by Pavel Kornev
Living? What kind of bullshit was that? I was beginning to confuse real life with virtual reality! I didn’t have to live with one eye. This was only a game. A game!
But how could this have happened at all? Having scars was one thing, but all the lost limbs and body parts were supposed to restore every time you resurrected, weren’t they? I used to be taken apart before and everything had been fine! What had changed this time?
The white witch, who was she? She definitely wasn’t a player. More like a supernatural being, seeing as the Angel of Darkness himself hadn’t dared to challenge her. But why had she picked on me? That hadn’t been a chance encounter. She’d tracked me down, then immobilized me, intending to-
Intending to do what?
I had no answer to this. Not even a theory.
I shrugged. To hell with her! She wouldn’t find it easy on the Dark side. And there was no force in hell capable of luring me back onto the Light territories.
I followed Goar into the back yard of the alchemist’s shop and froze in disbelief. Neo sat on a bench under an ancient oak tree and was throwing acorns in the air for Scarecrow who deftly caught them with his powerful beak.
On seeing me, the dead phoenix ruffled his feathers and emitted a hoarse croak. Neo turned round and jumped off the bench.
“Uncle John!” he screamed rushing toward me, his arms open for a hug. “Thanks for saving me! Without you I’d have already been dead! Thank you so much!”
I tousled his hair. “How did you get here before me?”
“That was the phoenix’s portal! Would you like me to show you?”
“No, thanks,” I hurried to add, having no desire of experiencing the holy power of Light again.
Neo sniffed, embarrassed. “Did I hurt you bad, Uncle John?”
I laughed. “Not at all. It was bad but not too bad. Otherwise I’d have never made it out of there.”
Goar climbed the porch and cleared his throat meaningfully. I had to follow him into the shop where Isabella and the shop assistant were busy studying some dusty tome, apparently following the auction results for the Crown of Chaos.
The orc emitted an annoyed cough. Isabella turned round.
“Here he is, in one piece as promised,” Goar said. He then scratched his head and added, “Sort of.”
“Why, what’s wrong?” Isabella demanded, anxious.
“He’ll show you. I must be off,” Goar left and closed the door behind him.
Isabella stared at me. “And?”
I gasped a curse, activated Almost Alive and removed the mask.
Isabella gave an amazed whistle. “Has Kitten picked a fight with some bad dogs?” Gingerly she reached out, touched my face with her fingertips and winced. “I can sense both Light and Dark. What on earth happened to you?”
I chuckled. “I followed in Odin’s tracks,” I tapped a finger on my left temple. “Got myself some wisdom.”
Isabella wiped her hand on her skirt and shook her head. “You should’ve followed Scarecrow. Not this one, the one from the Oz book. At least he didn’t have to swap an eye for a brain.”
“Sorry. It just happened.”
“Great answer, Kitten. Fits every situation.”
“Please,” I said, suppressing a sudden bout of insecurity. “Did you manage to find out who’d scorched us by the monastery?”
Insecurity! Dammit! I’d all but sold my soul to the Angel of Darkness! At the very least, I’d definitely flogged the key to my own resurrection. And what if we never found the lost fragment?
Did it make me scared? You bet! I could be dead, but the sheer thought made me shake in my shoes.
Instead of replying, Isabella lobbed a heavy money bag to me.
“What’s that?” I asked in surprise.
“Your cut of the loot proceeds.”
“Shit! What’s with the attackers?!” my voice broke. “Did you find them?”
“Keep your voice down,” Isabella said. “Yes, we’ve tracked them down. The vampires are out now probing around. Once they’re back, we’ll decide what to do next.”
“We need to teach them a lesson!”
She nodded. “We will if we can,” she gave me a meaningful wink. “Trust me.”
I got the hint and didn’t mention the Sphere of Souls.
Isabella turned away to the shop assistant, “So how’s it going, Ulrich?”
“They just outbid us.”
“Dammit!”
“They’ve put another lot up.”
