."
Deciding to forgo the rest of the philosophical discussion, I turned and headed toward my boar. The danger hadn't passed us yet, and nobody had pitched any tents. Patting Gloom on his meaty side, I forced him down on the ground, leaned back against his warm hide, and tried to fall asleep. I needn't worry about the camp's security—the foxes and mages would handle it just fine without me. No, my time would be better spent resting. Another song went up from the direction of the campfire, soft and sweet as a lullaby, lulling me to sleep...
***
The enormous valley ringed by majestic mountains was shrouded in black smoke, wisping and billowing over the ruins of the stronghold that once stood upon the broad stone ledge. The amount and sizes of debris was staggering, as if some wrecking crew that slipped a truckload of TNT under one of the Egyptian pyramids and detonated it. Some of the debris was rock that once belonged to the surrounding mountains, their sides now gaping with monstrous wounds... No, not even a nuclear explosion could have done this. This could only be the handiwork of a god. Zooming out, you could clearly see ragged grooves fanning out from the ruined stronghold. Heaps of bones covered the approaches to the fortress, and carcasses of unknown beasts lay by the crumbling walls. Tiny figures of the victors could be seen moving around on top of the fortress, and the ground in front of it bore blotches of a softly glowing dark-green substance, with huge gray shadows slithering amid the smoke. As the invisible director dropped the camera sharply, a peculiar construction emerged through the broken stone slab of the ruined stronghold. Shaped like an aluminum plate that had been squished by some angry giant, the structure was at least ten yards in diameter, though its exact dimensions were hard to pinpoint. A tall scrawny fellow stood near it, ankle-deep in ash that covered the ground. White-haired with a short cloak that ended at the hip level, his right hand clutching a short sword. Behind him stood two monstrosities, ugly heads bent low to the ground. This is a dream. I am but an observer here. I knew this, and yet the pure unbridled rage that I felt at the sight of these strange creatures was unlike anything I'd ever felt in a dream. They... they shouldn't even exist! Not in this world! Their very presence warped Reality itself! If you sewed bird's feet to a lion, grew three long rat tails, replaced the head with a crocodile skull, scattered a dozen moving tentacles across the torso, blew up its size to that of Nerghall, and then dip it into Primordial Darkness... No, no words could truly describe how inconceivably revolting these creatures were, what possible purpose they had in life, and what cloaca they had crawled out of. The monsters stood perfectly still, their white eyes lacking irises boring the back of the god in front of them. An eternity seemed to pass before the Cursed One's figure twitched, and began to slowly turn...
"Hello, Roman," Vill uttered, his head cocked, his lips unmoving. "And here I'd thought all the rats were gone from here... Did you come to watch your dark-haired girlfriend be crucified on the gates of her own citadel? My condolences..." He spread his arms, looking around at the ruins with a certain sadness. "That bitch was able to slip away... But don't fret, her capture is just a matter of time. Her forces and allies are no more, and the Great Sequence of Rebirths shall come under my full control before long. The gods aren't long for this realm, Roman..."
My rage was like a rat in a cage, unable to find an outlet. I heard everything the scumbag was saying, but couldn't say anything in response. Bastard! But why...
"As for you, Roman, you've let yourself get too deep in this game. I was thinking that I'm not going to give you up to our common acquaintance, after all." The Cursed One's lips curled into a sickening smile. "Neither you nor that girl... You've already ruined the ring, but she'll make a decent concubine. Oh, and what's that I hear about you having a sister?"
You prick!!! I was almost certain I would suffocate on all this rage and helplessness...
"Farewell for now, Roman. Pass my regards to MY women..." With a lecherous grin, Vill turned to his still monsters, and gave a simple and curt order.
"Kill!"
Chapter 8
It took me a few moments to realize where I was. As my consciousness began to clear up, I wiped the cold sweat from my brow, breathing heavily, and shifted forms a few times to try and placate the rage streaming out of me. That had the desired effect. I could see the same mutilated moon overhead, the stars were the same as well. And yet, something was different now, something I couldn't quite put my finger on...
Alyona! The realization chilled the blood in my veins. That scumbag knows about her!
Sensing my agitated state, Gloom jumped up and exhaled loudly into my ear, then nuzzled me hard in the shoulder.
Stop! I set my jaw and took a deep breath, bringing my thoughts in order. Were it up to him, the Cursed One would have gotten his paws on my sister long ago! But she was in the Great Forest now, and hostile creatures wouldn't dare go anywhere near it. The gods that called the Forest home would not stand for such encroachment on their lands—Max had mentioned something to that effect. And what was that cheap farce at the end of my vision? How was he planning on killing me, exactly? The bastard must have been bluffing—he wouldn't be saying anything if getting to me or my sister was actually in his power... And if so, I shouldn't be sweating his smack talk.
Having said that, the fact that ours was the losing side in the Gray Frontier was distressing news. Though all the signs had been pointing to this conclusion, I had hoped that it would take more time than this. Sure, the goddess hadn't been knocked off the playing field for good, and the "matter of time" that the prick had boasted of could actua
lly drag out over centuries when gods were involved, and yet... The developments were still dire, no doubt about it. Celphata had mentioned that she hadn't invented the rules, and had no control over the two-lived NPCs, but the albino loser appeared to have all sorts of tricks up his sleeve. Who knew what his true capabilities were at this point? All the more reason to kill Vill. As quickly as possible and by any means necessary.
Scenes from my last vision flashed before my mind's eye. A colossal breach in a mountain ridge... Celphata's fortress razed to the ground... I leaned back against the boar's side, the black beast having calmed down along with me, and smiled at the moon above.
I wasn't foolish enough to hope that I could survive a fair fight with the enemy, whether alone or with all my allies in tow. Lilit had said that only one would remain at the end of the prophecy—who could she have been talking about? If I were to win, who would be gone? Vill or Cheney? Or both of them? I'd take the latter option every time, but anyway... Max and I would just need to walk this path to the end—I just wished I had some idea of where that might be.
There were still a couple of hours till dawn, but sleep was the last thing on my mind. I rose, stretched my limbs, patted the boar on the side reassuringly, and made for the campfire, stepping around the sleeping figures carefully.
Vaessa was sitting by the fire—shoulders hunched, fingers interlocked—staring into the flames in silence. Kan was at her side, explaining something in a near-whisper. The dragons weren't sleeping, either, standing behind their mistress and likewise studying the flames dancing over the firewood, still as a pair of Egyptian Sphinxes.
I wasn't worried that I might interrupt Kan professing his feelings. After the vision I'd just had, I was pretty certain that the priestess must have already sensed the fate of her mistress, the goddess.
