“We have to. But I don’t know.” I ran a hand over my hair and sighed. But as I watched the twitching corpse of the last bandit, a thought occurred to me. “Wait… there is one way we can do this.”
“Uh-oh.” Karalti chuckled, mind to mind.
Some of the older, deader bandits were turning to dust, their bodies pixelating, then vanishing to leave a sack of loot behind. I raided all the bags on the way over to my intended victim, picking up 30 Lira, the currency of Dakhdir, bullets, crossbow bolts, gunpowder, and the ornately decorated [Flintlock Pistol] that the Bandit Leader had waved at us. My boots crunched on the dry earth as I came to a stop in front of the guy who had just gacked himself.
“What’re you gonna do?” Karalti watched me like a curious bird, cocking her head from side to side.
“About to try and put the 'romance' back into 'necromancy.'“ I pulled off one of my gloves, baring the inky black Mark of Matir, and slid on the spellglove gifted to me in Vlachia. I fitted a tiny sealed capsule of [Greencrystal Mana] into the back of the glove, snapped it closed, and glanced up as a holographic alert appeared.
[You have gained Magic Points! Current MP: 50/150]
This was my first time trying magic of any kind. Other mages I’d seen in Archemi used magical incantations and gestures of their hands when casting spells. I didn’t usually play mages and waving my arms around felt dumb, so I settled for glaring at the corpse and holding my hand out over it. As I focused on him, I felt a hard, cold power build in my chest. My hyperactive mind briefly settled into stillness. Karalti's wing cast the body into shadow, a distorted black outline trembling on the red sand. As I stared at it, I could feel it looking back at me.
“Suund'karon! Karalt', Binah!” I uttered the command words of the only spell I could use - Shadow of the Sun, the necromantic rite I'd gained when I'd almost been transformed into a vampiric thrall.
The light around us darkened, and the air chilled. In the middle of the desert, my breath began to frost. The green mana pulsed through the glove, wisping out into the air as tendrils of dark energy, as wispy and fine as spider silk. They wrapped around the corpse, and his shadow shuddered, sucking into and dissolving in the pool of Dark mana. Slowly, it came together in a vaguely humanoid form and stood up, shadow matter billowing off into the wind.
[You have earned a badge: Reduce, Reuse, Reanimate]
[You have gained a thrall: Shadow Rogue (Level 5)]
“Now we’re talking.” A small smile curled my lips. I brought up the HUD and queried 'Thralls', and immediately got taken to a sub-menu. As with Archemi's War Combat system, the Shadow's stats were simplified:
Common Shadow Rogue
Unit Rank: 0 (Level 5, Common)
Type: Incorporeal Undead
HP: 150/150
Speed: 110 (Extremely Fast)
Melee Attack: 20
Melee Defense: 4
Abilities: Life Drain, Incorporeal, Sneak Attack (x3 damage)
EXP: 300 (+200 to next level)
[Do you want to name your thrall?]
I couldn’t think of a name, so I shrugged and looked back to it. “Hey – what was your name in life?”
The shadow writhed at the sound of my voice, and when it spoke, its voice crawled up my spine like the touch of a cold finger. “Lahvan.”
“Okay, Lahvan. I'll give you a name because you're my first shadow, but I'm not going to lie. Given what you said to my little Tidbit before, you're highly disposable.” I narrowed my eyes, not daring to look away from it. “Do you know the way to Al-Asad?”
Lahvan lifted one tenebrous hand, pointing toward the open desert. When he spoke, it was a hissing, slithering sound, like dead leaves skittering over dry pavement. “Al-Asad Prison lies at the heart of a fortress called Bakhat Khasssiiiir.”
“Can you can guide us there?”
“Yesss.” The shadow seemed almost meek. “But be warned. No one has ever broken in. Not even a dragon queen. Al-Asad is impregnable.”
“Well the four of us are about to go and pregnate the hell out of it.” I re-equipped my helmet and my armored gauntlet, used the Spear to climb to my feet, and sighed. “Suri and I have a royal audience in the capital of Vlachia in the morning, and she’s been waiting too long for us to find her.”
