Demonborn's Fjord

by Dante Sakurai

  An indigo star flew at the wall, popped with a shower of sparks, and left scorch marks on the untidy masonry over an inactive portal arch.

  “Nice,” Ayla said through a mouthful of watermelon, and it was very watery. “But let’s not try that in here again.”

  Tasha would’ve asked for a slice if she weren’t bloated with moonwheat pasta, milky in taste. “Sorry. Ready to go?”

  “Not yet.”

  “And what are you waiting for?”

  “Trader.” Ayla wolfed down a massive bite, swallowing only after two chews. “Gab wants some items bought. You didn’t know?”

  “What?” Tasha said with a cough. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “Um, she did? You weren’t answering, apparently.”

  That couldn’t be right. Tasha forcibly expanded the chatbox and scrolled through all the noise of regional adventurer chat. And in between two guys joking about Lunar Elf women, Gabrielle’s private message had been left unanswered. Three of them.

  Whooooops.

  “Forgot to filter out adventurer chat.” Tasha whistled through the embarrassment like Gabrielle would.

  “Why’d you have it on in the first place?”

  “It was on when I respawned. Saw some funny jokes.”

  Ayla’s head shook. “That’s how the guys rope you in. Before you know it, you’ll be waking up in a hotel room all alone.”

  At this point, Tasha was used to this dark brand of lewdness, grown a natural tolerance to stay sane. “Are you speaking from experience? Like at work. Not saying you—”

  “Perhaps.”

  Perhaps? Tasha giggled. “You just sounded a lot like Rowan.”

  “He’s an interesting guy.”

  Interesting? “How so?”

  “I wonder how he and Gab got together. Their personalities are very… contrasting.”

  “Long story short…” Tasha sighed. “They met in another VR game a couple years back. Been together since.”

  “Another VR game?”

  “Like low-tech VR. Nothing like this.”

  Ayla took a few seconds to understand, staring at the wall with a dead face. “Oh. I see. Surprised they called that VR.”

  A nerdy comment was hanging off Tasha’s lip when a skinny guy in a white cloak stepped into the chamber. He carried a scent of jasmine flowers, the ambient mana clinging to his body calming. Welcoming. Peace and love was the magic of Priests. But that hooked wand, the length of his forearm, was made of either ivory or another kind of bone. It was a killer’s weapon. The contrast was jarring at best, creepy at worst.

  In case this was what they called a gank or a duel, Tasha was ready to shoot Arcane Bolts. Her glove tightened on her staff. The magic word was at the tip of her tongue. She silently asked the game interface for a details window.

  ? : Sun Elf (Level 29)

  Health: 100%

  Just a level 29, but level 29 was eleven greater than Tasha’s level.

  “Good to see you again,” Ayla said, smiling.

  “You too.” His voice was feeble. He glanced at Tasha with obvious recognition. “Are you—”

  “I am,” Tasha said in a haughty voice. “What about it?”

  “Nothing. I’m just here for a trade.” Very feeble. His body language was weak. He pocketed his wand, allowing Tasha to relax.

  Ayla laughed with exaggerated cuteness. “Do you have it?”

  “I do.” He fetched a tome from a pouch hidden under his robe, then dropped it back in. His eyes dipped submissively for a moment. His fingers shook. He could no look Ayla in the eye for more than a second at a time for some reason. He was nervous. Despite being more powerful?

  With a haughty smirk, Ayla dropped the cylinder into her pouch and exchanged it for three gold coins. And with no warning, she closed the gap and touched Lucas’ cheek. She pressed her body against his.

  She kissed him. On the lips.

  Tasha stared gobsmacked. The dastardly gossiper in her snapped not just one screenshot but a dozen… for later. Gabrielle wasn’t going to believe this. This couldn’t be happening, but it was, right here in front of Tasha as if she weren’t there. Ayla hadn’t been joking about selling herself out to guys for in-game goodies.

  Exactly three minutes of lewd action (clothes on, thankfully!) passed before they broke it off. Or rather, Ayla slapped away Lucus’ groping hands. She stepped back, buttoned up her jerkin, and cleared her throat. “Well? Is this going to get messy?”

