Kingdom of the Dead

by Pavel Kornev

  “Elven blood gives me indigestion,” the Baron complained.

  The Marquis smiled, baring his needle-sharp fangs, and tentatively swung his broadsword. The Count, however, wasn’t in a hurry to attack; instead, he kept sniffing the air and taking in the scene.

  I mentally reached out to Scarecrow. Obediently he flew over the treetops, searching for any archers. Still, I lost control of him almost straight away as he nosedived after yet another bat, grabbed it with his talons and soared back into the sky with his prey.

  “At least ten archers,” I said.

  “We can do it,” the Count decided.

  Goar put his hand on the vampire’s shoulder, keeping him in place, then calmly stepped forward.

  Immediately the druid raised his staff above his head. “Get out of our forest,” he demanded, “or Nature’s retribution will be terrible!”

  Goar stopped, buried the point of his sword in the ground and spread his shoulders, appearing even taller and more impressive. “Let us through and we’ll leave.”

  “You’re not welcome here! These paths aren’t for you!”

  “Equilibrium is a fragile thing. If you tip one side of the scales, both sides will continue rocking for a long time.”

  “You’re not the right one to talk about Equilibrium, orc!” the gray-bearded caster snapped. “Nature’s harmony-”

  “Nature’s harmony will cease to exist once we burn everything here,” the orc interrupted him. “And that wouldn’t be us upsetting the Equilibrium: we’d be simply responding to your act of hostility. Let us through!”

  The caster fell silent for a long time as if the game’s mechanisms were trying to calculate how convincing the orc’s words had been. Then the druids disappeared into the woods.

  “Don’t come back!” the old druid announced before escaping into the night.

  We heaved a sigh of relief. Even though we’d had the upper hand — or so I thought — still, the druids being on their own turf, they could bring us some very unpleasant surprises.

  WE’D REACHED the ruins of the monastery without further ado. As we’d wended our way along the crooked forest trail, we’d expected to be attacked at any moment. Still, the High Druid had kept his word. No more arrows had been fired at us. And once we’d left the trees behind, I was surprised to discover that the stone underfoot was in fact earth baked into rock by an incredible heat. This can’t have been magic napalm even but something much much hotter.

  We felt extremely uncomfortable staying in the open, so we hurried to shelter amid the scorched ruins of the monastery. The fire that once had raged there had failed to melt the ancient stonework but even so, not a single building had been left standing. I got the impression that something had exploded within the monastery walls, demolishing the buildings and bringing down the fortifications.

  “Does anyone still live here?” Goar asked warily as he followed the vampires past the heaps of fire-licked masonry which used to be the gatehouse.

  “Not at ground level, no,” the Count said confidently. “Plenty of critters in the basements though, mainly magic ones.”

  We spent some more time ambling among the ruins until we turned off into the main square where the ruins of a temple still stood. There was virtually nothing left from the once-majestic edifice, its heavy foundations the only reminder of its existence.

  “Are you sure the basement hasn’t been looted yet?” I asked.

  The Count shook his head. “These are the druids’ lands. Normally, the Lights give places like this a wide berth. And the Darks are no competition to us because they don’t give a damn about the Equilibrium.”

  Isabella had finally found a spot free from any rubble. “Boys, I need some time to set up a raid shrine.”

  The Count looked up at the sky, doubtful. Still, sunrise would be a while yet, so he agreed to stop for a breather as we weren’t immune to stupid death, especially seeing as the priestess’ magic allowed us to resurrect right here and now instead of having to trudge all the way back from the Tower of Power. A second chance never hurt anybody.

  The vampires split in different directions to guard the place against any unwanted visitors. I left Isabella in Goar’s care and went to inspect the ruins of the temple, accompanied by Neo. Did I say inspect? Not really, more like take a quick peek at it.

  There wasn’t much to look at. The explosion had blown away the walls and inner partitions. A deep jagged hole gaped at the center of the prayer hall.

