The Way of the Clan 6: World of Valdira

by Dem Mikhaylov

  And everyone understood that it was just a warm up. A gentle training before the massacre.

  The first round.

  Ahead was the second…

  “A worthy victory!” Said the hovering ancient guard.

  One of the points of the star emanated a beam which shot towards the rocky hillsides. The rocks immediately burst into pieces, and from the opened chasm fell dozens of strange pinkish, rose gold pieces of metal ore.

  “A worthy reward,” said the star.

  The Sleepless didn’t wait. Several players rushed forward to retrieve it.

  To the regret of Bom, all of the strange pieces of metal were immediately collected.

  “The debate continues,” the guardian said softly.

  As soon as he stopped, one of the magical barriers disappeared to the sound of another chime. The curtain fell, and the next two opponents were revealed to us.

  Oops…

  At first I thought that the Baroness herself had managed to somehow get to the other side of the magic curtain— there was a thin petite figure tightly clad in dark gray leather, with a half-mask, and long black hair fluttering in the wind. In one hand was a long dagger with a wavy blade made of translucent material. The other hand was empty, but sparks of purple electricity sparked in the palm.

  But I was wrong— the Baroness stood a few feet away, dispassionately studying the girl in gray.

  The girl opponent was so spectacular that I did not immediately draw my attention to the second fighter. Now I could see that it was a giant orc. A thoroughbred. Tall, broad-shouldered— a real thug. Green shiny skin, huge muscles, long fangs and red eyes. Runic tattoos on his arms. A strange harness of a belt. A long spear, and a thick chain tightly enveloping his forehead. I didn’t know this orc’s class, but it was clearly something elite.

  “I’ll do it,” growled the Baron.

  “You,” agreed the Baroness. “And me.”

  Now the feeling of the game disappeared, and I felt like I was in the Roman Colosseum, where once, in real life, gladiators fought to the death.

  “And me?” Came Orbit’s piercing voice from the back of the crowd. But it was quickly drowned out by the murmuring of the others.

  The first ranks of the audience were now almost completely flooded with Architects, obviously interested in the showdown. The Red Baron and the Black Baroness. Both had a rich biography. The feud between the Archs and Sleepless had not disappeared, but curiosity overpowered it.

  The core of the Archs continued to stand still, guarding a very large oblong object loaded onto the back of a rhino. The top was covered with a cloth like, shiny black silk tied with dark red cords. Interesting packaging on the park of the Architects— as though it were some kind of gift. And I saw the Baroness look over a few times at the object— as thought the gift was for her. What was under the silk? I had no idea— but it was something big and rectangular. What had the Architects dug out of the riverbed of the Outland?

  The hum of voices turned my attention to the arena again. Now it was beginning to sink in again. This time, it was larger— enough space to run— but the depth was not so steep. Obviously, there was no boiling water to be expected— and therefore, the depth wasn’t needed. Now it was more like a skillet.

  And the Baron and Baroness were already on it.

  They were somehow alike… no, really. Apart from the fact that their nicknames were baron and baroness, the beginning of each name was a color. And something very confident about each of them. They walked onto the arena as though they were going for a stroll in the park.

  The tournament canopy appeared above the heads of the shoulders and began to expand deliberately.

  “I’ll break you in half!” Rumbled the huge orc, pointing a thick paw at the Baron.

  The girl in the mask stepped to the side, standing in front of the Baroness. The Baron nodded curtly, letting him know that he had heard. And I saw how unhappy this made the orc— he was clenching his jaw at the response. A hot tempered guy, this orc…

  “They’re ready to go,” muttered Ul.

  “Baron against the orc, Baroness against the other ninja…” Whispered the fascinated Doc. “Like in the best action movies!”

  “I bet on the Baron!” Came a loud whisper from under the Kolyvan, a whisper which only the deaf did not hear.

  Bom shuffled a handful of grayish grass towards a dwarf warrior that was unfamiliar to me.

  “Alright then!”

  Th bald elf, freed at last, hopped over with a large boulder and set it with difficulty on the ground:

  “I bet on the orc!”