Chapter 2
Myszno, Vlachia: Five Days Earlier
“Suri didn't know where Al-Asad was. And if she did, she never told me. But if what Vash said is true, Cutthroat should lead us to her.” I moved around Karalti with the stiff, efficient motions I'd learned in the army, tightening straps and preparing Cutthroat’s new travel harness for its cargo. Said cargo was waiting about fifty feet from us, digging furiously at the moss growing between the flagstones and snapping at the beetles fleeing the destruction of their home. The huge, grizzled black hookwing was muzzled in preparation for her first airlift, and the steel clanged and sparked off the wet slate.
Karalti moaned in exasperation. “You know that’s like the thirteenth time you’ve explained that, right?”
“I’m sorry. I’m just wound up.” I let out a tense breath. “It’s just… we don’t know where she is. I can’t get private messages through, I can’t invite her to my clan or assign her a role at the castle, and it’s just…”
“If we don't know where she is, maybe we should gather more information about Al-Asad before we leave?” Karalti's telepathic voice hummed with nervous energy. She fought to stay still while I suited her up, her wings flexing stiffly by her sides. By moonlight, the opalescent flash of her scales were subdued, glinting now and then as I moved around her. The parts of her in shadow were invisible. “How far is the Bashar Desert, anyway?”
I sighed. “According to the maps in what’s left of our War Room, about a thousand miles due south, give or take. At your current level and flight speed, it should take a couple days.”
“Over the mountains? The air's really cold and thin up there. You need to pack special clothing. Like fur clothing.”
“I'm a big boy. I'll deal.”
Karalti inflated her throat and then let the air slowly hiss out through her nostrils. Her flexible crown of back back-swept horns flattened against her skull. “Hector, if there's a storm - and you KNOW there's gonna be a storm - I have to fly over it. It'll be in the deep minus degrees, plus the wind and shear. And you're wearing metal.”
“I can cope with temperatures down to minus twenty. I’ll be fine.” I scowled and jumped off her shoulder to the ground. Just before I hit the stone, I called one of my workhorse Dark Lancer abilities, Shadow Dance, and passed into smoke before reappearing to drop lightly on my feet. “We don't have time to find cold-weather gear. Suri's been stuck in that hellhole for a week. She’s suffering every single day we aren’t there.”
“Yeah, but you're not gonna be able to help her if you freeze to death and forget who she is.” The dragon snorted a cloud of hot, acidic steam into my face as I gathered the harness straps at the front. “Do you remember what happened the last time you died?”
“It’s fine. If I die and respawn on top of you, I'll get my memories back.”
Just as I was about to connect the buckles, she lowered her head and nudged me away with her snout. My little Tidbit's head was now roughly the size of a hatchback car, and the love tap almost sent me flying.
“Go find some Cold Weather clothing.” She rumbled aloud, lowering her neck to glare at me with piercing violet eyes. “Or else I'll-”
Whatever she'd been about to threaten me with was interrupted by a purring chirp from my Head's Up Display. A flashing red holographic exclamation point pulsed in the corner of my vision. Before I could dismiss it, my HUD screen jumped open.
[You have one High-Priority Message:
[You have a New Quest!]
“Wait, woah. Hang that thought, Tidbit.” I swiped through to the Message Center. Yup. The sender was indeed listed as
d was suddenly aware that we were the only ones standing out here in the courtyard of this cold, darkened castle.
“Ororgael was an Admin,” I muttered. “What are the chances this is a Valentine’s Day letter from Baldr?”
“Uhh…” Karalti paused, confused. “I dunno?”
“On second thoughts, let’s open that after checking out the quest.” I uncomfortably brushed the message screen to one side with a thought, and opened the Quests display instead:
New Main Quest: The Second Drachan War
As requested, this is a revision of The Caul of Souls quest I attempted to issue you at the Gate of Endless Night.
The fallen Architect known as Ororgael has possessed the body and mind of a Starborn player, the self-proclaimed Emperor of Artana, Baldr Hyland. With Ororgael's ambitions and his knowledge of our world meshed with Baldr's strategic intellect, he is a formidable foe. Worse, he is the Harbinger of the Void: the Drachan, Archemi's ancient demonic enemies, whisper in Baldr's ears with some unknown temptation. Whatever they are offering him, he must release the Drachan from their icy prison in the Northern Wastes to obtain it. In doing so, he acts as their servant.