  “Wait here,” I told the boy. Warily I approached the hole and stood at its very edge.

  I managed to make out two more stories underneath, their several-foot thick floors sporting the same breach at the center. It looked like something incredibly heavy had once dropped here from the sky.

  And I had a funny feeling I knew what it had been.

  You couldn’t make a descent here unless you had either Levitation or some climbing equipment, so I stepped back. Immediately Scarecrow landed on top of one of the few surviving columns and began sharpening his beak on the sooty marble. He'd grown a lot; his beak had acquired a distinctive obsidian glint.

  “Who’s a pretty boy, then?” I shook my head, then turned to Neo. “Let’s go!”

  We went back to the square where Isabella had just finished setting up the raid shrine as the respawn point for the vampires. Threads of energy reached out from her in every direction, gradually dissolving into the air. For a brief moment, I thought I saw the blood-red glimmer of the Crimson Moon high in the sky.

  I looked again but it was gone. Had it been my imagination playing up? I wasn’t too sure. You could never be sure with magic. I didn’t give a damn, anyway. I’d better sort out my stats while I had the chance.

  I improved my Agility and brought up Stamina to the 15 pt. Still, I’d decided against distributing my available skill points. I just wasn’t interested in either Pickpocketing or Trap Detecting. What about professional skills? As for learning new combat skills, I decided to leave it till later and improved Execution instead, bringing it to level 3.

  The result didn’t make me jump for joy but by the same token it hadn’t disappointed me, either. Apart from a better chance of killing an immobilized opponent, it also offered much more useful improvements.

  Execution III

  You’re an expert in anatomy and always hit your opponent’s most vulnerable spot — but only when he or she is tied to a torture rack and can’t react to your blow.

  Whenever your victim can’t see the blow coming, he or she receives critical damage which doubles the chances of your dealing them an injury.

  +6% to your chances of dealing a critical hit

  +3% to your chances of dealing a crippling blow

  Not bad, don’t you think? But as for magic, things weren’t as rosy. Even though my charmed belt gave me access to level-2 spells, they didn’t offer anything particularly interesting. I’d had to settle on the Veil of Death which protected a Lich from magic, its mana consumption depending on the power of the attack deflected.

  The sky flashed crimson. Isabella heaved a sigh of relief,

  “We can go now!”

  “Follow me!” the Count snapped his fingers and headed for the ruins of the temple. Ignoring the fire-polished steps of the main entrance, he skirted around the building. “There’s loads of fire ghosts on the first underground level,” he began instructing us as we walked. “No traps — or at least we haven’t come across any. Plenty of them on the second level though.”

  “Traps are your specialty, Kitten, aren’t they?” Isabella said with a nasty smile.

  I really didn’t feel like leading the way and I told her as much, adding a couple of stronger words to make sure she got the message.

  “Also,” the Count continued, “there’re plenty of deadmen on the second level. They aren’t very strong but they’re scorched so fire magic doesn’t affect them. You’d best keep that in mind,” the vampire crouched by a surviving section of the wall and pointed at a basement
window below. “Here.”

  The Baron was the first to slide through the dark opening. “It’s all right!” he shouted almost straight away.

  The Marquis followed his partner.

  “And what’s below apart from the dragon?” I asked the Count. “Are they any other creatures before it?”

  “No, only the dragon,” he said. “He blocks the only access to the sanctuary. There’s no way past him. Come on, Fang, climb in!”

  Goar eyed the window cautiously. “Fang?” he chuckled. “You’re one to talk!”

  Unexpectedly for such a clumsy creature, he squeezed himself through the opening with a remarkable ease.

  “Take the kid!” I shouted to him.

  “I’m not a little boy anymore!” Neo protested.

  I ignored his pleas. “Come on now, get in quick!”

  The boy frowned but didn’t make a scene and followed obediently after the orc.

  “It’s okay!” Goar shouted from below.

