The Way of the Clan 3 (World of Valdira)

by Dem Mikhaylov

  My body acted automatically. My hand jerked to my pocket and snatched the teleport scroll.

  -- Algora!

  Bright scarlet flashed before my eyes, leaving a smattering of colored sparks, and disappeared without a trace. I was still standing ankle-deep in mud and marsh, with no Algora in sight.

  The next scroll I took out less quickly— it was in my bag. But, despite the delay, no one tried to stop me. The other players stood motionless, watching me, but making no effort at all to stop the escape attempt. Behind me I heard the sounds of fierce fighting, some deafening crash, and I was struck by a shower of dirty water, long strands of algae, waterlilies, and long legged gray toads. I turned into a dirty scarecrow and the game responded joyfully—

  Disguise +20

  Well, thank you!

  With a nasty squealing, next to me flopped the water creature with the warty face. He plopped down so hard that he knocked a solid pit into the dirt. He hunched down, taking his head in between his knees, and plaintively walked:

  -- What did I tell you! There is no fish here! Didn’t I tell you!

  Did they blow up a bomb or something?! Half the swamps soared into the air!

  -- Algora! – I shouted, raising the scroll over my head.

  And the scroll again turned into a harmless firework. I stayed in the swamp.

  -- Useless— the player in black broke the silence first, whose nickname I did not see— his figure was literally washing away before my eyes, a twitching haze. At times it disappeared altogether. I tried again to discern the glow “hanging” above the head of the gamer, but could not read the letters or numbers.

  A thief. Or an assassin, with good ratings in the appropriate skills, and a kick-ass outfit.

  -- There is no fish!!!— screamed the bog-dweller with anguish, clutching to me leg— None!!!

  -- Hey, go… back to the swamp! – yelled I, trying to figure out what to do next, if anything at all.

  -- Can I?! – said he happily, looking at me with moist eyes.

  -- It’s necessary!

  -- Well… off I go!

  Having stopped whining, he clumsily padded through the squelching mud and submerged hastily back into the swamp.

  The battle sounds died down and, glancing over my shoulder, I saw “Robin Hood” standing by the rocks. His nickname I saw clearly— I had already partly guessed it. Sherwood Shooter.

  -- Amazing… -- a very quiet and melodic female voice seemed very alien in the dark and musty swamp— Simply amazing.

  And the owner no less— a woman in black leather, with a head of jet black hair and bright brown eyes. A step behind the girl was an escort already familiar to me— a huge orc in scarlet armor, and a stocky dwarf. Personal Guard… the Guard of the Black Baroness, head of the Sleepless clan.

  Clasping her hands behind her back, the Baroness admired the expression on my muddy and stunned face, and then she smiled brightly.

  -- Hello, Rosgard.

  -- Good morning— I nodded, ignoring her attendants.

  -- I have a small request for you, Rosgard— the Baroness smiled even wider.

  I was cautiously silent, trying to figure out what to do next.

  Seeing that I was not going to “engage,” the girl pouted and poked the dirt with her boot, and sniffed:

  -- Well… looks like nobody loves me…

  -- I’m sorry, what?— I played the fool— What’s happening? You are not arrgs— you have green nicknames.

  -- No, no, we are good, we are very good— the Baroness assured me— But please, the favor is very very small. Can you not help, Rosgard?

  -- M-m-m… and how can I help?

  -- Well— the head of the Sleepless clan gestured towards the swamp.

  “She wants me to drown myself, or what?” – I thought, turning slowly. And I froze, stunned. A little further from the shore, on the already stilling swamp water, a small boat gently rocked. Very small, almost toy like, calculated for rowing at best only a couple of people. The low mast with a sail, and a pair of oars on each side, and a steering wheel.

  -- You know, all my life I dreamed of a romantic boat ride on a scenic estate— confessed the Baroness, coming up close— A strong and attractive man rowing the boat, as I sat whistling and singing… will you not help me realize my dream? Won’t you give a weak girl a boat ride?

