A Song of Shadow Page 33

  And the flames flared...

  A tsunami of fire—in comparison to which the recent wall of flame was as an ember beside a blazing bonfire—surged from the blighted ground like an unstoppable tide. The insatiable, magical flames devoured everything in their path, sparing neither foe nor ally. Ancient trees blazed, writhing in agony and releasing from their arms the Shadow pirqs remained immune to magic. The grass and bushes, which clung to the feet of the renegades to the last, were covered with ash. The traps and snares that had bound Geranika’s minions evaporated in the blaze.

  Even the minions themselves perished in this hell: Those that did not have time to hide under the protection of shadows, those that failed in time to get out from under the onslaught. The earth itself burnt out, turning to a barren crust. The flames lapped at the barrier erected by the Kartossians but could not pass through the magical aura. But the fire consumed all the oxygen in the area, threatening to suffocate the sentients who were trapped within.

  The army of Shadow ebbed back, returning to the blighted ground to heal its wounds. Hundreds of pairs of fogged-over eyes watched pitilessly as the fire struggled to devour their kinsmen.

  It did not succeed. There were enough powerful fire mages among the defenders who knew how to dampen the fire. And yet on the newly scorched battlefield, the forest could no longer help its children. The miserable patch of greenery was rapidly disappearing, trampled by the boots of those who were hiding under a magical shield. Wounded by the fire, the trees crackled plaintively, threatening to collapse in burned embers to the ground, without any distinction of who was beneath them. Charred bodies lay like grim reminders on the still-smoking earth. And there was no way to tell whose side the casualties belonged to anymore. Death, as ever the great equalizer, reigned over the field.

  The Fifth, who had created this conflagration, slowly moved towards the defending army, already charging a new spell.

  “Rally our forces!” the Master of Kartoss ordered the magisters around him. “Together we can hold off the Shadow host. Meanwhile, try to slay Geranika!”

  Alas, it was not so easy. The army of Shadow, which had restored its strength, rushed again to the attack, but this time there were no branches, nor roots, nor traps, nor snares to stop them. The two hosts clashed, Kodiak and Speleus coming together in their midst.

  Blood sloshed onto the dead, scorched earth.

  Not far from Geranika, Astilba was drawing a complex pattern with a luminous powder on the ground with a frightful indifference to what was happening around her. Suddenly she froze and the fog flowed like a cataract from the eyes of the Sixth, giving way at last to her customary green. The Lord of Shadow turned to look at Astilba and frowned. The gray fog again filled the necromancer’s eyes and the necromancer returned to her task.

  Geranika, meanwhile, examined his blood-stained suit with an annoyed expression. Ugly black roots stretched to the feet of the Lord of Shadow and wrapped around his legs like a nasty tangle of snakes. The pulsating, predatory tendrils absorbed the blood oozing through his clothes. Geranika’s health began to decrease bit by bit and I involuntarily looked at the First. The magical radiance of the channeled spell poured from the hands of the druid. For a moment, I decided that Nigella had the power to command even blighted plants, but soon I realized my mistake. Soaking in Geranika’s blood, the blight surged, rapidly covering more and more areas of the forest and promising the Lord of Shadow an easy victory. It was clear that as soon as the blight reached the defenders, they would be swept from the field of battle.

  Fresia too understood this. Embroiled in a duel with the Second, the paladin strained, shoved her enemy away from herself, knelt down and plunged her sword into the ground, inevitably opening herself to the countering blow. And it came. The Second’s hand did not flinch as he brought his sword down on the defenseless Fresia. But the blade did not reach the body of Sylvyn’s warrior. A dagger hurled by Eben ricocheted of the blade, deflecting its trajectory and the Second’s sword powerlessly tore the air next to the kneeling paladin. The spymaster did not permit him the luxury of a second strike. He threw a handful of powder in his eyes, deftly dodged the answering lunge and enveloped the blinded enemy in an intricate dance of blades.

