The Way of the Clan 2 by Dem Mikhaylov
The Way of the Clan 2
Revised and corrected edition
Chapter 1
Red Demons. Bad News On a Sunny Day. Tremors. Angels Falling from Sky.
I was about to get to Mossy Hills when I saw a battlefield covered with ‘corpses’ just in front of me. I rudely pulled the reins to stop Help.
Then forced it to turn around and go twenty meters away. Only after that I could relieve. The danger was over. Still sitting in the saddle I put my palm against the forehead to strain my eyes. I was staring at the place where the battle had happened a while ago. I couldn’t stop scolding myself. What a noob I am! A dummy! A jerk! How could I forget to take almost the most important thing for travelling! A spyglass! A vital thing in Valdira.
Or as an alternative I could have bought a rather cheap spell ‘Lynx eye’ that actually featured the same function but it constantly consumed mana. Moreover, observation over surroundings via a spyglass or the spell provided an appropriate achievement – ‘Observer’. Earlier I didn’t care about those achievements much but now having a diamond account I understood that they gave me good bonuses. Additionally, there were a number of skills to ‘develop’ talent of observation to a high degree. A gamer with a set of skills that were properly selected and advanced could see a lot – sure, it wasn’t like an X-ray, but quite similar to it! Well, never mind. If any spyglass – even the worst one – is available in Mossy Hills, I’ll buy it. That’s for sure! But then I had to keep on observing without any devices. A narrow dusty road. Half a kilometer away from the village. About three dozens of broken and set on fire carts were left burning on the road-side. There was a sign on some carts that were still kept from fire. But it was hard to distinguish it. It looked like a bold T-letter or a vertically held hammer. It seemed to be a small train of carts. But I couldn’t see any draught animals nearby – probably, the attackers had taken them away or killed. The train of carts had been guarded both by ‘locals’ and gamers – about two dozens of silver clots of mist were hovering over the ground. But it was quite possible that all the guards were gamers. Actually it depended on the fact who the train belonged to. It was impossible to know a level or a race of the ‘killed’ gamers. Definitely it was a mixed defense-driven group. But it failed to complete its mission and was defeated. It was quite easy to understand who the assaulters were. Among the pillars of smoke red birds were hovering croaking hoarsely and doing a circle dance again and again over the corpses. Despite of the inappropriate color, it was ravens. Crimson ravens is a distinguishing gimmick of the Red Demons, a clan of aggrs. Such a grin and a trap as the ravens were hovering not for the sake of beauty and a sort of decor. They would attack anyone as soon as he or she came closer and crossed an invisible border. Sure, you could counterattack, particularly, if you were a high-level advanced gamer but still… Moreover, the red ravens’ claws and beaks were covered with an unknown extremely dangerous poison, the Red Demons was the only clan that knew its recipe. Even if there were some valuable things on the corpses of killed gamers, it was impossible to acquire them, you would be pecked to death. Besides, the owners of the ‘corpses’ wouldn’t let you come closer without fighting.
As a rule, new gamers were trapped like that – those who were not aware of the severe reality of Valdira. They saw something interesting and ran like hell there eager to take either a valuable item or money. So they grabbed as much as they could just to recover at the Respawn location being dead broke with a collection of bad memories. A dozen of birds attacking you, pecking you like hell and tearing you into shreds by their claws… For complete imbeciles unaware of such clan signs and unable to estimate the scope of their inappropriate actions committed, there was another big sign with a clear inscription. Only the blind could miss it. There was a thick pole made of red copper in the middle of the battle-field. A black flag with a broad crimson borderline was waving on it. I couldn’t see the details because I was too far away, but actually I didn’t have to see them – I knew what was depicted there. There was a black raven with widely-opened wings sitting on a bloody human skull in the centre of the flag. There was an inscription ‘Red Demons’ in black letters along the top edge of the flag. And a short mocking phrase at the bottom – ‘Yup! We did it!’
Additionally, there was some information written in tiny letters on the ‘feather’ and the ‘wing’ that attacked. So if you felt like revenging, you wouldn’t have difficulties finding out the assaulters’ names, they had already left their signatures. Just read and go ahead! Take revenge! If you are brave enough to do it…
I stopped observing and pressed my knees against the horse’s sides again. I saw enough to understand everything.
