A Song of Shadow Page 36

  “Will that do?” Chip asked Qupip.

  He shook his head: “Nah, necrophilia ain’t my thing.”

  “Hear that? Your offer’s no good.”

  And again I soared into the air, making plans for revenge.

  “You should revive Bogart,” I reproached, “instead of sorting out your love life by means of up and down motions.”

  “That’s true too,” Chip dug a hole with his foot, stuck me into the resulting pit and poured water on my head from a flask.

  “It’s like she really is growing here,” said Qupip examining Chip’s latest jest.

  “You two aren’t relatives, by any chance?”

  “Twins, actually,” Qupip confessed.

  “But from different parents,” added Chip. “Okay. Let’s revive our blockhead or he’ll grow bored out there in beerspace and go to my house and drink all my beer.”

  “Here he is, as good as new!” declared the priest as a hale and healthy orc rose from the ground next to him.

  “Where’s that little goody two-shoes?” asked Bogart brandishing his ‘Croaker’ fiercely in his hand.

  “He died in the battle with Geranika.”

  “Oh no. I’m so saddened by this loss,” the orc mocked. “In what Mesozoic did you dig up that hyper-aggressive fossil, you musical cryptozoologist? A goddamn ghostly T-Rex, may a pterodactyl crap on his head...”

  “I didn’t have time to learn the proper epoch and history of that fanatic, and I didn’t have much choice but to summon him at that moment. But if you really want to, I can summon him again when the ability cools down. He won’t be higher than Level 50, so you should be able to handle him.”

  “Nah. It’s not interesting that way,” Bogart refused my generous offer. “I don’t beat up on the small fry.”

  “By the way, why have you lost all your levels?” Qupip asked me. “And how did you get them to begin with?”

  “It was a scenario event. I lost a level per minute and when Geranika left, the scenario ended and my level returned to what it had been before the battle.

  “Oh...” he drawled with some disappointment. “But still, that was cool.”

  “All right—what happened around here while I was gone?” Bogart demanded and Qupip, periodically interrupted by Chip, launched into a colorful and utterly exaggerated retelling of the battle’s conclusion. Bogart listened without interrupting and only enviously sighed at especially intense moments.

  Meanwhile, I looked around, trying to understand why the battlefield looked so unusual: The bodies had not dissolved in an airy haze and the wounded had not been automatically restored to full health. The survivors were coming to their senses around me and mourning their dead.

  The battlefield, strewn with hundreds of dead bodies, was depressing. A single glance at the grief in the eyes of the living was enough to forget that all of this was just a game. The developers had done their utmost to convey the violence and destruction of war.

  The Sixth stood over her own body with a devastated, deadened look. I approached her.

  “In the pursuit of my obsession I committed a great evil,” she said quietly without turning around. “Revenge blinded me. My strength engendered pride and arrogance that made me reject Sylvyn’s divine order. I rebelled against the will of the Council, thinking that I knew better. All these deaths are my fault.”

  I didn’t say anything. Astilba was not the type who would take well to words of comfort or assurances that others were to blame. Of course, there were others who had contributed to the current outcome, but this did not diminish her guilt.

  The First approached us silently. The Seventh followed her like a shadow. Wounded, exhausted by the fight, with mourning faces—they did not at all resemble the victors they were. And anyway, it was hard to call all this a victory.

  “Yes,” Nigella said, looking with sadness at the Sixth’s ghostly figure. “These deaths are your fault. As these lives are your merit.”

  She gestured at the survivors around us. The surviving members of the Council approached us. Fresia, whose wounded arm rested in a sling of vines across her breast was helping Conquolor who was limping. The Guardian stood a little to the side, but his eyes rested on the First and I had no doubt that he could hear every word.

  Neither the Kartossians nor the players risked joining this conversation. I was just looking around for a way to retreat, when Eben took me by my shoulder, restraining me.

