Kingdom of the Dead

by Pavel Kornev

  “Come on, then!” I waved.

  Isabella gave me a meaningful look. I pointed at the ceiling, reminding her of our deal with the vampires. “Did you forget? Let’s take him with us, just to be on the safe side.”

  The priestess rolled her eyes and succumbed. “Let’s go already!”

  5

  OUR NEXT VISIT to the demonic alchemist’s shop was a bit of a disappointment. No, not really. I’d received what I’d planned to get but nothing more. Even though my hopes of getting more hadn’t been exactly ungrounded. Twenty-one thousand gold is quite a bit of money, after all. But unfortunately, it hadn’t quite worked out like that.

  The Count’s words about me being unable to take a blow gave me the idea of spending the money on some armor but unfortunately, cuirasses turned out to be the rarest and the most expensive parts of the Deadman’s set. And considering the fact that the set itself wasn’t exactly popular, the owners of the parts of armor I needed demanded exorbitant prices.

  How about checking bad builds? I went through the catalogs with a fine-toothed comb but found nothing suitable. Either they offered something I needed paired with some useless weapon or other, or the cuirasses themselves interfered with my ability to dissolve into the shadows and cost much more than the remaining money I had.

  Watching me struggling, Mr. Lloyd was laughing up his sleeve. “That’s how people become obsessed,” he chuckled.

  “This is outrageous!” I exclaimed.

  “Not everything can be bought,” he said, hiding his strange amber eyes behind a pair of dark alchemist’s glasses. “That’s the whole point of the game. If you need something in particular, you should rummage through manuscripts, call up a support group and go on a raid. Alternatively, you can join a clan. What you can get at auction is only what clan armorers don’t want.”

  “Bummer!” grinding my teeth, I pushed the heavy book away from me. “Never mind. I’m gonna take the Shadow of Death. Fourteen thousand, wasn’t it?”

  “Fifteen thousand four hundred,” he said, smiling.

  I cussed again but accepted. Having said that, what was I mad about? Only a while ago, I would have counted myself fortunate to have laid my hands on an item like that.

  While Mr. Lloyd submitted a transaction confirmation and an urgent delivery request, I began leafing through catalogs again. But my remaining five and a half grand didn’t even come close to buying me anything decent — and the bad builds offered for this kind of money were blatantly useless.

  I had to get a grip. I bought myself a leather helmet to replace the one that I’d lost and also got some simple gear for Neo. He couldn’t go on wandering around in homemade sandals.

  Finally, I removed my mask. “How about the runes?”

  The old man pushed his alchemist’s glasses onto his forehead, hooking them over his tiny horns, and ran his long slender fingers over the scratches in the black mithril. “Let’s take a look.”

  He laid a small flat coffer onto the table, swung its lid open and began rummaging through the runes. “How about a bonus to some of your stats, would you like that?”

  “Good idea.”

  “What would it be? Perception, Intellect, Agility?”

  “All of them, please.”

  He chuckled as he set a rune into its holder on the mask and handed it back to me. But the moment I tried to put it on, a bright spark flashed between the mithril and my face.

  I cussed. “What the hell?”

  Mr. Lloyd shrugged. “I’m afraid it’s not compatible with the Deadman’s set. Let’s try another one.”

  He spent at least another half-hour trying to find a rune that was compatible with my set, but all in vain. Finally, he leaned back in his chair looking very puzzled. Then he snapped his fingers. “Of course!”

  “What is it?” I asked in surprise.

  “The Deadman’s set! Death! We need bone runes! And I’ve only got either stone or metal ones!”

  I took the mask back from him. “So where do you think I can get them?”

  “I might try to order a set for you,” he promised. “I’ll let you know when it arrives. And now we can experiment with the eye covers.”

  He expertly inserted two thick glass lenses into the eyeslits and handed me the mask. Gingerly I tried it on. This time, nothing happened.

  The alchemist beamed. “Five hundred gold.”

  “What’s that for? Just for two pieces of ordinary glass?”