  Alright… I’d had enough…

  -- Huh… -- I spoke, staring thoughtfully into space. Inside me was a huge lump of anger, hatred and rage. All of my experiences began to manifest and noticeably mangle my physique like burning plastic. With a rattle, I drove air into my lungs and quietly, perhaps in a whisper, asked:

  -- You said— a ride? Right?

  The Baroness looked at me in surprise— my hissing tone had seemed a bit out of place. Yes… she had noticed correctly.

  Inside me raged the fury of a wild beast, a demonically possessed monster with the desire to fight to freedom, to flit out to the bright white light ahead.

  I’ve! Had! Enough!

  I. I am the real life, old Ros, who has the strength to rush out. Ros, who has never been tied down, who never listened to anyone, including my correct admiral father, who hammered truths into my brain since childhood. The same Ros who was locked into the freezer of the Far North, and who fell asleep for a long time there, fell into a deep hibernation for what seemed like forever. Even a scumbag is hurt by the arctic cold…

  -- Uhuh. Would you give a woman a ride? – the Baroness almost purred, her nearly peaceful and attractive face causing me a wild hatred.

  -- Ride? And how about, to hell with you?! Huh? Who do you think you are?! – I asked, twisting my face into a sneer— Pull yourself together! I’m not here to attest to your every whim! Wanna ride with the wind? Ask one of your freaks! They’ll come running! Then you won’t have to wait! Are we clear?!

  The appeased expression on the face of the Baroness disappeared in the blink of an eye. Her brown eyes widened into incredulousness and from her lips broke an utterly involuntary exclamation:

  -- Wha?

  -- I’m saying— clear?! Did you hear my answer?!

  -- I didn’t…

  -- And now that you’ve got it— get the hell out of here, and don’t forget your freaks! Meaning your oh so scary security. Wanna scare me— for God’s sake, try it! You frightened my bare ass! Some geezers crawling out of the mud, so tall and terrifying and sudden… did you want to impress me?

  -- Uh…l-listen here— The Baroness was obviously trying to think something up, but it wasn’t working. She simply did not expect such a sudden fare of uprising and aggression. Especially since I was not playing— now I was extremely sincere and honest.

  -- No you listen! I told you loud and clear— if you want to ride on the boat, but one of your people to the paddled! But not me! That’s it! Best of luck, everybody! If you wanna kill me— shoot in the back. Bye!

  Paying no attention to anyone, I passed a meter away from the Baroness, squeezed past her and the standing guard, and veered left. With force I thrust the pole in the rotten water and, using it as a lever, arrived three feet away from the mound of the shore. I pulled out the stick and went on, going from one mound of dirt to another. Luckily, they were quite numerous. I did not look back. There was no need.

  If they try and shoot me— I’ll arrive at the regeneration location of the farmstead.

  I don’t know what artifact they’d use to kill me, but I had gotten no more than a couple of dozen meters away. Certainly they wouldn’t be able to reach me at the farm. I would use the scroll and go anywhere else. If the scroll did not work— I would simply hit the “exit” button and arrive at a new place of residence. I did not give a damn.

  If the attempt was to take me alive and put me forcibly in the boat, I would also press the “exit” button. This would be the same as confessing that I was the navigator— but I do not care! So, they would know that I was valuable. And then what?

  Fiercely plunging the pole into the marsh
mud, with each step I went deeper into the Ravendark Swamp and into the deepening fog.

  A quiet male voice carried to me, and then the sharp cry of the Baroness:

  -- I said, no damnit! Whisper! Go over there!

  I looked back and could see nothing but a dim shroud of fog. A still and quiet swamp.

  Just my head still buzzing. My mind was just boiling the understand and evaluate what had happened. Have they figured out that I’m the Navigator? I doubt it. A simple check up— if you consider what had recently occurred in Algora.

  If I had sat down in that boat and nothing would have happened— then, just a pure coincidence. Nothing to do with the Navigator.

  And if the bells begin to ring and expose me, then it’s already clear— I’m a caught fish.

