“It looks like someone in Barliona still remembers the Tarantulas,” Salamander seethed through his teeth.
The fallen king stepped forward, screening the child and holding his sword en garde. What he was about to do remained a mystery—the spirit’s weapon looked like a toothpick relative to the impressive spider torso.
Seeing the tarantula, the rest of the souls around us scattered every which way. I wonder what one spirit can do to another? Why are they so afraid of this creature? Or was this merely their vestigial memory of living under the yoke of the Arachnid Lords? And yet there were some who didn’t take fright at the sight of the giant spider. My paladin friend also unsheathed his sword and stepped shoulder to shoulder with the Salamander King, while the gaunt warlock examined the Tarantula with naked interest, but without fear—like an equal.
“Art thou here still, Lizard King?” the sounds emanating from the spider were odd, full of clicks and chirrs. But the voice pierced me to the core. The girl squealed in terror and hid herself under my cape. “Do some weak minds still recall thy senseless rebellion, thy just suppression?”
“It wasn’t quite so senseless if you’re here instead of in Barliona,” the rebel king parried.
I couldn’t discern any emotions on the Tarantula’s terrifying visage, but its tone oozed condescension.
“‘Twas maugre all thine efforts, worm. Thy life, as thy death, were naught but a fleeting hindrance. No matter—I have come to speak with thou, oh nullity.”
All eight of the spider’s eyes fixed on me, kindling a strong urge to exit the game. However, the trembling girl clutching my leg and the intrepid king’s spirit before me—prepared to fall once again to save another—forced me to suppress my terror.
“Let me guess, you want me to lead you through the Gate as well?” I asked with a challenge—even as I repeated silently to myself: ‘it’s just a game, this isn’t real.’
The spider wiggled its tentacles revoltingly, and began to chirr and gurgle. It took me a moment to realize that this sound was its version of laughter.
“I haven’t spent millennia accumulating my powers in order to re-enter the world for a brief space as some insubstantial spirit. Nay, I seek not thy conduct to the Gate.”
These unexpected words caused Salamander and me to exchange glances.
“What do you want then?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“There are still creatures in Barliona who have maintained their fealty to their lawful Lords,” the Tarantula replied with evident pleasure. “I shall tell thou where thou may’st find my trusty servants. Obeying my word, they shall welcome thou and perform the orders I relay with thee. Following the cataclysm, caused by a certain cretin, there are only a handful of my kind in Barliona. Feral and insensate, they have hidden themselves. Only I know where. All thou must do is bring one of my servants to them. They shall accumulate energy that will permit them to summon me into the world of the living in my full might and power. The rest shall be my care. I shall possess the body of an insignificant descendent and the world shall once more shiver beneath the Tarantulas’ myriad heels! My servants shall reward thee with ancient, powerful artifacts and thou shalt assume a noble station in the restored chain of being.”
Quest available: Tarantella Reprise.
Description: Locate the Tarantella Cult in the Free Lands and relay to them the commands of their Lord. Help the cultists perform the summoning ritual with the Tarantula’s spirit and his living descendant. Quest type: Unique scenario.
Reward for completion: Exalted status with the Tarantella Cult.
Respect status with the Tarantula Lords.
Hatred status with all other Barliona factions.
Three artifacts from the treasure vaults of the Tarantella Cult. An official title and property.
Penalty for failing or refusing the quest: Hatred status with the Tarantella Cult.
“You’re wasting your time,” the Salamander King laughed. “She would never accept your offer. No one aside from some madmen wishes to see the return of your hegemony.”
I have to admit that such sincere faith in my character, warmed my heart. The sadder it was to disappoint this person.
“Four artifacts and we have a deal!”
Salamander turned slowly, clearly unable to believe his own ears. The puzzlement in his eyes gave way to such a deep disappointment that I felt unbearably ashamed. Eid, meanwhile, burst out into loud and triumphant laughter.
“I see you have seen reason, Lorelei.”
“Don’t do this, bard!” the paladin spoke up. “No treasure in the world is worth dealing with such a monstrous villain! All of the gods of Barliona will curse you!”
“They’re not too happy with me as things stand,” I informed the indignant spirit and then turned back to the Tarantula: “So what do you say? Four artifacts, or do you prefer to dwell here another hundred years before some other bard finds a way into the Gray Lands?”
“Thy disposition pleases me,” the Tarantula chirred contentedly. “One must care for one’s interest, snatching the boons from Fortune’s hand at every chance. Thou hast my consent. Four artifacts it shall be!”
Quest updated: Tarantella Reprise.
“I will do what you ask,” I said, accepting the quest. “Tell me where I am to seek your servants and descendants.”
The immense spider body quivered in seeming ecstasy. Although, I haven’t the tiniest idea about arachnid body language.
“Thy map has been marked, bard,” the Tarantula clicked happily. “And now ‘tis time I depart. I must contact my servants. Let them prepare for the ritual...”
Twitching his furry fangs and emitting the odd click, the Tarantula Lord crawled off languidly. This one had it made. He could communicate with the world of the living and he had some cult that kept him remembered. It looks like even in death, the mighty creatures have it easier than everyone else.