  “This isn’t just ordinary glass,” he said meaningfully. “They filter illusions. They won’t help you against a Master but will allow you to detect most protection amulets. Or do you want me to remove them?”

  I shook my head and reached for the money.

  The door swung open. Isabella peeked into the room, “You gonna be long, boys?”

  I looked askance at the old man. He opened one of the catalogs and told me, “Your order has been delivered. Go and see Ulrich about it.”

  “Thanks. See you!”

  “When the runes come, I’ll let you know.”

  Isabella and I walked out into the corridor.

  “How’s your crown?” I asked.

  Roger the skull cast me a grim glance, chattering his teeth.

  The priestess winced. “Don’t ask!”

  Better not to rub salt into her wounds. I walked over to the counter where Ulrich had laid out my smock.

  He pointed at the wall, “The mirror’s over there.”

  “I probably won’t need it.”

  The Shadow of Death was much more impressive in the flesh than in a catalog picture. Its gray fabric flowed, iridescent with blues and greens. It even appeared black in the shop’s dark corner.

  A smock. A hood. A short cloak. Drawstring sleeves. Everything was made for convenience.

  But its magic properties were its best feature.

  Shadow of Death (Deadman’s Set: 8 out of 13).

  Stealth: +24%.

  Dodge: +8%.

  And the shadows, look! They surrounded me but didn’t fade away when I went outside. How cool was that? No more Perception penalties! Now I could keep the Almost Alive skill on permanently! I didn’t need the mask anymore!

  Still, thinking about it, I decided to keep the mask for the time being. Magic illusions were all well and good but they weren’t a 100% guarantee against some astute individuals who could see right through my undead nature. Not a good idea.

  I went back into the shop. “Where’s Neo?”

  Isabella motioned me to follow her. She brought me to the back yard where Neo was busy playing with Scarecrow. The boy would throw a stick and the dead phoenix would catch it in mid-flight either in his beak or in his formidable talons.

  “Neo!” I called him. “Time to go back!”

  “Thanks for the clothes you bought me, Uncle John!” the boy shouted back.

  Now he didn’t at all resemble the smutty urchin from a God-forsaken village. He was wearing a pair of leather boots, a good strong jacket and pants, and on his belt the dagger I’d found on the Nest Hunter’s body.

  He hopped and skipped until he’d caught up with us and walked alongside us. Scarecrow soared into the air and flew high above the rooftops, clearly wary of attracting any stray arrows.

  In daytime, we mainly came across the local NPC inhabitants in the narrow streets of the capital. Those of the players who were online were either prowling around the unchartered territories or battling Light players in the borderlands. We’d only come across one lanky player on one of the bridges: an Elf carrying the bone flute of a spirit summoner, his entire body covered with the fancy flourishes of ritual tattoos.

  The Outcasts clan, I thought mechanically. No idea where I’d heard the name before. It was irrelevant, anyway.

  Still, the Elf seemed to have taken interest in us. He jumped off the bridge’s stone parapet and asked all of a sudden,

  “How much do you want for the boy?”

  “What kind of question is that?” Isabella frowned and st
opped, hands on her hips.

  Her cold tone hadn’t seemed to baffle her fellow Elven kinsman. “How much do you want for the boy?” he repeated. “Name your price!”

  I stepped forward. “Begone!” I growled.

  He made himself scarce double quick. There must have been something macabre in my voice.

  Isabella watched him scramble away as if she had him in her sights. "Wretched pervert,” she spat.

  I shrugged and headed across the bridge.

  “We shouldn’t have taken him with us,” Isabella said heatedly. “He’s only a child!”

  “No, I’m not!” Neo butted in.

  “That’s irrelevant,” I told them both, then lowered my voice. “Don’t forget we signed a contract to indenture him. What’s the logic in that?”

  She sighed and changed her tone, “He can’t stay indoors all the time.”

  “Then tell Mark to hire him to clean the floors,” I suggested.

  “I don’t think the vampires will appreciate it. Also, their information is solid. There’s no way they can reconsider.”

  “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll talk to Mark, anyway.”

