The Renegades Page 25

  “I’ll take care of that easy,” Chip perked up. “Anyone that needs maintenance can ask me—I’ll take care of it without a problem. It’ll be better than new.”

  “Hold your horses,” the necromancer checked his outpouring of enthusiasm. “As I recall, you can only learn to repair one type of armor at a time. It makes most sense for you to deal with plate armor, while I deal with textiles.”

  “And I’ll have to check what bards wear,” I added.

  “Maybe I should do something too?” Reed asked with such a note of sadness in his voice that I even felt a little embarrassed. It was true—we hardly left him a chance to do anything and feel like he was useful to the party.

  “We’ll head back to the city and think about it together,” Sloe promised.

  “Thanks,” Reed replied with relief.

  “I have a sudden hankering for rabbit meat,” Chip licked his lips and pointed at a pair of ears sticking out of the grass ahead. The rest of the creature didn’t look particularly appetizing: The fur had grown dark, the body bristled with thorns, the eyes were glowing red and the front teeth looked quite a bit like fangs.

  “I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like the look of that bunny,” the necromancer remarked, forming a ball of dark energy in his hands.

  I took my lute too, ready to blast the bunny with a magic missile. If you factor in our recent debuff and the monster’s buff, Sloe’s spell might not be enough. But in the next moment, the rabbit—who had been about twenty meters away from us—performed an unbelievable leap and in a blur traversed the distance to the ‘charging’ necromancer. I don’t know whether he had managed to cast his spell or not, but if it weren’t for Chip’s halberd that literally cleaved the rabbit in half in midflight, Sloe may have been done for.

  “A crit, a very palpable crit!” the pirc who was coming to terms with the gaming slang, roared triumphantly.

  “If I weren’t a plant, I’d have a seat.” The necromancer camouflaged instantly. “If they have these assault bunnies here, then what about the wolves or bears? I suspect that we need to get out of this deadly place and move on around it. We’ll reach the Arras, get some guild help and then return well-armed to look for the source of the blight.”

  Everyone nodded with agreement. This quest clearly demanded some preparations. As it turned out, though, we didn’t have enough time to leave.

  “I see dead people…” someone said in a sinister voice and in the next instant a biota with the memorable name Otolaryngologist appeared behind Reed’s back. A flash of the dagger and the bard turned into a heap of falling coins.

  “What the hell?” barked the pirc, swinging his halberd, but the assassin wasn’t where he had been. With incredible agility, he rolled up next to me. I felt a fairly painful prick in my throat and…

  Attention! Respawn Penalty: -30% XP.

  Hello launch screen and hello 12 hour countdown timer…I mean, this is unbelievable!

  Unprintable words danced on the tip of my tongue. He came, he saw, he wiped us. Judging by the damage I had taken, the rest of my party was gone too by now. I climbed out of my capsule, picked up my comm and called Chip, Sloe and Reed in turn, bringing everyone in on conference.

  “Goddamn son of a two-bit, one-legged, six-toed…” Sloe was mid-oath when he picked up. “Oh, sorry, Lori.”

  “Don’t worry about it—I feel roughly the same.”

  “We need to off that bastard,” Chip announced flatly. His voice sounded distorted, but no one was paying attention to that anymore. “Divide him by zero.”

  “What was that?” haplessly asked Reed, connecting last.

  “A future dead man, that’s who,” Chip prophesied gloomily, still fuming. “I’ll bite his ear off and cut his throat for good measure, the tumbleweed.”

  “That’s a good pirc,” Sloe quipped. “You should first worry about leveling up and then think about what you’ll do to him. As it happens, you’ll have a week to do just that. While the countdown timer is doing its thing, I’ll have to go on my trip.”

  “Eh, damn it, what a trip to the Arras…Well, maybe Chip, Reed and I will make it while you’re gone. Can you send us some contact info for your guild? Maybe we’ll make it across the border.”

  “Why that would be perfect,” Sloe agreed. “If you do that, we won’t have to worry about any local PKers. The guild will locate the dungeon a lot faster too.”