  “You have made a terrible mistake,” the First went on. “And we allowed you to make it. But today you did everything you could to amend for your deeds. And you paid a high price. You managed to defend your people. You have done your duty. You are forgiven.”

  The Sixth raised her head, looked into the eyes of the First, and then each of her brothers and sisters. Relief, gratitude, remorse, and regret all swirled in the summoned soul’s eyes.

  “If I could forgive myself, Nigella...”

  No one replied to this. No one broke the silence. Even the sounds of the surrounding world subsided, as if we were surrounded by a magical barrier.

  “My soul will know no rest until I fulfil my debt to the Forest. In the name of Sylvyn!” she proclaimed and a sudden gust of wind stirred the canopy around the glade. “I swear to protect my people from now and as long as I exist!”

  A green glow surrounded the necromancer. The forest god had heeded her oath.

  “Lorelei,” the Sixth said to me, when the glow faded away, “give Nigella the songbook that you created. The First will decide which bards deserve to receive it. I will respond to the summons and come to fight for my people!”

  Nigella took from my hands the songbook I had created with a slight bow.

  “We will call on you when the need comes, sister,” she promised the Sixth and then turned to me.

  “You have been invaluable, Lorelei. Despite the fact that Shadow dwells in you, you still remained faithful to your people. You warned Eben of Geranika and the plans you knew of. With your help, we managed to free the Guardian and received new allies from among the free inhabitants of Kartoss. You managed to resist the will of Geranika and fought on our side. You gave Astilba a chance to correct her mistakes. I thank you, Lorelei.”

  Reputation status with the Biota raised to Esteem.

  Reputation status with the Biota Council raised to Esteem.

  “Unfortunately, I cannot rescind your exile from the Hidden Forest,” continued the First. “As long as there is a piece of Shadow in you and our brothers, you are fraught with danger.”

  I sighed and bowed my head in acquiescence. Who knows how else Geranika can control us? The Lord of Shadow is full of surprises.

  “But I cannot let you go without a reward either,” Nigella continued. “Tell me what you need more: Items that will help you in your adventures or new knowledge?”

  “Knowledge,” I answered without hesitation.

  Items can be bought or created, whereas knowledge imparted by the High Druid of the Biota is a truly rare gift.

  “You do not possess the knowledge of the druids, and therefore I will not be able to teach you much, but this should help you on your journey...”

  Nigella has taught you ‘Prairie Grass I.’

  Spent 1 training point. 8 training points remaining.

  Nigella has taught you ‘Summon Animal.’

  Spent 1 training point. 7 training points remaining.

  Attention! You may choose the path of the Wild Bard, forever linking your life with natural magic (+100% to druidic spells). However, you will lose the ability to learn the spells of other schools. All previously learned spells for other classes will be forgotten.

  Do you wish to accept the Wild Bard specialization?

  “Thank you for these gifts, First,” I said quite sincerely after I had declined the system’s offer.

  “That’s not all,” Eben smiled a little sadly. “You kept your word and fulfilled the assignment I gave you.”

  Quest complete: A Friend among Outsiders.


  Experience earned: +30,000 XP.

  You have gained a level!

  Current level: 38.

  1,677 XP remaining until next level.

  Unallocated stat points: 80.

  Training points remaining: 8.

  200 gold earned.

  “As long as you belong to Shadow, you will be hated and persecuted,” said the spymaster. “I will teach you a few tricks that allow you to hide from any unwanted attention.”

  Eben has taught you ‘Soft Step I.’

  Spent 1 training point. 7 training points remaining.

  Eben has taught you ‘Hide I.’

  Spent 1 training point. 6 training points remaining.

  Eben has taught you ‘Conceal Essence I.’

  Spent 1 training point. 5 training points remaining.

  Attention! You can choose the path of the Spy, forever linking your life with the masters of the cloak and dagger (+100% to Rogue skills). However, you will lose the ability to learn the spells of other schools. All previously learned spells for other classes will be forgotten.

  Accept the Spy specialization?