To free the Drachan, Baldr must destroy the Caul of Souls, the magical barrier which seals these horrors of the void and keeps them torpid. One option we have is to try and repair the Caul to keep the Drachan sealed. However, as you pointed out, the Caul is already dissolving and the cost of keeping it integral may be greater than the alternative. I have confirmed that its magic has not prevented the Drachan from contacting their Harbinger. The Caul has also not prevented the release of lesser Void Horrors, such as those called by Andrik Corvinus, and the leaks are escalating.
The other option - the one which you argued for so passionately - is to defeat the Drachan and either exterminate them or drive them from Archemi once and for all. This is a global undertaking, one which will require you to unite the nations of Archemi against this single enemy. You must do this while fending off Baldr and his gathering armies, and also while maintaining the Caul for as long as possible to avoid unleashing the Drachan on an unwary world. When the time comes, you must open the Dragon Gates, free the Nine, and in doing so enact a controlled demolition of the magic that has protected Archemi for millennia.
Needless to say, this is a massive undertaking. By accepting this Main Story Quest, you will open lines of quests which will all build toward this one ultimate goal. It is all I and my brothers and sisters can do to support you. Aid us, and we will lend you our powers. Even Veles should be amenable to that, if you prove your trustworthiness.
Rewards: EXP on quest acceptance.
Difficulty: Varies
Special: Hector, the knowledge impressed on me by your brother's spirit contains a warning. When the Architects created this world, the Drachan were always intended to be a fearsome opponent... but something is not right with the order of things. A voice whispers to me that they are no longer of this ‘paracosm’. I do not know what this means or how it has come to be. Being Starborn, you are not a child of this world. Perhaps this expression has a greater significance to you.
[Do you want to accept this quest?]
The prickling feeling came back. I glanced at the Message window, where the unread message waited.
Paracosm. I had heard that word before. Temperance – the gynoid, presumed deceased, assistant to the CEO of the Ryuko Corporation and my hostess in Archemi – had explained that word to me once. A paracosm was a fictional universe with its own laws, stories, mythology, and languages, like Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings or the Lovecraft stories. How could the Drachan no longer be part of Archemi’s paracosm if they were… well… here?
I swallowed, trying to moisten my mouth before refocusing my attention back on the screen. The holographic selection panel hung patiently in the air, glowing softly. “Let me think about it.”
I closed the Quest pane and hovered over the new message. My lizard brain was screeching a warning. Danger, danger! Alert! Alert! There were no active Admins or Mods in Archemi right now. Every last human on Earth was either dead from the HEX virus, dead from the nuclear holocaust that followed, or entombed in bunkers and mile-high sealed towers with their own recycled piss to drink and no internet.
“I dunno about this.” Karalti growled. Cutthroat looked up from her archaeological dig, blinking in consternation. She had clumps of moss stuck in the bars of her muzzle.
“Me either, but I’m pretty sure I can’t be hacked through the message system, so…” Against my better judgement, I opened the email – then yelped, stumbled over the heel of my boot, and tripped. “Jesus-fucking-Christ!”
“AHHH!” Karalti trumpeted in mirrored fear, beating her wings and driving a cloud of rain and mud into the air.
The message pane leapt into a nine-foot tall glowing rectangle of gibberish that was expanding as it continuously scrolled down. I stared up at it, slack-jawed. Nothing I was looking at made sense. The lines were nothing but gobbledygook to my still-dyslexic brain. My HUD narrator usually read things out for me, but there was no help with this literal wall of text. No matter how much I looked, I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
“Is that… is that code?” I picked myself up and hastily closed the window.
“I don’t know. But it gives me the creeps.” Karalti shuddered. “It’s… it’s not supposed to be here in this world.”
‘A voice whispers to me that the Drachan are no longer of this ‘paracosm’. I do not know what this means or how it has come to be.’ As I recalled Matir’s words, gooseflesh crept up my arms and the back of my neck. After a minute of hesitation, I forwarded it to the only person I thought might have some idea of what I was looking at.