Red Demons had great fun here. Probably, it was the same troop that I was about to face just a while ago. An aggressive attack, a quick neutralization of the train guards, looting and a rapid retreat. It was done quickly and professionally. And then it occurred to me what the hell the Red Demons’ troop was doing there. In the middle of such a wasteland. Sure, they had come here not to rob a couple of carts carrying wheat, maize and other cereals…
Stop! I shouldn’t worry about it.
I had no idea whose train they had looted and I wasn’t going to find it out. I had a lot to do… moreover, I thought that the angry owners of the ‘corpses’ would come back soon and in the heat of the moment could kill me as their enemies’ supporter. Did I really dream about it? No, I didn’t – you’re absolutely right!
Well, the place looked really desert. On my way to the center of Mossy Hills I saw three gamers at a glimpse.
The owner of a small village shop was happy to meet me. Actually the shop wasn’t very popular. And the owner was happy to see any customer. The location wasn’t big enough so gamers were not frequent guests here and spent little money.
‘Welcome! Please, come in, sir!’ the owner hurried to me.
‘Good afternoon,’ I bowed politely and stepped into the shop. It was rather cool inside. ‘I see your shop is open. Does it bring you much money?’
‘No way!’ the shopkeeper replied. ‘I rely on guests passing by, but they don’t come very often. Would you like to have a look at the goods?’
‘Yes, I would,’ I said calmly. ‘But first I’d like to offer you something. Here you are. Have a look.’
With a large confident movement I put down all my treasure in front of the trader – a luxurious deer hide and three wolf hides. Then added grand deer antlers that looked like a crown. Well, I didn’t have a chance to become a happy owner of a deer antler coat rack in my Private Room.
‘Well… seventeen silver coins for everything. It’s a good price,’ the shopkeeper needed a second to estimate my goods.
‘One golden coin,’ I was firm about it. ‘It’s my final price. And there is no use to argue with me, sir. I suppose there is a leather workshop in your pretty village. They will be happy to buy these goods.’
‘Ok, it’s a deal,’ the shopkeeper sighed. ‘Nineteen silver coins.’
‘One golden coin,’ I said again and the shopkeeper had to agree with me.
In a moment a yellow dim round coin appeared on the counter. I took it immediately. Great, I had some money so far.
‘Anything else?’
‘Yup. Do you have any good red wine?’
‘Sure! Just one silver coin per a bottle!’
‘Give me two… no, I’ll take three bottles,’ I sighed and gave back the gold coin that I had just got to take a handful of silver coins in return.
The wine was in dusty bottles made of dark glass without any label. I felt baffled looking at the dust. It mean
t either it was of great age of that wine or nobody wanted to buy it as it was really bad quality.
‘Is it good wine?’ I sounded suspicious. ‘It must be sour…’
‘Just the other way round! It’s as sweet as a beauty’s kiss! Let me ask you a question – are you going to visit anybody? Maybe our widow Larkrissa?’ the shopkeeper winked at me conspiratorially. ‘She is still very attractive! Heigh-ho!’
‘Erm… no, sir,’ I snorted. ‘I want to visit an old friend of mine. His name is Jogly. Do you know him?’
‘Sure, I know him, sir,’ the shopkeeper threw up his hands. ‘We were neighbors for ages! Now I see… why you need red wine. I’m sure he was a really good friend of yours as you spent so much time to get here and bought expensive wine. It suits the case…’
‘I’m sorry… What do you mean he ‘was’ a good friend? What is the ‘case’?’
‘I mean his funeral dinner,’ the shopkeeper was really amused. ‘Old Jogly was buried this morning. We’re having funeral tea tonight. Everybody will gather together to drink to his memory. He was a very good old man, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes, he was…’ I could hardly utter, opened one of the bottles, my hands were shaking. I stuck to the bottle’s neck. Thanks god I didn’t need a corkscrew.
The shopkeeper was staring at me while I drank the wine up to the end and grasped the second bottle.
‘When did you say he was buried?’ I decided to specify. ‘This morning?’
