by Pavel Kornev
I froze open-mouthed, desperately trying to remember my conversation with the Angel of Darkness and my exact words. Had I been so sloppy when I’d discussed such an important deal with him? Without my friends’ support, I might find it infinitely harder to succeed!
At least being a deadman I wouldn’t have to fight. The thought soothed me somewhat.
But Isabella seemed to be completely thrown by his decision. “Wait a sec!” she exclaimed. “We can be useful too! We could go on recon missions or...”
The Lord High Steward waved her arguments away. “The clan doesn’t need your services!”
“What’s the point in you going there blindly? We won’t even charge you anything!”
“The audience is over! You can go!”
Isabella cussed under her breath in impotent fury, then swung round and strode back to the terrace toward the moored flying ship still hovering by the tower.
Me, I didn’t even move. “When?”
The short word seemed to have nailed the High Steward to the spot. He turned to me. The darkness behind the eyeslit of his visor scorched me, more powerful than any demonic flame.
That didn’t scare me, though. I was past that.
“We’ll let you know, deadman,” he announced, then dissolved into thin air. Lady Blizzard followed suit.
Escorted by the guards, I too headed for the gangway. Isabella stood on the terrace in the company of Prince Julien. I looked at her askance.
“Piss off!” the priestess growled. “I’ll talk to you later!”
Oh well. Dream on.
The Prince puffed his chest out and even seemed to stand taller.
I took the unstable gangway over to the ship. A few minutes later, Isabella joined me. I thought it wise to hang on to the guard rail just in case but Isabella seemed to have forgotten everything about me.
Once the ship had slipped its cable for the return voyage, I just couldn’t help myself any longer. “Won’t you even try to throw me overboard?”
She laughed out loud. I didn’t expect this kind of reaction at all.
“Kitten, do you really think those pompous turkeys can stop me? I’ll get to the Kingdom of the Dead by hook or by crook!”
“Actually,” I faltered, “there’s no need for that. As long as I get there, everything will turn out right.”
She chuckled. “That’s a matter of principle. Especially because I already know how to arrange it.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. I could use all the combat support I could get. “But that’s great, isn’t it?”
Isabella gave me a nasty smile. “It certainly is, Kitten. But I’m afraid you might not like the details.”
2
I SPENT THE REST of the flight trying to draw some details out of Isabella who only smiled mysteriously and cast me condescending looks, just like a spider who had bitten his victim and was now patiently awaiting its death.
I even suspected that she didn’t have any plan and that she was simply trying to frazzle my nerves. Still, by now I knew her well enough not to even consider this scenario. Oh no. I could bet anything that she was up to something much bigger than just asking me to smuggle in a portal scroll. The Spawn wouldn’t allow me to bring in anything of the sort.
What a cow! I would have spat in disgust had it not been for the mask covering my face. I had to force myself to calm down.
In the end, I stood next to Isabella and grabbed the railing with both my hands. “What did Julien want from you?”
She sniffed. “And what do you think?”
“Did he try to get it on with you?”
“He did,” she said, frowning. “But that’s irrelevant. You’d better tell me what got into our Lord High Steward? Why would he decline our services and potential cooperation? You’d have made a perfect scout!”
I kept asking myself the same question but didn’t have the time to admit it to her. The corvette was already hovering over the alchemist’s backyard.
The moment we were lowered to the ground, the Count popped up next to us.
“And?” he asked without ceremony.
“It’s all done,” Isabella reassured him, pouring out the gold pieces onto a small table set up under the oak tree. “Take it!”
At the sight of the pile of gold, both the Marquis and the Baron momentarily became speechless, then started whooping in joy. The Count, however, didn’t lose his cool.
“What about the Kingdom of the Dead? Are they going to let us in?” he asked, scooping the glittering coins into his bag.
I looked curiously at Isabella.
“Everything’s still on,” she confirmed without batting an eyelid. “We’ll keep you posted.”