  “In that case, it’s agreed,” I concluded. “Reed, what are your plans in the game?”

  “Let’s try to complete the Tenth’s quest chain. I don’t have other plans beyond that. I’ll read around the forums and try to choose some useful professions to master. I need to learn how to make money in this game, after all.”

  “Choose sewing—you won’t regret it” Sloe recommended. “The gear here looks pretty unique. You’ll be able to sell it in the larger world sheerly due to how it looks. And you should master embroidery while you’re at it. It’s pretty handy.”

  “Perfect. Thank you.”

  “Okay. Then until tomorrow, everyone. And until we meet again, Sloe,” I said. “If anything, I’ll be online.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Despite my in-game demise, my mood was excellent. I had a myriad impressions from the game and each day the mystery of the blighted forest seemed more interesting to me. Solving the Tenth’s riddle loomed on the horizon along with the arrival of the Kartossian embassy (by the way, I need to expend more effort on social quests for the festival’s preparation). Meanwhile, the lyrics to the new song had formed themselves in my head. If I grind my reputation some more, I’ll be able to record some fitting footage and edit it into a free and very pretty video. All of Barliona was curious about the new biota location, so my video should garner plenty of views. The thought of it alone drove me to jig with impatience and yet the countdown timer implacably told me that there were still eleven hours and change to go. As a result, I channeled all of my impatience into my guitar synth. This piece of cutting-edge tech allowed me to imitate most stringed instruments and I spent a good deal of time fiddling with the settings to find the right sound. If only I could play heavy metal on that lute of mine in Barliona. By the way, I’ll need to ask Pirus if there’s some kind of analog for my trusty synth. It’s a magical world, after all.

  As always, after the respawn time elapsed, I came back on the Branch of Oblivion. This time, it wasn’t empty. A mournful procession was carrying four leaf-litters bearing deceased biota. I was struck by the withered pallor of their bodies, reminded instantly of the blight in the forest. It looked like the passive blight was gradually entering an active phase.

  A beautiful cello part began to sound all of a sudden and I wasn’t surprised when I noticed Reed. Like me, he had respawned in one of the buds and was now watching the passing procession with sincere compassion on his face. The bow in his hands slid smoothly across the strings, making the cello weep and grieve for the dead. Following his example, I took my lute in hand and cautiously wove its voice into the resounding melody. The NPCs glanced over at us and I thought I discerned gratitude in their looks.

  Just like in my vision, the corpses were placed atop blooming flowers whose petals slowly closed over the dead, returning their corpses to the Tree. Their lives and memories would become the fragments of someone’s dreams, the visions, and their bodies a part of the world we lived in. A beautiful, if odd, ceremony. As far as I know, in the rest of Barliona, the bodies of NPCs who aren’t part of some quest simply disappear. I guess the location designers wanted to inject a little more symbolism in this natural cycle…

  The conclusion of the ceremony was marked by the appearance of a new system notification:

  Your music helped relieve the pain in the hearts of your audience and transformed their oppressive sorrow into a light sadness.

  +100 Reputation with the Biota.

  Current status: Friendly.

  Contrary to my expectations, the sudden increase in reputation didn’t bring me
much joy. My condition was sad and serene and numbers were the least interesting thing to me at the moment.

  “Shall we go?” I quietly offered to the silent Reed.

  “Yes, it’s time,” he agreed and we headed out to meet Chip.

  The pirc was sitting on a river’s bank, trying to fish with a homemade pole. However, either the fish didn’t frequent these waters or the bait didn’t please them, or even—and more likely, the pirc’s fishing skill was too low—but whatever the reason, the pirc couldn’t boast of a single catch.

  “We need to die less,” the pirc announced, changing the tackle. “I almost died from boredom waiting out that damn timer. If you were to tell me a month ago that I would miss this high-tech casket—I’d never believe you.”

  “Are you telling me that the idea of spending your vacation in VR doesn’t seem that barbaric to you anymore?” I nudged him.