  Still, something seemed to have imperceptibly changed in the world around us. The air trembled as if resonating with an invisible bass string. The droning sound had disappeared before I could work out what it was I’d been feeling. Both Isabella and the Count seemed to have detected some sort of irregularity they too appeared unable to explain.

  “Is it some kind of signal?” Isabella suggested.

  “Or can it be the reaction to the arrival of a Light Disciple?” the Count offered his own version.

  “Are you all asleep or something?” the Baron’s voice came from below.

  “Shut up, we’re coming!” the Count replied. “Let’s go!”

  I let Isabella go in front, grabbed at the fire-licked stone windowsill, dropped down and hung from it, then released my grip. It wasn’t very high. I stood up and stepped aside, making place for the Count.

  Burned bones crunched underfoot, their recognizable snapping reminding me of the stinky cave where it had all started. I only prayed that my player’s journey wasn’t going to come to an end in this particular dungeon.

  Was it just a bad premonition? I shouldn’t be too sure.

  8

  THE BARON WAS TOLD to do point duty. Goar was posted as a rearguard: he still had to contain the dragon.

  Can’t say the Baron was happy with the task. “Invisibility isn’t an advantage against ghosts,” he grumbled.

  “Just go,” the Count said. “You can detect traps better than any of us.”

  “There were no traps here last time?”

  “And what if there are now? Last time there were three of us. And now we have this Light boy with us.”

  The Baron cussed and forlornly headed down the dark corridor.

  “Right, left, left, right, left,” the Marquis recited, remembering. “Is that correct?” he asked the Count.

  “It is.”

  We set off on our way. The vampires had no problem finding their way in the darkness of the dungeon. Isabella and I had our night vision, but Neo had to be led by the hand. I didn’t enjoy chaperoning him but if I'd let him go, the lad would have quickly stumbled into a wall or even dropped down one of the gaping holes in the floor. We’d already come across quite a few of them.

  Goar wheezed noisily behind my back. The eyeslit of his closed visor glinted with the magic he was using to help himself see in the dark. An active spell like that could attract ghosts but none of us dared tell him about it: without the spell, he would have been pretty useless.

  “Don’t go near those bones!” the Baron warned us as we approached two corridors crossing. “It could be a trap.”

  The Count flashed a smug grin. “What did I tell you?”

  We kept walking. After another couple of turns, the gloom began to lift as if dispersed by the torches burning up ahead.

  “Make sure you don’t fall down. The dragon will have you for breakfast,” the Baron whispered, pressing his back to the wall as he shuffled past another gaping hole in the floor. The cracked stone tiles crumbled under his feet but didn’t budge an inch.

  I looked up and caught a glimpse of the dawn through the hole above my head. A black dot flashed overhead; I heard the echo of cawing. It was Scarecrow hunting bats.

  “Wait,” Isabella stopped the vampires once we’d cleared the dangerous spot. “These ghosts here, do they only use fire?”

  “Yep. It looks like all of them were burned alive.”

  Indeed, we’d met nothing in the basement: neither human remains nor any furniture, only ash, soot and shapeless blobs of molten metal.

  Isabella nodded and spread her arms wide. A translucent veil formed in front of her. Very soon it began to disperse; still, the priestess managed to consolidate and widen it with a few confident handwaves until it blocked almost all of the passage.

  “What’s that?” the Marquis asked.

  “Fire protection,” Isabella said, motioning with her hand. The veil moved slightly forward, passed right through the Baron and flew on further.

  “Don't bust a gut,” the Count said, doubtful.

  Isabella just smirked.

  The first ghost appeared after the next bend. Still, the fire which escaped the empty sleeves of his robe barely licked the Elven protection veil, powerless against it. As soon as the flames died away, the Baron stepped through the magic veil and slashed the monk with his charmed daggers.

  From then on, it was plain sailing. Not that the Count seemed happy about it.

  “There’re too few ghosts here,” he frowned. “And logically, there should be more.”

  “All the better for us,” the Baron nonchalantly dismissed his concern. The Marquis, however, nodded and said nothing. He wasn’t a big talker, anyway.