  “That’s not worth anything!” Said the outraged dwarf. “That won’t do for a bet!”

  “Then I’ll go fight,” Orbit sighed, looking up at the floating star.

  “Stop! Alright! I was wrong— it’s a very valuable stone!” The “broker” instantly changed his mind.

  “Then I’ll go gather a bunch of them!” Roared Bom.

  “Hush!” Came from all sides, and the “businessmen” quickly quieted.

  It began…

  “It’s beginning…” I repeated the thought out loud. “Begin… damn…”

  It was as though two pairs of dinosaurs were fighting each other in the rink. Battle cries and roars resounded through the chamber. Weapons and armor clanged, fangs were bared, saliva flying. The Baron was terrifying— from agar, I would never have known this was a player. A real natural nutty half orc… seen coming at you from afar, you would rather kill yourself than let him get to you. At home, I had two disks of the finals of the Grand Tournament of Valdira— it was nothing like this. The orc did not concede— both opponents were worthy of each other. Scary… and it warranted my deepest respect. It seemed clear that, despite their animal roaring, both opponents were masters in martial arts. Especially the Baron— undercuts, short punches and kicks, ramming of the head… and this was only a small part. My mind just couldn’t catch all of it— it was too fast, too quick, too sudden. The Baron inflicted damage to the whole body. He did it without interrupting the striking of the main weapon. A master… a true master of the fight. A soldier in the ranks of his native clan. I didn’t know how to describe what he was doing, but it filled any man’s heart with elation and sizzling envy. One was glad that he was not the enemy.

  They were in plain view. But around the corners of the arena were black and gray smears— just silhouettes, smeared outlines. Hopping from one end of the arena to another. I noticed only the vague shape of a hand or a head, but then it was carried away again. And the weapons… short knives, strange wheels with jagged edges…

  The Baron and his distant relative gave us the thrill of the battlefield.

  But the Baroness and her friend only gave us surprise.

  If the berserk warriors caused delight and envy, the two girls caused blank bewilderment and anxiety.

  Too fast. Unthinkably fast! Not with the speed of superman, of course, but still way too fast!

  Okay, the woman warrior was a local. To hell with it… but how could the player Baroness be able not only to withstand such a speed, but to keep up with the frenzied whirlwind and respond? How?! How can she block hits at this speed, throw weapons, and move… why didn’t her brain fail and beat in convulsions? I’m not an expert on such matters… but still, it was very strange. Oh! Flashes! Red and orange… the girls do not only have time to deliver blows with iron— they are also using magic! Two blurred shadows stopped in the arena, frozen in predatory combat poses, their masks hiding the lower parts of their faces.

  Each of the women had a blade in their hand— and in the second pulsed some kind of luminous magic. Between the two of them was a raging sand tornado— a two colored whirl of sand. Again, gray and black…

  Only now I noticed how tense the audience was— all fours fighters showed incredible class. Our eyes were glued to the spectacle.

  The girls were breathing heavily, keeping their eyes on each other through the sand tornado— even though it
was opaque. I didn’t understand where they could have gotten the sand. There was none to begin with. But I understood the pause— it was a brief breather in battle.

  “O-o-oh!” Kaylen moaned.

  “Oo-oo-oh!” Doc supported her.

  And then the normally silent Cray broke down his resolve and enthusiastically uttered:

  “Now that’s cool!”

  Kirea the Protectress, standing beside him, nodded enthusiastically.

  I still could not find the words.

  The orc fell. He collapsed suddenly after a blow inflicted from the top— the Baron jumped dramatically, and unexpectedly hit the orc from above. Then right in the throat. And the orc fell. Letting out a last thunderous roar, he fell like a tree, but did not let go of his weapons.

  I got goosebumps from such a performance.

  And in that moment, the Black Baroness jumped forward into the raging sand tornado and disappeared. The whirlwind roared, swayed, and seemed to almost choke, and then swayed and accelerated. And where was the Baroness?

