The Cursed Princedom (Realm of Arkon #2)

by G. Akella

  "Actually..." Aritor had taken off his armor, and was now pointing at the dam, clad in a tunic and simple flaxen pants, "There's a whole bunch of money and all sorts of other stuff down there. I won't need more than ten minutes." He looked at me, and, once I nodded, started toward the river.

  Once the demon reached the water, he stretched. I thought his tunic would burst on his muscles—he had already been as big as a bear standing upright before becoming a tank; following his specialization, and especially after leveling up his stats and skills a bit, he now struggled to fit through regular-sized doors. The giant turned toward his brother, and asked him with a warm smile.

  "Ayim, remember how we used to dive here to catch..." At that moment his eyes fell on Reece, who had already finished admiring his new staff, and now looked bored to tears. The tank's last phrase made his eyes light up, but Aritor just waved his hand, "Oh, the hell with y'all," and dove in, to the sound of his fellow clanmates' laughter.

  "Would you explain something to me, Krian?" the succubus' son's curiosity got the better of him again.

  "What is it?"

  "Skeletons are dead, aren't they?"

  "So?"

  "So they don't need to breathe! Why did they drown like regular sentient creatures instead of just walking out of the water? I mean the ones knocked off the dam by arrows."

  "Game mechanics," I blurted out, lost in thought.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. I said, that's how the world works. Who told you they had to breathe, anyway? They're supposed to lie in their graves, but there they go crawling about. So I'm not entirely sure about this whole breathing business. Running water may have something to do with it. I head the undead aren't particularly fond of rivers."

  "Don't pay him no mind, dar. We've all already gotten sick of his questions back in Uriatta," the archeress approached us, her face flushed from the battle. "He even got kicked out of Xantarra—their sentient populace must have lost their patience with him, too."

  "That's a vicious lie!" Reece looked outraged. "My studies at Xantarra ended for reasons quite unrelated to my curiosity."

  "Indeed," Salta grunted. "You should have left behind your habit of trying to hoist up every other skirt you see. Maybe then you may have actually graduated."

  "Incidentally, I happen to possess a delicate disposition," the mage announced with an air of injured innocence. "You may be able to run around in the woods like a moose cow for days on end, unlike yours truly," he sighed mournfully, "the likes of me require inspiration..."

  "What was that, you little swine? I'll show you inspiration!"

  Salta darted toward Reece, but he prudently took a sixty-foot Jump to the side, shouted something about crazy broads, and added that he would wait for us in the village.

  "Hold your horses," I pulled the girl, ready to chase the running mage, back by her shoulder. Turning her around to face me, I handed her a rare level 160 bow from my inventory. "You won't be able to use it right away," I said, "but it won't take you that long to learn. It's Daeron's bow. I think that your foe's weapon has got to become yours."

  "Thank you," said an astonished Salta, instantly forgetting all about the mage as her hands got a tight grip on the powerful composite bow. "But Krian... I have my father's bow. I don't know..."

  "Keep your father's bow as memory," I shook my head, winked to the girl, and started toward the river bank, where the pile of items recovered from drowned mobs kept on growing.

  "Where's the elder's house?" I turned toward Ayim, walking to my right. "Salta, Reena! Stop feeding him! He already eats enough for a dozen horses!"

  "He's still very young, you know," smiled the archeress, walking next to Gloom. "He needs a lot of food—he's still growing. Trust a hunter's daughter on this."

  Gloom grunted affirmatively and nudged the demoness with his snout gently, demanding seconds. The girls laughed, and, completely ignoring my outrage, started to take turns feeding the boar with green fruit of some sort.

  "He'll grow bigger?!"

  "Of course," Salta pushed the black beggar's snout away, raising her laughing eyes at me. "Not by much, but, given his current size, he will add another foot and a half in the shoulders. His weight is also likely to double."

  "But..." I tried to estimate how big my boar would get eventually, and arrived at a mental image of an attacking rhinoceros. "You're going to spoil him like this. He already turns his snout up at rutabaga."

