We'd discovered the quartz rock deposits early in the afternoon. Or rather, we'd discovered the cave that housed the said deposits. The group had decided to stop and investigate... and man, was I happy they had.
In one final swing of my pick, I became the proud owner of two hundred of the choicest quartz rock stones. The exercise felt nostalgic. It had been a while since I'd used my Digger tools. Okay, it was only two hundred stones, but they'd added 9 pt. to my skill. How good was that?
Then again, what was I talking about? Even one extra point was welcome in my situation. Master-level craftsmen didn't have it easy, oh no. Clans kept all high-level resources under their own control. And here they were literally scattered under your very own feet.
"Olgerd! Come here, quick!" a shout came from within the depths of the cave.
I awoke from somewhat smugly admiring my stat chart. What now?
I found all the Calteans in one of the side tunnels. They stood there frozen. The hissing of torches was the only sound in the gloom.
Once I pushed my way through, I finally saw what had silenced these usually chatty characters.
The cave's rocky floor was littered with bones, picked clean and whitened.
These had been Calteans, no doubt about it. Their spears and rusty swords were still lying around. Judging by the bodies' position in relation to each other, it didn't look as if they had died in battle. The local mice — or rats, or whatever other petty scavengers they had here — had made sure the cause of their death wasn't easy to determine anymore.
We saw traces of old campfires. These men must have decided to spend the night in the warmth of the cave — never to wake up again.
"Olgerd? What do you think?" Droy's voice made me jump.
And not only me, apparently. Orman even shuddered as if he was suddenly cold.
No wonder. The place was spooky. The torches' light didn't reach the cave's walls nor ceiling, making it look enormous. It felt as if something ancient and utterly terrible was watching us in the dark. The dancing flames of our torches made the skeletons appear to stir, trying to get back to their feet. Even back in the Fort swarming with zombies I'd never felt so uncomfortable.
I cleared my suddenly dry throat. "They didn't fight. You can see that, can't you? And still something killed them."
"But what?" Arrum asked.
"I'd venture a guess they suffocated in their sleep," I said, casting wary looks around me. "It smells funny here, don't you think? We really shouldn't linger here if we don't want to share their fate. I'm pretty sure of that. Did you know them?"
I'd lied about the smell. I just wanted to get out of this place ASAP.
Droy nodded. "Yes. These are our scouts. This is the sword of Camus the Fingerless..." he heaved a sigh, picking up a rusty sword that lay next to the campfire.
"And this is my uncle's spear..." Shorve whispered.
Their words seemed to open the warriors' eyes to the scene. Almost every one of them discovered a kinsman among the dead.
They realized they couldn't leave the bones lying around in this God-forsaken cave. They had to bury their brothers with due honors. Still, they also knew they had no time to do that.
So the warriors swore a solemn oath to come back one day, provided they survived, and perform all the necessary burial rites.
The cave didn't look as if it could harbor anything I could use. Besides, I wasn't in the mood for treasure hunting. The other guys might misunderstand it.
"You told us the truth, my friend," Droy said once we came out into the open air. "You were right what you said at the Council. Our warriors would never have surrendered without a fight to anyone — be they servants of Light, Dark or the demons of Inferno itself. You're doubly right in saying they died peacefully in their sleep. The cave's breath must have killed them. I had a Black Axe friend who told me about these things."
The warriors continued in silence, only exchanging occasional words when they absolutely had to. How I understood them. Even though their scouts hadn't been heard from for a long time, their families had still harbored the hope that they might see them again one day. Now, knowledge had replaced the old hope — accompanied by sorrow.
And so we kept going until we stopped for the night.
"Does that mean they didn't even cross the Ardean Range?"
We were sitting by the fire. The men had had enough time to digest the tragic news. It was time for them to get it off their chests.
"Shame we've got no ale," Droy sighed.
"Your orders," Horm said. "No one's taken any. That way we could have at least drunk to their memory..."
