The Cursed Princedom (Realm of Arkon #2)

by G. Akella

  It was half past three in the afternoon. I'll need to spend the night on a bench by the pond, but better there than in this rathole, I thought with a sigh, then checked the portal spell, just in case. Active! It was possible to leave the dungeon! I was about to use the spell when I clearly heard a door slam behind the wall, from the same direction where I'd heard shallow breathing earlier. Now, curiosity is no grave sin, but it can be fraught with grave consequences. I approached the hole in the wall warily, and listened—this wasn't the real world, after all, and curiosity could pay real dividends.

  "Why not just kill him now? Why wait?" the voice behind the wall was hoarse, as if its owner had a bad cold. "Because mistress said so?"

  "His death should be long and painful," the other person's voice sounded like a crow cawing. "When Holgrim gets his head, there shouldn't be any doubt left as to where exactly his second son had died, and how long it had lasted. And someone else will see to it that the irbis come out for Vallan."

  "Well, Zeran, you know better. But then, what are we waiting for? If he ended up being such a tough guy, we should come back later..."

  "Yes, come," the door creaking again. "And about that bitch Janam, I think it's time to put an end to her. I don't like those intrigues she's been spinning with Ar-Iraz..."

  You've accessed the quest: Damsel in Distress.

  Quest type: unique.

  Personally deliver a warning to Lady Janam, second wife of Astarot, the lord of Ashtar Dominion, about the threat to her life.

  Reward: experience, variable.

  You've accessed the quest: Betrayal!

  Quest type: unique.

  Use any means necessary to deliver the news of betrayal to Astarot, the lord of Ashtar Dominion.

  Reward: experience, unknown.

  Attention! If you succeed in notifying the lord before the death of Alsar, the son of the Snow Leopards clan's elder, you will earn a greater reward. 21:06... 21:05... 21:04...

  Whoa! How was that for a leisurely hike to the library? I swore under my breath—what the hell was I supposed to do now?

  Assuming Janam could wait until morning, the guy behind the wall was on schedule to buy the farm in a little over twenty minutes. But now what—should I go banging on Lord Astarot's bedroom door? There was a decent chance Janam would be there too, so I could kill two birds with one stone! I pictured the dominion's chief demon in his bedroom doorway, pissed and disheveled, and quickly dismissed the idea. What if I took the information to dar Annat? He had offered his help, after all. I pictured the security agent in the lord's bedroom doorway, and... Aww, damn it—there was no way either of us would make it to that door in twenty minutes! Feeling helpless, I rammed my fist into the wall.

  Hart's mercy! Why am I such a dummy? With a Step through Darkness, I was standing in a small room with a low ceiling. The fireplace was a black maw, framed by gray walls with chipped plaster. Laid out in vivid disarray on a wooden table in the corner were torture devices, slightly resembling magnified dental instruments.

  In the middle of the room, a young blonde-haired level 204 tifling was bound with straps to a device that looked suspiciously like a rack. The demon was unconscious, his head firmly clamped, a ray of ashen light falling on it from behind. The light was coming from a crystal hoisted on a stand next to the rack, siphoning the last slivers of life from its victim. Grimacing from the odor of his unwashed body, I kicked over the stand and brought down my boot heel hard on the transparent torture device—my own recent experience with these had made me particularly sensitive, eliciting a savage rage at the mere sight of them. No longer constrained, the tifling's body slid down the wooden surface onto the filthy floor tiles.

  "Man, they sure did a number on you," I uttered under my breath.

  The youth's eyes were half-open, his breathing hoarse and irregular, saliva trickling from the corner of mouth. Leaning over him, I poured a potion of healing into the demon's gullet, bringing his life from one to sixty percent.

  Hey, dude!" I shook the tifling by the shoulder. "Wake up!"

  Alsar doubled over, convulsing, and retched. This went on for five minutes or so, whereupon the kid pushed off the floor, leaned back against the wall, and raised his anguished green eyes at me.

  "Sir?" He wheezed, closing his eyes again. "It's useless... the poison... no point... finish it, brother..."

  I noticed that the debuff from the ray had started to consume the young demon's hit points at a faster rate. Evidently, the curse was designed to keep the victim healed and alive in the process. It was a twisted spell, called the Execration of Creiss.

  "Don't sweat it," with a chuckle, I poured into his mouth a potion of greater healing that I'd always kept in my belt. It stung a little to spend an epic vial on him, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that I had four more like it. A willow-green mist shrouded the tifling's body momentarily; the kid took several quick breaths and opened his eyes.

  "I am in your debt, sir," he said in a normal voice.

  It wasn't until then that I noticed a pair of tiny black triangles on his right cheek. Was he from the Order as well? That would explain him calling me "sir."

  Your reputation has increased. Alsar, a centurion of the Snow Leopards' clan, is friendly to you.

  Your reputation has increased. The Snow Leopards relate to you with respect.

  "You'll make it up to me," I smiled. "Can you walk?"