  One of those dumb boyish smiles was plastered on the bottom half of Lucas’ face. “N— No. No.” He unfastened his pouch and handed it over.

  A squinting gaze from Tasha revealed its contents.

  Large Pig Leather Pouch

  Enchanted Adorned Adamantite Dagger of Greater Agility and Disease

  Enchanted Adorned Adamantite Dagger of Greater Flow and Poison

  Priest Tome

  Slave Enchantment Runestone (5)

  Frosted Illanor Cheese (5)

  Frosted Tomato Paste (5)

  Frosted Yeast (5)

  Frosted Pineapple Lumps (5)

  Frosted Sliced Ham (5)

  Frosted Blueberry Pie (10)

  Frosted Buttered Beef Steak and Orange Potatoes (50)

  Frosted Mystery Stir Fry (10)

  “Nice doing business.” Ayla handed over a small bag of coins, then tied pig leather straps to the right side of her waist, balancing out a Ox Leather Pouch at her left. She replaced her unimpressive steel daggers with two menacing green ones. The look was not that bad.

  Lucas murmured, “Uh, no problem, but don’t tell my guild I sold you our steaks.”

  “Only if you tell me where you got the slave enchants.”

  “Oh, Trolls sometimes have them at their camps.”

  “Their Enchanters make them?”

  “They get them from their god.”

  “Ah, thank you.”

  “No problem.” Lucas scratched his head in such an awkward fashion. He looked at Tasha. He spoke in a nervous rush, “I’ll have to tell my guild I saw you here or they’ll chew me out when they find out, sorry. So sorry.” He vanished within a fuzz of white light—a short-range blink skill.

  Tasha blew hot air. “He steals from his guild and then says he has to report me to them. What a passive aggressive little guy.”

  “Oh, he’s not so aggressive. Just a bit shy. I think he’s pretty nice.”

  “Really?” Tasha scoffed. “What was with all that aggressive groping, then? I can’t believe you did that. I thought you were joking about that stuff.”

  Ayla’s cheeks brightened with faint pink blush. “What’s so wrong? You know what they say; it’s the oldest profession, and I bet you’d do the same for some decent gear. Only dragonsteel is better than these.” Her daggers spun dangerously on her palms.

  Tasha stepped back for her own safety. “No, I wouldn’t do the same.”

  Ayla shrugged. “If you say so, and I’m not sharing my steaks.”

  Now that was going too far. “You have fifty of them.”

  “I know. I wanted fifty cuts of chicken too.”

  “At least share the pies.”

  “Hmm… We’ll see.”

  Tasha’s eyes rolled. “I’m not even going to ask about the mystery stir fry.”

  Ayla smirked devilishly. “I was going to offer you some, but suit yourself.”

  “Let’s just go.” Tasha placed her hand on a crystal orb. Its magic reacted with her own, and the game interface prompted her.

  Select a destination:

  Theidell Castle

  Oakwood Hall

  Stonehurst Keep (destroyed)

 

  Other (requires secret words)

  Frowning, she selected the fourth option.

  And a spiraling portal of white and blue magic drilled into existed under the arch. Ayla first walked through, then Tasha, who checked over her shoulder for anything suspicious as the portal closed behind her. Down the hal
l, Lucas’ eyes were peeking around the corner. What a little dork.

  53

  Mad pings shook Rowan out of a dreamless sleep.

  Gabby LeMort (Party Chat): Spiders! Spiders! Spider invasion at the wall!

  The slave links returned to him.

  Helmet and sandals worn, he was sprinting through the door, through the open palisade gate, then uphill under pine branches, under darkening skies and twin crescent moons and ungodly gusts coming from the fjord. Damn, it was getting cold!

  His teeth were chattering when the wall’s construction site greeted him with Liluth’s Builder magic erecting a final section of the marble wall—a wall spanning the whole forty yard gap. Stone chunks shaped themselves into blocks, invisible hands stacking them in a typical brickwork pattern. Beige mana made for seamless mortar. Over ten feet of marble had been stacked, walkable on top between blocky teeth and machicolations. Crenelations added a few extra feet. A wooden ladder gave access. Beautiful.

  Wait. No gate?

  Looking back, Liluth noticed Rowan’s approach. Bags hung under her eyes.