A collective sigh rustled over the campfire.
"Listen, guys," I said. "Basically... How can I say it... I didn't know alcohol wasn't allowed on the march. It's not ale that I've got, anyway. Just some light swill. But it's enough for us all to celebrate your kinsmen's valor."
I reached into my bag and produced the two wine flasks I'd prepared for Master Adkhur.
"Brothers," Orman said with a faint smile, "now what would we do without our Olgerd here?"
Everyone turned to their leader. Droy chuckled and rolled his eyes.
With his silent approval, the others reached for the drink. The flasks began changing hands, emptying quickly.
"Smells good," the bald-headed Shorve announced, sniffing his cup. "Must be a good wine."
I shrugged. "I got it for a friend."
"Well done!" Arrum slapped my shoulder. "Friends deserve the best, always!"
Everyone hummed their approval. The noise stopped quickly enough though, as Droy rose from his place.
He spoke unhurriedly about honor and valor, naming his friends, teammates and comrades one by one. He hadn't forgotten to mention a single one of them. That's a leader for you. This is the kind of person everyone would follow. It's people like him who become the founding fathers of whole nations.
I studied the Calteans' faces, realizing that now they'd follow Droy to hell and back.
He hadn't forgotten to mention me, either, and said a lot of good words about me which made my Reputation grow another few hundred points. Finally we drank our wine. We didn't get the chance to talk though, as Seet who kept first watch came to the fire. He looked worried.
"What's up?" Droy asked.
"There's some movement on the path," Seet reported.
"Who are they?"
"I couldn't see."
Droy turned to me. "Olgerd-" he stopped, seeing that I'd already summoned Boris. "Be careful," he added instead.
As Boris took to the sky, I watched the Caltean camp, amazed at their discipline. They kept quiet. No one was fussing about. Everybody seemed to know what he was supposed to be doing. Some were putting out the fire while others were already scaling the cliffs. Only once safely above did they begin stringing their bows and readying their spears. You could see that each knew his role in the group.
We didn't have far to fly. Our potential enemy was moving quite fast: soon it would walk right into the Caltean ambush.
The sky was starless, shrouded by black rain clouds. Doubtful they'd see me. My Ennan eyesight, however, was perfect for this setting.
When I approached the enemy, I realized that we might get away without a fight.
A single Caltean was scampering down the path.
He was making good speed, casting constant looks behind him — apparently being followed.
He wasn't a Red Owl, either. None of that animal-skin-and-wooden-spear nonsense. He was clad in quality armor, with a round shield slung on his back and an axe in each hand. Even without screaming or hollering, he was making an awful lot of noise running. Red Owls would never do something like that.
Well, well, well. Let's have a look. I told Boris to go down a bit.
Aha... Just look at this monster behind him! How had the guy managed to have aggroed it?
I took a better look. A creature the size of an adult lion was following in the Caltean's wake.
A Spike
-Headed Banther.
Level: 280
The banther's powerful body was all covered in quills. Especially his head. He looked very much like a spiky-maned lion. Why was he chasing the guy? The Caltean must have accidentally triggered his aggro zone.
Oh, yes. This place was no sunny Leuton. The local mobs aggroed you for a single careless sneeze.
I had to warn the group before they smoked both the monster and his hapless quarry.
"It's a Caltean!" I shouted, hovering over Droy's head. "He's alone running! Doesn't look like an Owl! He'll be here soon! He's chased by a dangerous monster!"
Droy nodded his appreciation and made a circular motion with his right hand over his head, signaling to me to stay overhead.
Yessir! Affirmative, Sir! In the meantime, let's get our slingshot ready.
Almost immediately, the Caltean came running out to our campsite.
"Hey, Scraggie!" Droy shouted to him. "Get to the cliffs, quick!"
Heh? Did they know him? In any case, he obediently darted for cover.
