by Alex Bobl
She replaced the receiver and gave Yanna another studying look. The girl shrugged. "I've no idea what they brought me here for."
The woman turned to the desk sergeant. "To the cells?"
He pulled at his moustache. "No way. They're all packed solid. Can't you see what's happening in town?"
He called the door watch and told him to put the girl in one of the chairs opposite the guards' room. "I want you to keep an eye on her," he said. "Don’t let her out of your sight. Some very important people are coming in a minute to collect her."
* * *
"These two are Alpha's spies," Battlemaster repeated, approaching Attila and Beast. "The sooner we kill them, the less he'll know about our plans."
The room fell quiet.
After a pregnant pause, a familiar noise cut through the silence. Very familiar. Wasn't it... it was! The power cart's engine!
People at the table looked at each other in surprise. Moneybag grabbed at his enormous nose. Ilvas and Little Blacksmith jumped to their feet.
"Hey!" Beast shouted. "That's our ride coming! Attila, can you hear?"
"Kill them!" Battlemaster shouted. "These spies have brought enemies to the castle! They're driving here!"
"Driving?" Leandra raised an eyebrow.
The prisoners' hands were still bound. In the confusion, Beast shouldered Rawlin aside and headbutted Battlemaster in the stomach, pushing him to the ground.
"Traitor!" he shouted, kicking the fallen Drow.
Before anyone could do anything, Bard stepped toward Beast and forced him to back off. "We need to look into it-" he began.
Battlemaster sat up and reached under his shirt, producing a large round medallion. He clicked its lid open, revealing an icy-blue stone inside.
"Watch out!" Leandra jumped to her feet, losing her famed cool.
A bolt of icy-blue lightning escaped the medallion and hit Bard with the crystal sound of a thousand tiny fragments of ice breaking.
This was a spell similar to those of the clerics' staffs, Attila realized.
With a quiet yelp, Bard collapsed to the floor. His chest and shoulders were rapidly disappearing under a sparkling glassy crust.
"I told you!" Beast bellowed, leaping onto Battlemaster who was trying to launch another spell on him. Beast's enormous orcish boot rammed into Battlemaster's head. Rawlin and Guidor the Hunter hurried to pull the prisoner aside. Rawlin straddled Battlemaster, twisting his arms and securing them with a leather strap. Battlemaster struggled at first; then, when he realized he couldn't set himself free, he froze motionless, his glazed-over eyes staring in front of him.
By then, the sound of the cart's engine outside had stopped. Guidor leaned over Bard's iced torso and produced a tiny vial. Opening it, he sprinkled some of the liquid on Bard's chest. Bard's body arched within clouds of steam, sparking brightly.
"It won't do anything," Leandra walked over to him. "There's nothing anyone can do against a Frozen Flesh spell."
Hurried footsteps came from the corridor outside. The door creaked. Tapping his scarlet-topped staff on the stone tiles, Wayfarer walked into the room.
A gasp emanated throughout the crowd. The Pioneers whispered between themselves, peering at the newcomer and stepping aside to give way to him. Those in corners craned their necks to see him.
Wayfarer strode through the room, forcing some of them to shrink out of his way. He nodded to Attila and Beast. Seeing the lying Bard, he sharply changed direction. Guidor and Leandra stepped out of his way.
Wayfarer lowered himself on one knee next to Bard and studied his body. "Bard, I want you to listen to me!" he said in a loud voice. "Tell me how we can get inside the Citadel. Where can we find the Great Wizards?"
Slowly Bard turned his head.
"Bard!" Wayfarer squeezed his shoulder. Bard winced but remained silent. "There's a whole army of them waiting by the Citadel. If we don't find out how to get inside..."
No one said a word. Attila held his breath.
"In the round tower," Bard burst into a bout of coughing. Wayfarer sat on the floor, the skirts of his cloak brushing the dirty tiles. He lay his staff on the floor next to him and lifted Bard's head. His coughing grew stronger until finally he caught his breath and struggled to speak. His voice died and came back, so that few words reached those surrounding them.
"The bars... in the hall... and a room above them," he wheezed. "There's a beam of light in its center... the Great Portal..."