  And Gabrielle’s eyes as well. She whistled at him, cheering, “Come! Come! Come!”

  In seconds, he was on the ladder. The sixth rung creaked, but he was up no problem. He jumped inside the battlement. Everyone was here. Everyone from the original Elves to the four newcomers, including Jassin, who was hugging Saeya’s arm.

  Shivering, Rowan broke out of his daze and positioned himself next to Gabrielle at the center. Her damp hair whipped in the frigid breeze as she chucked something over—a fire grenade. It went off with a rising fireball a few dozen yards into the pass. He squinted through smoke and flames, his eyes stinging for a moment.

  Spiders were burning. They were coming—a slow trickle.

  Then slim arms wrapped around his chest. Gabrielle’s fur coat did not want to share body heat but insulated his own better than he thought bear fur could. Nice and toasty. She didn’t let go, not for five of his slow heartbeats, not for ten… or twenty.

  “Ah,” he hummed. “Are you okay?”

  She sniffed into his neck, and yawned. “Just making sure you don’t freeze dun’ death.” She was half asleep.

  He smirked, patting her back. The fur was thick. “Saeya made this?”

  “Yup.”

  “How did you convince her to join us, by the way.”

  “Trolls killed her parents. I promised her vengeance.”

  “An easy deal.”

  “An easy deal,” she mimicked. “I’m Lord LeMort. I go off to dungeons without any armor, without knowing my pouch has potions in it.”

  Ah, she was still upset over his unceremonious departure. He said gently at above a whisper, “Hey, look. I needed some brainless, violent fun to unwind—alone. I’ve been stressed as hell. I was having dreams of waking to an empty settlement… or knives in our backs.”

  “Row.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Take off that helmet so I can see your face.”

  Not what he expected. He did as asked and held it under his armpit. The dry wind lashed his cheeks. He had some trouble meeting her cat eyes. “It’s off.”

  She sighed. “Why didn’t ya just say so? I’m here for ya, don’t forget.”

  He gave a little shrug. “I know. But that doesn’t really help.”

  “And those Undead did?”

  “Yeah. I’m way better with swords now, and I have cool helmet.” He slipped it back on. “It helps with the cold.”

  She looked by his leg, grabbing something out of a crate. A folded fur coat.

  Bear Fur Coat

  Item Type: Armor (torso and legs)

  Armor Rating: 32

  Quality: 402 (Good)

  He snatched it quite rudely, but she didn’t mind. He reached into the sleeves and pulled it around his body. The blacksteel buttons were a tad clunky to do up even with her help. The coat shrank and wrapped him tighter with an influx of bland magic. This had to be a ridiculous look with the helmet; he didn’t care.

  But she did. “Row.” She smiled with a hint of disdain. “Ya look lamer than I thought possible.”

  “Don’t worry. Once I unlock appearance enchants, I can make clothing and armor invisible.”

  Her eyes widened. “Dun’ get any perverted ideas.”

  It took a moment. He laughed, his voice echoing in the helm. “Really, I wasn’t thinking about that.”

  “Good.”

  He glanced down the pass. Someone down the wall had thrown a grenade just then. It set ablaze a dozen Drones. Skylar’s sharp-shots picked off Jumper Spiders coming along the mountain faces as they swung from crevices and juts in the rock. Nice all around. They didn’t need his assistance yet.

  He met her eyes again. “So I watched Sortis Yummies. You were great.”

  She frowned—not the reaction he wanted. “In the dungeon? I thought ya were fighting Undead.”

  Whoops. “Oh, um… I kind of failed and had to wait it out. I was watching videos for a hour and a bit.”

  “Ya failed?”

  He stepped back in case of danger. “So there was a tricky puzzle I wasn’t expecting.” He chuckled thrice. “I was expecting just brainless fun, you know? I didn’t want to think.”

  She stared at him blankly.

  He took another step back. “Hey! I had to activate a hundred doors in a specific order, and I didn’t even have the skills to activate them.”

  That did not help. Her eye twitched.

  He continued with the groveling: “It’s not all a waste. I saw a vision of our future selves. Look in our Plopbox. We were bad-ass Myrmidons. And I did get that loot, remember. Your wishbone is in the storage. The coins and the tomes I took too.”