  I only had time to scan the descriptions of my new skills but it was enough to understand that the spymaster had made my in-game life a lot easier. I was even tempted to accept the specialization, but losing the spells of the other schools seemed too much.

  “Thank you for this knowledge, Seventh,” I said, refusing the spy specialization.

  It was even a little disappointing that neither Fresia, nor Conquolor, nor the Guardian taught me anything. Either the First had rewarded me for everyone or they did not find my actions worthy of rewards. But then the Sixth unexpectedly joined the award ceremony...

  “You already know how to see the currents of vitality, Lorelei. The time has come to teach you how to manipulate them. I will start by teaching you how to sever them.”

  Astilba has taught you ‘Sever Current of Vitality I.’

  Spent 1 training point. 4 training points remaining.

  “I have to talk to the surviving renegades before I go to the Gray Lands,” Astilba said and without awaiting any response from me, stepped aside to the rest of the blighted biota.

  The Seventh followed her with his gaze, then hesitated over the slumped figure of the Second and at last picked up the lifeless body of the Sixth.

  “We will return to the Tree and announce what has happened to the races of the forest,” he said. “After that we shall say farewell to the dead. The Tree will not accept minions of Shadow and therefore neither you, Lorelei, nor the other renegades will be able to attend the ceremony. Today you will return to your camp and make ready to depart. Tomorrow you must leave the Hidden Forest. If you wish to say goodbye to someone, you don’t have much time.”

  One after the other, the bodies of the fallen began rising into the air and streaming into a portal to the Tree. Speleus’ broken body looked so terrible that I involuntarily looked away. The developers overdid it, trying to impress the players...boy did they overdo it.

  The guild leaders had no time for me. They were speaking with the ambassador of Kartoss, apparently receiving their rewards for the scenario. Even the First stepped over to them, so I didn’t see much sense in waiting around. Chip was listening to the Guardian, whose loud voice, this time, could be heard by no one but the pirq. Bogart had wandered off somewhere. The right thing to do was to head over to the renegades’ camp and then exit the game but it was too far to plod there on foot. It looked like either I had to wait to get a ride or ask someone to fix Roach’s bridle.

  Having nothing to do, I moseyed over to the barely visible border with the blighted ground. The black stain was slowly shrinking. I guess the Guardian was restoring his forest, expelling Shadow from its boundaries. And if so, I didn’t have much time to amass my strategic reserve of blighted earth for my subsequent alchemical experiments. Geranika is unlikely to help me in this, so I won’t be able to find this ingredient anywhere else.

  Shaking up the meagre supply of alchemical flasks in my backpack, I wondered how to gather the earth more conveniently. The dagger Palisandro had given me seemed quite suitable, although it’d be nice to scrounge up a nice little infantry shovel like the one Bogart had.

  I managed to fill a dozen flasks when a voice sounded above my head:

  “Welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, well! Fancy seeing you here!”

  The sinister greeting made me reflexively squeeze the useless dagger. Right before me appeared a pair of boots I already recognized. They belonged to none other than my old droog—Otolaryngologist. As calmly as I could, I straightened, shook off my hands and looked around. Over Oto’s shoulder, an unfamiliar biota priest was grinning unkindly, but my sixth sense told me that he had several more rogue friends hiding around here somewhere. He was just too confident, especially considering the outcome of our last PVP encounter. I’d wager that his whole gang of hoodlums was hiding in the bushes...

  My first thought was to grab an amulet and call for help from the Day of Wrath or the Dark Legion. Of course, we were not extremely close friends, but I had promised to tell them in detail about the completed scenario and the bards’ ability to summon souls. They’d save me from being sent to spawn for that alone. I even opened my inventory, looking for the right amulet, when a better idea occurred to me.

  “Listen, let’s stop this stupid back and forth,” I suggested to Oto’s bewilderment. “You won’t let me play normally, I am well aware of this. But I can offer something interesting to you in exchange for a truce.”

  The rogue looked skeptical.