"Yes, the broadband channel," Wayfarer interrupted. "What else in the room? Any traps or shields?"
"I haven't been there myself... I came here... to complete a quest chain. Long and complex. I was here by the Citadel... and then your message... Take this... then you can..."
Bard reached a weakening hand under his shirt. Something gleamed in his clenched fist. Wayfarer covered his hand with his and leaned closer. Bard whispered something in his ear, then fell silent.
Wayfarer sat up and grabbed Bard by his collar, shaking him. "Can the crypt's magic raise the Wraith? Tell me!"
Bard didn't answer. Wayfarer shook him again.
"Stop it," Guidor said. "He's dead."
On Rawlin's orders, two Highlanders dragged Battlemaster's body away. Even dead, he still remained Alpha's ears. Wayfarer stepped toward the table.
"You, the so-called Pioneers," Beast demanded, "how about untying us first? You blond one, come and remove this nonsense!"
Rawlin cast an inquiring glance at Leandra. She looked at Wayfarer and nodded. Rawlin walked over to Attila and Beast and cut the leather straps on their hands. Beast began demonstratively rubbing his wrists and shaking them, showing everybody the torture he'd been subjected to. His hands struck sparks. Little tongues of flame flickered in his open palms. The crowd around him stepped back just in case.
"Give me my Book back," Attila grumbled. "I saw the archer pass it on to you."
Without objection, Rawlin produced the book. Attila hurried to check on the Eye. It hovered over the castle, transmitting the picture to the Book's screen.
Garreth the Goldfinch, Leandra, Blacksmith, Moneybag, the two alchemists and Ilvas the Anarchists' clan leader — all of them sat looking at the man in the leather cloak. The crowd was silent. The floor and the benches were empty — everybody was standing now.
"What's going on?" Garreth finally demanded.
"We need to lock up the Alpha-controlled Pioneer in a well-insulated room until everything's over," Wayfarer said.
"We should kill him! Cut his lying head off!" Ilvas protested. "He killed our Bard!"
"The player who uses this avatar isn't guilty," Wayfarer slipped the object he'd received from Bard into his pocket and walked over to the table. Leaning against his staff, he spoke slowly,
"We'll have to go to the Citadel without Bard. We don't have much time left to get ready so I won't be long," he looked over the table and the quiet crowd. "My name's Wayfarer. Many of you already know me or at least have heard about me. These two and I," he pointed at Attila and Beast, "we lost each other in the caves under Deadville. I wanted you all to come here because-"
Attila couldn't hear his last words properly. They sounded muffled. He was sick again. One part of his brain was trying to keep his body standing while the other was struggling to make out Wayfarer's speech. This time the bout of dizziness was longer but finally it subsided. His vision came back into focus; his head stopped spinning. In the meantime, Wayfarer went on,
"The Forest Vagabonds, the Silver Wind clan, the Syndicate... oh, I can even see a few Black Tulips! Very well. I'll try to outline the problem to you. Gryad has fallen under the rule of so-called Alpha, an artificial intelligence which controls all the mobs, monsters, black clerics and a certain number of players. We can't expect help from RussoVirt. Robert Artov, their chief programmer — you know him as Healer — is either dead or has been forced offline," Wayfarer nodded at Attila. "This is the only person who still has some contact with the real world,"
Suddenl
y all eyes were on him. Beast next to him stood up proudly, sticking out his beard.
"In the past twenty-four hours, only one player has managed to quit the game. It's a girl who's currently helping us from outside. We need to get into the Conclave's secret room. Bard has been working in this direction for a long time. This was his lifelong dream. He completed a complex quest chain and received something that might have helped him do it. But he can't help us anymore. I want to ask all the hunters and scouts: have any of you managed to approach the Citadel less than a crossbow bolt's flight?"
The crowd hummed. A freckled ginger-haired Elf pushed his way through the crowd and stood by the table. His unnaturally long arms and narrow hands seemed to have a life of their own: they kept twitching, tugging at his sleeves and fingering his scabbard, his fingers locking and unlocking, then diving into his pockets. His ears too were unusually long and pointy, ending in fine fluffy tufts.
"I have," he mumbled.
"Oh, Crayfish," Wayfarer said. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Hi."
