Kingdom of the Dead

by Pavel Kornev

  What a shame I couldn’t activate it beforehand and leave it on standby the way I did with the Ashes!

  There was a knock at the door. I hurried to cover my face with the mask. “Who’s there?”

  The hinges creaked. Neo peeked into the room. “Everything’s all right, Uncle John? I heard a noise...”

  The remains of the stool lay all around the room. I grinned, “I was just training.”

  The lad stepped inside. “Are you getting ready to go to the Kingdom of the Dead?” he asked curiously.

  I frowned. “Why do you think that?”

  He shrugged and perched himself on the windowsill. Scarecrow landed next to him. “I’m coming with you, Uncle John.”

  I didn’t believe my ears. “You what?”

  “I’m coming with you to the Kingdom of the Dead,” the boy repeated matter-of-factly.

  “Nonsense!” I snapped.

  Neo shook his head. “I’m afraid I have to, Uncle John. That’s what the Grand Master said. I need to unlock these desolate lands for the Order.”

  “Bullshit!” I sniffed. “Your Grand Master is long dead!”

  “So are you, Uncle John. So are you.”

  I have nothing to say to that so I tried a different approach. “That’s too dangerous!”

  He shrugged. “I’ve died before. Even if I die again, I’ll resurrect. I’m the chosen one, Uncle John. This is the load I have to bear.”

  What the hell, I thought. He’s only part of the program code!

  “All right,” I said. “It’s up to you.”

  “Oh!” he perked up. “So are you taking me with you?”

  “Do I look as if I have a choice? Seeing as this is a request from the Grand Master himself...”

  “Yes! Yippee!”

  Scarecrow’s dead eyes, however, stared at the scene with unconcealed disapproval. This wretched piece of carrion could see right through me.

  He was right. Even if I could, I would have never taken the boy with me.

  The door swung open again. Isabella waltzed in.

  “Hi, Auntie Bella!” the boy shouted.

  The priestess set up a wrought-iron brazier at the center of the room, then produced a packet wrapped in leather and flung it onto the table. Something metallic clanked inside.

  “Could you leave us just for one moment, Neo?” she asked. “I’m afraid it’s gonna start to stink here.”

  “Of course, Auntie Bella,” Neo jumped down from the windowsill and walked out into the corridor.

  Isabella gave him a long look. “Don’t you think he’s grown?” she asked me.

  “Other people’s kids grow quickly,” I replied with a Russian saying. “What’s that you’ve got here?”

  She threw a bunch of herbs onto the brazier. They began to smolder, spreading thick smoke around the room.

  For some reason, my head began to spin. How strange. I wasn’t capable of breathing, was I? The smoke couldn’t do anything to me.

  Izabella sneezed heartily, then unfolded the packet. A set of ritual daggers lay inside. She laid all but one onto the brazier to heat up and used the remaining one to slit her wrist, then drew a protective circle around the brazier with the dripping blood.

  Then she brought a wine glass to the wound. A scarlet trickle snaked down its crystal-cut side.

  “Take your clothes off,” she demanded as she continued to fill the glass.

  I thought I’d heard wrong. “Are you joking?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “I always thought that necrophilia was my prerogative.”

  “Take your clothes off!” her voice rang with metal. “Quick! We’re wasting time!”

  I stopped teasing her and dumped my cloak on the floor. I then removed my cuirass, the chainmail, the padded jacket and the shirt. But just as I reached for my pants belt, Isabella stopped me,

  “Enough! Turn your back to me!”

  “Are we playing doctors and nurses? Where’s your stethoscope? I wish every nurse wore clothes like yours!”

  I didn’t feel the pain. I felt nothing at all. I only heard the hissing of scorched flesh. The stench of burned meat spread around the room. My Health bar had shrunk somewhat.

  “Hey!” I said indignantly.

  “Don’t move!” Isabella growled as she moved the red-hot dagger downward. “Think about nurses in skimpy lab coats! Think about my chainmail bikini and whatever’s below it. Think what the hell you want as long as you don’t move!”