  I nodded and turned off into a dark narrow lane which led directly to the inn. There, there were fewer chances of coming across any unwanted passersby. For some reason, I wasn’t looking forward to meeting other players anymore.

  Still, as is often the way, the shortest way isn’t always the easiest. The moment I stepped into the deep shadows, a strange stare prickled my back. Someone snatched at the strap of my bag which hung on my shoulder.

  A bright flash of light blinded me. Through my watering eyes I caught sight of a man recoiling, his hand ablaze.

  The cursed skull fell out of his crooked fingers and rolled toward the wall. The thief tried to pick it up but a swing from the priestess’ staff forced him to back off. The thief stealthed up to escape Isabella’s fireball which splattered the wall next to him with orange flames.

  I grabbed the skull and darted after him.

  “Watch out, Uncle John!” Neo shouted.

  Too late. His tracks had already gone cold. Or had they? Somehow I doubted that our expert thief had paid enough attention to leveling Stealth, otherwise he wouldn’t have had to lie in wait in this dark alley.

  I reached out mentally to Scarecrow and forced him to fold his wings and nosedive between the houses. Just as he was about to hit the ground, the phoenix leveled his flight and darted along the street. Everything flickered before my eyes, the shadows blurring into a large dark spot. I felt queasy.

  At that moment, my pet must have decided to take the initiative — or should I say demonstrate his nasty character? No idea how, but he must have sensed the stealthed-up thief, spread his talons and buried them in the villain’s back, pulling him out of the shadows.

  The thief brandished his dagger in vain, trying to get rid of the bird that was clawing him alive. Black feathers flew everywhere. With an indignant croak, Scarecrow hit the man hard on the head with his powerful beak.

  Struggling to keep the flamberge in my two hands like a spear, I took a running lunge, fully intending to run him through, then turn the sword inside to cut through his intestines with its undulated blade. Luckily for him, the thief managed to dodge it. The flamberge brushed his ribs, dealing him a wound that bled but failed to kill him. Tormented by the phoenix, the thief swung around dagger in hand.

  I laughed, raising the sword for a new strike.

  Then the sun shone from behind my back. Instinct told me to duck, dodging the clump of white fire that shot past me. The ghostly spear hit the thief, stunning and immobilizing him without actually dealing him any damage.

  The phoenix wasn’t so lucky. He’d been literally shredded, his black feathery remains fading fast, consumed in colorless smokeless flames.

  The Light magic had hardly singed me — but even so, my exposed skin smoldered. My vision swam. The ground seemed to fall away beneath my feet. It took all of my effort to pull myself together. Still, I had no choice. The thief was about to come round, and Scarecrow wasn’t here anymore to prevent him from dissolving into the shadows.

  I forced myself to step forward and swung my flamberge, attacking him with a series of Quick Strikes with a buff to Accuracy which instantly stripped me of 700 pt. Stamina. Still, it had been worth it. I’d hit the exact spot that I’d wanted to hit. I poked him in the neck, pricked him under the arm, then slashed him across the thigh.

  Lethal Whirlwind of Steel Combo!

  Critical Damage: x3

  My sword broke his spine, sliced through his ribs and cut his leg clean off. My blows had merged into one, producing some incredible damage total. The thief dropped to the ground. He convulsed once, then froze in the middle of a spreading pool of blood.

  Sadly, the XP I’d received for killing him wasn’t quite enough to bring me up to the next level — courtesy of Neo who’d so inopportunely interfered, biting off a considerable chunk of my pie.

  I bent down to pick up the thief’s dagger and crouched, my head spinning. Whew. It looked like I’d overdone it.

  Neo suddenly appeared next to me. He was no longer level 19 anymore — but level 21.

  “I’m very sorry, Uncle John!” the boy sobbed. “I didn’t mean it! I wanted to help you!”

  “You’d better apologize to Scarecrow,” I winced, rising to my feet.

  Isabella gave the boy a hearty whack around the head. “Now clear off!” she growled at him, then glared at me, her eyes bloodshot. “That goes for you too! Run! The Light magic has alerted half the island!”