  My nickname had “lit up” during that memorable visit to the flagship, and anyway— I was one of the few players who had not climbed aboard again for the delicious buns, at an extremely low price. The list of suspects was indeed especially scanty and with a dozen names, at best. If only to find someone called Rosgard, wandering somewere in the vast expanses of Valdira. The task is very trivial. Nothing that the Sleepless clan can’t handle. And they knew in advance that I would appear in Ravendark swamp. They were well prepared. They organized an ambush, prepared artifacts which cut off my ability to teleport, cut off every possibility of escape. They wanted to talk to me, but my splash of negative emotion caused them to retreat. The Baroness did not allow any of her men to follow me and drag me by force. Who would want to quarrel with the Navigator? Absolutely no one. One cannot spoil one’s relationship with such valuable people.

  So the conclusion was very simple— for the sleepless clan to retreat temporarily. Now we wait for their next appearance of the stage. Given that I am a restless person, and the world of Valdira is very extensive, this means something very unpleasant— someone must be following me now. Probably, for example, Mr. “Whisper” whose name was mentioned by that same damn Baroness…

  He’s probably plopping at least a couple dozen steps behind me but I do not see him. Yes, in this dense fog, anyone would automatically acquire “+20 disguise.” And I have only +40, thanks to the mud and algae on my clothes. The pursuer would probably have no less than me, and I would not be able to see him, even if I were to look him in the eye.

  My bag had one scroll of teleportation; and now, it was almost certainly going to work, but using it would be stupid— my “case” at the swamp still stood. Time to find what I was looking for, already, and go on my merry way. And then I’ll go to one happy village, next to which lived a greedy and avid fan of collectibles. The main thing is to do everything quickly. Alas… it would be hard to find that very same hut from which I’d emerged.

  As I was thinking, my feel sank into the soil to the very ankle. I had to rip them from the muck, using my staff viciously. I moved to the next swell of ground and checked my arsenal. In my left was “climb”— If I fell into a bog there was a good chance of escaping, thanks to this spell. In my right hand was “flaming coal.” In my belt was the wand, charged with lightning rods. In my hands was the staff. Oh yeah… I almost forgot.

  Quickly doing a spell, I called the garden snake, which splashed immediately into the water. Anxiously I looked at the snake and instantly my fear was quelled— the alarm was in vain. The snake felt great in the water, warping between the fleshy leaves of water lilies and clumps of plant debris. That’s good. Due to my sharply increased mana, I could keep my helper in the “active “state. Let him swim.

  I gathered myself morally and physically— and commanded myself to move.

  The staff went into the water, and I arrived at the next island, overgrown with slime, frightening the local residents. Some very unpleasant frogs which had dove into the swamp, and a couple of tiny birds which, with a cry of alarm, spun above my head. Glancing down I saw a small nest with three somehow brightly colored eggs.

  -- Easter egg hunt— I muttered, carefully avoiding the next and moving on.

  The further I went into the swamp, the smaller the marsh mounds became and the more my pole had difficulty finding the bottom. The swamp became layered with a thick green slime, with occasional patches of yellow and, every once in a while, a suspiciously large shadow.

  I was just being distracted by a heavy heron with long legs, when the game interface blinked anxiously and the snake following behind me disappeared. Flashing before my eyes, the combat indicator glowed red and pointed in the direction of combat. Turning my head in that direction, I noticed the familiar face looking up at me from out of the water, busily working his jaws. I only had a chance to see the snake tail disappear behind his ugly lips.

  -- Hey! – I barked indignantly— What do you think you’re doing?!

  -- But there is no fish! – The bog beast cried, offended, showing me his empty webbed paws— None!

  -- I am tired of you! – I confessed, reaching for the handle of the want.

  He gurgled frightfully, splashed and disappeared under the water. When he appeared again, I began to charge the spell again.

  The “reborn” garden snake appeared at my feet and gently slid into the water, In front of my eyes flashed the red warning of an attack. A few bubbles surfaced, and the grinning face leaned out of the water. Swallowing greedily and convulsively, the creature stared at me with his little eyes and asked hopefully:

  -- Can you make a fish for me? The fish…

  -- The fish are gone, huh? – I finished the sentence for him— Listen, I did not have a good day today… but here, catch this gift.