  “Don’t forget I don’t heal!” I yelped as I obeyed her. “I’ll have to walk around all cut up until I respawn!”

  “My lady is the mistress of birth and death. You really think she won’t take care of it?”

  She took another dagger from the brazier and sliced through my back sideways, from my left shoulder to my right hip. I twisted my head to look in the mirror on the wall. The sight was revolting. I cussed.

  “Don’t move! Whatever you do, just don’t move!” Isabella kept repeating, mesmerized, as she kept slicing through my back methodically, carving out some complex symbol that looked vaguely familiar.

  “What’s this?” I asked. “What kind of witchery are you cutting into me?”

  “This is the base for the raid altar,” she replied calmly. “Your body is no different from rock or clay. It’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

  Don’t worry? Was she serious? I was in freakin’ shock! First some bastard takes my eye out, and then I’m being carved up with a red-hot knife, apparently for my own good! What next? Were they going to do a Viking blood eagle on me? Was this supposed to be a game or a torture chamber?

  Still, I decided not to get hysterical about it. Instead, I tried to chill out. This wasn’t a torture chamber. This was a game. Just a game.

  Once Isabella had used up all her daggers, she poured the blood she’d collected over my back. Then she took a needle and started stitching up all the wounds with a coarse thread, inserting a silvery cord inside them and humming a prayer under her breath.

  I was an altar! Holy crap!

  Having finished her handiwork, Isabella poured the remaining blood into a crystal vial, put a stopper in it and handed it to me. “Drink it once you’re within the city walls. I’m gonna bind the vampires, Goar and myself to you. And as for the Black Trackers, I’ll build them a camp sanctuary.

  “Got it,” I grumbled as I put my shirt back on and gingerly tried to spread my shoulders.

  Nothing hindered my movements. Still, my health that she’d just burned up refused to restore. It looked like this part of me had been sacrificed to her insatiable Mistress of the Crimson Moon.

  “Is Kitten unhappy?” Isabella squinted at me. “Has Kitten forgotten that he’s the one who started all this crap and we’re only dancing to his tune?”

  I pointed at the door. She sniffed and left the room with her head held high. She left the red-hot brazier to me to take back downstairs.

  4

  THEY CAME FOR ME at dawn. Almost as soon as I’d received Isabella’s warning message, I heard someone hammering at the door.

  I looked out into the corridor and saw Ulrich in his long nightshirt and nightcap walking downstairs with an oil lamp in his hand. Picking up the flamberge, I hurried down the stairs after him and lay in wait on one side of the door.

  Still, it had been a false alarm. Behind the door stood several Spawn of Darkness guards in their plate armor, armed to the teeth.

  “Your carriage awaits you,” one of them announced, watching me closely as if comparing me to my description. “Are you alone?”

  “No,” I said, reaching out my left arm. The dead phoenix leapt onto it.

  Impassively the guard pointed at the carriage, “Get in, Sir.”

  I climbed in and made myself comfortable on the soft cushions. This was a far cry from the flying ship but I didn’t give a damn.

  I was going! To the Kingdom! Of the Dead!

  My cards had come up trumps. I’d swept the board. This nightmare might even be o
ver today. I’d be back in the real world! One day I might even miss the game’s impunity but not quite yet. Definitely not quite yet.

  The mustachioed guard slammed the door shut. With a jolt, the carriage moved off and rolled along the uneven cobblestones. My escort’s hooves clattered behind.

  Like a cold draft that came out of nowhere, a shiver of bad premonition ran down my spine. Still, I disregarded it. The deal had been cemented by the Angel of Darkness. The clan would never go against the will of its patron. There was absolutely nothing to be afraid of.

  Still, it made me feel ill at ease.

  THE CLAN’S WIZARDS had set up a portal at the center of the residence’s inner courtyard. A giant dark globe slowly rotated above the ground. It seemed to reshape reality, distorting and crumpling it.

  The numerous guards froze on the roofs. The shadows of dragons flitted across the sky. The best clan warriors lined the walls in even ranks, ready to step into the portal at the first word of the Lord High Steward.