“How wrong I was about you, bard!” the Salamander King spat in my face. He looked enraged: his eyes fierce, his hands trembling from barely contained wrath. “Maybe the Tarantula was right. In vain I fought for my descendants—who with their own hands pave the way back to Barliona for this greatest of all evils!”
“I am not one for excessive theatrics,” remarked the warlock, whom I’d already forgotten about entirely, “but you are treating with powers that you could not even imagine.”
“Do you want to help that scary spider monster?” the girl backpedaled from me. “Are you going to send that nightmare to my mommy?”
The paladin, meanwhile, didn’t mince words or moralize. Getting a better grip on his claymore, he raised it overhead and brought it crashing down onto me. I jumped reflexively but the blade passed through my body without any pain.
“By the Light of Eluna’s Blessed Visage!” the holy knight cursed and took another swipe at me perhaps to make up for this latest transgression. Also without any effect, but I appreciated the gesture. A man of action. I can respect that.
Eid was the only one enjoying the situation. The instrument’s soul was giggling like a madman. In general he behaved a little oddly. Back in the Intermundis he was quite the polite spirit. He had even apologized when he killed me. Now however he was acting like the Dark Lord. Had his new Nazgul guise gone to his head?
“I suggest that everyone calms down,” I tried to assuage the spirits’ righteous wrath. “We need to find the Gate.”
“And you think that I’ll go on helping you?” Salamander seemed stunned by this new audacity.
“Don’t you want me to rescue the little one’s spirit from here?” I appealed to the rebel king’s soft spot.
He ground his teeth and forced himself to nod:
“Only for the sake of this child shall I help you, oh false-faced abomination!”
“Your assistance, noble paladin, would be welcome too,” I said to the paladin, insolently. “If you care for this poor, innocent child, you will help me find the Gate that leads out of the Gray Lands.”
The paladin glanced from me at the clammed up girl and then at the irate Salamander. The rebel king returned his look heavily and then, after a moment’s hesitation, nodded.
“All right,” the holy knight agreed. “I don’t understand entirely how I am to help, but for this child’s sake I shall escort you. However, if Eluna can still hear me, she will curse you as soon as you return to Barliona, bard.”
“I am sure she will,” I assured him. “But at the moment, I need to find the Gate.”
The mysterious warlock didn’t try to join our company. He merely repeated, “Remember my offer, bard” as a farewell and went off on his business.
No one said anything else after that. Salamander and the paladin cast me immolating looks, the girl (whose name I still hadn’t bothered asking) preferred to hold onto the deceased king, and Eid, as per usual, walked apart, enjoying the show in the company of his mount.
Chapter Six
The dense forest growing over the foot of the mountain sparked an intense curiosity in me. How come there are trees growing in the world of the dead anyway? Is the mountain a part of the Gray Lands or another ghostly memory of some mythical mountain that once stood in Barliona? A mountain destroyed by some irate deity? Was this some magical forest that had burned to ashes as a result of some terrible firestorm?
Eid ignored my questions on this topic and my spirit companions made a show of wandering off in various directions, seeking to find the Gate and get away from the treacherous bard. The girl preferred to stay with Salamander. I guess I no longer radiate trust and compassion, what can you do...
I was left to stroll through the ghostly trees in Eid’s company. The place’s strangeness fit him pretty well. What kind of a forest is this? There’s no brushwood, nor bushes, nor grass, nor even a trickling brook. With the toe of my boot, I dug into the omnipresent dust and revealed bedrock—out of which grew a tree. ‘Curiouser and curiouser!’ cried Alice.
I squatted and touched the stony surface with my fingers. It was cool to the touch—the first change in temperature I’d encountered since arriving in the Gray Lands (a curious and useless discovery). I was about to stand up when I noticed something unusual in a hollow beneath the tree’s roots. More than anything, it resembled a shallow hole, the bottom of which was carpeted with some kind of vegetation.
I could see these details only thanks to my racial night vision trait. For an ordinary player, the hollow would appear as a dark hole between the roots and no more. Intrigued by such an unexpected sight, I crawled up to the hollow on all fours and peered in. Under closer inspection, the matting turned out to be made of grass. I wonder where it comes from if there’s no grass here? And, just as importantly, whose lair is this? Does it belong to one of those animals Cypro had mentioned? But in that case where is the creature itself and how can I bind it to me?
I suppose I should stick my hand in there and rummage around, but an irrational fear kept me from doing so. Every horror story I knew that involved something like this ended with a bitten off hand, in the best case. Imagine that—it’s scarier to feel around in a dark hole in the ground than take a dagger or fireball to the back.
Sighing deeply, I told myself several times that this is just a game. It didn’t help much. The chill along my spine abated but I still didn’t want to surrender my fingers to the local fauna.
“Eid, I need someone to feel around in this hole here,” I said to the instrument soul.
He looked at me with an academic’s interest, like an entomologist examining an interesting bug.
This annoyed me.
“What is it, too difficult for you or something? If you lose a hand, I’ll sing you a new one, better than the last. I’ll even throw in an extra finger. Ladies love scars and extra fingers.”
