by D. Rus
I looked around, reading the endless relief in the face of my warriors. They were happy for Alyona. Dan's gaze betrayed the professional interest of a head hunter as he peered at Bosun trying to divine his potential military past. Sorry, man. I could use him myself.
Bosun lowered his voice, "So what d'ya think, man? D'you have a spare bunk for me? I'm not some useless shore loafer. These hands can fix things, they also have one hell of a punch. Just try me."
I nodded my understanding. One hell of a punch, indeed. I took in some air. "Rule number one. Subordination. I'm not a 'man' to you and this is no pirate democracy. In order to join the clan, you'll have to pass a number of tests and interviews. Your girl has already given you a glowing reference so I think you'll manage. We've rented enough capsules for all the guests for the next two weeks. That's the time you all have to make up your minds and finalize whatever unfinished business you have in real life. Do you have any? You do realize, don't you, that by deciding to stay with her you'll never be going back?"
He nodded. His eyes glinted. "Yeah, right. I do have unfinished business to attend to. I want to find that peroxide bitch and say goodbye to her. Oh, and another thing. The sea is not always kind to you, it can be quite cruel sometimes. I know quite a few guys who are broken and desperate. Mind if I tell them to check you out? I'm a cripple myself, in fact. A cable snapped seven years back and withered my arm away. I'd already forgotten what it feels like to have two hands."
For a brief moment he took his hand off his daughter's head and grabbed at a fancy bit of marble on a nearby column. With a grunt, he ripped it off and clenched a powerful fist, crumbling it into dust.
"Sorry Sir, couldn't help myself. Permission to leave, Sir!"
"Permission granted. Just make sure you don't break anything else. The castle is a living being, you know. It can feel everything you do to it."
Widowmaker touched the column in disbelief. It was marble all right. "How did he do that?" he whispered in my ear.
I shrugged. "He believes he can do it. Just like the kids do. They know no restrictions."
A sullen Sasha walked over to us, a seven-year-old boy who'd arrived with the third wave of digitized kids. His face bore no trace of his initial excitement at meeting his father. "He isn't my dad, Uncle Max."
I frowned in disbelief. "In which respect?"
"He just looks like him. But he speaks funny. And he smiles all the time like they do on TV. And Dad never smiles, he's embarrassed of his teeth. Grandma says that's because he ate too many sweets. He knows nothing about our cat and our summer cottage. And he couldn't remember anything about our fishing trips. He's an impostor."
Dan and Orcus next to us pricked up their ears. I turned my head this way and that, trying to match his mental portrait to the crowd around me. There he was, talking to my mom! And I really didn't like the expression on her face.
Mom cast me a helpless look, her eyes apologetic. Then she turned to the man and nodded her consent.
Hi there, Anastasia Pavlovna. You look stunning in this new body. Of course I know who you are. It's my job to know all these things. What job would that be, you may ask? Well, I'm a kidnapper. A rather harmless gaming occupation. I kidnap other people's chars and return them for a modest compensation. Please don't be afraid. No need to call for help. I'm going to tell you why in a moment. I've located three of the kids who had no visitors today and promised to take them to their mom and dad. Yes, I'm a scumbag, no need to get so upset. The kids have already joined my group. In thirty seconds, we're porting outta here. You can't stop me and you shouldn't even try. I'm using a one-off lightning portal. Expensive but it does what it says on the box.
I have a proposition to make. Getting the ransom paid can take quite a while. I'll have to lock the children in a dark cellar for a few days. I'd like to avoid all their screams and tears by having someone they know keep them company. You have ten seconds to make up your mind. You either spend a couple of days in their company or you simply dump them here and now. Seven seconds. I'm sending you an invitation to join the group. Five seconds. Excellent. You've made the right decision. Prepare for takeoff.
The man reached behind his back into his inventory, producing a strange artifact that resembled silver lightning covered with ancient runes.
"To arms! Get him!" Orcus and Dan shouted simultaneously.
