Patch 17 (Realm of Arkon) (35 page)

"Just drop the Star into the bowl on Hart's altar in the Temple of All Gods," Leeque stared right into my eyes, and suddenly a ripple ran over everything I could see.

A stone box of a room, brown walls with dark stains, and a cage with a chained skeleton clad in filthy rags. In the center there was a table, covered in blood and nicked countless times, with the remnants of someone who had once been human chained to it. Presently it was a scalped corpse, with every bone in its limbs smashed and its stomach ripped open. The room was lit very sparsely, with every object shrouded in darkness, so the silhouette by the table seemed to be woven from primordial darkness itself.

A black cassock with a raised hood... The stranger was holding an amulet in his hand—a red stone set in a light metal that emitted a barely visible glow.

"I can feel your presence, brother," the stranger's voice was like the hissing of an enormous snake, "but you're a bit late. Your apprentice has pleased me—he died the right way, and it took him a long time. So you must find this stone even more valuable now, am I right?" The stranger's hand moved swiftly, and the amulet disappeared. "Well then, come and get it. I'd love to see you try, anyway. How are you going to claim something that lies behind the seals of the Nameless?"

I breathed in sharply, barely holding back retching spasms, and took a look around me. I saw the tavern, a jug of wine standing right before me, and a glass. The smoking pipe was right in my hand, but Leeque was nowhere to be seen. Those visions again. I'd be all right with them if it didn't take me a while to return to my senses. I felt as though my clothes were soaked in the stench of blood and death. I took a few deep drags to relax, and gestured the waitress to come over.

"Has the young demon gone?" I asked the demoness as she approached the table and looked at me questioningly.

"What demon?"

"The one who sat at the table with me—he ordered this jug," I nodded at the vessel standing on the table. Was she senile or what?

The demoness pondered this for a moment, shifted the cloth she was wiping the tables with from her right hand to her left, and replied with concern in her eyes:

"Master, you should probably stop drinking. You ordered this jug yourself half an hour ago, and you were alone at the table the whole time."

"Of course, of course," I nodded to her.

The quest titled Restoring Justice in my log testified to the fact that I could keep on drinking if I wanted to, but I had no such desire whatsoever. I checked the inventory for the Champion of the Order of the Red Flame's Signet Ring, just in case, then rose, nodded the waitress goodbye and started toward the exit.

As I was leaving the inn, I heard a barely audible chuckle at my back. Obviously, I didn't turn around. But I did wonder what I had gotten myself into this time...

Chapter 7

Around ten years ago I was no stranger to five-mile walks. I would look at the owners of expensive cars with a little bit of envy, trying to convince myself that long walks were really good for your health and that you could read your favorite books aboard public transit, not to mention plan your route from point A to point B with fifteen-minute accuracy. Everything changed at once as soon as I bought my first car. The pedestrian inside me was replaced by an avid driver. All my former convictions vanished—I no longer found Moscow's numerous traffic jams intimidating, and audiobooks were hardly inferior to their printed counterparts in any way.

I left Nittal in the morning through the Northern Gate, and started to contemplate buying some means of transportation for the umpteenth time as I wound my way around the motley and rambunctious crowd of demons that had gathered near the entrance to the city.

You could only learn the Riding skill upon reaching the hundredth level by spending five talent points on it. I had completely forgotten about this useful skill when planning my leveling. Still, I had four unallocated points in reserve, so it shouldn't be a problem.

Purchasing a mount fit for riding was never considered cheap in this game, but it wasn't much of an impediment in my case—I had money.
I wonder how much Lirrak paid for his riding lizard?
I thought to myself. Mounts that could assist their owner in battle were valued a great deal more than the regular kind. It would be unwise to skimp on such a helper in my case, and I made a firm decision to visit the city market and take a look at what the local "automotive industry" had to offer upon returning to Nittal.

Rioh's father had mentioned a shortcut to their village leading across farmlands, but I instantly decided against taking it. Meandering between orchards and vegetable patches dug by the locals? Spare me. It would be much easier to take the road that would definitely bring me to my destination, even if it meant walking a few extra miles.

Some three miles out of the city the road became nearly empty of travelers. I was walking along the roadside and thinking about the last quest I'd received. Who could this Leeque be? An envoy of the God of Thieves—or, perhaps, Hart himself? An envoy, most likely. However, the stranger in black was most likely Vill, the God of Tortuous Death, who was none too likely to be overjoyed with people trying to raid his vaults. Granted, the gods must conform to the laws of the game just like everybody else, but an irate dark deity could still give you a whole lot of trouble. Given the lack of a logout button and real-life levels of pain sensitivity, this could present a serious problem. Vill could not just appear in the middle of the road, grab me by the scruff of the neck and drag me to his torture chamber, of course, but the bastard had lots of followers in Arkon perfectly capable of doing exactly that. Anyway, I'd pull through no matter what—that creature in the black cassock reminded me of an old acquaintance I intended to get to sooner or later, so I'd gladly help anyone who decided to kick his divine ass.

In the meantime, the lovely landscape comprised of well-tended gardens and orchards, which had managed to become quite tedious by now, came to an end near the wide stone bridge mentioned by the senior coachman. Across lay a sunlit pine wood; the main road to town ran right through it. A crooked wooden post on the roadside had a warped sign nailed to it, showing the direction to the village that I needed.