  “I can’t even imagine what it could be,” he drawled doubtfully, playing with his dagger. “I don’t find you very interesting—you’re a bit too ugly.”

  I could hear a few muffled guffaws.

  “How about the coordinates to that dungeon you were looking for?” I asked, trying my best to ignore the insult. If all goes well, the cat will cry the mouse’s tears.

  Oto’s face stretched for an instant but he immediately put on his gameface.

  “Oh, don’t make me laugh. How would someone like you know the coordinates of the dungeon?”

  “Well that’s my business. I call on the Guardian of this forest to witness that I know the exact coordinates of the dungeon and, as far as I know, no player has completed it yet.”

  A bright green glow enveloped me. The Guardian confirmed that I was telling the truth. Morgana had told me about this trick during our picnic. She was simply brimming with interesting factoids about the intricacies of legal relationships within the game, funny anecdotes and common types of fraud.

  The rogue’s eyes flashed eagerly and trying to make his voice sound as indifferent as possible, he suggested:

  “So be it. In exchange for the coordinates of the dungeon, I promise that neither I nor my friends will ever touch you again.”

  I even admired such arrogance. Morgana had explained to me that the coordinates to new dungeons sold for very, very good money. Even the seediest cellar, a Level 1 Dungeon, could bring in a million in a second. Being the first to complete a dungeon granted a guild such nice bonuses that passing on the opportunity was out of the question. A Level 300+ dungeon, where you could actually find loot that was useful, was many times more valuable. The final price depended on the various bonuses, chances of rare quest items dropping, et cetera.

  “Why you’re a cunning one!” I objected, actually annoyed now. “Do you think I’m a noob who doesn’t know anything about the game? Forget it. This kind of info costs a good penny and you know it. Two hundred thousand!”

  I stared at Otolaryngologist defiantly, while inwardly straining to hold off the smile that kept stubbornly trying to creep onto my face. Come on, buddy, make up your mind. It’s a considerable amount for one player, but crumbs for a guild. Even if you buy it for 200K right now, the reward you’ll get from your guild will be much higher. And if you don’t buy it, your friends in the bushes there sure won’t pass up the
opportunity.

  It seems that similar thoughts were bouncing around the rogue’s head. He cast a sidelong glance at the suddenly pensive priest next to him and blurted out:

  “Deal! Here, take this purchase agreement. Sign it and give it back to me to sign. The only hitch, is I will pay you the money within two days. I simply don’t have that amount on this character.”

  These words once again confirmed Sloe’s assumption that Oto and his friends were using the peculiarities of the hardcore races to search for the dungeon. The Barliona admins did not allow players to have more than one character, with one exception. Those who wanted to try out the new hardcore races were allowed to temporarily suspend their main character and create a new, hardcore one. If the player decided that he had had enough, he simply deleted the hardcore and the main character was automatically enabled. Obviously, Oto was one of those who had temporarily ‘moved to another character.’

  A contract appeared before me. I really didn’t feel like reading all the fine print and delving into the details. Especially since I’d just made friends with an in-game lawyer.

  “Nothing personal, but I don’t trust your legalese much,” I said to the robber, with a hint of uncertainty in my voice. “Wait ten minutes. I’ll download a standard purchase agreement from the web. We can sign that. Who knows what you’ve slipped into the fine print here.”

  Oto only sniffed irritably and nodded. I left full immersion and quickly dashed off an email to Morgana’s work address. She had told me that she works inside the game and all her mail is redirected to her game inbox.

  I was lucky. Morgana replied less than a minute later. I briefly outlined the situation and soon received a boilerplate contract, in which all the terms of the sale were outlined in the most neutral way possible: Namely, that I would provide information about the dungeon that was accurate at the time of my last visit and that I was not responsible for any changes that had occurred to it since then. Because ten hours had not passed since the visit and, at the insistence of Morgana, I indicated in the contract the levels of the opponents I had seen there, I had no doubt that Oto would bite.