  And all of them — all those elite swordsmen, powerful mages, expert snipers and elusive assassins — they were all just waiting for me. In fact, all the top of the clan was here. No wonder they didn’t seem to appear too friendly, their stares filled with animosity, impatience and disgust.

  We're desperate, aren’t we? Whether they liked it or not, I had to be the first to go to the Kingdom of the Dead. Without me, the portal wouldn’t work. At least I’d been smart enough to discuss this detail with the Angel of Darkness.

  “Hurry up, deadman!” Prince Julien shouted.

  His aura was bursting with the power of all the blessings he’d been pumped up with. His two-handed sword was slung behind his back. He held a short spear with a black elongated leaf-shaped head which surged with an occasional charge of darkness.

  Ignoring him, I headed for the portal when the Duke of Inferno stepped in my way, clad in his armor woven of liquid flames.

  “Stop!” he demanded.

  I froze. Scarecrow on my shoulder spread his wings and squawked.

  Paying no attention to him, the Duke waved his hands as if casting a spell. His face contorted unhappily. “What’s that artifact you’ve got on you?” he demanded. “I can sense light magic! Are you planning on opening a portal?”

  A cold shiver ran down my spine. Thanks a bunch, Isabella! The clan may have needed me, but they didn’t need any competition down in the Kingdom of he Dead! They would skin me alive now. For sure!

  “You’re toast,” Prince Julien growled as he moved behind my back.

  I waved a nonchalant hand at him. By then, I’d already gotten a grip. The light magic? The power of the Mistress of the Crimson Moon was anything but light!

  “I think you’re mistaken,” I said.

  “You’ve got an artifact on you-”

  “I’ve got quite a few!”

  “-which can be used to open a portal.”

  “That’s bullshit!”

  The Duke of Inferno stepped closer. “You’d better show it to us yourself,” his voice rang with threat.

  It was pointless trying to argue with him. I opened my inventory and immediately saw the silver Grail. Could it have caused all this commotion?

  I grabbed at the chain attached to it and pulled it out of the bag.

  The Duke gave it a studying look. “Leave it.”

  “We were just talking about a portal...”

  “This thing can be used as a beacon,” the Duke snapped, turning to the prince. “Take it!”

  Without trying to resist, I handed the chalice to Julien. With a curved grin, he swung it on its chain and hurled it into the carriage.

  “Take it back to my place,” I said, spreading my arms wide. “Is it all?”

  The Duke ran another check, then stepped back. “You can go now, deadman.”

  As I moved toward the shimmering dark globe hovering over the ground, reality began to curve: that was the Sphere of Souls altering space and myself with it. It felt quite unpleasant. I even slowed down.

  Immediately Prince Julien approached me from behind and pointed to a group of players that stood separately from the rest.

  “Can you see them?” he whispered.

  An assassin, a dark paladin, a couple of sorcerers and a few scouts.

  I chuckled. “And?”

  “Once you cross to the other side, we won’t need you anymore. They’ll catch up with you and kill you. Bon voyage!”

  I turned toward him. “Thanks for warning me, idiot.”

  Still, you couldn’t screw around with him that easily. His face dissolved in a nasty smile as he tapped the shaft of his spear. “This thing can one-shot any deadman. I hope you last long enough for me to find you and send you directly to hell!”

  He really seemed to believe I was only an NPC who would die once and for all. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I just shrugged and continued toward the portal.

  My every step was faster than the one before: the shimmering globe seemed to draw me toward it.

  Quicker! Quicker! Quick! Into the Kingdom of the Dead, now!

  The dark shimmer thickened, hardening. It spun me around and hurled me in a direction unknown.

  With a splash, I landed in a large puddle of dirt and withered dead grass. Further on rose equally dead black trees and bushes. Not a single green leaf in sight, not even a bud.

  Achievement received: Pioneer!

  To hell with it!

  I dashed across the puddle toward the nearest bushes. Scarecrow took off from my shoulder, heading for the skies. I actually saw double: I could make out the grass underfoot, the entire surrounding area and even myself.

  A deep ravine stretched before me, with a murky stream tracing its bottom. I turned away from it, unwilling to take a shortcut toward the Tower of Decay which rose above the horizon.