As I crossed the bridge, I entered a new location: "The Environs of the Ghorazm Ruins, 70-80," I read in the log. Great! The ruins themselves must be an instance dungeon with a level 80 final boss. Since Leeque had told me that nothing here would be beyond my powers, this wasn't a raid dungeon but rather the regular variety, designed for a group of three to five players. Therefore, I should reach level 85-90 before I venturing into it. What I needed was to complete all the quests available in the village and grind away at the local mobs day after day. I should be able to reach level 80 quickly enough, but then the amount of experience received for wasting mobs would diminish. The only way for a player to receive experience in the realm of Arkon was to have a level gap of ten or less between themselves and the creatures they killed. I shrugged and thought to myself,
No matter!
I had loads of time, anyway.

A windmill appeared before me, followed by roofs of different colors, and, finally, after the road's last bend, the village itself—a large settlement without any palisade around it. A rather wide river ran through the valley behind the vegetable patches—the same I'd crossed some twenty minutes ago.

"Greetings! Would you please tell me how to find the local mayor?" I asked an old demon, who was sitting on a bench next to the last house, absorbed in carving something on a piece of wood on his lap.

"Head that-a-way," the old man waved in the direction of the village center. "Gilim's house is right behind the inn."

In that case, I'll go to the inn first,
thought I to myself, heading toward the center of the village.

Urcahnta was nothing like the villages described by the Russian classics—there were no signs of poverty or squalor. The houses were sturdy and well-built, with carvings decorating the blinds and the gables, testifying to the wealth of the locals. You could hear the banging of hammers from several directions, barnyard fowl was loudly complaining of something, and a number of cows drank turbid yellow water from a shallow muddy pond. The village seemed to be going about its daily business—the only thing that caught my attention was the absence of children on the streets. Two young demons in untucked loose gray tunics and brown trousers tucked into their high boots were rolling an enormous wheel in my direction—for a cart, most likely—and cursing under their breath. When they saw me, they both froze with their mouths wide open; the wheel slipped out of their hands and landed in a puddle on the road. I nodded to them, getting around them from the right-hand side, and kept on walking with a smile on my face, listening to the curses coming from behind.

Urcahnta's entire social and political life took place on the small square in the center of the village. The well, which played the part of the local media, was adorned with carvings and stood in front of a small inn. The well-built two-story house with a crane-like bird carved on its gable must have been the residence of the local governing bodies.

Behind the massive, iron-plated doors of the inn lay a small dining hall supported by carved wooden posts. The silver-headed innkeeper with the face of someone who had long ago become one with the Tao glanced over me indifferently, took my money and gave me the key to a room on the second floor. I decided to waste no time in the inn—I wanted to see the local fiends as soon as possible, so I left the moment I had the key in my pocket.

Gilim, the mayor of Urcahnta, looked a bit like the crane that was carved on the gable of his house. Thin and long of nose, he stood well over six foot. Gilim invited me in as soon as he found out who I was. He yelled to his daughters to set the table as soon as we entered, gestured me to a wide bench near the window, and proceeding to seat himself on a tall and narrow stool.

You've completed the quest: Trouble in Urcahnta I.

I didn't receive much experience for this quest, but I hadn't been expecting much in the first place. I refused the meal, but agreed to have a beer with the the owner.

"Harn just wouldn't shut up about you, Master Krian." Gilim was flattering me—I wasn't a master of any sort. "I didn't believe you'd turn up, but it appears Harn was telling the truth when he said you were a decent sort and would definitely keep your promise. It's near impossible to live in the village these days. There are more and more fiends with every day, and if it hadn't been for Master Neyl's punishers, those creatures would be crawling all over the village at night," the mayor sighed heavily. "Well then, master mage, will you help our village? The city authorities have sent fifty gold coins to be awarded to anyone who slays the lich."

"What lich?"

"When Master Ritter's seeker came to the village with a group of the punishers, he said there was a lich in the ruins. He'd made a few rounds of the village, asked the local folk some questions, and then went back. We'd thought they'd send us more men to help out, but they decided to send gold instead." Gilim made a helpless gesture. "However, no one really wants to venture in there. But you should manage it perfectly well, I think. Harn has told me how you saved an entire caravan from a monster."

You've accessed the quest: Trouble in Urcahnta II.

Quest type: normal, chain.

Bring Mayor Gilim the head of the dead mage from the Ghorazm Ruins.

Reward: experience, 50 gold.

Attention! To complete this quest you will need at least two allies.

Hmm, the governing AI must apply a filter of some sort to such dungeons—players could get in easily, but NPCs could not. Some NPCs may be able to enter such instances without any problems, but it appeared that punishers sent from the city couldn't get in.

In the meantime, two of the host's daughters—clad in red skirts and white embroidered blouses, and as tall and thin as their father—wasted no time setting the table with what simple snacks they could find, occasionally casting such glances in my direction that I almost blushed.

I took a long pull from the tankard given to me by the host and nodded as I accepted the quest.

"All right, then!" Gilim sighed with relief. "Here's to your success, master mage!" The mayor saluted me with his tankard.

We raised a toast to luck, and I hastened to bid him farewell.

A lich, eh,
thought I to myself as I left the mayor's house. Actually, I cared little whether it was a lich or an Arabian princess. Actually, no—no Arabian princesses, please. Yesterday's encounter with Dara was still fresh in my memory. A lich was much better indeed—no extraneous eroticism that way.

Sure, fifty gold was small change to me by this point, but it was time to get used to regular quests received in locations corresponding to my level. After all, for this kind of location this price for clearing out a dungeon was a high enough reward.
And the fact that I got lucky with the money in the beginning doesn't mean this kind of luck will stay with me,
I concluded with just the tiniest bit of self-deceit, for the quests I had in my log implied otherwise.