“So you see!” the Baron shouted. “Didn’t I tell you the map would come in handy? And you told me it was too pricey! Come on, get your money out!”
Isabella and I stared at him in incomprehension.
“What map are you talking about?” I asked.
Laughing haughtily, he spread a sheet of time-worn parchment on the table. “Yesterday the Champions’ raid group cleansed yet another dungeon and smoked the Chief Disciple of Death,” he began to explain. “Apart from two fragments of the Sphere of Souls, he dropped a map of the Kingdom of the Dead. Those guys weren’t born yesterday. They know better than to auction it. They simply sell copies of the map to all and sundry for five hundred apiece.”
I tried to draw the parchment toward me but I couldn’t. The item turned out to be non-transferrable.
The Baron gave me a wink and snapped his fingers. “Do you understand where the catch is? Any clan who organizes a raid will be obliged to buy maps for all their scouts and advance party commanders. The guys will make a whole heap of gold!”
Isabella and I exchanged irritated looks. The High Steward’s strange behavior now made sense. He'd been simply too stingy to pay some crafty salesmen for the map but he knew that no scout was capable of creating anything so detailed. So he’d simply taken it out on us.
I leaned over the table and began studying the parchment riddled with markers and symbols. The drawing contained no references to the entire game world map. The territory of the Kingdom of the Dead wasn’t too large, almost a quarter of it occupied by a walled city.
The moment I traced the map with my finger, the symbols began turning into 3D pictures of buildings complete with their legends.
The South Gates. Old Castle. The Town Hall. The Mint. The Tower of Decay. The Guild Hall. The Arsenal. The Magic Academy. The Royal Library.
I moved my finger further but immediately brought it back as something in one of the descriptions had caught my eye. Something important.
Yes! There it was!
The Royal Library housed a collection of magic scrolls, with the Scroll of Rebirth being the jewel in its crown.
“That’s what we need,” I said, tapping the library symbol.
The Baron sniffed. “What the hell would we want there? We should either burgle the Royal castle or rob the Mint!”
Immediately the vampires started arguing with him. Their priorities seemed to differ a lot.
“There’s a whole lot of magic weapons in the Arsenal!” the Marquis reminded.
“And plenty of artifacts in the Academy,” the Count objected. “What’s the point in wasting our time on trifles?”
Isabella gave me a curious look and asked smarmily, “Really, Kitten, why would we need the library?”
Never before had I told the fickle Elfa anything about how exactly I was going to come alive again — and I had no intention of doing so now. “Haven’t you forgotten something?” I gave the vampires a long look. “In the best-case scenario, you’re gonna enter the Kingdom of the Dead in the second wave!”
“So what?” the Count shrugged dismissively, then pointed at the town center. “The Spawn of Darkness will go directly for the Tower of Decay!”
“But not before they send a looting team to the Mint, I assure you,” I replied. “Both the Royal castle and th
e Arsenal are bound to be well-fortified, and as for the Academy, it’s probably chock full of magic traps and Death Disciples. Doesn’t sound too good, does it?”
The Count pursed his lips, “What are we supposed to do with old books?”
“Really, Kitten, tell us,” Isabella added, pouring oil on the flames.
“The scroll repository,” I said. “I need one of them for myself. The rest we can sell.”
“Which scroll are you talking about exactly?” she asked quickly.
Everybody stared at me. I ground my teeth in annoyance but decided to put my cards on the table. “The Scroll of Rebirth.”
“You don’t want much, do you?” the Baron said slowly. “And what if there’s nothing else of any worth there?”
Isabella seemed amused with his suggestion. “Nothing of any worth in a scroll repository?” she laughed. “There’ll be plenty of good loot for all of us there, trust me!”
“The scroll repository...” the Count said pensively as he took a closer look at the map. “It’s not that far from the city gates, either... What do you think?”