  Seeing as Incognito was no longer of any use to me, I disabled it, then ducked under a dead black pine branch. My shoulder brushed against a nearby fir tree which crumbled away in a pile of ashes.

  I sensed an echo of the force behind me. I focused, forcing Scarecrow to turn round just in time to see the assassins unstealth.

  There was no way I could shake them off my trail. The only thing I could do was run.

  At first, my pursuers were careful which allowed me to gain a lead of a few hundred feet. Still, very soon the scouts must have realized they had no one to fear and surged ahead at full speed. The distance between us began to shrink; the one thing that still maintained my lead was the phoenix. He helped me find my way amid all the thickets without getting lost or bogged down in a swamp. Still, my Stamina wasn’t going to last long like this; very soon I might have to fight them face to face and die.

  For a while, I continued to run like hell but gradually, my speed began to drop. That’s when I heard a triumphant crowing coming from above.

  No, I hadn’t reached the city walls yet — but I glimpsed a paved road far in front of us, with a dozen riders upon it. The eyes of the dead horses glowed with ghostly flames; the dead riders clad in rusty armor were clenching swords and spears in their hands.

  I began to sidle off, hurrying to catch up with them. Finally, I got to the roadside and darted toward the patrol.

  An arrow whistled through the air overhead and ricocheted off a flagstone. One of my pursuers must have aimed badly at me in his haste. Still, I couldn’t count on such good luck in the future.

  How about Ashes? Unfortunately, the protection spell could only save me from one blow. I simply wouldn’t have the time to reactivate it.

  At this point, the dead horsemen started galloping.

  “Live ones!” I shouted, pointing behind my back.

  My neutrality worked. The riders galloped past and ran down the assassins who were just emerging from the forest.

  A raging fight broke out. The problem was, I had no doubts that the assassins were going to make mincemeat out of the dead patrol. All I’d gain from it was a couple of minutes’ grace.

  I deci
ded to interfere, even if just to redress the balance of power a bit. I didn’t join in the hand-to-hand, though. Instead, I invested my magic energy into creating a Cloud of Death. I had to put a lot of effort into controlling the complex spell but in the end, I managed. I was a Lich, after all! Not some plague-ridden corpse but a Lich!

  Unfortunately, by then half the dead riders were already lying on the ground. My help couldn’t possibly change anything.

  Never mind. I stretched my arms out in front of me, filling the battlefield with impenetrable gray haze. There!

  I swung round, about to run for my life, when a dead riderless horse escaped the sorcerous cloud. The decision came instantly. I released my control over Scarecrow, freeing him up, and focused on the horse instead, lassoing him and forcing him to slow down.

  I vaulted into the saddle and yelled, “Giddy up!”

  The horse dashed off and cantered down the road. His skin may have been stretched over his ribs and his mane may have been a bit mangy but any thoroughbred would have envied his turn of speed. The sparks began to fly from his rusty horseshoes.

  Something flashed behind. A fireball shot past us, brushed some bushes and exploded, sending a cascade of burning flames over the ground. I clung to the horse’s neck; the road took a sharp turn alongside a small wood, its dead trees concealing me from my killers.

  I opened the local map in my mental view and breathed a sigh of relief. The road did lead to the city but not directly, arching around it. I wouldn’t have to force my horse over sodden fields, marshes and thickets.

  Let’s do it!

  Gradually the outlines of impossibly high walls began to rise in front. I could see the dead warriors bustling about on them. The garrison was preparing for battle — and what was worse of all, the tall city gates were creaking shut.

  Dammit! Wait for me!

  The grim shadows of bone dragons flashed through the air, heading toward the open portal. Still, they didn’t get the chance to investigate.

  Then the sun rose. Or so I thought.

  A wave of blinding light assaulted me, sweeping away the blackened wood and hitting the city walls. The dead city defenders were reduced to ashes; my horse exploded in a cloud of dust at full speed. I collapsed on the roadside, rolled backwards onto my feet and dashed toward the gap in the lopsided gates which by then was a mere five feet wide.