He did so just in time. The monster raced out into the opening. He looked even uglier up close. His powerful feline paws ended in long claws; his massive chest was covered with an ugly spiky growth. His large jaws sported a pair of impressive saber teeth.
"Attack!" Droy shouted, launching his spear.
In a split second, the monster was studded with spears and arrows like a pincushion. The new Caltean added his two cents — or rather, his two axes — to the picture. I too was doing my best, loosing off slugs in rapid-fire succession.
The spiky bastard didn't survive our hospitality. His impressive Life bar emptied in a few seconds.
You've received a new level!
You've received a new level!
Current level: 37.
I was beginning to like it here.
The icon of the Pocket Book of Blueprints didn't blink though. Oh, well. I'd have to gain more Knowledge, wouldn't I?
Silence fell over the scene. This had been an impressive battle — or should I say a turkey shoot?
"Scraggie, you alive?" Droy exclaimed cheerfully.
"Droy?" the man's hoarse voice came from the dark. "Is that you?"
"Who do you think? You know anybody else who'd bother to save your sorry ass?"
The warriors guffawed. Grinning, they emerged from their positions. The new Caltean too exited his hideout.
They restarted the fire, allowing me to get a better look of the slain mob.
Wait a sec... this wasn't a mob! It was someone's pet!
How had I managed to misread his tag?
What was it, then? Did that mean players were already so close? My back erupted in goosebumps. If that was the case, then we were about to face the choicest of the top players. The best of the best.
I had to locate the monster's owner ASAP.
Slowly his body dissolved into thin air. I turned around. The new Caltean was already shooting the breeze with the group.
I'd been right. He wasn't a Red Owl. You didn't have to be an expert on Caltean culture to see that.
He was level 310, wearing steel armor, a closed helmet, a round shield and battle axes. Droy's warriors looked like cavemen next to him. His shield was decorated with a picture of two black crossed battleaxes — apparently his clan's logo.
"You've always been an ambush expert, old vagabond!" Scraggie shook Droy by the shoulder. "It didn't take you long to set it up! Can't believe you recognized me!"
I could see that Droy felt flattered by this praise. Apparently, this Scraggie guy was a respected individual.
"Well, what did you expect? It's not as if you've changed a lot!" Droy replied. "You should thank him for us being so quick."+
Scraggie squinted shortsightedly in my direction. I was forced to walk out of the shadows and nod a greeting.
As soon as he realized who it was standing in front of him, he reached mechanically for his weapon. His eyes lit up with hatred. His mouth curved in a smirk.
Oh. Sorry, man. This wasn't the agreement.
Boris materialized next to me and hissed a warning at the scowling newcomer.
"Nobody move!" Droy shouted. So frightening he was in his anger that even Scraggie shrank back.
"What do you think you're doing, you old fart?" Droy growled at him. "You wanna kill my man?"
Surprised, Scraggie looked around himself at the Red Owls encircling him. "Droy, are you nuts?" he shouted. "He's a Lightie, for crying out loud! They kill us! You don’t know!"
"I do," Droy replied in a calmer voice. "He told us everything. Both about your group and the Lighties. Everything. I'll tell you more: he's already saved our backsides several times. And yours too, as you've just seen. I don't give a damn which side he's on. He's my friend."
"Mine, too."
"He's our friend."
"Sure."
My friends' voices made my heart flutter: an incredible feeling.
"So let's just cool it and have a talk," Droy raised a conciliatory hand. "Do you believe me?"
Scraggie gave me a moody look. "Yeah."
I could see the word had cost him a lot. "I know what you mean," I decided to add my two cents. "If it'll make you feel any better, I never took part in the killings of your kinsmen. Last time they attacked the Citadel, I was still working in the mines."
"I know you were," Droy said placatingly. "Let's go sit by the fire. Then we can talk."
"Wait, chief," I stopped him. "I have a question for Scraggie."
The warrior frowned.
"It's about the monster that was chasing you," I hurried to explain, "Or rather, about his master."