"Right. Now," Wayfarer turned to the others, "this is a private conversation."
The crowd hummed their indignation. "Why?" Ilvas demanded.
"Probably because there might be other Alpha agents among you. He's still struggling to control human players but... Sorry, but we — I mean us at the table — have to speak in private. The only people who can stay here are the leader of the Hunters, the mercs' chief, Crayfish and these two who were with me. We need ten to fifteen minutes to discuss everything so that we can march out within an hour tops."
"Rawlin should stay too," Leandra said.
"And what if Alpha's people are there at the table?" a voice called out of the crowd. "What if you're a traitor yourself?"
Wayfarer shrugged. "Then you'd better accept the fact you'll all be cogs in an AI's mind."
"My Highlander brothers!" Garreth the Goldfinch leapt onto the table. The protests subsided. "Brothers! This isn't an order — I'm asking you to leave the room. Ilvas?"
Reluctantly Ilvas rose. "Fellow Anarchists! You know I'll rip out any bastard's throat for you. Have no doubt I'll be acting in the clan's interests. So please vacate the room now. Please."
It took a few minutes for everyone to leave. When finally only a dozen players remained on the donjon's lower floor, Wayfarer turned back to Crayfish. "Have you seen a crypt near the Citadel?"
Crayfish ruffled his fiery mop and wrinkled his forehead. "I think so," he finally said.
"Bard told me it was near the West Gate. Is that so?"
Crayfish ran a restless hand through his hair, then shoved it into his pocket. His left ear twitched, flicking its tuft. "Probably. It's a nasty place."
"Why so?"
"There's some sort of tiny graveyard there. Only one grave. I mean, one crypt. It's a fence... and the earth beyond it is steaming with magic."
"Dangerous?"
"I wasn't the one to check. It must be. The crypt is absolutely swarming with magic. It'll burn you alive."
"Are you sure you can find the place? Think you can take us there?"
"Well," Crayfish frowned, staring at the ceiling as if searching for the answer written there. His ear twitched again. "Yeah, sure. I remember where it is. There's a road leading to the gate with a forest to the right. The river and River Castle are further on. To the left there's fallow ground. The crypt is just past it."
"Will you show it to us?"
"Yeah, why not?"
"Why do we need to get to the Wizards?" Ilvas asked.
"Because the broadband in their room is our only means of communication," Wayfarer gestured around the room, "with the real world. Alpha has installed a firewall. A Guard, as he calls it. If we manage to hack and deactivate it from inside, our real-life helper can then upload a virus that will kill Alpha. Then finally everybody will be able to quit the game."
Silence hung in the air. Leandra adjusted her tiara. "Very well, but what's the crypt got to do with it?"
"I remember," Attila said suddenly. Everyone turned to look at him. "We found this underground room in the Dwarves' tunnels... it was some kind of training ground. There was a model of part of the Citadel there, including the crypt. I think the Engineers under the Mountain knew about it. They were training to attack the Citadel. It was probably an event that had never transpired."
"That's where Bard found the key to the Crypt," Wayfarer said. "The crypt is the grave of a servant girl that used to work in the Citadel before the times of Peril. Her name was Fair Baby Magdalene. She was Ashileth's lover."
"Ashileth?" Leandra raised an inquiring eyebrow. "The High Elf and one of the Seven Wizards? But I thought he was married to Nea, another Conclave member? Ashileth and Nea, the two great wizards of the Elven race. Does that mean he cheated on her?"
"Exactly. When the cunning Drow Eschalot told her about her husband's infidelity, she poisoned the girl. Legend says it was some dreadful Elven poison that made Fair Magdalene's skin peel off. Revenge wasn't enough for Nea: she wanted her husband to see the true essence of the girl he loved."
"Jesus," Beast said. "These Conclave wizards were some pieces of work. Why did they call her a 'baby'? And how did it all end, then?"
"Ashileth ordered to have a crypt built by the Citadel walls and buried the girl there with full royal honors. He intended to humiliate his wife by showing her that he valued a lowborn servant just as much as he did her."
"I know," Attila said. All eyes turned to him. "There must be a secret tunnel connecting the crypt to the Citadel. Am I right? This Ashileth, did he ever visit his lover's grave?"