“Start bidding!”
I slumped into an easy armchair for customers and untied the money bag. It contained seven thousand gold.
Was it a lot? Yeah, sort of. Still not enough to add to my Deadman’s Set. Talking about which...
I pulled out the Soul Killer broken by the white witch and cussed in disappointment. Its bone blade had snapped off by the hilt. There was no way you could use it now.
What the hell? It was supposed to be indestructible! Could I fix it? Was it even possible?
“Ulrich,” I turned to the assistant. “Is Mr. Lloyd in?”
He grew pensive for a while as if unable to switch over to a new task.
“Come on through, John,” he finally said.
When I pushed the door into the demonic alchemist’s workshop, Mr. Lloyd was sitting at the table studying a bone rune through a huge magnifying glass, The rune looked plain and fire-damaged. Fine gray dust hung in the air which stank of chemicals.
The old man grinned at me. “Talk about the devil!” He sat up, anxious, and gestured at his own face. “What’s this, some kind of new fashion?”
I winced and took a chair in front of him. “It just happened.” The expression was quickly becoming my catchphrase.
Not even trying to conceal his disgust, Lloyd chucked the rune into the far corner. “Lucky you,” he said. “I wish things would start happening for me,” he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the tips of his horns. “No idea what kind of bone I could use! Even dragon’s bones don’t work!”
I laid the broken bone hook on the table. “And what would you say to that?”
The alchemist leaned forward. His inhuman eyes glinted with disbelief at seeing the remains of the supposedly indestructible weapon. “Talk about heavy-handed...” he cut himself short and stared at me. “But how? How did you do it, Holmes?”
“It just happened.”
The old man drew the pieces of the bone hook toward himself and shook his head. “To break an indestructible item! That’s a first! Not even many higher beings are capable of doing that!” he snapped his fingers and brought the broken blade up to his magnifying glass. “Yes! This is perfect! I can use it to make a rune which would fit your Deadman’s Set!”
I can’t say I was impressed by this proposition. “Can’t you repair the hook?”
“Sorry. As the song goes, Once you pull out your hair you can't put it back in[1],” Mr. Lloyd replied.
I cussed. “I need the hook.”
He lobbed the broken blade on the table and shrugged. “Anything can be repaired. It’s just a question of materials. I think you could procure a bone of a higher being?”
“Would a bone from a demon do?”
“Is that a joke?” the half-demon cringed, apparently taking my words personally.
I didn’t bother to explain. Instead, I produced the bone of Nest Hunter.
The alchemist recoiled. The aura of phantom fire surrounding the demonic bone burned my hand — but the infernal curse couldn’t harm a deadman.
But the old man was another matter. He turned blue and began gulping some potions.
“Where did you get this?” he asked once he felt a bit better.
“I killed him.”
“Didn’t you perform a cleansing ritual?”
“Should I have done so?”
Lloyd slapped his forehead and pointed at the door. “Get the hell out of here! Leave the bone! I can work with it. I’ll see what I can do.”
He seemed
to be feverish with excitement. Still, the moment I rose from my seat, he got a grip. “Wait a sec! Who’s gonna pay for it?”
I heaved a sigh and reached for the money bag. “How much?”
“A lot. It’s gonna cost you... gonna cost you... a lot!”
I was desperate to get the hook back so I didn’t even try to haggle but threw the heavy money bag on the table. “That’s all I have.”
The alchemist sized up the clinking gold. Still, he seemed to be so excited about the upcoming job he didn’t even count it. “Go! And tell them not to disturb me!”
I walked out and quietly shut the door behind me. Isabella was still whispering with Ulrich who kept casting suspicious glances my way while Isabella kept giggling.
“What now?” I demanded.
The priestess brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye and shook her head. “Kitten is a TV star! You’re back topping the weekly ratings!”
Ulrich doubled up and added, laughing, “As the best supporting actor to the real star! The horse!”
“Which horse?”
