Project Daily Grind (Mirror World Book #1)

by Alexey Osadchuk

  Almost simultaneously, the Dark and Light players poured out of the portals. The room dissolved in cheers.

  “They’re all mixed up!” someone shouted.

  “Why did they do that?” others voiced their disappointment.

  No one could understand anything. As far as I could make out, the forces of Light had decided to march out as one army. The uniform ranks of heavy footmen paraded first, closely followed by swordsmen. The wizards and archers kept slightly behind.

  The Dark clans, however, had chosen to march out separately each under their own colors. They looked the same, actually: humans, Rhogghs, gnomes and Alves. The only difference was that they supported the so-called Powers of the Dark.

  “The Lighties are finished!” Smith guffawed. “They shouldn’t have done it! The Darks will make quick work of them!”

  I glanced at Pete. He bit his lip in disappointment. His eyes betrayed his dismay. Personally, I couldn’t understand what Smith was so happy about. Never mind. Let’s see how it was all going to end.

  The battle began without warning. The Dark ones charged. Almost immediately it became clear that the Light ones were going to deploy defensively. The first arrows and spells zapped through the air. Wow. I wouldn’t want to be the one stuck in that mess. Even though admittedly the show was top rate.

  The Darks split up. The Lords of Chaos and the Dark Legionnaires left their positions and moved out to the flanks. The Independent Clan and the Caste kept advancing toward the center of the Light ranks. The Darks’ strategy was rather clear: first to knock their wizards and archers out of action and then close in on the heavy footmen.

  A sigh of surprise ran across the inn. Instead of trying to stop the enemy’s flanking them, the Light ones formed a square and ensconced all their wizards and archers in the middle. Had the terrain of the Plateau been more restrictive—had it had some natural obstacles like hills, groves, or little rivers—the generals of Light might have chosen a different tactic. But seeing as it was lifeless and flat as a pancake, such a step was in my eyes probably the best one.

  No one seemed to share my view. The audience raged, calling the Light generals all sorts of unflattering names. If you listened to the room, one had to be an idiot to allow the enemy to surround you so stupidly.

  Couldn’t they see that this breakthrough had cost both the Lords of Chaos and the Dark Legionnaires an incredible amount of energy? They’d performed their stunt while being showered with arrows and spells while the main forces of Light just stood there behind the safety of their magic shields.

  Finally, the Darks closed in. This signaled the start of the melee. The heavy footmen joined in the battle. The ranks of Light quivered under the pressure from the Caste and the Independent Clan. It looked as if they were going to break any minute now.

  Some of the more faint-hearted supporters were already leaving the room, spitting in disgust and waving disappointed hands at the screen. As in, there’s nothing left to do here, we might just as well kiss our money goodbye. Those who’d bet on the Darks were rubbing their hands.

  I shrugged. Strange people. Couldn’t they see that this breakthrough was the beginning of the Dark ones’ agony? Even I, a humble interpreter-turned-mine digger, could see that the Darks had had it.

  A few minutes later, the inevitable happened. The Lights counterattacked.

  The swordsmen who’d been hovering behind the heavy footmen’s backs now infiltrated the formations of the Caste and the Independent Clan. Dying, they made sure they took a few archers and especially wizards along. The giant red-skinned Narkh assassins brandished their curved sabers in their four arms, eyes furious, froth dripping from their fangs. This kamikaze strike on the part of the Light swordsmen had stripped the enemy’s heavy footmen of their magic backup. That was basically it. The colors of the Independent Clan turned gray, followed by those of the Caste.

  I heaved a sigh of relief and eased back in my chair. Now the defeat of the Lords of Chaos and the Dark Legionnaires was only a question of time. My heart was pounding as if I too were in the thick of the fight.

  The top-level Dark players lasted the longest. They huddled together, clumsily trying to deflect the blows. But after some time they fell too.

  Smith was a sorry sight. He stared at the screen in disbelief, watching the winners celebrate their triumph.