‘Yes, you’re right. Everything was done properly - he was buried at the dawn as our traditions say. Don’t be so sad! He lived a long life! There is no use to mourn now. Or did you want to be at the funeral? I understand how much you regret about it…’
‘You can’t imagine how much!’ I agreed in a sad voice and gulped again.
The shopkeeper didn’t cheat me. The wine was pretty good. I opened the third bottle, gave it to the bearer of the sad news and croaked in a strained voice, ‘To his memory!’
‘Erm, it would be a sin to refuse,’ the shopkeeper took the wine. ‘To his memory!’
‘Right,’ I gurgled into the bottle.
‘But… you know there were some gossips,’ my drinking buddy informed me in a conspiratorial voice while leaning towards me. ‘Our local blabbermouths spread so many rumors. They’ve got loose tongues, never stop chattering!’
‘What are they talking about?’ I asked indifferently. My head was in a mess, all my thoughts were mixed and the talkative shopkeeper was a kind of salvation for me. The best way to get rid of hard thoughts is to listen to a chatterbox.
What a cheater that fortune-teller was! Damn you and your bloody tent! Damn your nephew! It would stop him giving his bloody advice!
‘They are talking about… god only knows what…’ the shopkeeper went on whispering into my ear while bending over the counter between us. ‘They say that the old man was killed! Somebody helped him going to a better world!’
‘Really?’ I forgot to add the word ‘sir’. ‘Are you sure that what they mean? Why do they think so?’
‘Because the day before his death, he was examined by a healer – magician who was passing by. He had treated my neighbor’s hernia by one spell! And he didn’t take much money!’ the shopkeeper blurted out solemnly. ‘Everybody understood that he is a great healer. A master! And, besides, he’s an honest man!’
‘I can’t understand what you mean,’ I confessed.
‘What can’t you understand, sir?’ the shopkeeper got angry at my dullness. ‘The son of the departed loved his father very much and cared about his health a lot. That’s why he decided to ask the healer to his father and didn’t bother how much it cost him. So, that healer examined old Jogly properly, palpated him, and uttered some spells to check him inside, like how his heart was beating and if there were any diseases. And then he said – don’t worry! He made sure that Jogly would live for a long time. After that the healer left. But next morning the old man was found dead. He passed away.’
‘Well,’ I said slowly. The words I had just heard waken me up. I strove to remember if I had ever faced the facts that quest-related ‘locals’ died. The result was rather disappointing – sometimes it happened. Especially if a ‘local’ was suffering from an abnormal disease or was bit by a strange monster. Then such a sufferer could ask any gamer to find a drug or an antidote for him or her as soon as possible. If the gamer couldn’t do it on time, the sufferer would go to a better world. But sometimes it happened another way. But at that moment I didn’t have a clear quest. It was just a piece of murky advice given by the mysterious fortune-teller.
‘That’s it!’ the shopkeeper whispered in triumph. He pulled other two bottles of wine out of the counter. ‘Let’s drink one more! It’s on me, don’t worry!’
‘Ok!’ I agreed and stretched my shaking hand to take a dusty bottle. The wine turned out to be quite strong, so my motion coordination failed a bit. ‘So, you feel suspicious, don’t you? And your gossips have some doubts…’
‘All these doubts are about his daughter-in-law! He was so unlucky with her! As for his son, he is such a nice guy that everybody envied old Jogly. He’s so careful. Such a reliable support for his parents. But as for his daughter-in-law… ugh! All the neighbors are laughing at her. She can neither cook, nor work around the house. She can’t even feed hens. And she never smiles for a reason. And when she throws an angry glance at you, you’ll start hiccupping. That’s for sure! The late Jogly didn’t like her at all. They were always arguing. I dare say they argued every day – screamed like hell.’
‘Stop! Do you mean your gossips blame his daughter-in-law,’ I was amused. ‘Do they really think that she killed him?..’
‘There is nobody else to blame. There is nobody else who wanted him to die?’ the shopkeeper replied. ‘She is like a snake in the grass! But now it’s too late to play this guessing game, sir. Let old Jogly rest in peace. He will never tell us the truth. If only the ghost of him rises from the grave and reveals the secret, ha-ha… I would give two golden coins to know the truth! We loved old Jogly so much. He was very friendly and always ready to help anybody in need. Sorry, sir, I don’t know your name…’
‘Rosgard,’ I answered him.