The Baron sniffed his indignation. The Marquis shrugged. He didn’t look too sure. None of them seemed too excited by my suggestion. Their eyes couldn’t see past all the heaps of treasures. Still, they wanted to bite off more than they could chew and the Count must have understood this only too well.
Isabella sensed their hesitation. “Are you with us?” she asked bluntly.
The Count offered her his hand. “Deal.”
We spent some more time discussing all the details. Once the vampires had left, Isabella popped into the shop and bought two copies of the map of the Kingdom of the Dead. One she took for herself and gave the other one to me.
“I’m not sure we can count on our vampire friends,” she winced. “Now look: there’s a wide avenue going from the South Gates to the Tower of Decay. The library is a short way off but not too far, either. Which means we might get some visitors.”
I stared at the spread-out parchment, nodded and cracked my knuckles. “Do you think our support team might become a problem?”
Isabella smiled. “You know someone more reliable? Personally, I wouldn’t let any of my own ilk anywhere near the library.”
I paused, thinking, then grinned. “I could think of one.”
3
WE MADE AN APPOINTMENT to meet Grakh in the bar on a nearby island. The burly Barbarian whom I’d met during the defending of the Stone Harbor had already risen through the clan’s ranks, becoming co-chairman of the Black Trackers. Still, he remained true to his attire of short leather boots, a kilt and the bandoliers which crossed his powerful chest. Accompanying him was another old acquaintance of mine, Victor the half-elf.
We didn’t hold back anything from them but started off by offering to organize a raid on the Kingdom of the Dead.
“You pay me a grand for every warrior ported,” Isabella announced her terms. “But if you agree to fight under the flag of the Mistress of the Crimson Moon, it’ll only be five hundred. Plus three free resurrections in situ.”
Grakh winced and rose from the table. “John, this has to be a rip-off. I don’t know you well enough to risk the clan’s money.”
“You don’t need to pay upfront,” the priestess said. “You can simply arrange a letter of credit.”
The Barbarian slumped back onto the bench. “Can this letter be arranged after we’ve been ported?”
She nodded.
The barbarian sniffed. “Guys, I just don’t understand you! We can’t pay a fraction of what top clans could offer you!”
“There’s one more thing,” I smiled. “We can only open a portal after somebody else reaches the Kingdom of the Dead. So you’ll have to be second, I’m afraid.”
Grakh and Victor looked at each other. The tattoo on the top of Victor’s head had become even more intricate since I'd last seen him.
“What do you think?” the Barbarian asked Victor.
The ranger shrugged. “If we're not risking anything, why not? But the contract should include resurrection.”
Grakh nodded and turned to Isabella, “How many people can your raid altar handle?”
“There’re no limits,” she said. “I’m going to set up a camp sanctuary.”
“Really?” Grakh chuckled, not even trying to conceal his surprise. “Very well. Where can you port us?”
She laid the map out on the table and pointed at a small park by the entrance to the Royal library. “Here.”
Grakh and Victor spent some time studying the map, then rose from the table in unison.
“We’ll need to discuss it with the others,” without saying goodbye, Grakh made his way to the door.
Vector proffered me his hand, then hurried after his friend.
Frowning, Isabella watched them leave. “You think they’re gonna bite?”
I sighed. “I don't even doubt it. I’m sure they will.”
‘Bite’ was the right word. If the Spawn of Darkness sent one of their advance parties to take the library, the Black Trackers might find themselves between a rock and a hard place. They wouldn’t find it easy, that’s for sure.
Isabella must have heard the sour note in my voice. “Is Kitten tormented by pangs of conscience? Forget it! This is just a game!”
A game, yes. For everybody except me. That’s just the way I was: a unique sonovabitch.
Having said that, there’s no bigger stupidity than suffering from pangs of conscience over some dirty deed. You should do them with an easy heart or not at all. Unfortunately, not everything depended solely on me.
I had to console myself with the fact that for everybody else it was indeed just a game. The problem was, one day I too might join the ranks of the NPC pieces on this chessboard.