  “It’s pure savagery!” Chip doubled down on his earlier verdict. “If I weren’t stuck between four walls, you couldn’t force me in here for the life of you.”

  “All right, all right. Let’s party up and try that canyon again. By the way, does anyone have any new ideas?”

  “How about we trigger a rockslide?” Chip offered. “Maybe it would open a cave or a passage overhead.”

  “We’d be more likely to perish in it,” I demurred. “Reed?”

  “Remember the funeral,” he replied. “Music can confer peace. Maybe that’s what that ghost needs?”

  Chip and I exchanged glances and I spoke the pass phrase:

  “I want to try again!”

  A flash—and we were in the canyon again—the silhouette of the ghost warrior standing sentry in the distance.

  “Okay my vegetable duet, let’s hear your best requiem,” said Chip and sat down beside a large boulder.

  “Shall I lead?” Reed asked shyly and once I’d assented, produced his cello out of thin air like a magician. Looking around, he found a suitable boulder, sat down on it and began to play.

  Good Noodle up in the Heavens, how well did Reed play! The bow in his hand seemed alive gushing with its harmony of sounds. The lute’s voice blended with that of the cello, birthing a special and unseen magic. The music filled the canyon with itself, flooding it, submerging the listeners. Even Chip lowered his halberd and listened with a strange expression on his face—as if he was regretting something or remembering someone.

  The ghost also began to listen, turning his head in his hefty helm. After a bit, he sat down on the stone beside him but continued to watch us, and later still, his battle axe dropped to the earth and the warrior froze completely, his chin rested on his fist. The inscription over his head faded, blinked and then filled with a neutral yellow color.

  “It looks like it worked,” Chip’s voice was deafening amid the silence that followed the music. “Let me check.”

  He heaved his halberd over his shoulder and began to walk. Trying to look as non-threatening as possible (although, if you ask me, the very look of this beast, striding toward you with a giant piece of steel on his shoulder would be cause enough for anxious thoughts), the pirc approached the quiescent ghost. The warrior glanced up at the pirc and then went back to his contemplation.

  Reed and I exchanged glances and carefully followed in Chip’s wake. The canyon narrowed yet again and ended at another portal.

  Quest updated: Road to Nowhere (Three trials completed).

  “Same thing all over again,” the pirc sighed. “Isn’t there some directory service here or something? An operator? A guide? The service in this place is just atrocious…”

  “You’re blocking the way,” I complained, trying to squeeze past the giant.

  “Don’t crawl across pappy to throw yourself into the oven,” Chip slid me back behind his back and dived into the magical ring.

  As soon as I realized where we were, I gripped the pirc’s paw with a death grip. The stone floor beneath our feet collapsed to…nowhere. The inky darkness winked with a myriad of stars. And all that supported us over this abyss was a slab about two meters in diameter.

  “This isn’t real, this isn’t real,” I repeated until my head stopped spinning from a mere glance at the abyss.

  “This is like Kon-Tiki but in space or something,” the pirc sighed ecstatically. Embracing my shoulder, he added: “Easy there, Lori. I have you.”

  “What majesty!” Reed wasn’t on the same page as me either. “Look! They move! The constellations! It’s as if they’re alive!”

  Without moving a millimeter from Chip, who had become my symbolical anchor, I glanced in the direction Reed had indicated. I glanced and remained staring with bulging eyes and a daft smile on my face. The stars lived their own fairytale lives here, possible only in childhood fantasies. A stellar fish fanned its tail and dived into the Milky Way; nearby, a dragon flew alongside a Pegasus. A colossal warrior raised his sword in a salute and turned back to his combat with a titanic hydra.

  “Like in that ancient cartoon about Sinbad the Sailor,” Chip turned his head back and forth, examining the animated constellations.

  Quest completed: Road to Nowhere.

  Receive your reward from Cypro.

  “Cypro?” Reed said, shocked. “Didn’t you say that he disappeared?”