  The tornado gave an answer— it exploded. Black sand was everywhere. And I thought I saw a glimmer of something among the hissing sand. And then there was no sand, no tornado. Just the girl in gray leather lying on her back on a rock, with the Black Baroness above her, holding a long spear whose tip was deep in the chest of her enemy. She let go, and the black spear crumbled into sand and disappeared before it reached the floor of the arena. Holy hell…

  “We… we…” forced Doc. “We won-n-n-n! Ye-e-s-s!

  And then came an enthusiastic roar from the crowd. Victory. Another victory.

  Stooping down, the Baroness collected something from the shoulder of the defeated— it looked like a shred of gray leather with some kind of symbol on it. She took it and, clenching it in her fist, whispered something softly. The reclining girl moved her lips gently in response and froze. A second later her body disappeared in a flash of gray, leaving trophies for the Baroness to collect. So disappeared the enemy of the Baron, leaving only a stone plate that had hung on the belt of the orc. The Baron had done the same as the Baroness, and immediately picked up the remains. Something useful?

  The arena began to rise to the ring of the invisible bell. Now the second round was completed.

  “The citadel is roaring with delight,” Ul told us quietly. “A river of champagne. Ha… I understand them…”

  “Me too,” I replied. “That was really something.”

  “A worthy victory!” Proclaimed the guardian of the ancients. The lower left beam of the star struck another rock. “A very worthy reward!”

  Oh! Not just a reward, but a very worthy one! Even the guard was impressed.

  And I was even more amazed as I saw pulsating red spheres pour from the fracture in the broken rock.

  Rage of the Gods…

  “Rage of the gods,” Bom bellowed. “And so much… oh…”

  “The debate continues. But it’s coming to an end,” said the guard clearly.

  And the penultimate magical veil shattered to pieces.

  We finally laid eyes on the final enemy.

  And a bewildered silence hung over the Outland.

  It was an old man. The final enemy appeared to be a gray haired old man… except he wasn’t human. Gray skin with black stripes, a thick gray mane of hair, large eyes with vertical blue pupils. A crimson coat with golden buttons, short pants, and hooves at the end of his legs. He was a damn devil… there were the horns sticking out of the gray hair. And sharp teeth— but no weapons, if you disregard the mocking smile meant for his future opponent. And, from one hand to another, he was shuffling a deck of playing cards…

  “Master of Cards!” I heard someone say. “This is a fucking Master of Cards! That’s it... we’re done for…”

  In any other situation this would be the point at which one would say, “alright, guys— we’re finished.” But instead we heard a light voice:

  “Okay— consider him finished. I’ll take care of him! All that’s going to be left of him is horns and hooves.”

  The player who said this was obviously not a rookie— he was confident in his assertion.

  But the Black Baroness, who had stilled like a predatory panther, didn’t seem to think so. Her tense expression spoke for itself. She was a bundle of nerves.

  She asked:

  “Is it he? Or?”

  “By all indications, it is,” came the amazed answer by the leader of the Architects, who had casually approached the Baroness as though she were an old friend.

  “He,” nodded the Baron.

  “He,” I heard from the Eye. “We compared notes and images from his last four appearances. External signs correspond completely. This is one of the “X’s.”

  “Clear,” said the head of the Sleepless with some difficulty. “Damn… that mean’s … damn, damn, damn… a devil brought right down from purgatory.”

  “The dispute is not over,” said the guard, beginning to spin sharply, expressing his impatience.

  “I ask for time!” The Baroness replied instantly. “Prior to this we never asked you to wait, Sentinel.”

  “Time is given,” said the star after a pause, and his red center turned white again. “A little.”

  “Thanks,” the Baroness said and addressed the Eye. “Give me a brief summary of the past four appearances. Only what’s necessary. No extra information.”

  “Ok. X against dragon rider and swordsman. X defeated with spear. X against a group of five half-orcs with pets. X defeated with want and artifact cards, using azure water buffalo. X against Lorafa of the Red Demons. X won the warrior’s legendary equipment using explosive potions. X against two tanks and three magicians. Draw. X left after a three-minute scuffle. Used two artifact wands at once, shot fireballs at unusual rate and called a fire demon from the cup of flames.”