“Fascinating!” the spirit deigned to answer me at last. “You were not afraid of treating with an ancient Tarantula and you are prepared to allow an unimaginable evil enter Barliona, yet you are terrified of being bitten by a small critter?”
Even Eid’s horse snorted contemptuously and flicked its tail, aghast at the immensity of my cowardice. Oh a cold pasta hell with the lot of them!
I exhaled deeply and stuck my hand into the hole. Contrary to my paranoia, no one chomped at my delicate fingers. Instead, they encountered something interesting among the grass. Something familiar...Carefully closing my fingers, I grabbed my find and pulled it from the hollow. A tiny egg, half a pinkie finger in size, lay in my hand.
Ghostly Egg: This item’s attributes are hidden.
There you have it. I can wrap my mind around animals remembered through legends, but an egg...If it were some Grand Easter Egg of Omnipotence, it would surely be on some pedestal or in a temple. But this one’s just lying around in a hole in the ground. Why is that? Birds nest in trees, turtles in sand and lizards...Do lizards lay eggs? I should ask Sasha for a relevant lecture.
Whichever way it is, I was holding a potential guide in the land of the dead. If it hatches that is. And if not? Maybe the egg will just roll ahead of me, showing me the way like in a fairy tale...Where can I find a specialist on fantastical creatures and the places they inhabit when I need one?
“Eid...” I called the spirit over and showed him my find. “What is this thing?”
“An egg,” the spirit replied seriously. “I think that’s obvious.”
“Whose? For what? What do I have to do to get it to hatch?” I refused to surrender.
“I am not an expert on avian obstetrics,” Eid replied with a bit of mockery in his voice, forcing me to wave my hand. He doesn’t want to help so I have to figure it out on my own.
What was it that Cypro wrote in his journal? I have to bind an animal to me. But there is no animal, just this egg. Or could I bind it with a song too? What a bunch of nonsense. I don’t know any damn songs about any damn eggs. If they exist, then it’s just as commercial ditties.
Unable to come up with anything better, I stuck the egg into my inventory and returned to my search for the mysterious gate.
At least here there was progress. It seemed that it would not be necessary to ascend to the summit after all. A heap of enormous boulders appeared among the trees growing around the foot of the mountain. It looked like the boulders had rolled down the slope at some point. I could see no scar on the mountain—if the avalanche had left one, then the gash had already closed and been covered with the forest. Then again, a heap of boulders could also serve as a monumental if awkward residence of some giant. Two enormous stones, meeting at their tops, had formed a triangular passage into the innards of this construction.
Yet there was no residence within. A spacious corridor, wide enough to allow three horsemen to ride abreast along it, receded straight into the depths of the mountain. I couldn’t help but look for traces of artisans’ hands on the walls around me—nature seldom created such orthogonal lines. But I could find nothing and not at all due to the darkness that grew thicker as we passed deeper into the mountain. Despite the lack of visible light sources, the corridor was still filled with the same omnipresent grayness which smudged everything outside. They’re not called the Gray Lands for nothing, I suppose. The developers had put in some overtime to justify the name.
My companions, having returned and gathered together again, looked over the uneven stone vaults overhead with a subdued air. You’d think that since every one of them was already dead, the fear of being buried under enormous stones wouldn’t occur to them, but I could see anxiety in everyone’s face, apart from Eid’s.
“Break time,” I announced and sat down on the stone floor.
My companions stared at me like I was crazy but I ignored them, picked up the eid and began to strum ‘Sound of Silence.’ A Canopy of Silence descended upon us.
“Now we can have a chat,” I began, “without eavesdroppers.”
“We have nothing to speak of,” the Salamander King interrupted me as the paladin nodded in agreement.
“I don’t see it that way,�
�� I objected. “I don’t know about you lot, but I see nothing shameful about deceiving an enemy. I don’t have any intention of summoning the Tarantulas into Barliona. I simply wanted to find out where the Tarantulas’ minions were hiding, as well as the refuge of the Lords’ dependents. Barliona is full of creatures who would fight the return of an ancient tyranny, to say the least. They will be jump at the chance to reunite the cultists with their spider lords down here in the Gray Lands. And there are plenty of hunters who would relish the opportunity to stalk some Tarantula descendants. I will tell them where the monster may be found and they will decorate their halls with its hide.”
There was still mistrust in Salamander’s eyes, but his face mellowed a little and his tension gave way to pensiveness.
“In that case why did you haggle for a greater reward?” he asked.
“So there wouldn’t be any doubts that I was ruled by greed. Only someone who has no intention of holding up their end of the bargain would not bargain.”
“And how do we know that you aren’t lying to us now?” asked the paladin’s spirit with some doubt.
“What would be the point?” I asked, a little surprised. “No offense, but what do I need your trust for? I don’t belong to this place. No one who exists here can do me any harm. Nor have you two promised me mounds of gold or ancient secrets. I even managed to locate the Gate without your help. I just wanted to tell you all this and I didn’t want to do it while one of the other spirits could eavesdrop on us and then relay to the Tarantula that I’d betrayed him.”
A Song of Shadow (The Bard from Barliona Book #2) LitRPG series Page 10