As it turned out, they were talking about a video featuring the amazing eight-legged stallion that Barth Firefist rode as he’d chased me. Filmed in the streets of the Marble Fortress, it partially included the combat which had followed — but the comments were almost exclusively about the unique beast and its owner. Everybody agreed that this was an alpha creature which meant that the Paladin too was on the game’s Top 100 list. No one seemed to be interested in the player he’d been chasing.
The best supporting actor indeed!
“Barth Firefist!” Isabella shook her head. “Why would he have it in for you?”
I tensed. “Why, what do you know about him?”
“It’s been a while since he last logged in. Too many people are pissed with him, both Light and Dark. But you, how did you manage to get on the wrong side of him?”
I glanced at Ulrich and replied vaguely, “I didn’t. It’s his brother Garth I had problems with. One is Garth, the other is Barth. Do you get it?”
Isabella opened her eyes wide. “You don’t mean it!”
“I do.”
“Aren’t you the lucky one,” she said slowly.
At that moment, the auction resumed. Immediately she forgot all about me and the two-faced Barth/Garth. I dreaded to even think how much she was prepared to bid for the Crown of Chaos.
I spent some time pondering over the news, then forced myself to put all the bad premonitions out of my head and opened the Lich Magic tab. It didn’t take me long to sort out the spells. I selected the Sphere of Dead Flame, the Arrow of Death and the Mantle of Death. The first one exploded, blinding your victim, while the two others were advanced versions of the Touch of Death. The Arrow was a distance weapon affecting an individual target while the Mantle enveloped the caster, striking his or her attackers. All of them required industrial quantities of internal energy but they just might come in handy one day to actually kill someone.
I leaned back in my chair, cracking my fingers. “How’s Mark?”
By then, Isabella had already been outbid which explained her less than cheerful mood. “Don’t ask,” she growled.
I chuckled and immediately choked on my merriment. The shop’s door swung open, letting in a dark-blue figure in a suit of armor covered in golden swirls of protection runes, its pauldrons shaped as lions’ heads baring their teeth.
Prince Julien. This time he carried his tiger’s head helmet in the crook of his arm.
My hand closed around the hilt of the flamberge leaning against the wall.
“Stay cool, Kitten,” Isabella hurried to say.
Prince Julien cast me a contemptuous look. “Your time is up! I need the shard now!”
Isabella laughed. “Are you sure, boy?”
He took a decisive step, towering over the priestess who was head and shoulders below him.
“Would you two be so kind as to go to our conference room?” Ulrich hurried to interfere, apparently worried about the safety of the goods on the shelves.
Isabella picked up her staff and sashayed toward the door he was pointing at. The Prince heaved a labored sigh but followed.
“I need the fragment!” he repeated as soon as we entered. “Now!”
“Can’t see how I can help you,” Isabella replied calmly. “I have a deal with your clan, not with you, my bello.”
The Prince turned crimson — either in anger or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell. At least this time he didn’t put his helmet on to hide his face.
“Listen, you,” he wheezed. “This is important.”
Isabella shook her head. “If I come across another fragment, we might talk about it, baby. But now... I’m sorry.”
She blew him a kiss while I laid my hand on the sword.
Immediately my nervousness was gone. The world had come back into focus, once again becoming clear and predictable. Now I knew exactly where to point it in order to pierce his snazzy armor. Having said that, I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to deal him a second blow.
Still, the Prince was full of surprises. He licked his lips, swung round and headed for the exit with all the grace of a steel-clad rhino. I’d barely managed to get out of the way.
“Why a Prince and not a King?” I asked him as he walked past. “King Julien! Sounds great, doesn’t it? You even look like him.”
Ignoring my quip, he swung the front door open. Seeing his retinue waiting for him outside, I just couldn’t help myself. “Oh. Don’t adults let you out on your own yet?”
He turned round, pointed his fingers to his own eyes, then to myself. “I’m watching you!”