“Hey Rin, don’t open this file I sent you before reading the rest of this message,” I dictated mentally, rubbing my forehead and the bridge of my nose. “Before you open the attachment, brace for a big, big file. Someone sent this to me with no message title or sender name other than ‘Admin’. Is Ororgael trying to send out a virus or something? Is the game breaking down? I have no fucking idea what I’m looking at here. I’ll warn you again, though: this is a HUGE file. Expect a jumpscare. Hope you’re doing okay in Litvy with Lord Soma. Give Ebisa a high five from me.”
I sent the message, rubbed my hands against my thighs and picked myself up. The message was still open. I started at the huge panel of code with deep suspicion, forcing myself to face it until I relaxed. The sky hadn’t fallen. The stars blazed in a shimmering curtain behind Archemi’s enormous moon, Erruku. Frogs croaked and leaves rustled in the crisp alpine air, still tinged with the odors of slaughter and sewage from the devastated city of Karhad in the valley below. The game wasn’t crashing. Karalti was okay. I was okay. Whatever this message meant, it wasn’t serious. Archemi was in beta. It was probably just a glitch – one of many I’d experienced in the three months I’d been here.
To my surprise, a green arrow appeared in my field of vision, pulsing upwards with the word ‘Will’. Somehow, I’d just added a point of Willpower to my stats. Okay then. I’ll take it.
“Okay. We’re cool.” I let out a tense, shaky breath. “Everything’s cool. Now, where were we?”
My dragon rumbled, arching her tail stiffly behind her. “YOU were going to go get some warm clothes. And then we were going to go find Suri.”
“Yeah, right. That’s right.” I strolled over to her and clapped her affectionately on the knee, only to jump a second time when the postern door to the gatehouse banged open behind us. All three of us – me, Karalti and Cutthroat - turned to see a slim, scowling man wheel around the edge of the doorway and come sprinting toward us.
“Hector, thank the Maker's taint you're still home,” Istvan said breathlessly. His dusky skin was pale by torchlight, his eyes wide and startling in his face. “We need you to prepare the court.”
“Why? What?” With one hand resting on Karalti’s hand, I took a step toward him.
“My scout just retur
ned to Kalla Sahasi, my lord. He says your vassals are marching on the castle.”
Chapter 3
Now? Really? Did it have to be NOW?
“My vassals?” I slammed the harness buckles in together. The harness was slightly crooked, but it worked. I’d spent the whole day making it. “Like, the other Counts, or-?”
Istvan scowled. “Your vassals, as in, the Barons who serve you. My scout reports they’re marching in force here. There’s apparently townsfolk from Karhad with them, and no fewer than two messengers…”
“Okay, no worries. Whatever they want, it can wait three or four days.” I took up Cutthroat’s part of the ensemble. The device was part bondage device, part baby carrier. She could be strapped to Karalti’s belly and told to find Suri. As she paddled and strained, her nose would point in the right direction and lead us right to her. That was the hope, anyway. “There’s no return trip. Once we find Suri, we can teleport back. We’ll be gone less than a week.”
“My Lord. You are the Voivode of Myszno.” The Captain’s normally pleasant voice took an acid tone I hadn’t heard since I’d met him. “Your appointment is so new that the mail ship carrying the Royal Charter hasn’t even arrived yet, and you’re already planning to let your subjects languish? For the sake of one woman?”
“That ‘woman’ died to defeat Ashur and his army and restore their lands to these vassals of mine,” I snapped back. “She died knowing that she would respawn in a place that is a literal hell for her. She’s not sitting there diddling herself, Istvan. She’s being tortured.”
“You don’t know that,” Istvan said. “Suri is a powerful, capable warrior, a soldier-”
“And that place traumatized her so badly that she screams in her sleep about it every other night.” I leaned toward him, anger pressing up behind my eyes, winding through my chest and up into my jaw. “We’ve got half an army bunked here. My vassals can have the best rooms in the castle, eat the best food we can give them, think about what they want to say, and chill here on my dime for four fucking days while I pull Suri out and bring her home. They’re not trapped in a dungeon. She is.”
Warsinger Page 4