  The inn was in turmoil. Red-bearded Pete was dancing a jig on the table to the accompanying rattle of pots, mugs and whatnot. Those who’d bet on the Light side were beyond themselves with joy. Admittedly, as was I. My wallet was now five and a half hundred gold heavier. Many of the losers gave Smith the evil eye as they walked out.

  What were they like? What had Smith got to do with it? Yes, he was the loudest but he hadn’t forced anyone to bet on the Darks. Human nature! Everyone wants to blame someone else for their own mistakes.

  Some of the losers sincerely cheered the Light ones’ victory. And a fine victory it was, too. Later I found out that almost every member of the Dead Clan had fallen in that battle, allowing the others to finish off the Dark survivors.

  I didn’t feel like leaving the inn at all. Seeing my state, Ronald gave me an encouraging wink. He handed me a small wine flask, a nice fat slice of piping-hot bread and a chunk of yellow cheese.

  In the meantime, the inn was just beginning to celebrate. Patrons dragged the tables together while the serving girls clad them with large serving plates groaning with starters. Even out in the street I could still hear their happy voices, the clattering of the plates and the cheerful music.

  I heaved a sigh and headed for the administration center.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The freshly-installed Woods of Lirtia free app kindly informed me that I was about to visit one of the game’s largest locations that took up about 25% of Mirror World’s total area. Had I not had a detailed route to Adhur’s dwelling all mapped out, it might have taken me a few months to have found my way out of the woods.

  Talking about which, Master Grilby’s cave in the Gray Cliffs had disappeared from the trade routes map. Which meant I only had three NPCs left to visit. Two of them were located in No-Man’s Lands. I’d have loved to know what Pierrot had been thinking when he’d come up with this layout.

  I couldn’t help thinking about old Grilby. Sure, he was an NPC, a bit of binary code, but still it was weighing heavy on my heart. It had been too real.

  Trying to distract myself from unwanted thoughts, I began tinkering with my satnav settings. It didn’t take me long to synch it. Next thing I knew, the machine offered me an optimal route plan.

  The woods turned out to be quite a busy place. I caught glimpses of other players among the trees. Herbalists toiled away in the numerous open spots, mainly Alven women whose racial characteristics must have had bonuses for herbal medicine.

  I also saw plenty of hunters, mushroomers and woodcutters. I even walked past a group of fellow mine diggers busy heading into the woods. In other words, the place was buzzing with life.

  My satnav guided me along the main trail, bypassing dangerous areas and the lairs of various monsters. Confronting them wasn’t on my agenda today. True, my heart would miss a beat every time I noticed the giant beasts that looked like mutated wild boars. When an enormous black wolf crossed the trail not twenty paces away from me, I very nearly swung round and ran for dear life. Luckily, I noticed some herbalist girls farming herbs nearby. If they didn’t show any fear, things couldn’t have been that bad.

  I sighed and kept going. I was almost there, anyway.

  In another ten minutes, the trail brought me to a grove. It looked admittedly gloomy. I sort of didn’t feel like entering it. The gaps between the tree trunks seeped darkness. So scary. But my satnav, as if on purpose, insistently invited me to enter it.

  I sighed and took a few tentative steps. The wall of trees devoured me like a starved monster, closing behind my back. I walked in the shade, casting wary glances around. Everything was quiet. The air was surprisingly
fresh. It smelled of trees, of wood glue, of rotting leaves and forest blossoms.

  Gradually the path narrowed to a deer trail. Every now and again I noticed enormous clawed footprints on the ground. I just hoped Pierrot wasn’t luring me in to feed me to some forest giant.

  After some time I noticed a light behind the towering trees. Finally!

  I hurried on, leaving the last trees behind.

  The trail had taken me to a large opening overgrown with lush green grass. After the darkness of the grove, my eyes couldn’t get used to the light. A large tree towered at its center. It would have taken several people to encircle its trunk. It gave the impression that the grove had stepped back in fear, awed by the giant.

  I took a better look. That was strange. Why hadn’t I noticed it earlier? A small hut clung to the base of the tree. If you asked me what the dwelling of a forest spirit looked like, I’d tell you to come to this place and see for yourself. It had log walls overgrown with yellow moss and a tiny window—a dugout rather than a hut.