Scraggie's mouth opened in amazement. "How did you know?"
"I'll tell you later. We don't have much time. Is he dead?"
"He is," Scraggie replied grimly. "He killed my two best scouts."
"Was it far from here?"
"No. Wasn't far at all. But just before he died, he'd managed to summon the beast. Just like you've just done."
That player must have been overly optimistic. He'd probably hoped to handle the Calteans on his own without having to summon his pets. Still, it hadn't quite worked that way. The Calteans had proved tougher than he thought. And still he'd managed to smoke two of them! Two to one, that was quite a ratio. Had he summoned his pet earlier on in the fight, Scraggie wouldn't be having this conversation with us, that's for sure.
"Was he a Lightie of a Darkie?" I asked.
"Darkie."
"Droy," I turned to my friend who'd been anxiously following our exchange. "I need to see the playe- er, the guy's death site."
"There's nothing there," Scraggie said. "His body already disappeared."
"I can see certain things you can't," I said.
"He's right," Droy said, then turned to me, "Go now. Just keep your eyes peeled."
I grinned darkly before jumping onto Boris' back.
"It's by the dead tree near the path!" Scraggie shouted from below.
IT HADN'T TAKEN me long to get to the site. First I saw the path, then the dead tree.
There! I could see the dead Calteans' bodies. And the chest left after the player's death. He was probably on his way back here now, hurrying to collect his stuff. I had to be quick.
Boris circled the site several times before landing. I let Prankie out. He cast his Shield over me, then began inspecting the surrounding shrubbery.
No one around, by the looks of it.
Let's check it out.
"Enjoying yourself?" a cheerful voice made me jump. "Stealing from a fellow player, nice one, dude!"
I swung round but saw no one. The voice sounded quite near though. Then again, I should have known better. This was probably a high-level rogue or assassin with Stealth to match.
"Well, well, well! Who do we see here? The legend of Mellenville!" the voice sounded quite close. "Your scalp must cost a fortune! Aren't I the lucky one? But first we need to talk."
Finally the Dark player material
ized less than twenty feet from me.
Name: Furius
Race: Alven
Level: 290
Clan: The Lords of Chaos
Class: Black Ranger
Never heard about this class before. And judging by his level, the Steel Shirts' Romulus wasn't the top player anymore.
The Colonization seemed to have been advancing nicely, and so had the players.
What was he doing here, anyway? Then again, why would I even ask? This had to be a clan scout on a recon mission.
"Good idea, dude," the player grinned. "Flying your pet over No-Man's Lands monitoring any potential battle sites, then looting them if you're lucky. Not bad at all. Definitely worth it."
Okay, if he said so. Although if the truth were known, I didn't feel guilty in the slightest. This was war. A la guerre comme à la guerre.
But it looked like this philosophy might just backfire on me now.
Oh, no. I wasn't going to surrender without fight. Furius was wearing nothing but his starting pants. Having said that, he could easily smoke me with his bare hands if he wanted to. But at least this way I had a chance of legging it.
"I love your pets," he continued. "Where did you get them from?"
"That's my business."
He tut-tutted. "No need to be so rude, man."
Warily he inched toward. Was he afraid of me or something? WTF?
The I remembered what Sveta, my wife, had told me. They all must be thinking it had been me who'd scorched Master Adkhur's location. Furius had admitted he'd recognized me. Which meant...
"Your beastie wasn't bad either, was it?" I said, playing for time as I stole a furtive step back.
"Did you see him? Yeah sure! You must have picked up all of the scraggy Caltean's loot. Saves me the trouble of looking for it. You're something, you!"
"You didn't hear me. I said, was."
He looked confused. "What about the Caltean?"
"What about him?" I bluffed.
He frowned. "I don't understand."
"It's okay," I said. "Take your time. I'm off now."
"You what? Wait a sec, dude! Where d'you think you're going?"
The Way of the Outcast (Mirror World Book #3) LitRPG series Page 23
