by G. Akella
Black Flame in the Barren Steppe
Prologue
The sun was rising slowly over the Great Forest. Its rays dyed the sparse clouds a tender shade of pink, scintillated in the dew coating the tree leaves, and massaged gently the crowns of trees as they roused from slumber. The milky white mist veiling the meadows shuddered before withdrawing fearfully behind the tree line. Nocturnal myrrabells closed their blossoms as bright specks of poppies dotted the landscape and white lilies rose gracefully out of the water. It was your typical summer morning. The first morning of a New Age.
Yngrail, a centurion in the Ellorian city guard, hopped nimbly from one branch to another, gestured for the sentry to keep calm, and peered into the woods stretching behind the northern gates. All quiet... He'd been guarding this city for going on fifteen hundred years, and he couldn't recall a shift as nerve-wracking as this one. In fact, Yngrail hadn't been this nervous since the epic battle on the Wolfish Wastes, loosing arrow after frantic arrow from the first row of archers into a cohort of gorts bearing down on them. If anything, he was more nervous now. Though there was no danger in sight, he felt no less ill at ease. Yesterday the heralds had confirmed the news that everybody already knew. The trees... they had returned! Allfather had forgiven his children. Forgiven them and opened their eyes. But would his children succeed in letting go of two millennia's worth of bitter strife? Not even the gods can know this for certain, he thought.
The road to the forest was cleared of all carts, and the northern tract fully blocked off.
His Majesty Larentyl and his retinue of dignitaries waited at the city gates, with thousands of idlers crowding the courtyard. Ellorian was in full bloom, literally speaking. The Marlorien plastered the walls with vines, ready to deploy them in defense of the city. Yngrail sucked in a chestful of air, scented with spring efflorescence, dropped his head... and then it dawned on him. They needn't forget the past. In fact, the elves ought to remember everything from the past—so as to prevent it from happening in the future. That way, the mallorn trees would never leave them again!
A lime-green window of a portal blazed into existence some fifty yards from the city gates. Momentarily, elves began filing out of the portal—warily, looking all around them in apparent disbelief. Warriors in titanium, mages in mantles spanning the color spectrum, druids, archers... On the outside, they looked just like his fellow citizens, if not for their skin, almost completely white...
The captain of the city guard barked an order that reverberated through the courtyard. The king gave a barely perceptible nod, and moved out slowly toward the guests, his retinue in tow. A silence fell on Ellorian so absolute that Yngrail could hear the soft footsteps of his king, and even scraps of phrases spoken by the light ones.
Two figures stood out in the group of arrivals: a tall black-haired warrior in matte armor and a light-haired woman in a beige cloak embroidered with a brown pattern. They looked to be of a similar age, but Yngrail knew right away that that wasn't so. As soon as the portal window closed, the woman took a step forward and froze, gazing out toward the city with her arms slightly parted.
"Elme et tye atar mel-vanta mi sina tirios..." She said softly, then looked at the man standing alongside her.
"Come, father, they're waiting for us," said the black-haired one with a sigh, then started toward the king.
Blanketed by a magical blue shroud, the small meadow was enclosed on all sides by ramified trees with the most peculiarly shaped trunks. Thick emerald-green grass, flowers burning bright orange, vine-entwined trunks, wisps of mist curling and tugging at the tree line... This place looked entirely too surreal to actually exist in this physical realm.
A man lay in a bed of interlaced branches hovering in midair at the center of the meadow. His gray hair clumped with dirt, hands wrapped in thin parchment leather, fingers grotesquely bent, as if in a spasm. With deep shadows beneath his eyes and clothes torn and bloodied, he looked like a corpse at a glance, but the abrupt heavings of his chest and wheezing breath left no doubt—the elf was still very much alive. A small silver-furred creature was perched on the man's chest, peering into the face of his master who had nearly crossed over to the other side. A woman stood at his bedside. Tall and beautiful, she wore a light-green cloak that flowed almost to the ground, her face a lifeless wax mask, her lips a firm thin line, with only her eyes radiating boundless pain and compassion. Her palms facing outward, a barely visible luminescence trickled from her fingertips, forming a translucent greenish canopy over the bed and the man lying in it.