  And meanwhile, from the spot where the Third’s blade had pierced the ground, Sylvyn’s grace flowed like the circles of water radiating from where a stone plunges into a lake. The blessed ground encountered the sprawling blight and stopped it. Foggy tongues helplessly crawled along the border, unable to overcome the holy barrier. Caught on the blessed ground, the blighted biota began to change: the fog of oblivion gave way to alert, lucid green looks.

  “Eben?” the Second whispered in amazement, coming to. His green eyes widened and he lowered his weapon. “What is happening, brother?”

  “Retreat!” sounded Geranika’s order.

  The Lord of Shadow knit his brows; his face contorted in tension. The biota who had begun to recover—again lost all their emotions. Like clumsy puppets, the renegades slowly lumbered back toward the blighted ground nearby. The Second’s eyes once more fogged over and, step by step, he retreated from the bewildered Eben.

  A few scarlet drops of blood appeared from Geranika’s nose, and he casually wiped it with a cambric white handkerchief.

  I didn’t get a chance to see what happened after that. Eid understood what was going on, grabbed me, hoisted me onto his shoulder and dragged me towards the blessed ground.

  “I still need her for one important piece of business,” Geranika said politely, noticing this maneuver.

  A lone shade flew from his hand and rushed toward Eid. At its slightest touch, the disembodied soul returned to its instrument. And I...And I again limply rose to my feet and touched the strings. The first minor chords of an ominous hymn sounded across the battlefield. The Hymn to Shadow.

  At the same time, the world clouded over with darkness. Not even darkness, but something far more frightening. A massive version of the Shadow Haze spell descended on a part of the forest like a black and white film, blinding all who did not bear Geranika’s ‘gift.’ Alien to Barliona itself, the spell’s power blocked even the gaze of the gods. Sylvyn’s blessing was losing strength and slowly, centimeter by centimeter, the blight was creeping forward, again threatening to devour the entire battlefield.

  The pirqs of Shadow rushed to the attack, easily sweeping away their blinded foes. A lively band of them rushed onto Fresia, who was still somehow holding back the implacably advancing blight around her. The Third, the most ancient paladin of the forest, could not see through the viscous gloom, but she could hear the battle drawing inexorably closer to her. And although she heard it, she didn’t dare halt her appeal to Sylvyn.

  Disoriented and blinded, the defenders of the forest could not stop the onslaught. Here the pirq chieftain Speleus missed Kodiak’s powerful blow and slumped heavily to the ground. But the commander of the renegades did not waste his time on a wounded opponent. He continued his advance towards the kneeling Fresia and now there was no obstacle that could stop the pirq of Shadow. Kodiak loomed over Sylvyn’s warrior, raised his sword, intending to solve the problem of the blessed ground with one powerful blow, yet his blade did not reach its target. In some unthinkable way, the Seventh again appeared next to Fresia, deflecting the blow. The eyes of the spymaster were closed and his movement resembled an intricate dance of blades more than anything else. It seems that his inability to see did not hinder the rogue one bit. He danced around Kodiak, dodging his blows and all the while screening him from the Third.

  This did not however alter the larger course of the battle. Supported by Geranika, the Shadow Haze turned the defenders into easy targets for the renegades. Even I was about to make my contribution to the fall of the Hidden Forest. All I had to do was complete the Hymn to Shadow and not only would the whole army grow stronger, but Geranika himself—and he was no weakling as it stood. And that’s to say nothing of the Fifth or of Astilba...

  The latter had not
been standing around idly and had just completed her enigmatic ritual. She threw up her hands in a strange gesture, and a portal of flaming fire flashed before her. Drained by the spell, Astilba collapsed weakly to the thorny grass—while a Level 350 Archdemon stepped through the portal’s blazing threshold. Immense, no less than three meters tall, he looked around dully and grimaced. Belonging to another plane, the demon was just as helpless in the face of Shadow as the other creatures. But this did not prevent him from opening five more portals, from which a variety of smaller demons began appearing, ranging in levels from two hundred to three hundred. Anthropomorphic and beast-like, small and large, beautiful and ugly—they poured from the portals in jumbled masses, unsure of how to fight in complete darkness. Only a few beastlike creatures sniffed the air, grinned predatorily, and rushed in the direction of the barely holding raiding party. There was no doubt that as soon as the Shadow Haze expired, the other demons would join their fellows.

