by Pavel Kornev
“How’s that?”
“I’m gonna make sure that one of the gaming channels invites our three inseparable wizzy friends for a live interview. That’s exactly when we’re going to attack,” Isabella met my astonished stare and giggled. “Watch out or your other eye will pop out!”
“Are they going to invite them to speak on air just so that we can burgle them?”
“Oh please. Don’t be so naïve. No one’s safe from Internet pranksters. Not even Presidents, let alone three lazy overage bums.”
I shook my head. “That’s low.”
“You've gotta hustle if you wanna make it,” she crumbled a power crystal, activating the portal which opened with a soft popping sound. “That’s it! We’re all set!”
“Wait a sec,” I reached out with my left hand and used my Lich’s skill to summon Scarecrow.
Obediently he landed on my arm and gave me the evil eye, his talons screeching on the steel bracer, then emitted an ear-splitting squawk. He'd grown a lot recently, to the point where I struggled to hold him on my outstretched arm.
“If you peck me, I’ll wring your neck,” I promised, then turned to the portal. “Let’s go!”
Without replying, Isabella stepped into the portal. I followed.
Immediately I found myself in a dark narrow crevice which went straight up. Scarecrow jumped off my forearm and flapped his wings in panic, trying to fly up, but lost his balance and fell back down.
“Calm down,” I growled as I pushed him under my armpit, then began scrambling up the crumbling slope after the priestess.
The place picked by the vampires was guaranteed to remain unnoticed by the guards. But as for me, this crevice looked a bit too much like an open grave. They could have found an ordinary cave or something.
As soon as we’d climbed out of it, the phoenix began to struggle, trying to free himself from my grip so I had to strangle him just a little. Still pressing him to my side, I climbed over to one of the boulders and began studying the fortress towering on the opposite side of the creek.
It rose on a steep cliff surrounded by powerful walls, its towers grinning their dark arrow slits. A drawbridge led toward the gate. Still, it looked as if it was only lowered once a year and even then just to check its mechanism. Tricolor pennants fluttered on the spires, looking slightly faded due to the power shield which surrounded the fortress.
I weighed up the distance to it. “Isn’t it a bit too far?”
Isabella shielded her eyes with her hand, then pointed at something on the side, “That’s where we’re gonna take up our positions. The pins can reach from there. It’s not as if we need to storm the fortress.”
I nodded and shook the stirring Scarecrow. “Listen, birdie,” I growled. “All I need from you is one tiny little favor. Then you can fly where the hell you want.”
The phoenix hissed by way of reply.
Considering it as a yes, I produced the charmed skull, then promptly snatched it out of the way of his greedy talons. “I don’t think so! Say, ‘Aaaaah’!”
The phoenix emitted a hoarse squawk. I shoved the skull down his throat, pushing it deeper and deeper. Scarecrow struggled himself free, leapt away and perched himself on a nearby boulder, ruffling his black feathers. He looked utterly pissed and very offended.
“I want you to fly up,” I told him, “then dive onto the fortress. When you resurrect, don’t go anywhere, I’ll still need you.”
The phoenix crowed malevolently and took to the air until he turned into a black dot in the clear blue sky. He didn’t head for the fortress straight away but began gaining altitude flying in wide circles.
I didn’t take my eyes off him. Isabella slumped on a flat rock and stretched her legs barely covered by the tassets of her armor. It didn’t look as if her ashen-gray Drow skin could tan but she wasn’t at all fazed by the fact. She began rearranging her elaborate hairdo, rolling strands of her hair on dagger-like hair pins.
“What kind of creature is he?” she asked.
“A deadman needs a dead pet,” I joked although I had a funny feeling it wasn’t as simple as that.
Had an ordinary player received the lighthouse quest, then once he’d defeated the Nest Hunters, he’d have resurrected the perished Order’s symbol: the Silver Phoenix. But as a deadman couldn’t have become the Order’s Disciple, he’d hatched a dead monster in place of a sacred bird. That had caused the entire Order restoration story line to go awry, and I doubted very much whether Neo’s involvement could help me bring it back on track.