Though time appeared to be standing still in this pocket of reality, a moment came when a short dark-haired elven female stepped forth through the blanket of trees and mist. At once the guardian vines turned and shot toward the guest, but lost interest the very next instant. The woman looked around, then approached the bed without making a sound, stopping at the foot of it.
"How is he?" she inquired of the elf constructing the magical canopy after a minute of silence.
"The Guardian will not depart," the other replied with only her lips, without turning her head. "I cannot believe it, but... How could he even walk? You saw it yourself, sister!"
"And can you believe that?" Kirana said, nodding at the silvery critter. "He wasn't anywhere in the web of possibilities. Not a trace of him..." Turning her head to Loaetia, she added. "I have the demoness. You remember that the Guardian must see his princess when he comes to, yes?"
"Yes," the goddess nodded. "You may take him back in one week. Father is helping me, and I am able to see through the reflection that which you cannot. There's virtually no hope for our realm," she sighed, taking a step back and lowering herself onto an armchair that sprouted from the ground. "I... I don't believe it, but... I am happy that Providence didn't choose one of us. These outsiders... They cannot fathom the burden they've been asked to bear."
"They're simply playing by the rules imposed on them," Kirana shrugged.
"Playing..." Loaetia chuckled bitterly, and looked up at her interlocutor. "They think that this realm came into existence half a year ago. That none of these wars ever happened, the elves hadn't spent millennia at each other's throats, and we hadn't condemned the king who had betrayed the Great Forest. They think that none of this vileness is real, understand? And that the memories were simply planted in our heads by the Maker. What about you? What is your take on all this?"
A silence fell over the meadow. The silvery critter turned his head slowly and looked at Kirana, as if the last question had come from him.
"I would very much prefer it if the two-lived are right," the goddess replied firmly after a moment's hesitation, her eyes fixed on the familiar. "Farewell, sister. See you in a week."
Loaetia spent a few moments contemplating the blazing sparks swirling in the air where Kirana had just stood, then fell back into her magical armchair, and closed her weary eyes.
Chapter 1
"Krian... Roman..." Jin Ho raised his eyes, giving me a hard stare. "It is you who must do this, no one else!"
"Didn't we already discuss this?"
"But this is your victory, prince!"
"That's debatable," I shrugged. "The answer was given to me at the last moment. And even if that weren't the case, you were the one leading the half-legion, so you should do the reporting." I cracked a smile, and clapped the raid leader on the shoulder. "So, lead on, commander! We'll be right behind you, with full support."
I spun around and started for the left flank of our half-legion, toward Reece and Vaessa with her dragons, the latter having been turned invisible for onc
e.
His voice carried softly: "Thanks..."
Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's... This was their celebration, and a rightfully earned one. As for me, I didn't feel much like celebrating. Yes, I was another step closer now, but how many of these steps were still ahead? Still, I wasn't going to rain on their parade—though I didn't give a hoot about ceremony, failing to at least make an appearance would be disrespectful to all the people who had followed me here today. And for all that these people had seen over their decades of gaming, this was something entirely new. This here king was the real deal, and the treasures in store for them were not only real, but every gamer's wet dream.
"Well?" Vaessa asked as I took my place in the formation.
"I spoke with Sebastian. We have an audience with the king tomorrow evening. You and Kan will come with me," I motioned at the wide-open gates of the citadel. "You can even take the dragons along, if they can fit through there..."
"You seem displeased, dar," Vaessa touched my wrist, peering into my eyes with surprise.
"I'm fine. Only we're back to a modest party of five from here on."
"A party of eight," Reece corrected me, gesturing at the dragons who appeared to be following our conversation intently. "Counting Gloom and auntie's chicks."