The hell hounds' gray shadows darted through the crowd. Magic droned, entangling the area with spells. The man scowled, the artless cheerful expression on his face changing to hatred.
Crossbow strings twanged from the nearest walls and towers, released by the archers we'd planted there in anticipation of any trouble. Mom's Ear Cutter bodyguardesses unstealthed behind her back. The man shuddered with the impact of a dozen crossbow bolts hitting him all at once. The Drow girls' swords produced a semicircle of blood spray. And still the intruder was standing. He must have had an indecent amount of hits!
His lips curving in pain, he whispered a brief key command. The space around him imploded, collapsing in a silent flash of purple light. Taking away the fake parent and my mom staring guiltily at me!
"No!!!!!" I screamed, scaring the clueless guests. "Anything but that," I whispered, sinking onto the flagstones and clutching my head.
Chapter Fifteen
Unlike a regular portal, the lightning teleport proved to be a rather crude thing. Purely functional. The portal opened about five feet from the ground, throwing its travelers face down at full speed.
Even the blood-covered kidnapper grunted, shaking his head as he scrambled to his feet, pressing his hands to his bleeding wounds. Those Ear-Cutting bitches knew how to use a knife. They didn't just stab you like a hood in a dark alley; no, they dealt crippling damage causing sustained bleeding. The flights of a dozen crossbow bolts peeking out of his body did nothing to improve his optimism.
"Finally! Take her! Give him a heal, someone."
Two steel-clad guards grabbed Anastasia Pavlovna under her armpits, dragging her aside. The healing magic's bells echoed across the enormous vault, restoring the kidnapper's hits. The stone floor rang from the bolts and bullets exiting his body.
The man nodded his appreciation. "Five thousand hits in two seconds! Had it not been for the covert jewelry and the buffs, I'd have never made it out of there. You told me they wouldn't be able to react fast enough!"
"Shit happens," said a young guy with a twitching face who sat on a tall throne. There was no sympathy in his voice. "The pup's started teething. Or he got himself some clever advisors, one of the two. It's even more interesting this way."
Anastasia Pavlovna looked desperately around her, searching for the children. She saw about twenty guards, a few heavy golems frozen in the vault's corners, a chained monster — barely alive and peppered with wounds — and a dozen naked girls lustfully arching their voluptuous bodies at the base of the throne. The heavy steel boots of the insane guy on the throne rested on their backs, their spiked soles ripping their delicate skin open. Blood streaked down the girls' savaged backs and bitten lips. Tavor?
She only recognized him now — more by the sadism of the situation than from the screenshots that her son had sent her once. She remembered Max' serious voice as he'd warned her, "in case he captures you, activate Blissful Death straight away!" She began leafing through her interface until she finally found the button she was looking for. She breathed a sigh of relief and activated the ability.
Nothing! She pressed it again. Nothing. She raised her head in dismay, meeting Tavor's triumphant eyes.
"Didn't work, did it? Never mind. Don't you even try to escape back under your god's wing. Don't push me. Better not awaken the beast in me, there's no stopping me then. I'd rather keep you till later. I have your smartass son to deal with first."
He pointed at a squat goblin who kept poking the chained monster with his spear. "Take this green idiot away, agent. Move it! Do it as we planned!"
A level-200 guard swished his sword through the air. The g
oblin's head rolled across the floor. The monster — some sort of a mutant wolf, his life bar shrinking to insignificance — breathed a very human sigh of relief.
The kidnapper that Tavor had called "agent" hurried to pull a combat staff out of his inventory, pointing it at the bleeding monster. The artifact jolted in his hand, spitting out a fire arrow. The recoil threw his arm back. He did it again. And again. The vault filled with the stench of scorched flesh. The wolf struggled in his fetters, howling pleadingly, but still couldn't die. There wasn't much level 1 could do against level 26: there were too many automatic misses, resists and zero-damage hits.
