Kingdom of the Dead

by Pavel Kornev

  I jumped at my chance and ducked behind his back, burying the bone hook into the demon’s ugly hump, then pulled its blade down, deepening and lengthening the wound.

  The hook sliced through his skinless flesh from the nape of his neck all the way down to the small of his back.

  Execution! The Soul Eater has been killed!

  Experience: +4500 [36 179/37 400]; +4500 [36 223/37 400]

  Undead, the level is raised! Rogue, the level is increased!

  As soon as the freezing spell expired, the demon’s grotesque figure melted to the stone floor in a pool of fetid puss. The purple blade clattered onto the floor.

  The Count roared with malicious laughter, then crumbled to dust as if the bout of laughter had stripped him of the last of his strength.

  Goar peeled the helmet off and greedily gulped the air. The healing aura around him had long expired, leaving him on his last legs.

  “I hate demons,” he grumbled, unclasping his gauntlet. Blood poured onto the floor. “Shit...”

  A gaunt Isabella flung him a health elixir. “This green bastard has completely drained me,” she complained.

  Indeed, she looked as if she’d lost a good fifty pounds. Her gray face was drawn and pallid.

  Much to my surprise, the Marquis wasn’t too bad for wear. He emptied three vialfuls of blood, then rolled over on his side and was mustering his strength to scramble back to his feet.

  “He hasn’t kicked the bucket, your kid, has he?” he asked, licking his bloodied lips.

  “He’s okay,” Isabella replied, squeamishly kicking the demon’s purple sword out of the pool of fetid goo. “Here, take this and put it away. It isn’t a cheap trinket.”

  I really didn’t feel like touching the demonic weapon. I looked at the Marquis. “You want it?”

  He pulled the sword toward himself and chuckled. “The Claymore of the Cursed Flame? It might fetch ten grand at auction.”

  I can’t say the amount was mind-boggling but every little bit counts. We’d already amassed quite a lot of loot.

  Neo stirred on the floor. Isabella crouched next to him. The vampire shook his head and made for the dragon’s den. I followed.

  “The sanctuary’s there, remember?” I asked, catching up with him.

  “I don’t need to go that far,” the Marquis croaked.

  He dropped to his knees by the entrance to the cave and began rummaging through a pile of junk. Whenever he came across something valuable, he’d set it aside. Suddenly he whooped with joy and began kissing the curved blade of a daga. “My preciousss!”

  “Wait a sec, goofy,” Isabella said anxiously when the vampire had slid the daga into his belt. “The loot is shared between everyone!”

  “This is mine!” the Marquis snapped. “I lost it here the last time. The Count’s scimitars should be here somewhere too.”

  “That wasn’t in the agreement!” Isabella said indignantly, but promptly reconsidered and wrapped the amber rosary around her wrist. “Kitten, do you mind?”

  I shook my head.

  She turned to Goar. “And you?”

  “I’ll take my share in coin,” he wheezed, spitting blood.

  The Marquis continued his search and quickly found the Count’s matching scimitars. Technically they were two items and not one but I chose not to squabble over it. Pointless.

  “Is Neo okay?” I asked Isabella.

  Much to my relief, the boy replied,

  “I’m fine, only my head’s spinning. I’d rather lay down a while.”

  “It’s okay,” Isabella reassured him, threatening me with her fist.

  Goar could barely move. The Marquis was busy sorting through the recovered weapons and artifacts. So I just shrugged and walked over to the dragon’s carcass.

  It looked disgusting and stank even worse. His scales weren’t worth the trouble of processing them. Still, I remembered how the demon had fished out his magic sword from within the creature’s insides. Overcoming disgust, I started groveling through his rotting guts. If the dragon had indeed swallowed the demon whole, you never knew what else you might find in his belly.

  Unfortunately, my fingers only found slimy gizzards. I would have long abandoned this sickening task had it not been for Isabella’s snickering. I absolutely had to find something if only just to shut her up.