  The youth appeared to have fully recovered. He looked to be in his mid to high twenties, wearing a ragged shirt and trousers, and no shoes. His hair was tangled and clumpy, and his face gaunt, but I could see by his green-almond eyes that he was OK.

  "Sure," Alsar nodded, springing to his feet. "But I believe someone's coming this way," he added, listening intently.

  "Hurry up and get out of here, then, or we'll both be strapped to this thing."

  Having already opened a scarlet portal window, the tifling gave me a curious look.

  "What about you?"

  "I'll leave the same way I came. Go on..."

  "Farewell, brother. And thank you," he nodded, then vanished in the portal window.

  "You take care, too," I muttered under my breath. Eyeing the room one last time, I Stepped through the wall.

  Change of terms for the quest: Treason!

  You've accessed the quest: Treason!

  Quest type: unique.

  Use any means necessary to deliver the news of betrayal to Astarot, the lord of Ashtar Dominion. Also tell him about what happened in the west wing of the prison.

  Reward: experience, unknown.

  This is nuts! I thought as I ran for the exit. Nobody seemed to be chasing me—as a rule, NPCs weren't able to pass through instances, but as the saying goes, better safe than sorry. At least now I didn't need to disturb the lord's sleep in the middle of the night.

  I thought and decided not to leave the dungeon via a portal, since it would most likely take me outside the gates, which were closed for the night. And it wasn't within my powers—at least not yet—to create a portal right to the inn's courtyard. And I'd rather spend the night on the bench by the pond than outside the city gates. Besides, come morning I would need to speak with the archivist, and after that, go see dar Annat.

  Chapter 6

  By the time morning had lifted the veil of darkness from the city, and the river's breeze had swept away the last of the night's drowsiness, I was already standing in front of the local equivalent of the CIA headquarters, and wondering one simple question: why was it that organizations like this one always worked out of such ugly and rundown buildings?

  Before this, I'd popped into the library and handed the quest in to Master Prant, along with the complete collection of essays on the history of the dominion. The old man grew giddy at the mere sight of his precious manuscripts. No sooner had he counted off my reward in gold that he lost all touch with reality. Not wanting to disturb his bliss, I quietly left the library building.

  So here I was, shaking my head at the
four-story building that looked like a layer cake. I walked up to the legionnaire standing guard at the entrance, and asked him to take me to dar Annat. I was lucky—the tifling was at his post, and I barely had to wait at all.

  Like the actual magistrate building, the security agent's office conformed to the stereotype perfectly: large rectangular window, high ceiling, massive writing desk of light-colored wood, and six chairs arranged along the wall. Perhaps the only missing element was a framed portrait of Lord Astarot looking down from the wall.

  "Light one?" the tifling looked up from his writings when I walked into the office, arching a curious brow. "Is something the matter?"

  "Hello to you, too," I nodded to him, then took a seat on one of the chairs without waiting for an invitation. "Yes, something is definitely the matter. Otherwise I wouldn't need to visit such a serious establishment this early in the day."

  "What is it this time? More guards chasing you?"

  "Much worse," I gave a theatrically heavy sigh, wondering where to start, as well as what to share with the agent and what to omit.

  "Some specifics, would you? I'm a little busy here," I was a bit surprised to see a flicker of irritation on his long melancholic face.

  "Well, if you're busy, I can come back another time," I shrugged, and made belief I was about to get up and leave.

  "Enough with the clowning around," he put down his quill and unfinished sheet of paper with a sigh, folded his arms on the desk and looked at me the way one might at a pestering child. "So, what have you got?"

  "I've got nothing," I replied, injecting a dash of sarcasm into my tone. "But you've got treason on your hands."

  "What are you talking about?" the tifling frowned.

  "About a devious scheme to kill Alsar, the son of the Snow Leopards' elder, and have his head delivered his old man..."

  I proceeded to describe to the tifling a slimmed-down version of my nocturnal adventures. After I'd finished, a silence hung in the air for a while, which the tifling eventually broke, though his impassive face made it impossible to gauge his reaction.

  "Do you know who this Zeran is? Do you have any idea who you're accusing here?" dar Annat inquired in a supremely calm tone.

  Damn, this guy could be a pro poker player!

  "Whoa!" I made a placating gesture, then spoke slowly, articulating every word. "I am not accusing anyone of anything. I merely told you what happened—it's your job to decide what to do with that information. As for me, I assure you that I want nothing at all to do with your politics. I've done enough for this dominion as it is, I'd say."

  "Yes, of course," Annat replied, this time in a weary tone, and massaged his temples. "Wait here five minutes, let me make some arrangements."

  Putting away the unfinished sheet of paper into a drawer, the tifling got up and quickly left the office.

  I ended up waiting not five, and not even ten minutes. I must have memorized every crack on the front side of his desk by the time Annat returned, imperturbable as ever, and accompanied by an elderly tifling in plain traveling gear. The new arrival nodded a greeting, taking a seat on one of the available chairs, and shot me a curious look from under those bushy eyebrows. Ah, there's the cavalry, I let out a mental groan.

  "Krian," dar Annat sat back in his seat, and took out a fresh sheet of paper. "Please repeat your story for master..." he looked at the elderly demon questioningly.