Strangely enough, the clichéd phrase sounded ominous. I might end up on another black list if I wasn’t careful.
The Prince disappeared outside. Isabella giggled,
“He’s watching you! Did you hear that, Kitten?”
Pensively I turned my head from side to side, stretching my numb neck.
Isabella walked over to the window, watching the cavalcade disappear. “I’d love to know what the hell brought him here. Can you tell me?”
I didn’t miss the chance to take a jibe at her. “He’s fallen for you, can’t you see?”
“You should be thankful he hasn’t fallen for you,” she paused and heaved a sigh. “Finally a cool guy but a total wuss.”
“He may be a wuss but he’s made of money.”
“Money doesn’t buy happiness, Kitten.”
“Maybe not but it goes a hell of a long way.”
Deciding to have the last word, I walked out into the backyard. Isabella followed. She took one look at Neo playing with the phoenix and asked, “Kitten, are you sure you’re all right?”
“How do you mean?”
“Before, you used to be wary of the Prince. And the way you looked at him now, it was as if you were about to rip his armor apart with a can opener.”
“I'm getting better.”
“It’s not just about the Prince, Kitten,” she shook her head and added sneakily, “You’re not afraid of the Spawn of Darkness anymore, are you? I wonder why?”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. She was shrewd, wasn’t she? I must have thought that the deal with the clan was as good as done which was why I must have behaved so cockily. And Isabella had immediately picked up on it. What an idiot!
I decided not to tell her about my agreement with the Angel of Darkness. “Too many things happening just lately,” I said with a smirk. “I’m sick and tired of being scared.”
I meant it too. I was tired. Too tired and had already gotten used to it. I’d been in the game for too long. Doubtful that many had been in the game longer than myself.
Isabella gave me an intense look but had no time to ask any more questions. A little gray cloud whizzed into the back yard and promptly materialized into the Count.
The vampires’ leader staggered, adjusting to new sensations. He glanced at me and smiled. “You back already? Good. We've got things to d
iscuss.”
Isabella gave Neo a long look and opened the shop’s door. “Let’s talk inside.”
The three of us returned to the conference room. The Count slumped into a deep armchair, crossed his legs and crunched his fingers.
“We’ve found them!” he announced, looking utterly pleased with himself.
Isabella took a seat opposite him and smoothed out her skirt. “Carry on.”
“It’s a Dark clan,” he told us. “The Three Wizzies. Three Elemental mages levels 90 and above. Air, Earth and Fire. They must have tried to get into the dungeon but couldn’t get to the sanctuary so they left a warning system.”
I nodded, remembering the strange pressure I’d felt the moment Neo had entered the monastery basement. The Count’s theory seemed to be quite close to the truth.
“So where are we supposed to look for them?” Isabella asked. “If they manage to sell the fragment before we get it back... And what if they’ve already sold it?”
“No, they haven’t,” the Count said. “They’ve put it up for auction for two hundred grand, can you imagine? They want to coin it in. The market is in turmoil. The prices keep growing but so far they’re nowhere near the two hundred thousand they want.”
“Why is the market in turmoil?” I asked.
The vampire laughed, baring his long needle-like fangs. “Apparently, there’re way fewer fragments than previously thought. None of the clans have managed to collect the necessary number. If we fleece the Three Wizzies, we’ll be rich.”
“Fleece?” Isabella frowned. “You have any idea where to look for them? Or where they keep the fragment?”
“They always log in together, all three of them,” the Count muttered instead of an answer.
“Where. Is. Their den?” Isabella enunciated, impatient.
The Count faltered, then admitted, “They’re got a fortress in the Southern Mountains.”
“What kind of fortress?” Isabella demanded.
“A level-7 Aery,” the Count replied half-heartedly. Then he added even more reluctantly, “Its power field source has been modified using the mosaic intellect scheme.”
The priestess cussed in disappointment.
To me, his words had sounded like total gobbledygook. “What kind of scheme is that?” I asked.