  “That is not quite accurate,” replied a stranger’s voice.

  Before us stood a biota stitched from starlight. I recognized the Tenth from my visions. The First Bard of my race was looking at us with happy curiosity.

  Chip instantly bristled the fur on his nape and just in case shielded me behind himself, the overcautious furball. After that, glancing warily at the new ghost, he reached for his map. As I suspected, this location wasn’t on the map either.

  “Check that out—the road really did bring us to nowhere,” the pirc remarked. “Doesn’t look too shabby…”

  And yet he didn’t drop his guard for a second, drilling Cypro’s ghost with a menacing stare.

  “Not quite accurate?” Reed echoed the stranger.

  “Not quite Cypro,” the Tenth clarified. “I am a recollection. Something akin to an agglomerate of the individual I was. So basically I am at once Cypro and not Cypro.”

  “Don’t you get bored of living for eons?” My acrophobia temporarily abated from the uncommon sight. Woven of light, the figure spread its arms as if trying to embrace this strange world.

  “Time passes differently here,” he said. “Only a few hours have elapsed for me—and you are the fourth set of visitors I’ve received since my creation.”

  “And who was here before us?” I couldn’t help but indulge my curiosity.

  “Too much knowledge,” Cypro said, winking, “makes a good bard. Still, I will keep their names secret. I’ll say only that they reached this place following a different path from you.”

  “Are there other paths?” Reed asked with surprise.

  “Multitudes. Long and short, complicated and simple. Each choice you make generates a different path and a different reward. First I shall reward your companion.”

  His bodiless arm touched Chip’s brow and the pirc started.

  “Without true companions, many roads are closed to the bards. Remember their worth and help them on their way.”

  The pirc’s face took on a surprised expression.

  “Well…Thank you…I guess…” he muttered. “I’m always ready to work and defend the fatherland.”

  “Now you,” the recollection turned to Reed. “You do not seek adventure. Music is your entire world, full of mysterious riddles and stunning discoveries. This shall help you find new sounds.”

  “Thank you,” Reed broke into a smile and gingerly accepted an ordinary-looking bow.

  “And you—you are possessed by the spirit of adventure.” These words were for me and I finally squeezed between Chip and Reed. “I am confident that with time you will find a way to read my notes and set forth on wondrous travels.”

  “Maybe you could give me a hint about how I can do this?
” I asked without much hopes of success.

  “That would be too easy,” Cypro shook his head. “I’ll say only that the notes are a magic copy. Every time I add a new note, it appears in your journal too. I imagine that you and I shall meet again in the real world. The spirit of wandering lives within you—you seek stories. This shall help you on your journey.”

  The stellar ghost offered me a strange object: a small piece of stained glass depicting the flower of life in a carved wooden frame.

  Item acquired: Mirror of Wisdom.

  Requirement: Bardic Lore 100 required to access the properties of this item.

  Requirement: Bardic Lore 100+ required to use this item.

  “What is this?” I asked, turning the strange object in my hands.

  “You shall understand in due time,” the recollection promised. “And now it’s time you go. Do not try to return—this road is forever closed to you.”

  “But I have a million questions…” I blurted out and discovered that instead of the star-studded abyss, I was surrounded by the already-familiar Tree.

  Chip was the first to come to his senses. Smoothing his fur, he looked around, stuck his nose into the map for some reason, lowered his ears with disappointment and said:

  “Can you believe it? What a generous ghost we have on our communal farm. He gave me a lordly present: I get +10% to my stats from your labors now.”

  “Solid,” Reed and I approved and then stared at my prize.

  “I’ll speak for everyone: What does this little flower do?” Chip asked rhetorically.

  “I wish I knew,” I sighed, placing the present in my inventory. “I’ll only find out when my Bardic Lore reaches one hundred. Reed, what did you get?”

  “This bow allows me to alter the register and tonality…” He broke off, seeing Chip’s stumped expression. “I can change the sound of the cello. In theory, I should be able to mimic a violin or even a double bass. But we’ll see in practice.”