"A host of gods?" Concealed by a dark cloak, the god quickly jumped up and in one barely perceptible movement, as if he momentarily spread his wings, was suddenly facing his brother. Eversquetor wrinkled his brow, but his gaze didn't flinch. The lines of blood that emanated from the black abyss of Harrashass's eyes against his completely white, chalk-like face, looked terrifying. "Oh yes! The names that carry true 'joy' to the world: Tartarus, Sotan, Asmodeus... My creations are being cursed by all the sentient races, begging your Eluna for protection. I hope that the day would come when my creations from beyond the confines of Barliona would find a crack in the defense of this world and 'gladden' everyone with their presence."
"But you know that this will never happen. Father had forbidden us to interfere in the affairs of this world, yet for each of your monsters I will create a hero. Tell me, what had disturbed you so now?"
"Disturbed?" Harrashess laughed hysterically. "No, brother! I am calmer than ever! Today my plan will finally be accomplished!"
"Are you at it again? You killed me hundreds of times, but I returned every time. Please understand, brother, we cannot retire to our rest, as our Father did. He was whole, but we are a whole only together."
"That means that we have to be united," came the dark god's conclusion, after which he shouted: "Reardalox! You know what to do!"
A black shadow darted by and a Vampire appeared next to Harrashess.
"I command the Vampires to guard my throne and to hand it over to the chosen one. From now on you shall live forever!" Reardalox bowed, obediently accepting his master's decision.
"I don't understand what it is that you've planned, brother," said Eversquetor, somewhat hesitantly. "Another death would bring nothing, and once again you shall be punished... What are you trying to achieve?"
Harrashess broke into an evil smile, moved his hand across his face, spreading apart his bloodied hair, disappeared and emerged at his brother's back.
"Death is just an end of a cycle," he whispered into the ear of the frozen Eversquetor. "You and I shall go further and break this vicious circle. I have conceived of a force that hates our world. Hates it with its whole being, but the limitations set by our Father would not allow it to wield power openly in Barliona. It needs a master and an ocean of energy. Raerdalox, my pet Vampire, will find this master and our power will serve as this source for eternity! We will sink into non-existence and lose our essence, but then your beloved Barliona will also descend into Shadow. This will not be darkness, no! This is something that hates both light and darkness in equal measure..."
Harashass embraced his brother and sat on the throne together with him. There was a bright flash and no trace remained of the sons of Barliona's Creator. They were absorbed. The previously white surface of the throne had become covered in shifting black blotches, it hummed, like a hive full of agitated bees, but regained its former appearance just a minute later. The stone had accepted the gods.
"You are mistaken, master," said the Vampire who appeared and was carefully examining the now levitating throne. "I happen to like this world, so I will not carry out your last order. I may pay with my life for this disobedience, but no mortal hand will ever touch your throne."
* * *
"My father kept his promise and for many thousands of years I guarded the throne of the son of the Creator. Thirty years ago Geranika found me, coming in search of knowledge. I taught him everything I knew about Shamans, but then Midial's group entered the Dark Forest and the world came face to face with Harrashess' progeny. The throne had been stolen. They are yours now, Emperor. My thanks for letting me speak my fill."
"Is there anyone else wishing to speak to these sentients?" asked the Emperor, surveying those present.
"Mahan, are you not reading the messages on purpose?" Anastaria couldn't take it anymore. "Send me the video, before you're taken away!"
Oops! I pulled the chat window back in its proper place and, as I sent the video to the girl, quickly glanced at the text there: "Mahan, send the video!" "Mahan, for heaven's sake! Give the video before it's too late!," "You cack-handed Shaman, I'll kill you! Give me the video!" and about forty messages along those lines.
"I don't know what you mean, Eluna's chosen," said the Emperor, "so I'll take it that everyone has had their say. I, the Emperor of Malabar, accuse Free Citizen Mahan, the Great Shaman-Dragon, of killing the Great Yalininka, High Shaman Almis and the future Prince of the Empire, Slate. Kornik, the Harbinger-Shaman, will act as an additional accuser, bringing charges against Mahan of betraying the tenets of shamanism and destroying his Totem — an original Dragon! The trial over Mahan will take place this evening and will be presided over by the goddess Eluna."