Dammit! I’d already joined them! For somebody like Garth, I was nothing but digital junk.
I RETURNED TO THE ALCHEMIST’S SHOP feeling a bit down: not because of all the spiritual strife but because of all my doubts and reservations. The waiting was becoming unbearable; I was desperate to start straight away. I wanted to live, not hang around.
“How are you going to open the portal?” I asked Isabella. “They aren’t going to let me smuggle a scroll in.”
“Everything in its own time,” Isabella replied evasively, then returned to the shop.
I went upstairs, slammed the door shut, flung the flamberge on the bed, took a seat by the window and looked outside.
So what was I supposed to do now? I mean, really?
A new system message popped up, reminding me to raise my level.
That got me thinking. Was it worth the risk? Now I was a Lich albeit a Junior one. And what would I be next? One shouldn’t change horses in midstream. I might become a Senior Lich; by the same token, I might turn into a bone dragon or an ethereal spirit. And then what? No one would let me anywhere near the portal then!
But in order to win and be the first to recover the Scroll of Rebirth, I might have to squeeze my char for all it was worth and then some. I wasn’t in a position to pass up on the possibility of becoming stronger and quicker.
I ground my teeth. In a single sharp wave of my hand — so that I didn’t get the chance to change my mind — I started the process of raising my stats.
Strength. Agility. A couple of points into Dodge. Training with two-handed swords. Accept, quick! Move it!
Yes!
John Doe, Executioner, Hangman
Undead. Junior Lich. Level: 30/ Human, Rogue. Level: 30
Experience: [51 019/56 900]; [51 063/56 900]
Strength: 32.
Agility: 32.
Constitution: 24.
Intelligence: 10.
Perception: 10.
Life: 1440.
Endurance: 1680.
Internal energy: 660.
Damage: 440—572.
Covert movement: +25.
Dodge: +34.
Critical damage when attacking a target unable to see the att
ack.
Professional skills: “Incognito” (4), “Execution” (4), “Hangman”.
Fencer: two-handed weapons (4), weapons in one hand, “Sweeping Strike”, “Powerful blow”, “Power lunge”, “Sudden blow”, “Accurate Blow”, “Crippling Blow”, “Blind Strike”, “Rapid Strike”, “Lightning Reflexes”.
Creature of the Dark: night sight, penalty for being in sunlight, Lord of the Dead, Almost Alive, Skin of Stone +10, resistance to magic: 5%; +10% to internal energy.
Neutrality: the undead; subjects of the Lord of the Tower of Decay
Enemies: Order of the Fiery Hand, the Swords of Chaos clan.
Immunity: death magic, poisons, curses, bleeding, sickness, cures and blessings.
Achievements: “Dog Slayer” Grade 2, “Tenacious”, “Man of Habit”, “Destroyer”, “Slayer of Circle-5 Demons”, “Defender of Stone Harbor” Grade 1.
A Lich! I was still a Lich!
A wave of unbridled joy flooded over me. Overtaken by the feeling, I grabbed a stool that stood nearby and smashed it against the wall. The wood splintered into a thousand pieces, showering everything around.
Immediately I began to convulse. My body started to transform; my flesh withered; the skin pulled taut over the joints.
I didn’t care. Soon it would be over. I’d be alive again!
When the convulsing had subsided, I removed the mask and stood in front of the mirror.
My new appearance was sinister to say the least. My cheeks had hollowed completely, my remaining eye had sunken; my lips had turned into two colorless strips. The black strips of tattoos had become more refined, forming intricate writings and strange symbols that covered my body head to toe.
I looked a sight, I tell you!
Very well. What about magic?
Unfortunately, my low Intellect numbers still hampered the development of magic skills. Now, too, I only had one level-6 spell available and that was it.
The choice of listed spells was impressive. After some deliberation, I finally selected the Cloud of Death. On top of dealing magic damage, it also restricted visibility within its range which suited my rogue just fine.