  "What, you think we won't manage to find enough food to feed one young boar?" snorted Reena, walking on Gloom's other side. "And he's so cute, too!"

  I'd be hard-pressed to call the razorback "cute" even with half a gallon of whiskey inside me, but women had a slightly different perception of reality, so I decided not to get in their way. If they want to feed this piglet, they're welcome—one headache less for me. After all, the boar was my trump card, and the bigger he grew, the better. Mounting him would likely become a harder task, but that would be a small price to pay.

  The party's jolly mood soured as soon as we reached the village gate, where the succubus' son was already waiting for us, leaning against one of the gateposts with his arms crossed.

  All the inside space adjacent to the gate was covered with the rotting copses of the defenders. The undead had swarmed into the village, destroying every living creature in sight with the indifference of wildfire. Despite the wind blowing sideways, when you got within fifteen feet of the gate, breathing became a struggle. I raised a hand, ordering everyone to stop, and gestured for the mage, standing by the gate looking bored, to come over. How is it he didn't faint from the stench yet? I thought to myself. Or could it be that NPCs just aren't as sensitive?

  "To the smithy first," I looked at my clanmates' sullen faces. "We'll drop all our loot there, then return to the elder's house. You never told me where it was, Ayim."

  "Our house is down the road, straight ahead," said the black-haired demon in a barely audible voice. "I did tell you—you just didn't hear me." The warrior finally looked away from the gate and turned toward me. "Can I take a look around the breach, dar?"

  "First the smithy, then the elder's house. You can go afterwards, of course," I nodded. "Listen to me, everyone—we only move around the village in standard groups of five: tank, healer, and three dps. We don't yet know whether there might be anyone left here. Don't enter any buildings without an explicit order. We check the village first, and bury the villagers later. Got it?"

  "Take this, dar," Reece handed me a vial of cerulean blue liquid. "Apply some under your nostrils, or you will find it hard to breathe as you go further in."

  I followed his advice and passed the vial on. The smells did not disappear entirely, but they ceased to be unbearable. This must be the answer to the questions of how necromancers managed to play these days, as well as other classes whose development depended on the presence of walking dead and other entities smelling of things quite unlike roses.

  Anyway, first things first. We needed to drop all the extra stuff in the smithy yard and confirm the capture of Feator before anything else. That was the only way for me to enter my private office, and for the group to gain access to the village storage vaults. I waved my hand forward and went in the direction indicated by Ayim, trying not to look around me much.

  The elder's house was completely unharmed. In fact, only six houses had burned down in the whole village—the ones that had stood right next to the main gate. I decided against going in, and we all went toward the massive storage vault built of hewn logs. Ayim claimed it would be filled with wooden intended items for sale in Xantarra, so I was eager to see what they had. I took Feator's symbol out of my inventory. It was a small red object adorned with a fine ornament and shaped like an egg. I squeezed it in my fist and turned toward my party.

  Congratulations! Your party has successfully managed to capture the settlement of Feator! [Demon Grounds, Krajde Princedom, Xantarra Satrapy] [Village. Category 3]

  Due to the continental event The Curse
d Princedom, currently taking place in the Krajde Princedom, it is impossible to take the village of Feator under your control until the Krajde Citadel, the primary stronghold of the Krajde Princedom, is captured. Once you capture the Krajde Citadel, the settlement of Feator will be added to your conquests automatically.

  Your party has received a bonus of 300 gold for capturing the settlement.

  Your reputation has increased! Residents of the Krajde Princedom relate to you with respect.

  Your clan has gained a level!

  The Steel Wolves clan is now Level 2.

  Now available: clan treasury upgrade to level 2. Clan membership limit increased to 100 sentient beings.

  The morale of your party has risen by 3 points. Your party's current morale is +20 (a 20% increase to your party members' physical and magic damage).

  Attention! In ?? h., ?? min., and ?? sec. the captured settlement will be attacked by the undead that remain in the zone Feator and Environs.

  "What?!" I turned toward Ayim sharply. "Did you have any pastures here?"