  After a while, the corridor took another turn and brought us to a spacious hall, its cracked vaulted ceiling supported by powerful columns. Miraculously, the ceiling hadn’t collapsed, only had shed a few huge stones. Three more corridors opened into it.

  The Count pointed confidently at one of them. “Over there!”

  But the moment we started across the hall, we heard a metallic click. Frames of steel bars fell from the ceiling, blocking all the exits.

  “Oops,” the Baron said as the ghosts of the monks began pouring out of the corridors. The bars were no obstacle for them. In less than a moment, searing tongues of flame licked toward us from every direction.

  The Marquis was the first in their path. He went up like a match and rolled over the floor trying to extinguish the flames. He was soon surrounded by the ghosts’ black cassocks and couldn’t get back to his feet any longer.

  The Baron had been luckier. Isabella’s magic veil had protected him. The Count had simply disappeared into thin air, turning into an incorporeal whiff of mist which sped into a far corner.

  I pressed Neo to myself and activated the Veil of Death. The spell worked sluggishly; my hands felt leaden; but still its murky mist spread through the air around me, consuming the oncoming flames.

  Internal energy: –240 [280/520]

  Holy shit! It felt as if I’d been rammed by a fast train. I’d been lucky to stay on my feet. And I only had a moment to spare.

  “Go for it!” Isabella snapped. She jerked Neo toward her and swung the staff above her head.

  The purple mist curled, enveloping them from all sides. The now-defenseless Baron was forced to go on the attack. The re-materialized Count assaulted the ghosts from behind. The orc, however, seemed to be struggling. His black armor had withstood the onslaught of the flames — but when he’d attacked a monk with his sword it turned out that its metal couldn’t hurt immaterial beings.

  Unwilling to repeat his mistake, I drew the bone hook from behind my belt and lunged forward, striking the nearest ghoul.

  Phew! It disappeared without a trace!

  With my next swing, I disembodied another monk before fire started to pour toward us again.

  Leap!

  The spell threw me a couple of feet, sending me sprawling onto another ghost. With a quiet ripping s
ound, the bone hook sliced through his entrails.

  Another leap. Another blow. Having dealt with yet another monk, I turned around and saw that the melee was already over.

  The marquis had been burned to a crisp. His friends’ clothes were singed and smoking. Isabella and Neo had remained intact. Goar hadn’t suffered much from the flames, either, but he swore louder than everybody else because his black sword had failed to slay any of the immaterial beings. He looked daggers at me as if it had been my fault and not that of the game developers.

  “You okay?” I asked Neo.

  The boy sheathed his dagger. “Why can’t I ever use magic?”

  “Because your magic isn’t good for any of us,” I explained.

  “But-”

  “I said, no.”

  Isabella crouched in front of Neo and looked him in the eye. “I want you to get something for us,” her voice rang with feeling. “It’s very important. And if you get tired prematurely, our raid will be for nothing. You’re grown up now and you should be able to tell the difference between fun and work.”

  Neo frowned, thinking, then nodded.

  “We aren’t waiting for the Marquis,” the Count announced. “And watch your step! There’re traps around here, after all!”

  “You don’t mean it," I grumbled, then pointed at a blocked passage. “What’s with the bars?”

  Luckily, between all of us we’d managed to lift them. After some persuasion, the lock snapped, succumbing to our efforts. The bars began to rise until they came to a halt halfway up.

  After that, the corridor carried on straight ahead until it brought us to some steps leading down. The dungeon’s second level hadn’t been subjected to fire. It was lined with tapestries and torch holders. By the same token, its walls were badly fissured.

  “Come on, get in front, green one!” the Count ordered once we’d gone down to the next level. “We need a bit of a break.”

  Indeed, the vampires looked quite a bit worse for wear. Their burns still hadn’t healed, even despite the fact that they’d each drunk a vial of thick black blood. The regeneration process was taking way too long. Fire and vampires weren’t made for each other, that’s for sure.