The agent was already casting worried looks at the red-hot staff when finally the powerful artifact finished his job. The wolf's life thinned out into infinity and finally broke with a particularly successful mini-crit. With a yelp, the monster collapsed on its side.
Anastasia Pavlovna's interface was flooded with system messages. She stared in horror at the message window,
You've received group experience!
Congratulations! You've reached level 9!
Congratulations! You've reached level 10!
Racial bonus: +1 to Intellect!
Class bonus: +1 to Constitution, +1 to Spirit!
5 Characteristic points available! You now have 10 Characteristic points!
Warning! This is the first key level. You aren't immune to other players' attacks any more. Proceed with caution!
Congratulations! You've reached level 11!
Hadn't Max warned her when the perma test had proved positive two weeks ago that she should never, ever reach level 10? Before, all that her enemy could have done to her was imprison and immobilize her, applying psychological pressure. But now he could hurt her for real.
She buried herself in the chat trying to send Max a message. No answer. The chat itself looked dead like a screenshot made at the exact moment of a portal jump. The location was silent, the clan didn't react, the auctions were paralyzed; she couldn't even send a bank transfer. What was going on?
"Quit your tricks, lady. I didn't even need to level you up. I have over a hundred different ways to torture a customer without causing actual pain. But your son is too dumb to know the superiority of psychological torture over physical, isn't he? Cool down. Have some respect for the dying god. You're in Chronos' temple!"
Obeying the kick of his steel boot, the naked girls swayed aside, revealing the base of the throne. Anastasia Pavlovna peered at it and gasped. The throne was sacrilegiously mounted over the crystal lid of an enormous sarcophagus. Protected by its transparent shield lay the powerful body of a god.
His legs had been torn off at the knees, his muscular body mauled like that of a suicide warrior rushing a heavy machine gun. A large jagged hole in his chest revealed broken ribs and the immobile lump of the Heart of God.
Boom! The heart contracted in slow motion. Chronos took one short raspy breath. A drop of blood swelled in his tormented chest and rolled down his already unmoving body, solidifying.
One of the girls hurried toward the sarcophagus. She reached her agile hand like a monkey into a narrow crack, pulling out the precious crystal and offering it to Tavor with a deep bow. He deigned to accept it, studied it against the light and stashed it in his inventory. The scumbag's neck sported a whole necklace of Crystals of Divine Blood.
"That doesn't happen often," Tavor explained. "Normally the heart only beats once a day. It's the second time it's done that today. Our Speedy Gonzales is upset! He's tossing in his sleep!"
The madman laughed: a blood-curdling hysterical laughter. His harem joined in, grinning inanely.
"You'll have to wait, lady. I need to send your son a couple of racy pics. I'll have to go upstairs to the donjon to do that. Time is frozen in this wretched cellar. You can spend a year here and outside it'll only be half an hour! Chronos got himself a nice hideout. He probably wanted to restore his strength while waiting for the Titans to come back but it didn't quite work out that way. I'm off then. Take care!"
A portal popped open. The girls breathed a sigh of relief. The NPC guards stood at ease.
* * *
The emergency staff meeting was held on the run. The wretched Tavor had sent us his list of demands forty seconds after the kidnapping, accompanied by a screenshot of Mom clinging to the wall in some dreary dungeon. He had also added a link, demanding we visit it to purchase a one-off portal scroll. The link was for a private auction and the item's price set my teeth on edge: three million gold!
The amount was doable but it equaled two-thirds of our treasury. Had we really been harboring a mole somewhere? I was going to find the scumbag no matter how long it took me! I would make an example of him so that no one would get any ideas about serving two masters and leaking confidential information! You could call me a butcher but that was one thing I'd actually enjoy doing.
And finally, the main demand of this nutcase. Ten minutes after receiving the letter I had to activate the scroll and port myself to an unknown location. Here the instructions ended and the threats began. If I failed to comply, I might not like the next set of screenshots they sent me.