  "Of course, dar—four of them," the black-haired demon nodded in reply. "Our village is roughly twice the size of Ballan, so we needed to—"

  "Hold it!" I interrupted him, squeezing my temples with my fingers until they hurt, my eyes shut tight.

  Idiot! What an idiot I was! I knew the capture would be followed by an attack, but somehow I'd convinced myself that if we didn't establish control over the village, there would be no attack. There must be at least five thousand walking dead throughout the zone! We could, of course, collect everything we could carry and depart through the southern gate, but that would be tantamount to fleeing, and my clan really needed this victory.

  "Anything wrong, dar?" Salta's voice brought me out of my reverie.

  "No, nothing at all," I turned to Ayim. "How many arrows did you say there were in the vault?"

  "Ten or twenty thousand at least—we missed two deliveries to Xantarra," the demon shrugged. "There are also a few hundred axe handles there, and—"

  "Quiet," I cut him off, eyeing the fighters over, their faces suddenly grave. "We're in for a little skirmish, so listen up... Reece, Surat, Ayim—get to the bridge at once! Do whatever you need, but it has to be destroyed! The two central spans are in real bad shape, so a few minutes should suffice for each. As soon as you break it, head for the mill and join the others." I looked back at the black-haired demon, his jaw gaping, and shouted, "Move it! None of those bastards must get across the bridge!"

  Reece's usual grin left his face at once, and Ayim swallowed the question he never got to ask. The boys spun around and darted for the village gate as fast as their feet could take them.

  "Everybody else, listen up! Dump everything you have in your inventory except potions and elixirs right on the ground, and grab as many arrows from the vault as you can carry—then head straight for the windmill! We need to make sure no one gets to this side of the river. Salta, you're in charge," I nodded to the head archeress, noting the concern on the faces of my clanmates. "Should you fail, there will be a couple of thousand skeletons here in an hour. Aritor and Hurd, stand the way I showed you. The wall will shield you from arrows fired from the other bank. I want three archers on either side of the building. Your positions must be out of enemy shot and spell range. Just like an hour ago, you will shoot the undead off the dam. Your main targets are mages and archers who attempt to get across. Use your superior range to your advantage and don't let them get close enough to you or the tanks to fire a shot." I looked at the demoness, who was listening attentively, sighed, and asked in an already calmer voice. "Salta, is everything clear to you, too?"

  "Aye aye!" shouted the girl, then looked at me questioningly. "But what about you, dar?"

  "I'll grab the arrows in a moment, then pop into the inn, and join you right after. Another thing," I glanced over the demons' dour faces. "This battle is of the greatest importance. Give it your very best, and... hurry up—I won't be able to stand there long on my own." I tapped the archeress on the shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile. "That's it, Salta. The countdown begins now. Give your orders."

  I ran out of the inn some three minutes later. I could hear the demoness issuing abrupt orders from the yard of the elder's house. Shaking my head, turned Gloom toward the gate, and sent him galloping.

  Gotta make it... gotta make it! The undead will try to make a dash for the bridge first, and if the boys don't let me down... Once the bridge falls, there'll be just one way left to reach Feator—the choke point where we had already destroyed half a century of armored warriors, I thought to myself, directing the boar along the narrow path leading left, toward the ruins of the mill. Stone walls will shield the tanks for as long as they need, as long as the mages with their area-of-effect spells are kept out of range. Salta's team will pick off any lich that steps on the dam first. We have enough arrows. All we need is to be ready in time! Come on, Gloom, buddy! Faster, faster!

  "Ree-ee-ece!!!" Ayim's shrill scream pierced the air. Just then I saw the experience bar twitch.

  "What's the matter? How's Reece?" I asked instantly, then bellowed before he could reply. "Answer me!"

  There was a short silence, followed by some loud exhales, elaborate curses, and the black-haired warrior's excited exclamation:

  "Alive! He's alive, dar!" The demon panted, as if carrying something heavy. "He's a right bastard, make no mistake, but if he hadn't frozen those beasts on the bridge... He Jumped toward them and immobilized them all to buy us time with the bridge... I don't know how he managed to survive, dar—there were four of them slashing at him. And then he fell into the water right after the bridge went down..."