  My fingers closed around something that felt like steel. Straining myself, I struggled to pull it out of the dragon’s torn guts.

  The item was covered in shreds of rotting flesh. It turned out to be a cuirass. When I slammed it on the floor to clean it from all the gunk, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The fancy patterns embossed into the metal looked vaguely familiar. For some reason or other, they reminded me of my own tattoos.

  “Finders keepers,” I hurried to say, then proceeded to put on the fetid cuirass under my companions’ astonished stares.

  Deadman’s Set: Altered

  Deadman’s Set: Saved

  Ghostly Cuirass (Deadman’s Set: 9 out of 13).

  Armor: 90.

  Doesn’t impede spell casting or moving in stealth

  Yes! Yes! I’m the best!

  The moment I put the cuirass on, it became weightless and translucent, embracing my torso like a shadowy haze. It didn’t hinder my movements at all. I tried to stealth up just to check it. It worked without a glitch.

  “You’ve got some cheek!” the Marquis drawled in surprise.

  “It’s all your fault. You’ve let the genie out of the bottle,” Isabella quipped.

  The Vampire ignored her comment. He only seemed to be interested in his precious daga. And... probably the mysterious artifact too, sort of.

  “How about we get down to business?” Goar reminded him.

  Neo stirred. “I’m ready!”

  “One moment! One moment!” the Marquis hurried to finish sorting the loot.

  “Give me five minutes,” Isabella said. “I’ll set up a portal upstairs. I’m sick and tired of being underground.”

  She drank some kind of potion and began building the portal’s energy frame.

  I took a wary peek into the dragon’s den. The entrance to the sanctuary in its far wall emitted a blinding light too painfully bright for my dead eyes, allowing me only to make out the outlines of the objects inside.

  The Marquis joined me. He could see slightly better, enough to notice a magic staff and the bones of a forearm covered in decayed flesh which lay behind the entrance to the sanctuary.

  He whistled in astonishment. “Someone’s already been here!”

  I stepped closer to the entrance but immediately recoiled as the mask on my face heated up as if it had been thrown into a furnace. Neo, however, walked inside unhindered.

  “Should I take the staff?” he asked, looking around.

  “Yes! Of course! Take it!” the Marquis shouted as he shrank back, covering his tearful eyes with his hand. “But the artifact is what’s important! Is it still there?»

  Neo stepped forward and disappeared, consumed by the unbearable light.

  “I got it!” we heard him shout.

  The vampire breathed a sigh of relief. Immediately the dungeon shuddered, showering us with dust and stone rubble.

  “Let’s get outta here!” the Marquis yelled and turned tail.

  The walls around us wavered, threatening to collapse and bury me forever under a layer of granite many feet thick. Still, I waited for Neo to reemerge, threw him over my back and dashed out of the dragon’s den.

  The only thought that throbbed in my head was, Game developers never send players into a situation which they can’t get out of.

  When I finally reached the first hall, Goar had already disappeared through the gaping portal. A moment later, the Marquis followed him.

  “Quick!” Isabella shouted.

  The walls of the well began cracking as the slabs of granite started to collapse and tumble down. I made one final effort but tripped up and barely stayed on my feet, barging into Isabella. Together we tumb
led into the portal.

  Now!

  The blue sky opened above us, its eastern edge highlighted by the rising sun. The ground began to shake under our feet.

  The monastery’s roof collapsed.

  The Count and the Baron were already hurrying toward us from the raid sanctuary.

  “Did you do it?” the Count shouted as he ran.

  “You bet!” the Marquis laughed, handing him the scimitars he’d retrieved from the dragon’s den.

  The Count took them, replacing his rather mediocre old ones, then headed toward us. “Where’s the artifact?”

  I let Neo down from my back. The boy pulled out the staff which appeared to have been made from one single piece of diamond and handed it to the vampire.

  “No,” the Count disregarded it. “That’s not it!”

  Neo reached into his shirt and produced a blob of deathly white light.

  Both Isabella and I stared at it open-mouthed.