"Fair enough," I nodded, looking around at the city square that was filling up with people with each passing minute.
Though Teiran had croaked more than seven hours ago, that wasn't quite enough time for the people that had been evacuated from the city on Champion Sebastian's orders to return. Rayan I Erast, the king of Erantia, had arrived in Vaedarr just as our raid was puttering around in Arkam's grave, and had stayed put, as could be expected of a proper ruler. The champion himself was waiting at the gates, at the head of a century of mages and necromancers. Unlike the players, the locals didn't see any world announcements from the System, so when our guys had begun popping up at the bindstone by the hundreds, Father Sebastian must have thought that... Actually, never mind what he had thought. We had prevailed in the end, and that was all that mattered. After learning of Teiran's demise from the Grand Inquisitor, the king immediately ordered the half-legion to form up in the Square of Heroes. And so we did. Now let's hope we won't have to stand here till morning, I thought with a sigh, reaching for my pipe mechanically. Realizing at once that this was hardly the proper time for a smoke, I put it away, and took a gloomy look around.
The crowd was already several thousand strong, most of them players who weren't likely to be frightened by the prospect of catching some plague. Keeping order were two rows of level 300 legionnaires and another two centuries of guards on either side of the gates. Duke Calle and Duke Gel'ta, both of whom were only counts in my very first vision, stood roughly thirty yards from the head of the main formation, conversing with Father Sebastian in low tones. Of course, with all the noise, I doubted I'd hear anything from here even if they were shouting. The mayhem reminded me of the Moscow subway—all that was missing were the PA announcements.
"Any plans for the evening, dar?"
Sweet Vaessa... Seeing that I was in the dumps, she had decided to try and distract me somehow.
"I don't know about our dar, but you, auntie, will truly shine tonight," Reece butted in as always, adding a dash of envy to his tone. The mage gave me a mournful once-over, then looked down at the ground and drew a most despondent sigh. "It's not fair that neither the prince nor I have a leotard quite as stunning as yours... I suppose we'll have no better option but to hit the inn and get wasted on that wondrous elixir. And maybe sing some songs of lament..."
"You know, just because I didn't kill you back in the cave doesn't mean I can't correct my mistake," Vaessa chuckled, cocking her head playfully.
"Again with the empty threats," the mage gave a carefree wave of the hand. "You know that our prince won't let you kill me. Who would do the backup vocals then?!"
"You're right," Vaessa nodded eagerly, pursing her lips. "But if our prince is going to be singing, I'll make sure I'm off doing something else. Like showing off my leotard."
Actually, that wasn't very fair of her. For the six hours that we've been waiting for the fallen to resurrect, Reece was doing pretty good playing the guitar, and I was feeding him lyrics from my favorite songs. Though I had absolutely no ear for music, my memory was just fine, and the two of us put on a good show, at least judging by the audience's reaction. The magus herself was clearly enjoying herself, a dreamy smile playing on her lips, her thoughts somewhere far, far from here. She and her dragons had leveled to 360, and that was with the three of them splitting all XP gains, which meant her reward for completing Hel's quest had been some fifty times higher than mine. Reece was now level 255, and the rest of the guys had not only recovered lost levels, but ended up breaking 200. The math checked out—they needed about twenty times less XP to level than I did, and even the regular mobs had been a nice boon. And yet, they were all still far too low...
"So, will there be a show tonight or what?" Vaessa touched me on the wrist again.
"I'll need to head out of the city for a few hours," I shrugged. "And talk to the guys once I get back. We'll see, I suppose."
A drumbeat started up from the direction of the gates. The rows of soldiers parted, and Duke Calle stepped forward, drew his sword, cut a fanciful stroke through the air, and dropped it sharply unto his right shoulder, flat side down. The two centuries of guards standing on either side of the gate mirrored his every move.
"Hail to the King! Long live His Majesty!"