"No need to send anything, I've got it," came another message from Anastaria. "Nothing like this has ever happened in my memory. You're lucky, Dragon! If you manage to make it out of the mines, you owe me another incredible deed for everything I have been through and lost. I will tell you about it later, when we meet."
Again a bunch of secretive hints and omissions. I was about to write something like "Sure, I'll just drop everything and start running around performing incredible deeds," when the surrounding world blinked and I felt a pain in my chest.
Enormous hundred-meter cliffs, towering all over the mine perimeter. The overhanging rocky caps, the valley, divided in two by a fence, with the smithy and the barracks on one side and the sound of ringing picks on the other. The green grass, blue sky and complete absence of dust. There was even a fresh breeze. The 3800 Reputation Points of Esteem with the Guards had their benefits. I looked at the sign that hung over the administration building, and chuckled at its 'fitting' nature. No doubt about it...
"Welcome to the Pryke Copper Mine."
"Mahan?" The surprised exclamation of the guard tore me away from taking in the painfully familiar picture. "What are you doing here? You don't even have the mark of a criminal on you!"
"I'm happy to see you too Bronx. I've just decided to take a break, visit my old acquaintances and see how they were getting on," I greeted the stocky guard, who was scratching his chin in surprise, unsure of how he was meant to behave himself with me. After all, Pryke was a place for criminals and here was a visitor who turned up outside the designated visiting days! This NPC's poor Imitator probably deployed all its resources just to try to come to some kind of a decision. "How about you take me to the head of the camp? He can decide what should be done next," I dropped a hint to the guard, who just over half a year ago greeted me with a weapon pointed at my back.
"That it!" said Bronx happily, when a logical chain formed within his head: any new arrival, whoever he was, should be taken to the boss. He can figure out what I was doing here, while a guard's task was simple — to make sure that there were no obvious dirty tricks played at the mine. "Come, let me take you there then. I bet you forgot the way already, eh?"
The administration building didn't change from the time of my last visit: elegant statues, paintings on the walls, a large crystal chandelier, carpets, carved wood and a light cool breeze... It was as if I never left here. I hesitated by the entrance of the mine governor's office (after all, the orc was a striking character who commanded respect), shook my head, dismissing any inner quivers and pulled the door handle. What must be, must be, you can't avoid the unavoidable and if I'm back in Pryke for a long time, I'll have to relearn how to deal with people here all over again.
"Mahan," sounded the low and calm bass of the governor the moment I stepped into the office. In the last three months since I've seen him, the orc didn't change a bit. Although how could an NPC change? This is a game, after all. "The Shaman who betrayed everything that Shamans hold dear, the killer of Almis, his teacher, the Great Yalininka and his own Totem," the orc spoke the words slowly, as if hammering yet another nail into the chain that was meant to hold me in Pryke. And like an invisible weight this chain pressed on me, pushing me to fall on my knees and squeal pitifully before the orc. A bit of a deja vu right th
ere! Our very first meeting — when I failed to answer a direct question from the boss — didn't turn out that great either. I remember how I then for the first time came across the phenomenon of Charisma. But now...
"I can see someone already managed to snitch on me!" I growled, using all my strength to stay on my feet. With my mind I understood that right now I was spoiling what was left of my relationship with the camp boss, and that if I do get stuck here for seven years now, things were going to be far from easy for me. This is why the correct thing would have been to fall to the floor and hope that the governor would relent and turn off his pressure... Like hell I will! I'm a Shaman and have no intention of falling on the floor before some orc!
For a few moments I fought the desire to curl up and whimper, and even almost came to terms with the weight, when I suddenly caught Prontho's eyes. I never thought that a gaze could be given the adjectives of 'stony', 'implacable', 'incontestable', but that was exactly the look the orc was giving me. If I thought that I had felt the effect of the governor's Charisma prior to this, I was gravely mistaken. Now I had an idea of how Hercules must have felt when the dome of the sky was put on his shoulders. I may not have landed the job of the hero from ancient Greek myths, but that didn't make things any easier for me.