  A shard of the Sphere of Souls! And it was only marginally smaller than our own!

  Neo handed the glittering artifact to the Count.

  I hurriedly snapped my fingers. “Wait a sec!”

  That was the last thing I did. A fleeting shadow flashed across the sky, followed by a wall of fire which instantly incinerated both Neo and the Count. I took cover behind the Shroud, so the elemental attack hadn’t burned me alive but only flung me over the stone parapet.

  A sea of fire raged around me. I felt I was burning alive — but before I could crumble to ashes, a tall knight in red-hot armor stepped out of the flames and lowered both his enormous swords down on me.

  Was it a coup de grace?

  Possible.

  Chapter Three. A Deadman in a Strange Land

  1

  STONE. STONE ALL AROUND. Nothing but smooth stone. And darkness. This kind of darkness only exists in tombs.

  I stirred, feeling around me. My fingers chanced upon something rough. I leaned my weight against it, and the crumbling slag gave under the pressure, revealing a way out. I wriggled my way out of the shallow grave.

  The midday sun assaulted my eyes.

  It was already daytime. Where was everybody? What the hell had just happened? The wall of fire, the knight in red-hot armor, his sword blow...

  Isabella’s raid altar looked as if it had exploded from within. A crater now gaped where it had once been.

  Neo!

  I cussed. The boy could never resurrect, neither here nor anywhere else. He was only an NPC. A piece of program code.

  As if!

  A wave of desperate fury flooded over me. My head spun with the desire to find those who’d trampled us into the ground. I would rip them apart with my bare hands!

  I opened the logs and frowned. The situation hadn’t become any clearer.

  You’ve been killed by a Fire Ifrit!

  An Ifrit? A demon from Arabic mythology? Whoever could have summoned him to our world and pitted him against us?

  I heard hoarse squawking overhead and looked up to see the black dot of Scarecrow high in the sky. I mentally reached out to him, studying the area from his height, but saw nothing... no one.

  The sunrays were harsh on my raised face. To make matters even worse, I realized I didn’t have my mithril mask on. Just to please! Our entire group would resurrect by the Tower of Darkness while I’d have to walk all the way there. And my magic disguise wasn’t going to fool very many people.

  Could it still be lying somewhere amid the blackened debris?

  I started circling my grave, searching for it. Soon I’d indeed spotted a glint of mithril molten into the granite. It took me some time to prize the mask out of the rock. To my great relief, it was almost intact apart from one of the burnt rune mountings. But now it also offered +10% to Fire Protection.

  A Charred Mask of Black Mithril, yeah right.

  Never mind. Two runes were plenty. I wasn’t even sure that Lloyd would be able to get something suitable. Actually... I already had that demonic bone, didn’t I? Could I use it instead, maybe?

  Wait up! That’s not what I should be thinking of!

  Another wave of violent fury flooded over me. I forced myself to calm down, otherwise I would have exploded like an overheated boiler.

  I’m so sorry, Neo. We shouldn’t have gotten you into all this.

  I shook my head and opened the stat window, fully intending to improve some of my characteristics. The rest could wait. I brought both Strength and Agility to 20 and habitually left 1 skill point in reserve. I then chose Lightning Reflexes which was next on my professional skills list after Quick Strike. It was used to parry enemy blows and could be very useful in a swordfight.

  Okay, so what about magic? As it turned out, apart from the level-3 spell I was entitled to, the game developers had been generous enough to offer one additional spell of the most basic sort. Apparently, my char wasn’t a complete idiot although not far off.

  I skimmed through the level-3 spells list and came to the familiar conclusion that in order to use any magic practices, I was lamentably short on both Intellect and internal energy. Still, it didn’t take me long to choose. I simply remembered the ease with which the demon had lassoed the Count, and that’s what I decided to learn. It might come in quite handy one day.