"Yeah, like, to shed a lonely tear!" Beast's face brightened. "So it looks like the Dwarven Engineers knew about it?"
"Fair Baby Magdalene was in fact a Dwarf from the clan of the Engineers Under the Mountain," Wayfarer explained.
"An Elf falling for a Dwarf!" Leandra cringed.
"In any case, Dwarves knew about both the crypt and the tunnel. They even had a key to it. This was the key that Bard found recently in the Steam Tunnels while completing the long quest chain that ended with penetrating the Citadel. This is why he came here when Alpha began his attack. Now we can use the same route. This is my plan: both the Highlanders and the Anarchists are experienced warriors. Your job will be to meet Alpha's army by the Citadel's walls. You will ambush them in the woods by the West Gate road, then attack them."
Ilvas cast a doubtful glance at the Highlanders' leader and shook his head.
"This isn't the right time for clan feuds!" Wayfarer snapped. "Your job is to distract Alpha's main forces and lure them away from the Citadel."
He turned to the two alchemists and was about to speak when Ilvas interrupted him, "These so-called 'main forces', where are they now?"
"They're gathering by the Citadel's gates, about to head here. That's why I was so late. I've been gathering all the intel I could. Now, the esteemed alchemists and Sir Moneybag, you will provide enough artifacts, elixirs and weapons for everyone. Moneybag, I'm talking to you! Your job is to help them. Free of charge."
The dwarf scratched the bridge of his nose. "Is it that serious?"
"Very. We must work as a team. The only alternatives are death or slavery. Your body won't belong to you anymore but to some sick inhuman AI. Is this what you want? Now you, Blacksmith. I want you and your men to plant mines on part of the road and the woods around it. When Alpha's army begins to overpower the clan, you must blow up-"
"... the entire location," Little Blacksmith chuckled, finishing his sentence.
"No. The area in front of the Citadel. Think you can do it?"
Blacksmith nodded, suppressing a smile. "We'll plant some magic mines. I just might scrape together enough ingredients, provided Moneybag steps in."
"The hunters and the mercs will cover Blacksmith's group's retreat," Wayfarer added.
"And we can penetrate the Citadel!" Beast shouted, attracting the table's attention to Attila and himself. "We've seen what the
vault looks like, haven't we? And we know how to fire a mythogun!"
"A mythogun?" Leandra repeated. Little Blacksmith turned to Beast, curious.
"He means mithrinol-powered weapons," Wayfarer explained. "The car I left outside is also equipped with a mithrinol gun. You also have an exosuit with another one of those, and a rifle. They will be a great help in battle."
Attila kept staring at this strange man in a leather cloak. Things seemed to have taken a serious turn. Who was he, really? Even the biggest clan leaders seemed to be obeying his orders. Even that old fox Moneybag.
Attila stepped aside and leaned against a column. He wasn't so weak any more but he was wary of a new bout of nausea. He was also thirsty as hell but the water from his flask didn't do anything for him anymore.
"And you, what are you going to do? Garreth asked.
"I'm going with them into the Citadel," Wayfarer nodded at Beast and Attila. "We're already a team, if you know what I mean."
"But how are we going to know if you've succeeded?" Ilvas demanded. "What if all three of you die in the Citadel?"
Wayfarer shrugged. "If you can quit the game in the end, it will mean we've succeeded. If you can't... then Alpha has won."
Chapter Twenty
The police station corridor was crowded with people. Some sat on chairs that lined the walls while others paced the narrow space. A gaunt man was rocking from side to side, pressing his hand to his bandaged forehead; next to him, an indignant old man kept scurrying to and fro. A plain-clothes cop was escorting a burly skinhead, his hands cuffed behind his back.
"Excuse me," Yanna rose and addressed the duty officers through the glass. "You need to understand. They've made a mistake, honest. I'm only a-"
"I'm busy," Captain Bukhraeva cut her short, lifting the phone receiver.
A young police sergeant trotted to the booth to ask for something. His back shielded Yanna from the officers' view. She could hear the duty sergeant yell at the young cop, shouting, "Go see the agents upstairs in Room 13. They're the ones with all the papers."