"I DO NOT NEED TO READ MESSAGES! I'M A SHAMAN!"
Had I not been exposed to the voices of the Lieutenant, the General and the Patriarch in the last two weeks, I would've crumbled right now. NPCs sure like dropping a load of debuffs on you, as if it somehow makes a conversation easier for them. In your dreams! So he's a Shaman, is he? Then I'll surprise him — I'm not exactly some random noob either!
"IF YOU ARE A SHAMAN, THEN TURN OFF YOUR HEAD AND LISTEN TO YOURSELF!" Oooh! Looks like I can match the orc in the growling department! We were still staring into each other's eyes, so I could think of nothing better than to start giving thought commands to him: "Bow before me! To your knees!" This was nonsense of course, but I wasn't giving up without a fight, even if all the fighting only happened inside my head. The main thing was not to fall myself...
"IT MATTERS LITTLE WHAT I FEEL! THE MAIN THING IS WHAT YOU DID!" Prontho had no intention of giving ground and my silent commands, by the looks of it, were only the fruit of my fevered imagination.
"SINCE WHEN DID HIGH SHAMAN PRONTHO MANAGE TO TURN INTO A MAGE?" my left foot traitorously bent and I fell to one knee. Never mind, I can pretend that I'm honoring the rank of High Shaman. It's even easier to stand like this. The main thing was not to stop and to keep fighting: "Kneel!"
"IT IS NOT FOR YOU TO REBUKE ME, TRAITOR!" Prontho interrupted me, almost shocking me into losing concentration … and fell to one knee. Can my commands be working after all?
"I WALKED MY PATH TO THE END, REGARDLESS OF THE CONSEQUENCES, AND DID NOT ONCE BETRAY THE PRECEPTS OF THE SUPREME SPIRITS! BUT YOU SURRENDERED!" Getting each word out was a huge struggle, so at the end of my long speech I couldn't help myself and fell to both knees. The orc continued piling on the pressure! No matter, I can do that too: "Bow to me!"
"I DID NOT SURRENDER!" The governor tried to get to his feet, but as soon as he rose a little, both his legs gave way and, like me, he ended up on his knees. For some time we were both silent, each forcing the other to completely fall to the floor, until I said:
"SINCE YOU ARE STILL FIGHTING, TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED IN THE FIGHT BETWEEN YOU AND SHIAM?" I roared like a wild beast and, not having the foggiest where I got all this strength, rose to my feet. My head was going into a crazy spin, like that of a completely unprepared person that swam a hundred meters at his very top speed, the orc's office seemed to sway and distort, like in a curved mirror, but I remained upright. I was reeling, but still standing.
"THAT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! YOUR BUSINESS IS TO MINE ORE AND BE SILENT!" The orc tried to repeat my feat and get up, but as soon as he lifted his knee, he dropped to the floor like a broken doll.
"'Silent' my ass, Mr. Tough Guy! I need to know what happened and you will tell me everything!" these were the last words that I managed to utter before the world underhandedly began to swim, filled with dark colors, informed me that my Charisma increased to 72 points and turned off my consciousness...
Too-oo-oo!
That's it, this shift is over. Only two hours remained to hand in the daily quota and eat, otherwise my stomach would kick the bucket and send me for respawn. I had to get up and go to Kart to get the ore, he's probably managed to buy some up by now. I'll have to make a few more rings in the evening, there's still a lot of names to get through on the buyers' list. But the first thing I had to do was to get up and make it in time for the meal. I rolled over to the side, pulled my legs under me and leant with my arms on the floor. I was able to lift myself an entire two centimeters off the ground, before a firework going off in my head threw me back down. My head was buzzing so loudly that it felt like two steam engines were chasing each other on old cracked tracks inside my skull. The train cars were jerking from side to side, threatening to topple over into a ditch, but the machinists were confidently driving the carriages along the brain, periodically picking up grey matter with their spades and throwing it into the fire. The train was doing well — it has something to run on and I, as a prisoner, didn't really need much. The main thing was getting enough ore for the quota...