  But I sincerely doubted that there would be anything living left to feast on. The retinue of the First has already suffered serious losses, barely half of the players survived, and meanwhile my fingers fluttered along the strings, playing the Hymn’s last, brooding arpeggios.

  And then something huge and impetuous knocked me down, pressed me to the ground and interrupted my song...

  You failed to complete the Hymn to Shadow.

  −22% to all Shadow creatures’ base stats for 7 hours.

  A familiar sabretooth tiger sat on top of me, resting her paws on my shoulders. I wonder how she had found me in the pitch dark cover? By smell, like the demons?

  “For Kartoss!” sounded the battle cry, and right after it Bogart’s cry from somewhere far beyond the battle:

  “To me, Merlin!”

  The hefty cat released me and rushed to her owner. I got up and looked around. The Day of Wrath raiders had maneuvered to our rear, right on the blighted ground where the Shadow Haze had no effect, and attacked Geranika. And still, they stood no chance of victory or even causing serious damage: The boss of the latest expansion just jerked a cheek in irritation, not even deigning to utter a word to the annoying players. Weakened by the blight under their feet, they posed no threat.

  The players also understood this and acted accordingly. They resorted to a mysterious artifact of local invention. As soon as Cranton hurled it at Geranika, a light cloud of pollen enveloped the villain. The effect remained a mystery to me exactly until the moment when one of the pirq elders, the golden Conquolor, threw up his crossbow and shot a bolt directly into the Lord of Shadow, despite being blind like everyone else. The powerful blow to his shoulder spun Geranika around and threw him back. He did not wait for the second shot. The Shadow Haze dissipated, and a foggy shield bloomed around the wounded Lord of Shadow.

  There were cheers from the players as their sight returned to them, but these were immediately replaced by cries of panic. The demons, who had been lying in wait, now rushed to the attack.

  “Revive the tanks!” a voice cried from the ranks of the Dark Legion.

  “Protect the Council and the Embassy!” Dirk ordered.

  “For the Horde!” Bogart echoed, pulling his crossbow taut.

  Lipo swept past me dual-wielding two morning stars and scattering the renegades like a bowling ball. The entire raid followed him into the breach, pitilessly slaughtering anyone who got in their way.

  “Ah do declare! Here you are again, out strolling without your dear governess!” Bogart slowed down beside me, twisting his head in all directions like an epileptic owl. “Permit me to be so bold as to accompany you,” he went on. “These damn Yankees have no sense of proper, etiquette...”

  I was still puzzling over how Bogart managed to survive among all the high-level enemies, when he heaved me onto his shoulder like Eid had done earlier and carried me toward the blessed ground.

  “Like a steppe horseman abducting a bride,” he sighed along the way. “Although, I didn’t roll you into a rug and there is no horse, but we will put all that down to force majeure.”

  Encouraged by the reinforcements and their returning eyesight, the defenders of the forest managed to throw the enemy back and reorganize their defense. Bogart slipped through the tanks’ ranks and gently placed me on the ground.

  You have entered ground blessed by Sylvyn. −20% to all Shadow creatures’ base stats.

  You have regained control of your avatar.

  “Oy, Kiera Khan,” a fat green finger flicked my nose, drawing my attention, “are you with us or what?”

  “I think so...That was good timing on your part. I had almost finished playing the hymn.”

  “Just like at the parade,” Bogart smiled broadly. “A hymn answered by a march...”

  Merlin appeared beside him and greeted her master’s hand with her forehead, nagging for affection. The orc tussled her ear and the sabretooth began to purr contently, almost drowning out the sounds of battle.

  In the next instant, a fireball slammed into me, causing me to recoil. The system notified me that my materia shade had absorbed some ridiculous amount of damage as Dirk yelled:

  “These are friendlies! Hold your fire!”

  “So add her to your raid or we’ll wipe her out,” grumbled one of the player mages.