  "It's down?! The bridge is down?!"

  "Aye aye! Not a single one got across! All of our guys are alive! We're on our way to the mill now."

  They did it! Now everything hinged on me. How long did I need to hold out? Two or three minutes, until the demons reached the mill? The undead may not have reached the dam yet, in which case...

  "Hart!" I cursed out loud the moment I saw the charred walls from around the bend—roughly three dozen skeletons were emerging out of the forest on the opposite bank. Some of the bastards had already started to cross. With three hundred feet or so separating me from the mill, I popped Charge without dallying a second. What a pity I won't fit in the hut mounted—the remaining roof beams won't let me, I thought to myself as Gloom came to a stop next to the ruin, puffing heavily. We're gonna make it! I hopped off the razorback, slapped his side, and Stepped through Darkness, through the walls, to the doorway facing the river. In the nick of time!

  Two arrows from the opposite bank scratched the top of my helmet, and I hurried to take shelter behind the wall, jabbing at the unprotected femur of the first skeleton to barge into the building.

  The creature tried to swing its rusty two-handed sword at me, but it caught on the door frame, leaving the skeleton's side exposed. I took full advantage, alternating attack skills to deliver two piercing blows at the opening between the helmet and the armor. The blade made a screeching sound as it hit the bones; the skeleton's head bobbed as it tried to hide behind its heavy weapon, then kicked out at the center of my shield. Stepping aside to let the blow glide over, I drove my blade right into the glowing eye socket. A crit! The enemy froze. A second skeleton armed with a rusty axe appeared behind the first, squeezing past, and instantly attacked. I easily parried with my shield and carried on slashing at the first opponent, hardly losing any HP at all. More enemies flashed behind—if this were happening in real life, they would have surely crushed me due to their sheer numbers. But real life it was not. Form a line, you bastards! I chuckled, staring them right in their loathsome mugs.

  When the first skeleton's bones dropped to the floor, making an icy clangor on the floorboards, an archer in rotten leather armor took its place, waving a short dagger. I kicked the freak away hard—the difference in strength remained in my favor—and switched to the one with the shield. As
the archer hit the wall, he lost about 5% HP and was stunned for a moment, but then he was back on me, displaying the true doggedness of the damned, swinging his narrow blade, touched by patches of rust.

  "Krian, we have set forth from the village," there was anxiety in Salta's voice as it rang in my ears. "How are you doing there?"

  "Fine," I replied, drawing a sigh of relief—I could hold out another three minutes or so easily. I hadn't lost so much as 5% of my HP yet.

  Spoke too soon! Three fireballs hit the opposite wall with a hideous sound, and a pool of hot plasma started spreading across the floor. Ugh! It started to get unbearably hot, and damage dealt over time was slowly gnawing away at my life bar. I slammed the archer into the wall with another kick, failing to parry a blow from the rusty axe that connected to my side. The undead warrior then tried pushing me out of the room, but instead exposed an unprotected neck, getting a blade right in the throat and freezing, a statue of ice. I hacked at its exposed throat once, then twice, parrying the second skeleton's dagger with my shield. Three more fireballs hit the wall, and I started getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen, the pain seeming to tear my body apart. But I could not retreat! A whole host of the undead would get across otherwise, and that would be the end of us!

  I downed a healing potion, finishing off the skeleton with a sword. His frozen remains melted in the flames blazing in the room. I switched to the archer, knocking him off his feet and hitting him twice as he lay on the floor. Both strikes turned out to be crits, and the blue haze left the skeleton's eyes. A mage squeezed into the space, and started to cast another fireball from behind another shield-bearer. "You swine!" I shut him up with a Silence, then tried reaching the robed skeleton with my sword. The warrior aptly blocked my way, his blade glancing off my shield. As my lunge was parried in turn, I was forced to step back to evade its next attack.