  Her eyes went crazy-mode. “So ya did take the tomes. I was lookin’ for them everywhere!”

  Uh oh. “Look. I didn’t know the pouches were—”

  “Dummy!” She poked his chest with a steel finger. “Dummy! Dummy! Dummy!”

  Zaine’s laugh wafted down the wall.

  Rowan’s flicked back to Zaine. To Zaine’s regrown arm.

  “Oh!” Gabrielle bounced on her feet. “Liluth’s a Priest now.”

  “Sweet.”

  “But she can’t regrow your arm.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Cus Priests use light magic, and you’re a Demon, duh. It’d hurt you instead.”

  This tripe dark-light duality had escaped through cracks in his mind. “Then no worries. Once we have a graveyard, I’ll just jump off a cliff or something.”

  “Hehehe.”

  For the next half hour, Rowan sat back and enjoyed the view, feeling snug and warm. This new coat was nothing less than splendid; the gusts from behind was reduced to an ignorable breeze. Saeya had outdone herself. He made a note to surprise her with a gift one day.

  The sky swelled to a half-cloudy night, the twin moons shining through thin strips. Something large sped in front of beige craters. Another dragon? Or some kind of cosmic horror patrolling the skies? It wouldn’t be surprising if it was the latter at this point… after that dungeon run in space.

  He inwardly laughed, smiling at another group of five incoming spiders, welcoming them. The trickle had intensified to a sustained zerg-rush of Drones and bulkier Fighters. They were packed limb to limb. They squeezed down the pass in a flowing black mass of glowing blue eyes and white hairs.

  Why even send the Drones?

  Why not retreat after such a disaster?

  They were not smart, and their queen was barely worth the title of intelligent. They were just mutated insects. He had greatly overestimated their level of danger; this was not an Undead invasion.

  Gabrielle’s face crept into his breathing room. “What are ya smilin’ about?”

  “I’m just happy. I love watching bugs burn.”

  “Hmmm. Kay.” She copied his smile. “Me too!”

  “You think their queen will show up?”

  “I hope so.” Her tone was off.
/>
  “Hmm?”

  She did not elaborate.

  And when the tide of spiders passed an invisible fifty yard mark in the dirt, someone down the line launched ten grenades via slingshot. The detonation was thunderous. A mushroom of fire and smoke rose above burning spiders. Pungent, charred winds stormed down pass.

  Zaine’s mounted crossbow sling was a contraption out of later medieval centuries, but fancier. Blacksteel reinforced extra-thick limbs, flowery fern-like patterns carved into the wood. Excellent craftsmanship.

  The smoke cleared. A blackened mass impeded their advance, but only for a moment before Fighter Spiders dissolved it with acid sprays. They kept crawling toward the wall. They cared not for their slain, burning kin as though under the effects of a mind-controlling suicidal curse. The slingshot launched another grenade cluster, and a second explosion ate a sizable chunk into their numbers.

  They really were not a threat at all when their abdomens were bloated with flammable gunk. They were merely another insect infestation like those that had plagued the gold mine, except this one had gone rampant. His worries had been misplaced.

  Maybe Gabrielle’s Luck build was coming into play. Something magical must have triggered this mass suicide.

  And all his worry about rebellion had been misplaced. He now could not deny that these Sun Elves lived by a code of honor and good morals. They were too good. With a Myrmidon Temple, they had been the most advanced and most powerful civilization on Sortis, yet they had shown restraint.

  But Rowan LeMort was not as honorable. He lived for himself and his wife alone. Everyone else came second, including these damned spiders. Watching hundreds upon hundreds burn was delight without equal. This was his beauty. This was art. He snapped a screenshot.

  Gabrielle giggled by his neck. “I saw that.”

  “Saw what?”

  “Ya took a screenshot. Your party icon had a red dot for a second.”

  Huh. He glanced at her entry, and true to her word, a tiny red dot was slowly blinking on her water-color portrait beneath Tasha and Ayla’s logged-out entires. “Did they just patch that?”

  “Yup. Ninja-patch.”

  “Why?”

  “Dunno. Maybe privacy issues? Ya think people will object to being put on MyTube?”