  -- Stretching out my hand to the water, I cast a “cure” spell on the creature, restoring his shattered health after the recent fight. Making sure that the strange “Bog Creature” was completely cured, I waved my hand:

  -- Alright. You are now healthy and in good cheer. Now swim, swim away, bog creature, to your… um, bog den…

  -- And a fish? –timidly asked the creature, almost wistfully, ignoring my attempt to get rid of him. At this, he pulled a rather unfortunate face…

  So…

  He’s practically begging me to do a “job,” but not saying it in plain text. That’s a job I was ready to do only in one case— if it could be done without leaving Ravendark swamp.

  -- Maybe you need some help? – I asked, looking into the eyes of the strange amphibious monster— maybe you want something?

  -- Fish! I want fish! – exclaimed the bog creature, not wasting a moment— Fish!

  I froze, waiting for an information window to appear before my eyes with a brief description of the task, and inviting me to take it. I wanted five seconds, thirty minutes… no… I was not given the job.

  -- Maybe you need some help? – I repeated like a parrot, this time dropping the phrase “maybe you want something?”

  The creature was silent like a complete… The water gurgled quietly and in the distance were heard the disgusting sounds of wet munching. We froze and stared at each other with genuine puzzlement on our faces.

  Restraining my desire to curse with difficulty, I scratched my head thoughtfully, and stopped— in the water, at the surface, flashed a distinct elongated shadow. I would have thought it was just me, if not for the shadow of the tail and the bony spine.

  Holding my breath, I peered into the water and waited for the unknown inhabitant to surface. A quiet splash, and the water ran in divergent circles around a dark slick figure and a small, mustache framed muzzle. Catfish? No. The name of the monster, which was the length of my arm, was thus: Mustache Fish. Very small leveled. There was a strange and quiet squeak and the fish sunk into the depths again. A fish! There are fish in this bloody swamp!

  -- Here’s the fish! – I growled with vengeance, poking my finger accusingly at the fish that had surfaced for a moment— There it is after all!

  -- No! No! No fish!— said the creature wildly, twisting his ugly head from side to side— No fish here!

  -- It’s right there! – I could not stand it
already— Catch and eat!

  -- There are no fish!

  -- Listen!

  -- There are no fish, no delicious fish, no… none… -- my ears were beginning to burn from the terrified shriek of the creature.

  -- Listen, you bloody Gollum! – I hissed at the viper— I’m going to tear you into fish food! That was a fish, a meter away from your damn head. Stretch out your arm and grab it!

  -- There’s no… -- the creature began, but my patience had already come to an end.

  -- So what is this?!—I shouted, briefly waving my hand and frying the fish, which had come out again for a split second. Got him. Mustache Fish splashed his tail, and floated belly-up in the water… Done.

  -- Here’s a fish! Eat, terrible beast! – I hissed, pointing at the fish— Just try not eating it. I’ll have you…

  -- A fish?! What fish?! There is no fish! – screeched the beast, and at the same time splashed the water, sending the fish floating away.

  -- That’s it… -- I breathed, grabbing the handle of my wand— I’ll have you get an electric shock, I’ll roast you like the last… m-ma…

  Behind the creature, twenty paces away, a huge mound appeared out of the water. Its surface seemed to be a huge rounded hump, overgrown with brown slime, algae, and threads of something else. Behind all this dirt seemed to be a pattern of irregularly shaped squares and diamonds. It’s … a shell, a turtle shell! Once again the water splashed and, out of the water, rose a flat head with beady, deep-set eyes. He opened his mouth and let out a fierce hiss, and I twitched involuntarily as the bog creature screamed in panic and ran up to me and grabbed hold of my legs, which were already covered in mud.

  Paying no attention to him, I peered into the scarlet letters hanging above the head of the newly emerged creature:

  Mrs. Rott

  Horror of Ravendark Swamp.

  Level: 180

  An ancient voracious monster that has terrified inhabitants of Ravendark Swamp for centuries. It eats only fish. Remember, traveler! See Mrs. Rott and be terrified. Touch a fish belonging to her— and die!