I strode through the arsenal, grabbing the long-chosen items and throwing together a well-conceived survival kit. Hits, more hits, armor, self-heals, regeneration and more hits. With all the buffs, I was going to have it worked out at about 19,000 life. I wasn't sure I'd need it but it might buy me the extra seconds needed to assess the situation.
The staff officers trotted next to me, showering me with information. "The Castle is in Siege mode, no sign of any enemy, no attempts to breach the perimeter detected."
I nodded. Lurch hadn't noticed any enemy presence, either. It was possible that the entire gig had been performed by an experienced loner. Orcus had warned me about these new identity swap methods, but this fact had been swamped by such a torrent of other information that I'd failed to single out its importance.
Any preventive measures we could employ would be rather primitive though effective, and demanded knee-jerk practice. In order to tell an intruder, we could use a complex secret sign language like those used by some gangs, as well as a special clan slang. Every clan member had to practice them until they became second nature, automatically plugging them into their speech and registering an adequate response. According to Orcus, with our absolute memory we could master it in a couple of months which would complicate the enemy's task of planting a mole in the castle tenfold.
I struggled to fathom the very idea of swapping a perma player's identity but I did like the sign language idea.
"The roll call produced no further absent clan members, Sir!"
This was good news albeit predictable. Either the intruder hadn't wanted to take any extra risks or he simply lacked the persuasion necessary to talk anybody else into joining his group.
"The kidnapped clan member doesn't respond to chat messages. Still, there can be dozens of reasons why she hasn't done so yet. What I don't understand is why she hasn't yet used her Blissful Death ability."
Orcus touched my sleeve. "Any intel from the Fallen One?"
I shook my head. "He's furious. The marker he'd assigned to her has been blocked. He can't locate her. Having said that, there're plenty of locations in AlterWorld that are off limits for him. All the Temples of Light and places of worship, gods and their avatars, jamming artifacts and all sorts. Such blank spots account for maybe only 0.5% of AlterWorld's entire area but when you convert it to square miles, it might take you decades to check them all out."
"So he can't help us, then?"
"I didn't say that. The Fallen One is ready for action, keeping an eye on me. I'm different, you see. I'm so covered in all sorts of Divine Marks no one can possibly block out their emissions. He swears he'd find me even within the solar corona. The divine cavalry arrives... and then it's all systems go!"
"And how about when you were lying on Ruata's altar? Didn't you tell me it took him five minutes to breach that shield of hers? Five minut
es is a long time!"
I waved his question away. "This is why I'm pumping up my fragile frame with hits. Besides, we've all grown since then, both the gods and their First Priest. We have many more tools at our disposal and they've become much more powerful."
Durin emerged from the secret vault, grunting, lugging an enormous Basilisk's egg. "Here, Sir! Once you hatch it, the place will become very crowded no matter where you are and everybody will have other things to do!"
Excellent idea.
Blessed be AlterWorld for its virtuality! The mammoth egg slid neatly into my bag. Still, the extra 450 pounds made themselves felt on my back. "Cast me a strength buff!"
The enchanter and the cleric both nodded in unison, conferring briefly to decide on the best scheme of non-conflicting spells. Then they showered me with their fiery magic. I stood firmly on my feet, feeling my muscles bulge with steel. The load ceased crushing my back. Much better.
Widowmaker was the next to report. "The clan's troops are ready to jump to the location once the beacon is set up. You've got the artifact, haven't you?"
I slapped my pocket.
"Excellent. You need to set it up and activate it at the first opportunity. It's only a couple of minutes of drawing pentagrams and other ritualistic shit."
Whoever was going to grant me these two minutes? Still, not yet knowing what kind of game Tavor was about to offer, I kept stashing marked cards, extra chess pieces, fake dominoes and such up my sleeves hoping I could use some of it to my advantage.
"The first buffs will expire in seventeen minutes. The ultimatum will expire in two hundred seconds," Orcus looked into my eyes. "Are you sure you're going? You should never negotiate with terrorists. It's a perilous practice that only encourages them to kidnap again."