For a brief moment, the black dot hovered in the air above the fortress. Then Scarecrow folded his wings and dropped like a stone.
Brilliant flashes of light traced toward him but he successfully dodged every attack and hit the protection dome with a blinding flash.
I strained my remaining eye until it hurt but couldn’t make out where the skull had dropped. Never mind. I was bound to find out soon.
Isabella set a small wooden box in front of herself, raised the lid and showed me a baton made of some silvery metal. “This is a power pin. I just hope one will be enough to get to the treasury and break into it. You can’t take two, anyway, because of the risk of self-detonation.”
I shut the box. Self-detonation! Wonder where she’d learned words like that?
Isabella rose gracefully to her feet, “Are you sure it’s gonna work? What if the dome won’t let you through?”
I shrugged. “The attack is going to weaken the dome, anyway. You have more pins so that might buy me some extra time. I’m more worried about how I’m going to get back out.”
“Leaving is not a problem. This type of shield only works one way. And yes, Lloyd is going to cover you.”
“Why would he bother?”
Isabella laughed. “He still can’t get over all the treasures that have come his way. The chemicals we stole from the orcs are enough to blow up half the capital.”
I whistled in surprise. “You don’t mean it!”
“Oh yes I do. The orcs were planning a big bada boom and we upset their applecart.”
I shook my head. “I just hope that was their only stash.”
With a pensive nod, Isabella finished my thought, “Provided it was their own initiative. The Swords of Chaos-”
A silvery light flashed among the cliffs. We grabbed our weapons. I hurried to stealth up. The chainmail hugged my body like fish scales; my breastplate lost the last of its visibility. With the exception of the steel sleeve protecting my arm, my armor didn’t hinder my movements at all.
The moment I’d equipped my sword, the world had come into focus, gaining color. A wave of universal knowledge flooded over me. Still, there was no need to use the flamberge: it was Neo who’d climbed out onto the cliff.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” Isabella gasped.
“I’m looking for Scarecrow,” the boy explained as he did up his jacket which had been blown open by the wind. “And where’s Uncle John?”
I unstealthed and sheathed the sword behind my back. “What you’re doing here is pretty clear. The question is, how on earth you managed to get here from the opposite end of the continent!”
Neo shrugged. “Easy. I can transport anywhere I want.”
Isabella squinted in disbelief. “Anywhere? Are you sure?”
The boy thought about it, then sniffed and shook his head. “Not really. I can only port to the Temple of the Silver Phoenix and to Uncle John. And to you too, Auntie Bella. We seem to be connected somehow.”
I heaved a sigh and tousled his hair. “And how are you going to go back to the capital?”
Neo fluttered his eyelashes but quickly came up with an answer, “You’re going back there, aren’t you? I’ll come with you, that’s all. And where’s Scarecrow, Uncle John?”
“I still need him,” I said, then turned to Isabella. “As soon as I’m ready, I’ll send the phoenix back to you.”
“Okay,” she nodded and took the boy by the hand. “Let’s go now. We have to go
back to town.”
They climbed down the cliff toward the portal, leaving me alone. I sat in the shadow of a big boulder to make sure I didn’t get noticed by any potential observers and pulled out the generic plan of this type of fortress. The treasury was supposed to be located in the basement and I still had a very vague idea how I was going to get to it.
Finally, the resurrected phoenix arrived. He landed nearby and began sharpening his beak on a jagged piece of granite, casting unfriendly glances at me.
“Hey, cool it,” I said.
He ruffled his feathers, then leapt off the cliff and spread his wings, soaring toward the sea surf which crashed against the foothills. A flock of seagulls scattered on seeing him but judging by his spinning XP counter, Scarecrow had smoked quite a few of them. Bloodthirsty bastard.