  Not having the slightest desire to tempt fate, I accepted the invitation to the raiding party, waved away the avalanche of ensuing information and hid the raid interface. I left only the chat open, since that would be the only useful channel. At my level, my contribution would be minimal anyway and I don’t need to see the others’ frames in order to buff people. Which is what I began doing.

  “Well, how shall we deal with this jerk?” Bogart got down to business, cradling his crossbow which was useless against enemies of this level.

  Who “this jerk” was, did not require clarification—Bogart’s thoughtful gaze was turned to Geranika, who was calmly directing his troops.

  “No idea,” I admitted. “Neither you nor I can do anything. At our level, all we can do is stand here and watch the show.”

  “I can’t help but feel like Gunga Din: ‘‘E would skip with our attack, an’ watch us till the bugles made ‘Retire,’” Bogart quoted his beloved Kipling. “Too bad there’s no beer and nuts...”

  Sitting down, Bogart drew Merlin to himself and began to scratch her belly, watching the battle unfold.

  Despite the unexpected reinforcements, things were very bad. The blighted biota still held their lines outside the blessed land, but the Shadow pirqs and the demons were thrashing the worn out allies.

  “Portals! We have to destroy their portals, or they’ll overrun us!” boomed Evolett’s amplified voice. “Dirk, will you lot be able to break through?”

  “We’ll try,” the leader of the other guild replied. “But it is better to combine our raids!”

  “Go ahead and disband. I’m sending you invitations now.”

  Dirk disbanded the raid and in a second I received an invitation from Evolett. The frames from my new companions blotted out my entire field of view, and I again hid the raid interface.

  Meanwhile, something had changed in the protracted confrontation between the Fifth and the Embassy of Kartoss. The exchange of spells and shields waned to a trickle as a hedge of foggy tentacles began to grow from Portulac’s body. They stretched and thinned and as soon as one of them reached its target, the tentacle coiled around the victim causing his HP to plummet.

  “Shoot the tentacles!”

  “They’re invulnerable!”

  “So embody them first! He is a minion of Shadow!”

  Before the players figured out how to cope with this new onslaught, they lost six of their number.

  “He has three hidden abilities. We’re all gonna get slaughtered here before we even figure out what he’s capable of.”

  It was like the idea that occurred to me all of a sudden illuminated everything in my head. I burrowed into my logs, looking for the necessary passage. Uh-huh, here it is. Copying
a part of the log, I pasted it into the raid chat. As Dirk and Evolett read the text, their faces stretched in unison. I too would be surprised if some low-level noob offloaded all the abilities of a previously-unknown boss on me.

  “Where’d you get this?” Dirk asked in shock.

  “The short version of it is that he was my pet for a few seconds,” I explained, without going into the details.

  “When this is over,” said Evolett, “you and I will have a long chat.”

  And at this point, I was blinded by a bright flash. Just for a moment, but it was enough for everything to change. The demons and Shadow pirqs who were attacking us were cast back by a mysterious force, and a surprisingly familiar shimmering dome covered the allies’ thinned out army. The First, who had been charging some spell this entire time, had completed her incantation. We were surrounded by a miniature Arras, at the borders of which the bighted pirqs and summoned demons flailed helplessly.

  “Well, I’ll be a goblin’s orcish uncle,” Bogart drawled.

  Tearing his ass from the ground, he walked over to the dome, tapped it with his finger, kicked it a couple of times, and then made a face at the rabid pirq on the other side. The pirq almost burst from rage, and Bogart, grumbling in satisfaction, returned to his seat.

  “Now I understand the thrill that a cat gets, licking his balls in front of the dog pound.”

  “What is everyone standing around for?” Evolett roused the players out of their stupor. “Shoot the portals that are in range and after that focus the demons. They’re lined up like in a shooting gallery. Anyone who can, revive the tanks and healers. Healers, regenerate your mana, you’ll still need it.”

  Aided by the NPCs, the players began to systematically thin out the demons surrounding the dome. The exhausted healers collapsed to the grass. Some hastily gobbled exotic foods; others lounged on the grass and meditated.

  The First remained standing with a look of concentration on her face. An iridescent sphere sloshed around her hands, the core of the spell that shielded us from the minions of Shadow.