‘I’m Stathan,’ the shopkeeper nodded in reply. ‘To Jogly’s memory!’
‘To Jogly’s memory!’ I nodded too and then repeated the words of my drinking buddy. ‘If only the ghost of him can rise from his grave… erm… Stathan, can you tell me if she is so helpless and unfriendly why Jogly’s son married her?’
‘Have you seen her?’ Stathan narrowed his cunning eyes.
‘No, I haven’t,’ I shrugged.
‘That’s the reason! You’ll understand why as soon as you see her. She’s the most beautiful girl in our village. So curvy!’ Stathan exclaimed twiddling the tip of his moustache. ‘If only I were with her at the hayloft one moonlit night, I wouldn’t fancy sleeping…’
I wasn’t going to listen to the shopkeeper’s erotic dreams anymore, so I got down to business:
‘Well, I see, Stathan! Would you like me to solve this problem?’
‘What problem?’ the boozy shopkeeper asked me, wiping heavy drops of sweat from his forehead. What a hot guy this Stathan is! But I couldn’t realize what encouraged him more – wine or cheeky thoughts about the wife of his fellow villager. What a local playboy he is!
‘Well, I can find out everything about this case with old Jogly, why he passed away so unexpectedly. And if he wasn’t killed…’
‘Indeed, he was!’ Stathan muttered and then smashed his fist to make the counter shake. ‘It’s not clear, you see, but our gossips will never chat in vain!’
So, gossips have become truthbringers… when I wonder.
‘If he died without anyone’s help, I won’t charge you a copper coin for my service,’ I suggested softly. ‘But if I find out that somebody has helped the old man to go to heaven, then I’ll ask you for two golden coins you have promised. What do you think abou
t it?’
‘Erg… phew, err-r-r…’ Stathan started trembling, he dropped the bottle that rolled over the counter leaving bloody splashes of wine. ‘Agkhyvoly… ergkhlor… Zerrrt…’
‘Stathan?!’ I stared at him, then stepped back shaking as I was drunk. ‘Stathan!’
What the hell is going on with these shopkeepers?! First in Cradle, now in Mossy Hills…
‘It’s a deal!’ blurted out Stathan, who suddenly got himself under control and caught the bottle. ‘Well, I guess I drank too much! Aha-ha! And you said it’s sour! It’s a strong thing, isn’t it? Ok, I agree. I’ll give you two golden coins without any regret to find out the truth!/
You’ve got a quest “???”
To investigate the circumstances around the death of old Jogly from the village called Mossy Hills.
Minimum conditions of the quest: ???
Award: two golden coins.
‘Ok,’ I nodded carefully, stepped forward and shook Stathan’s hand. ‘I’ll do my best.’
‘That’s a deal! Trust me, Rosgard – you know shopkeepers are quite mean, but this time I’ll be happy to spend not to save! Try to do it as best as you can!’
‘I will,’ I assured him, imagining myself in Sherlock Holmes’s hat. ‘Stathan, can you tell me everything you know about old Jogly’s death? Have you seen anything strange? For example…’
But I didn’t finish the phrase.
The ground under my feet trembled, logged walls of the shop started groaning, dust fell from the ceiling. I couldn’t keep my feet on the ground, fell on my knees and dropped the wine that I didn’t finish. The bottle flew to bits. Dark red pool spread over the floor in which my face crooked in amazement reflected.
‘What’s the hell?’
Then a stronger impulse came. When I saw bending ceiling beams, I dashed on my fours to the exit screaming like hell, ‘Stathan! Go outside! Earthquake! Come on! Hurry up!’
We ran outside together. Fell into dust and got frozen waiting for other spasms of the ground. Screams of scared villagers were in the air, watchdogs were howling, cows were mooing… and there was nothing else special. Everything looked as usual apart from decreasing tremors and some dust hovering in the air that made me think that night had come. No more shocks. Just two huge tremors of the earth crust and it was over. The valdiraquake seemed to have finished without apocalypses prospects.
The Way of the Clan 2 (World of Valdira) Page 1