I moved over to the very edge of the cliff and heaved a sigh. It was so good here! Too good. On one side, all you could see was the mirror-like surface of the sea reaching out to the horizon. On the other, white mountain peaks pierced the clouds, The fortress, the cliffs, the white-crested surf... the three mages had chosen an excellent place for their castle. Very picturesque.
It started to get dark. Bright sparkling stars glittered in the sky; the wind had changed direction and was now blowing toward the sea. The seagulls cried; the shadows of the clouds flitted below. The moon shone bright. Beautiful, just beautiful.
But who was this beauty for? What difference did it make to players who never had a spare moment to stop and enjoy it? They were constantly on the run, completing quests, fighting or searching for new stuff. Or was it meant for those few weirdos who only logged in to take a break from reality? Eight hours of peace after the purgatory of polluted cities didn’t sound so bad.
Don’t know. I wasn’t sure. I got the impression that all of them headed directly to the taverns.
4
WHEN THE SUN had finally begun to rise, I stepped off the edge of the cliff, tumbling down like some suicidal parody of a bungee jumper. The wind whistled in my ears; my only eye filled with tears. The surf foaming over the reefs came up to meet me with astonishing speed.
And then a splash, followed by darkness. No light at the end of the tunnel. No tunnel, either. Only oblivion.
HEAT. FIRE. Smoke.
I came round in hell. Fire raged around me, confined by blackened brickwork. A turnspit hung over my head. A heavy cast-iron fire guard blocked the exit.
A fireplace! The wretched phoenix had managed to drop my skull down the chimney!
I climbed over the fire guard and rolled over the floor, trying to extinguish my burning clothes. I finally put the flames out but in doing so, I hit a table and knocked down the pots and pans which had been piled up on it. The saucepans scattered on the floor with a deafening clatter.
I head the sound of heavy steps approaching the door. I shoved my charmed skull into the inventory, darted into the darkest corner and stealthed up, crouching in the shadows.
The door swung open. An incredibly tall knight in red-hot armor stepped in. Orange flames escaped his visor and all of the joints in his armor.
I was more than sure that the Ifrit — an Arabic spirit of fire imprisoned in this suit of armor — possessed magic vision. Luckily, my ability to become invisible to sorcerous charms must have kicked in because he didn’t notice me.
When his heavy steps died away in the corridor, I warily stole over to the window and looked out. Unfortunately, it opened out into an inner courtyard meaning I couldn’t contact Scarecrow.
I had a stupid urge to spit on the heads of the guards marching over the cobblestones below. Suppressing it, I walked over to the door and gingerly prized it open. At first I peeked out through the crack, then slid out and froze, taking in my surroundings.
The wall-mounted torches weren’t burning. The thick shadows were luring me to step into them, merging with the darkness, and walk through the fortress as an incorporeal spirit, sneering at the clueless patrols.
I might have done so — but my meeting with the Ifrit had clearly shown that any drop in my vigilance could cost me my head. Had I met another one of the fiery guards, there was simply nowhere to hide in the corridor. And it wasn’t even my death that scared me but the fact that they might raise the alarm. If we alerted the garrison prematurely, our plan would go straight down the drain. As it was, it already had quite a few drawbacks.
Which was why the first thing I did was to drop down on all fours and bring my ear to the floor.
At first I couldn’t hear anything. Still, soon the stone tile began to shake, echoing with heavy regular footsteps. I hurried to go back into the kitchen. And once the Ifrit went past the door, I slid out behind his back and darted in the opposite direction.
Finally, the staircase. I ran like crazy up to the top floor and hid in a niche to let another magic guard go past. Once the fiery knight had disappeared around the corner, I too continued on my way.
I climbed up into the attic, took a look around and scrambled toward the skylight. Immediately I noticed the air moving in a circular motion outside against the backdrop of the shimmering protection dome.
I froze. What the hell was that now? Was this some kind of magic trap?
The whirling had stopped. For a moment, I even thought that it had been the play of sunrays on the dusty window pane. But then the roof began to shake the tiles off overhead. The whirlwind reappeared and froze, allowing me to take a good look at it.