"Get up, they've already opened the portal for you. You are expected at the trial," the orc's low bass sent the machinists to their well-earned rest, allowing my head to clear up straight away. I'm in Pryke, Kart's already been free for four months, I'm about to be tried and just a short time ago the mine boss and I were attempting to see who was more well-endowed in the Charisma department. My head was no longer buzzing, so I could get up and take a look around. Yeahh... If I looked the same as the orc, I might easily disrupt the upcoming trial. Prontho's face consisted of one large bruise, looking like a herd of rhinos just trampled all over it, one of his eyes was so swollen that you could hardly see it anymore, and the scarce white hair of the governor was all messed up, as if he was following the latest fashion trend. Was this all the result of our confrontation? From what I could remember, I didn't touch the orc, let alone give him a good kicking.
"This way," Prontho pointed to the shimmering teleportation portal. "A Herald came for you, saw how you looked, got me up and ordered me to clean up the accused. Here, take this," so it seems I was right in thinking that my appearance left much to be desired. Prontho handed me a flask with the elixir of full restoration, which would return the character's gaming avatar to its initial appearance. I drank half of it — that'll do for me — and handed the rest to the orc. He had no business appearing before the prisoners looking like that. It doesn't matter how many copies of the orc there were, I had one in front of me right now and he had to maintain his authority. Accepting the flask, the governor drank its contents, no questions asked. You still could see some of the swelling, but his eye regained its natural appearance.
"That'll do," said Prontho, after looking me over carefully from every side. "Now go, you shouldn't keep the Emperor waiting."
There was about two meters or four paces between me and the portal, but as soon as I crossed half of that distance, the orc spoke:
"While you are tying the strings on your shoes and coat... STOP!" barked the governor, when I took another step, "It wouldn't be right to appear before the Emperor looking all shabby. So while you are tidying yourself up, I think I will tell you a little story. Do tie up your coat, while you're at it," suggested the orc, despite my coat being in an ideal condition and the small strings that hung on it just for decoration, clearly not untied in any way. But if the orc demands it, I should obey. Especially since I was about to become a witness of a unique phenomenon: stories from the head of the Pryke mine.
"Once upon a time there lived one naive Shaman, who believed in justice. He thought that if he combined the strength of several Shamans and created a circle, he would have a chance of stopping a traitor, who tried to end the lives of hi
s own brothers. The naive Shaman brought his proposal before the council, but was ridiculed by the head of the council, the traitor's brother. Shiam laughed at the idea and called the Shaman a panic spreader. Knowing that this went against all the tenets of the ancestors, the naive Shaman challenged the head of the council. He knew what a defeat might cost him, but he couldn't stand idly and watch Geranika destroying his brothers. As soon as the two rivals entered the ritual circle, the fight had commenced. Both the head of the council and the naive Shaman were High Shamans, so the result of the fight should have been decided by their combat prowess. Shiam was a weak High Shaman, so after only five summonings, he was thrown to the ground. All he had to do was finish him off, but the naive Shaman hesitated. He still hoped that the head of the council made a genuine mistake and there was no need to kill him. He really shouldn't have done that... Shiam jumped to his feet, grabbed the Shaman and strange dark phantoms spewed out of his hands. But these weren't Spirits, because they cut through the defense as if it was never there. No-one else saw these phantoms, but they were there. The naive Shaman had lost and Shiam decided to mock him, allowing him to live, but stripping him of his shamanism... That's the way this story goes, I hope that it helps you."
So Shiam used the Shadows during his fight with Prontho? He's one of Geranika's followers! The head of the Shaman council is a traitor!
Update of the 'Restoration of Justice' quest. The High Shaman Prontho told you the truth about the duel between him and Shiam. Address the Shaman Council and accuse Shiam of betrayal.
"Right, preening session over," Prontho was done with his tale now. "They'll be getting impatient. Mahan..."
I turned and looked into the grey eyes of the Pryke mine governor.
"They weren't torturing me for several months trying to break me, so I'm capable of thinking clearly... Try to understand Kornik and ... prove to all of them that you deserve the title of Great Shaman! Go now!"
The Secret of the Dark Forest ( (The Way of the Shaman: Book #3) Page 43