The response from the crowd was overwhelming, clogging up my ears like rolling thunder. I was one of the few who wasn't shouting, and instantly regretted it—enduring such sensations was probably a lot easier if you blended in with the crowd.
Two riders emerged from the gate, both of them riding dazzlingly white horses. But of course. Would any self-respecting monarch ride a bay on such an occasion?
Dismounting halfway to us, the two riders handed over the reigns to a pair of guards who ran over at once, and headed our way at a brisk pace. The king looked very much like one would expect, at least to anyone who had seen any films about French royalty from the last century. A neat triangle of a beard, regular features, pristine navy waistcoat over a white lace shirt, and a small hat topped with a red feather. Wisdom, Valor, Truth and Objectivity, I recalled Raena's words. Well, if his ancestor chose those words as his principles of government over this great land, I suppose his progeny looks the part.
The tall man with a prominent bald spot glistening through his gray head of hair I recognized from my vision: Duke Karten, the First Minister. I was doing my best to be inspired by the solemnity of the moment, but it was a struggle against all manner of absurd thoughts overfilling my head. For one, I pictured what it would be like to hold such parades astride Gloom. The two of us would hardly look the part, even if I were to dye him all white, which my formidable piglet would certainly object to—for that I'd probably need to engage the help of Reena, or Salta, or Tilly, or all of them combined... Imagining the boar in a coat of dazzling white, like a giant dumpling with eyes, I bit hard on my lower lip to keep from smiling, lest I ruined the entire ceremony. As a result, I missed the most triumphant part of the service, where Jin Ho stepped out of the ranks and reported to His Majesty that the threat looming over the city had been eliminated. Not that I would make out the words from here even if I had been listening—it was only in combat form that you could fire a cannon next to me without it dampening my senses, and I wasn't going to shift here and now just for that.
Rayan I Erast removed some kind of ribbon from his neck, hung it on Jin Ho's neck instead, and said something. The half-legion roared something in response, but I still didn't make anything out, having neglected to focus on the proceedings entirely. Ugh... These things always seemed to happen when you least expected them—and on the flip side, I could find myself hearing every word of some random soldier's ramblings from a hundred yards away a minute after
a land mine detonated in our immediate vicinity. There was no explanation for this phenomenon—all I could do was accept the inevitable, like death and taxes were in the old world. I stopped fighting it, letting the king talk about whatever while I immersed in my own thoughts. I thought about the fact that a few hours from now I would be one step closer to liberating my wife, that tomorrow I would see my sister and best friend, and that Max and I were going to get piss-drunk celebrating the reunion—all the more so since we had been robbed of the opportunity the last time around. I still couldn't believe that Max had done it! The global message about Mallorn trees returning to the world had come no more than ten minutes after Teiran was put down. Tonight we would all rest. Rest and talk. There hadn't been any time for a normal conversation with my officers yet—not with all the commotion around us. I didn't even know what loot Donut had negotiated for us from the fallen boss.
My hearing returned to me the moment the Erantian King finished his speech, and the first minister took a step forward, unrolling a grand parchment in an elegant, fluid motion.
"By the decree of His Majesty Rayan I Erast, the following individuals are hereby granted the honored title of Heroes of Vaedarr!
"Vaessa dar Luan, High Priestess of the Goddess of Death and Rebirth, Krian, Prince of the free Princedom of Craedia, and Reece dar Tagnan, Satrap of Kjier! Please accept these letters of commendation and insignia!"
You have earned a new title, Hero of Vaedarr. You now have the right to freely travel through and reside in any Erantian settlement, a 20% discount on any property, goods or services freely traded on Erantian territory, and free room and board in any Erantian inn up to one full month.
Whoa... I took a look around, quite stunned. I hope nobody's going to be building any monuments...
"And not a word about the dragons," Reece whispered with feigned distress, his solemn expression unchanged. "Don't worry, little ones, your mistress will buy you a giant carrot each... Maybe even two carrots with our new preferential rates!"