  Dammit! Staggering, I hurried toward the inn. We’d barely reached the back door when several mounted knights galloped past us along the street. A dark wizard’s flying carpet whooshed overhead. The guards appeared next.

  “Shit!” Isabella cussed the moment we’d finally taken cover in the inn. “The boy’s magic makes my head go boom!” she closed her eyes and massaged them. “Kitten, this wasn’t an accident, was it? Did they follow you again?”

  “Well, what do you think?” furiously I buried the trophy dagger in the wall. “I had five grand in my wallet and that scumbag chose to grab the stone skull! Of course they followed me!”

  She nodded. “I’m afraid you’ll have to shell out for some new protection.”

  I just cussed repeatedly, not bothering to keep my language civil. The game had once again thrown up a nasty surprise and there was nothing I could now do about it.

  6

  WE’D SET OFF for the raid at night. The vampires had made sure we could get everything done while it was still dark when their supernatural abilities were at their highest. I’d had nothing against this choice. I’d just been happy to flee the inn before Garth could play another dirty trick on me.

  What kind of trick? I just didn’t know, and that’s what was driving me up the wall.

  I doubted that he’d send another thief or mount a direct attack. This was Garth: with him, you didn’t need to expect the expected.

  “John?” the Count called me. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded and stepped away from the wall.

  The door creaked, letting in Goar, my reluctant bodyguard. “Who? Where? Why?” he demanded, then deigned to expand on his ambiguous questions, “Where are we going? Why? Who are we gonna kill?”

  Isabella smiled. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, goofy. You've got a cut in this, don't forget.”

  “That’s only the answer to my ‘Why?’,” he parried, his wide nostrils flaring, as he watched the Count draw a complex portal figure on the attic’s floorboards.

  Isabella heaved a sigh. “That leaves ‘Where’ and ‘Who?’, I suppose,” she said. “I think they’re gonna tell us in a moment. Won’t you, Count?”

  The vampire leader had finished his elaborate diagram, drew a circle around it and rose to his feet. Judging by the drawing’s hue and faint smell, it must have been done with someone’s blood
.

  “Your job,” he said softly, “is to deliver the boy. The rest we’ll manage.”

  “And what about the dungeon’s guard?” I reminded him. “What’s with him?”

  “We’ll discuss it on the way,” the Count said as he raised a ritual knife and sliced through the palm of his hand.

  A single drop of viscous black blood fell from the deep wound onto the floor, its magic restructuring the game's spatial plane to open up a passage into the unknown.

  The Marquis and the Baron were the first to enter the portal. Neo was about to dash after them when I grabbed his hand. “Don’t move away from me! You understand?”

  The boy nodded obediently. Scarecrow on his shoulder cast me an unkind look with his murky blind eyes. He spread his wings wide and emitted a thunderous crow.

  “Shut up!” I ordered. “Goar, move it!”

  The orc cringed but followed the two vampires, unwilling to disobey our agreement. Isabella ported next.

  “Your turn,” the Count said. “I’ll bring up the rear.”

  Without letting go of Neo’s hand, I stepped into the portal.

  Immediately I felt queasy and vertiginous, unable to tell up from down. The air around me shuddered. As its trembling subsided, we found ourselves at the center of a gloomy forest glade overshadowed by towering oaks.

  Scarecrow soared into the air and perched himself on one of the gnarled branches. He seemed to like the place. He was the only one that did.

  Goar hurried to slam his helmet onto his head and began casting wary looks around him, his black word at the ready. Isabella raised her staff. Roger’s empty eye sockets lit up, illuminating the skulls hanging off the branches. All sorts of skulls: human, Elven and orcish.

  “What’s this?” Neo asked, alarmed.

  “This is a place of power,” Isabella answered. “Here, everything’s soaked in blood.”

  Her stare said clearly that we shouldn’t have taken the boy with us. Still, I didn’t accept the blame. If anything, her reaction had surprised me. It had been our joint decision. No good pinning everything on me. Or was it her maternal instinct which had suddenly woken up?