  And what about a level 1 spell? I chose the Touch of Death. In order to activate it, you had to touch the victim with your hand. Although it didn’t deal much damage, it could paralyze your opponent, and my Executioner profession just loved immobilized targets. How much mana did it take? Well, that entirely depended on the caster who could invest their entire energy in the blow if they really wanted to risk their last dime. I might actually find it useful one day.

  I heaved a doomed sigh and opened the map, intending to find my whereabouts. That’s when I noticed the new icon of an incoming message from Isabella. Just as I’d thought, both she and Goar had been resurrected by the Tower of Darkness. The three vampires, however, had respawned at the local place of power. I still had an hour to join them and port to the capital together with them.

  An hour? Easy. Plenty of time.

  2

  PLENTY OF TIME? I shouldn’t have spoken too soon. I hadn’t dared take the forest road for fear of coming across any of the locals and was forced to give the Antlered God’s hill a wide berth, too. Because of that, I soon got lost in the woods. Finally I came across a trail which led me in a totally different direction. I had to disregard any safety precautions and take the route I already knew. As a result, I’d wasted half of my precious time.

  I had to run like mad along overgrown cobblestones, hurrying to our meeting point, then I turned off and took a shortcut through the woods. Bad idea. Don’t ask me how I didn’t notice a druid meditating in a forest clearing (probably because his clothing merged with the young green foliage) but the fact remains I didn’t see him until I was only ten paces away.

  The level-39 Forest Keeper turned out to be a player who belonged to the High Druid’s retinue. No idea whether he remembered me or just wanted to teach an intruder a lesson but the high grass grasped at my boots, entangling them and winding around my legs.

  Stealth? Not available.

  “I was just passing by,” I mumbled, still harboring a vague hope to resolve this peacefully.

  With a wave of his hand, the Forest Keeper sent a gust of wind my way, covering me with a cloud of pollen. I was obliged to use the Veil of Death, incinerating the pollen. I then roped my opponent with a Lasso pulling him toward myself, and used the Leap to throw myself toward him.

  One! The spell ported me behind the druid’s back.

  Two! I swung round and raised my flamberge, adding a boost to the already powerful blow.

  Three! The undulating blade swept his blond head clean off his shoulders, sending it flying into the bushes and splattering the foliage red. The druid froze momentarily, then collapsed onto the grass.

  Another one bites the dust.

  Well done! Who’s a clever bastar
d, then? I’d smoked a druid with my very first blow in open combat! And I’d received quite a bit of XP to go with it.

  Still, my good mood had been soured somewhat when the bloodied foliage began to blacken and dry. Wherever the druid’s blood had fallen, the grass wilted. The tree tops began to rustle.

  The forest craved revenge. No idea how I knew: I just did.

  I had to run.

  I darted off. Nature itself seemed to be against my presence. The grass entwined my feet; tree branches lashed out at my face; sharp twigs tried to scratch my eyes out. A dead pine tree collapsed, barely missing me; an enormous moose flashed past, very nearly trampling me.

  Then wolves began to howl.

  Ah, dammit! I ran with all my might.

  Immediately an Elven arrow whistled over my head and disappeared in the undergrowth. An echo of strange magic rippled through the air. And I still had far to run...

  I could already see the circle of moss-covered menhirs and the bushes around them hung with skulls when a gray shadow tripped me. I somersaulted out of its path, swung round and slashed the creature with my sword. My strike had been successful. The giant wolf dropped to the ground, howling and convulsing, while I continued on my way toward the portal. Toward safety!

  Provided the vampires hadn’t lost their patience and left without waiting for me as promised.

  An arrow struck my back — but the arrowhead just glanced off my now-materialized cuirass. Two more wolves tried to block my way and were apprehended by a ghostly shadow brandishing two gray scimitars.

  The slain wolves collapsed to the ground.

  “Move it!” the Count shouted, unstealthing. He swung his scimitars above his head, parrying the incoming arrows with ease, then stepped back into the safety of the menhirs. A moment later, I too rushed inside.

  “To the portal!” the Count ordered.

  A cloud of midges suddenly enveloped us. Not that it mattered anymore. I dove into the portal.