  Then I saw its owner. Correction: I heard him first.

  “Get down! Get down, I tell you, little trouble-maker!”

  A forest spirit indeed. He looked like a big fat mushroom with a long gray beard, clad in a green robe. A wide-brimmed straw hat was perched on his head. The image was completed by lots of twigs, pine needles and bits of dried leaves littering his clothes and beard.

  He stood by the wall of his hut trying to reach the roof with a long stick. Or rather, trying to reach something that was there. A little black animal was thrashing along the roof’s edge, hissing and baring its fangs. It looked like a marten.

  A cat the size of a panther, red with darker spots, watched the scene with lazy indifference. It had lynx-like tufts of fur on the tips of its ears. The cat’s tail kept swishing across the grass. I thought I knew whose footprints I’d just seen on the trail.

  I took a few more steps and stopped. I had to attract his attention somehow. All I could think of was give a little cough. “Greetings, Master Adkhur!”

  All of them, the marten included, turned toward me. Without moving, the enormous lynx focused its predatory yellow stare upon me. The old man hushed it down.

  His gloomy eyes sized me up. “Nice day to you too. Where do you think you’re coming from? And how come you know my name, dammit?”

  Faking surprise, I replied, “Who the hell doesn’t know one of the four Legendary Elders of our people?”

  He frowned. “What do you mean, your people? Are you sure, traveler, that you haven’t hit your empty head on a tree on your way here? I suggest you go back from whence you came, sir, before I tell my animal to see you off! He likes having travelers’ balls for breakfast!”

  Honestly, I was in shock. Pierrot must have overdone it this time. Never mind. I didn’t care. I had no business starting flame wars with nutty NPCs!

  I was about to turn round and leave when I remembered. But of course! My appearance! Hadn’t I updated my looks in Lyton’s shop? Didn’t I look like a dwarf now? No wonder Master Grilby sounded so pissed off. He’d seen nothing yet.

  I made my stats public. What would he say now?

  His jaw dropped. “No! Dammit...”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t do it at once,” I said. “Enemies are everywhere. I have to keep a low profile.”

  “Oh yes, yes, absolutely,” he hurried. “Please forgive the old man. I’ve grown completely out а touch here. Can’t tell a decent Ennan from a hole in a wall. This is crazy, dammit...”

  The little black marten squeaked his indignation, leaping around the roof like a hyperactive wind-up toy.

  The old man glared at him. “You make sure the roof stays in one piece! Crazy critter...”

  “You need help?” I offered.

  He sighed. “I really don’t know if you can do it. It’s a Black Grison, you see. All the way from the Steely Mountains.”

  “Oh really?” I played along.

  He answered very seriously, “He might be the last of its kind.”

  “Why?”

  He chuckled. “You’re funny, you. You seem to know me—and yet you haven’t heard of Black Grisons!”

  “I’m sorry, Master Adkhur,” I began to ad lib. “I grew up far from this part of the world, you see. I’m a Der Swyor in spirit but I know regrettably little about my own people.”

  He startled when he heard the clan’s name. “So your parents managed to rescue you? Did they raise you abroad? Is that how you escaped the terrible fate of all the others?”

  I nodded. I had to tread carefully here or I might say something I might later regret.

  “I see,” he whispered, thoughtful. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Olgerd.”

  He chuckled. “How weird. Sounds almost like Brolgerd.”

  “That’s what Master Grilby said.”

  The old man startled. “Do you know Master Grilby?” he whispered.

  I nodded. “I do. He’s my mentor.”

  The old man grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Where is he? How is he? When did you see him last? Come on, say something!”

  I waited until his torrent of questions subsided. Once the old man calmed down a bit, I said, “The Lord of the Underworld summoned him.”

  Master Adkhur slumped. He aged instantaneously, gaining a few more years before my very eyes. Tears glistened on his furrowed cheeks.

  “No,” he whispered. “What’s going to happen to us now? Brolgerd is missing. Grilby’s gone. Satis and Axe the Terrible must be dead too. What will happen to our secret lore? But... wait... didn’t you say that...”