  "Oh, no need for your spy games, Annat," said the old man in a deep, pleasant voice, then shifted his eyes back to me. "Dar, as you've no doubt surmised, I am Prince Ritter, the head of this magistrate. And seeing as you've just accused one of my deputies of treason, I would like to hear out what exactly happened to you last night. In detail, if you would."

  "I didn't accuse anyone. I simply said that one of the speakers behind the wall was called Zeran—"

  "Dar"—that was how he'd addressed me! Was it my knighthood that endowed me with such a title?

  "Oh, quit it," the prince interrupted my musings. "Accused or not, what difference does it make? But I will ask you not to rush, and try not to omit a single detail."

  It took another hour to recount the whole story from scratch, and answer all the questions. The only thing I omitted were the threats to the lord's wife. That was a different quest entirely, and I planned on delivering the warning personally. Towards the end of the interview, another tifling peeked into the office and called the prince out into the hallway. Upon returning a few minutes later, Ritter asked only a few more questions, and the ordeal was over.

  "I will report to the lord about you, Krian. I expect he'll wish to speak with you personally," the prince seemed distracted now. "You're staying at the Candle, yes? A messenger will come for you when the lord is ready to receive you."

  You've completed the quest: Treason!

  You've accessed the quest: Audience with the Lord.

  Go see Astarot, the lord of Ashtar Dominion, as soon as you are summoned.

  Reward: experience, unknown.

  To sum up, I'd had to waste an hour and a half simply to hand in a quest! I consoled myself with the fact that my XP bar had moved quite nicely. There were just a few more matters to take care of, and I could finally go see the elusive Lady Janam.

  "Thank you, dar," the prince nodded to me. "We have no further questions for you. If you have nothing else to say, we won't keep you any longer."

  "I do have something else," I sighed. "A personal matter to discuss with dar Annat, but I suppose it'd be good for you to hear it too, prince."

  "A personal matter? For me?" the tifling echoed in surprise.

  "Yes, Kert, for you," I drew another sigh, walked over to the desk and laid out the two sword fragments. "Your father Cymon... He perished in the west wing... Alongside his friend and another courageous old man. The three of them died to keep Death from sweeping through this city..."

  A silence gripped the air, so absolute you could hear water dripping in the clepsydra, counting off the seconds as they vanished into nothingness. All color had fled from Kert dar Annat's face, and Prince Ritter, who had once awarded the agent's father his punisher's badge—had dropped all pretenses of levity. In my vision I'd glimpsed Cymon's face only once—as a hazy reflection in the glass of a non-functioning visor. I realized now that the son looked a hell of a lot like his father. Cymon had named his son after his friend, the same friend with whose help he would eventually stop the Agent of Death from entering Nittal, paying for it with their lives. The local nobles had two names, and I hadn't known the family name of the punisher who had died eighty three years ago before coming up on his remains.

  Still slack-jawed and pale as death, the dar rose slowly from his seat and touched the blade fragments.

  "I... We... Mother and I suspected that they died together, but..." he muttered under his breath, then suddenly exclaimed, voice quivering with excitement. "Yes, these are his swords... Yes!" Gripping the hilts with his palms, he looked up and met my eyes. "Will you tell me about how he died?!"

  "I too would like to hear how his father and my punisher had passed into the Flame," said the prince, gazing off to the side. "We looked everywhere then, but didn't find any signs of him..."

  "Of course," I nodded.

  When I was done with the story, the silence that followed lasted a good five minutes, but was eventually broken by the prince.

  "Thank you, Krian. We will notify the families of the deceased about what really happened," he sighed. "And the lord will finally have a true account of that tragic event."

  Your reputation has increased. Kert dar Annat is friendly to you.

  "By the way, Annat," Master Ritter looked my way. "I heard that our new acquaintance had a bit of a race with the city guard a month ago. And that the story of his escape merits particular interest. Consider teaching him the next degree of that trick—I think he's earned it." The prince rose from his chair. "Thank you for sharing that story... Dar, I must take my leave—thanks to you we've got a bit of trouble brewing. Fa
rewell."

  Annat and I also rose and said our goodbyes. It pays to be polite, all the more so with the movers and shakers of the world.

  "Some things are hard to put into words," Kert spoke contemplatively. "My mother told me that my father had disappeared the day the research center caught fire. All those years we assumed that he had died in that fire, together with his friend Kert, but assuming is one thing, and knowing for a fact is quite another. Thank you, Krian," the dar came up to me and pressed his palm against my forehead, just like Kort had done once before. "Don't move..." A tsunami of shivers washed over my body.

  You've completed the quest: Cymon's Family Arms.

  You have gained a level! Current level: 132.

  You've learned a unique skill: Step through Darkness II.

  You have 1 talent point to allocate.

  Class bonus: +1 to intellect; +1 to spirit.

  You have 3 stat points to allocate.

  You've learned the spell: Step through Darkness II.

  Instant cast.

  Mana cost: 125 points.

  Cooldown: 25 seconds.