  “What the hell kind of terminator is this?!” Asked the dumbfounded Bom. “Killed five half-orcs right away? All at once?”

  “No, damn it! Two at once, and then three after a sip of rejuvenating herbal tea!” Muttered the Baron sarcastically. “Damn…”

  “U-u-uhm…” Said the player who had just a minute ago said he would face the old man. “Damn, guys… I mean…”

  “Quiet everyone, please!” Said the Baroness, and everyone went silent.

  “Ul,” I whispered quietly. “What is his class? And what is the X? Have you heard of him before?”

  “Yeah,” he said softly, as Doc clung to his shoulder. “Get offa me, you nasty.”

  “I won’t hear anything then!” Said the outraged Doc. “Besides, I’m a doctor. If I’m sticking to your shoulder— consider me a healing lotion! If I shove my foot at you— acupressure! If a knife— then it’s the beginning of a brain transplant! So you just keep talking, go on!”

  “Keep talking!” Kaylen supported him.

  There was laughter. Hearing Doc the elf broke down and collapsed to the ground in a fit. A couple of players were on him in a second, and dragged him to the end of the group. The same tactic, really… did he really mean to go into the arena?! I was horrified. Doc saved us all I guess.

  Meanwhile, Ul was starting to explain something to me:

  “In short, I have only seen photos and videos. These horned demons appear here and there. One time occurred not too long ago, and then there were three more cases before that. This is the fifth. Everyone is looking for info about them, so remember— if you provide a video of such a meeting, you’ll be very well paid.”

  “I’ll remember,” Doc nodded.

  “Cool,” squeaked Kaylen.

  “Eye! General information about fighting capacity and tactics!” Said the Baroness, still not having made a decision.

  I would have been worried too. A single old man standing fearlessly before a huge crowd and smiling derisively.

  “Give me a sec!” Echoed the Eye.

  Waiting for the developments, I studied the granddaddy more closely.

  Gray leather skin with bla
ck markings. He has ears, but the tips of them are hidden in his hair. Very large eyes— attentive. Vertical pupils. Very agile hands, with the long fingers of a pianist. These types of hands are well suited for magicians. Or, I guess, for playing the piano. Last memorable sign— the hooves and the horns. And he is very short in stature. Not higher than a dwarf— maybe even a little lower. Overly broad and highly offensive smile. Just begging for a punch to the teeth.

  “Data!” The Eye began. “He has not entered into close range combat even once. Racial abilities not fixed. Weapons that require serious physical force not used. Moves quickly and deftly. Easily outpaces crossbow strikes, which pass a few millimeters away from him. Interception of poison with potions. Uses cards, wands, and potions in each battle. All items very effective. Basically, not a close range fighter. Uses artifacts.”

  “Clear,” the Baroness nodded and turned sharply. “I’ll go!”

  “No,” the star guard warned, turning purple. “The new battle is for new soldiers.”

  “Damn it!” The Baroness stamped her foot. “Okay! Joker! What do you say?”

  “If you need me to go, I will,” the player stepped forward, clad in a purple jacket and gold embroidery.

  “Joe! Any moron can go!” The Baroness growled. “I need you to go and take him out.”

  The player with the nickname Joe Kerwood paused, and watched the old man intently.

  “What have you got?” Boomed the Baron. “Serious and rare artifacts only.”

  Shrugging his shoulder in response, the Joker sighed and ran a hand through his hair— turned his gaze to the Baroness— and said:

  “I’ll take him out. But if you give me the green light to use all the trump cards.”

  A trump card— something very special to a card master, which he leaves only for the most desperate of situations. Often these are worth a fortune. Rare cards as this go for unbelievable prices at auction. The bidding is fierce. They are like diamond bullets.

  “Meaning?”

  “I took a few unique ones,” Joe admitted. “At my own risk. I sensed that it would be useful. And if I use the heavy artillery from the beginning, I might stand a chance. You understand— he won’t give me time to aim. He has cards and two wands.”