An Air Elemental! Of course! The three fortress owners were Elemental mages, weren’t they? The fiery Ifrits, the Air Elementals and... stone golems? Probably.
I cussed under my breath. I couldn’t climb out onto the roof, then. I could barely see the air spirits but they would notice me easily.
What was I supposed to do?
I laid my hand on the window pane and mentally reached out to Scarecrow, investing all of my powers into a desperate call.
At first, nothing happened. A wave of disappointment flooded over me. Then suddenly I sensed him and sent him to circle over the place we’d previously agreed upon.
That was it. I’d sent the signal.
Exhausted, I slumped to the floor and pressed my hands to my face, waiting for the silver amulet to restore at least some of my depleted mana. Unfortunately, I had no time to waste. I had to get up and scramble back to the staircase.
I looked down and glimpsed the glinting of fire escaping red-hot armor. I froze, counting seconds until the Ifrit returned.
This proved to be a very good idea. The top floor was patrolled by three fiery knights so I even had to hide in the niche before I had the possibility to run over to the stairs. I didn’t even think about hiding in any of the rooms: even though they weren’t locked, in my haste I couldn’t tell whether there were any magic alarms installed there or not.
Only when I’d finally reached the first floor, I started coming across people. The numerous guards ceremoniously paced the corridors; kitchen boys, messengers and other servants kept scurrying around like crazy. The fortress lived its own life which meant that some absent-minded idiot could easily bump into a stealthed-up intruder and raise the alarm. So I had to keep my head down lurking in niches, hiding behind curtains and even having to climb under tables a few times.
By the time I found the staircase leading to the basement, I was completely tuckered out. At least the fiery guards had stayed upstairs so I didn’t have to worry about being detected by their magic vision.
But when I’d reached the basement, I got stuck. Under normal circumstances, people couldn’t notice me. But there were two torches burning by the staircase. A patrol was posted next to it, thoroughly checking everyone who went down or came back up and barring the armored door every time. Also, a sorcerer’s apprentice was hanging around next to them so you couldn’t very easily walk past him.
Now why would the three mages need this illusion of normality? Did they really want to feel like lords of the manor or had they simply bought a generic ready-made
fortress?
Time went past as I stood in a dark corner waiting for the right moment to slide down into the basement. Most of the visits to the cellar were made to fetch food as kitchen boys brought out platefuls of sausages and joints of ham, then returned with the empty plates. But every time the guards unlocked the doors, it resulted in a kerfuffle as everybody was in a hurry to get inside. And I wasn’t looking forward to become unstealthed because of an accidental poke in the ribs.
Suddenly the light in all the windows dimmed. I looked out and saw a flying ship mooring by one of the towers. Soon gangplanks were set up and the servants began to roll a multitude of fat barrels onto the mooring platform.
My time had come.
The guards wedged the basement door open and the sorcerer’s apprentice got busy counting the booze. I walked over to the nearest torch and gave it a light push from below. It came out of its mounting, dropped to the floor and went out. The corridor became very gloomy, forcing the sorcerer’s apprentice to step away from the door toward the window.
I took my chance. I ran past the barrels and scampered down the stairs into the basement. There, bundles of sausages and ham hung under the ceiling; jugfuls of oil and wine were lined up in locked storerooms behind rusty bars. Every other torch along the way was unlit, making it easy for me to stay away from the light so that my flickering shadow didn’t betray me.
Soon I left the food stores behind and walked along the rooms where they kept coal, bolts of canvas and sheets of tanned leather. They were followed by barrelfuls of arrows and crossbow bolts. Missiles for scorpio ballistas were stacked up against the walls.
Soon the corridor forked. I stopped and tried to remember the generic plan of this type of fortress’ dungeon. It looked like I had to go straight on, especially because I could hear strange banging sounds from the side corridor and smell something burning. They must have had some kind of workshop over there.
I walked straight on and very soon came across some bars blocking the way. The lock struck me with its fanciful complexity. To top it all, the thick bars surged with charges of defense magic.