  He looked up at me. “You said Grilby was your mentor, didn’t you?”

  I nodded. “He passed on to me the designs of his most important inventions.”

  He grabbed my shoulders again. Then he gave me a bear hug. I didn’t expect that at all. When he stepped back, the expression in his eyes had changed. I thought I caught a glimpse of hope in his gaze.

  “Well,” he said with a smile, “let’s see if you can tame this little prankster.”

  New quest alert: Black Devil

  Reward: unknown

  Accept: Yes/No

  Definitely Yes!

  Master Adkhur stepped back with a strange smile on his face, leaving me to it.

  Okay, let’s see. I walked over to the hut and focused on the little trouble-maker. He was busy digging. Bits of straw and turf were flying everywhere.

  I glimpsed the interested stare of the large spotted cat focusing on me. The marten or whatever it was, noticed my advance and paused. He tilted his sly little head to one side. His beady black eyes stared at me with curiosity.

  I immediately remembered something my next-door neighbor Aunt Luba used to say: A cat and a fridge are never too far apart. The creature on the roof admittedly looked nothing like a cat. But I wouldn’t lose anything by trying, would I?

  Closely watched by three pairs of eyes, I slowly lowered my knapsack to the ground. I was pretty sure I had some cheese in it somewhere. I broke off a tiny piece and showed it to the beastie. He was already at the roof’s edge, craning his neck, his tiny moist nose busy detecting the new smell.

  I smiled. “Come on, kiddo, get down. Cheese... yumm…”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, the grison covered the distance between us in a few long bounds. Wasn’t he fast! His long lithe body was beautiful. His black fur shimmered in the sun.

  Very slowly so as not to alarm him I lowered myself to one knee and offered him the bit of cheese in my outstretched hand. Come on, take it. No need to be afraid.

  The grison straightened his neck. His right leg hovered in the air. His ears stood up.

  In an almost imperceptible swoop, he snatched the cheese from my hand and leapt back to a safe distance. Then he sat there savoring the treat.

  That was it! I had him! Just look at him, squinting with delight! Apparently, he loved cheese now. And it wasn’t for nothing I’d only given him a tiny bit. Now he’
d be back asking for more.

  I was right. The grison made quick work of my offering and looked back at me. By then, I had a second bit of cheese ready. Only this time I placed it on my shoulder and stood up. What would he do now?

  The grison tilted his cute head, thinking, then dashed toward me. Two powerful leaps later, he was sitting on my shoulder holding the bit of cheese in his front paws. I could hear him purr next to my ear just like a cat.

  To capitalize on my success, I offered him a third piece, a bigger one this time. Then I turned and gave Master Adkhur a victorious look.

  He grinned. “What are you like! Just don’t tell me that cheese is all you’ve got!”

  * * *

  “These days, they tell lots of bullshit about those times. Some people believe it. Others don’t. Believing is safer, I think.”

  Master Adkhur was already slightly the worse for wear. He’d had his fill of Ronald’s wine. We’d been sitting in his hut for a couple of hours already, drinking wine and chasing it down with cheese, bread and cured ham.

  The Black Grison had proved to be a glutton from hell. He’d already necked a quarter of the cheese and was now sleeping on the table, resting his cheeky little head on my arm.

  “Most people now say,” Master Adkhur kept reminiscing, “that Der Swyor masters created a terrible weapon and didn’t want to share their secret with other clans.”

  I nodded. “That’s exactly what I heard.”

  He squinted at me. “You see! They portray our honest Ennan clan as a bunch of bloodthirsty animals, dammit! They claim we were greedy and merciless. They say we couldn’t wait to conquer the rest of the world!”

  I shrugged. What could I say?

  “Not many people know,” he went on, “that when the King of Ennans died childless, our clan leader Stromwold the Steel Axe was the next in line.”

  I nodded my understanding. “Power games.”

  “Exactly. They know no mercy. Also, the rumors of the mysterious weapon weren’t exactly groundless. So the Clan Council Under the Mountain sentenced us all to death. Each and every one of us: women, children and old folk.”