The Citadel (Mirror World Book #2) (20 page)

It was the color of gray stone, with a triangular head. No wonder I hadn't noticed it earlier. And your level, buddy? 260. Not that terribly high, either. Plenty for me, though. Being the location's boss, the monster was bound to possess some very interesting abilities.

I glanced at the other two. Both had grown quiet. Their fur stood on end. The Grison resembled a coiled spring.

Tauntingly, the giant snake coiled its enormous body around a shiny box. I dreaded to even think what the game developers might have filled it with. I gulped and shrank back behind the corner. The other two stared at me inquiringly.

"So, my little desperados? Think we can take him on? I have an idea — but Prankster might not like it, I'm afraid."

I had indeed come up with a plan. Admittedly iffy, but in this particular case it just might have worked 100%. In any case, we could stop (read: flee) at any moment.

For the first time in the game I regretted not having a combat account. Killing a mob like this — and in a No-Man's Lands instance, of all places — could have reaped me a handsome reward.

But even someone like me had a solution available for this scenario — as the Calteans' leader had demonstrated some two hours previously.

The trap.

This was the "flight or pocketfuls of loot" situation. I had to try it. It would also give me a chance to see Prankster in action.

Time left: thirty-five minutes. That should do it, provided I didn't get carried away.

I took another peek from around the corner. The cave hadn't changed. But the moment I stepped into it, the setting would change dramatically. Just one step — that should be enough. Prankster would do the rest.

"Are you ready, boy? I don't need to ask, do I? Off you go, then. Make sure you don't go too far."

Inhale. Exhale. Let's do it!

I stepped forward, ignoring the barrage of system messages. I didn't need to read them to know I was an idiot.

On my command, Prankster darted forward like a black bolt of greased lighting.

The serpent's body shuddered. His head the size of a truck's cab rose a good fifteen feet in the air. His forked tongue quivered anxiously as the Diadem Serpent awoke from its slumber.

By then, Prankster had already reached the center of the cave and had frozen bolt upright. He resembled a prairie dog — one that was black and lethal.

I hoped the snake would fall for it. My pets' levels were the same as mine: zero all around. Which meant that the mob was bound to
aggro
us, as gamers say.

Yes! It worked! The serpent's unblinking eye focused on the bold little animal. The coils of his body shifted.

"Prankster, now!"

He flowed sideways like a blob of black mercury, then zigzagged straight for me.

The snake hissed, enraged by our skullduggery. He thrust forward, shifting his entire giant bulk. He was very fast. Very. But not for Prankster. My little brute was almost on me, getting closer with every leap.

The sight of the infuriated monster thrusting his body toward me must have thrown me into a daze. A dig in my chest — rather powerful considering Prankster's humble size — brought me out of my stupor.

Would you like to activate the trap: Yes/No

Yes!
I hurled it forward, watching the steel net unfold in the air, parachute-like. Unlike the hedgehog before him, the serpent must have never encountered this kind of thing before. He barged directly into the trap, his body disappearing with a flash.

"Yes! We've done it!"

Both my pets tilted their heads with interest, watching their master dance a celebratory jig.

Oh wow. I'd never thought that victory could be so intoxicating. What an incredible, unforgettable feeling. This was the first time in my life I'd actually experienced it. I'd had my fair share of triumphs and achievements, sure. But this! Outsmarting a dreadful monster! I was beginning to understand all those players capable of defeating mobs like this one, then enjoying the blissful moment of sifting through the loot. Talking about which...

I hurried toward the huge, glowing ball of flesh.

What would you like to do?

1. Activate the trap again
   
2. Move the trap into your inventory.
   

The second option, of course.

Success! The trapped animal has been moved into your bag.

Excellent. Now the trophies.

I dashed for the chest. It was big, wasn't it?

Name: a Precious Wrought-Iron Chest

Type of item: Relic

What would you like to do?

1. Open the Chest

2. Move the Chest into your inventory

I gulped and pressed Move. Immediately my bag became ten slots poorer. Oh! It was heavy now, wasn't it?

Still, I felt as pleased as Punch. A few more trips like this one, and I might become Mirror World's best fan.

A quick search of the cave for any hidden treasures produced no results. Never mind.

The ground shuddered underfoot. The ceiling showered me with dust, sand and small rocks. I glanced at the timer. I still had twenty minutes left on it.

"Come on, guys! Time to get going before we get whacked by something heavy."

As we ran, more shocks followed. It must have been the "ancient curse" waking up; the forgotten god remembering about this place.

We hurtled out of the cave and dove into the snow. Day was breaking. Excellent. The first morning sunrays tentatively peeked through the thunderclouds. The fresh frosty air burned my lungs.

Phew. We were back in one piece.

I chose not to wait till the mine collapsed. I mounted Boris and told him to take off. In one powerful leap and a single wingbeat, my mount took to the skies.

Chapter Seventeen

D
rammen met us with a furious gale and a downpour. It looked like the rainy season had started. Bad news for the Guiding Eyes. This kind of forced downtime was the last thing Varn's caravanners needed. Especially considering the latest developments.

I could only congratulate myself on the fact that I didn't have to depend on them now. Mechanically I slapped Boris' powerful neck.

The idea to go to Drammen first to investigate my trophies had come to me during the flight. Initially I'd been too tempted by the thought of going upstairs to my room in order to open all those chests and boxes. I just couldn't wait. Still, while we were leaving No-Man's Lands, the impatient mentality of a treasure hunter had given way to the cold calculations of a bookkeeper. Who rearranged the glasses on his nose and began his reckonings.

The problem was actually in the following. If I opened all the boxes now, very soon all the available slots in my inventory would be taken. Which in a way was a good thing. Question: what was I supposed to do once my bag was full? The game mechanics didn't allow you to just unload all your stuff and keep it on the table or under the bed. You could unload it, of course, but only for a few minutes. Then, if you failed to collect your possessions promptly, they would disappear into thin air.

I remembered reading some forum discussions on the problem. At the time, I'd just skimmed through it as I'd had no idea I might ever find myself in a similar situation. I'd even wondered why other forum members were so unhappy about it. But apparently, it wasn't that easy.

When you first start out in Mirror World, you don't have the storage dilemma. Wish all problems were like that, you might say. But as days turn into weeks and weeks into months, all sorts of junk somehow find their way into your inventory. Bits of old maps, rock fragments, quest plants, empty vials... I know it sounds weird, but you need all this stuff in the game. Here, every scrap of paper or length of old rope has its use. All these odds and ends have been meticulously and sometimes painstakingly collected. An inventory purge is the last thing a Mirror World player wants to do.

Property owners solve this problem with relative ease. Every house, apartment or castle has all kinds of storage areas: from cellars and pantries to strong vaults and warehouses. Why relative? Simple: having storage areas means there'll be people willing to burgle them. This is another chain reaction created by the game developers: in order to secure their storages, their owners would have to pay to install various magic traps or hired guards. Everything in the game is interrelated.

The safest places where a player could keep his hard-earned artifacts were safe deposit boxes. Banks offered their users a 100% safety guarantee. Renting them was quite costly but it was worth it. Imagine I began to open all these chests and boxes filled to the brim with all sorts of paraphernalia. What was I supposed to do with it all? Auction it? But I risked blowing my cover by auctioning the stuff that a regular Grinder couldn't lay his hands on. Because unfortunately, the game admins had denied Grinders the Anonymity option.

If the truth were known, I had no idea why they'd done so. They must have had their reasons. But what if one of these boxes dropped something that binds on pickup? I could forget selling it, that's for sure.

All in all, even though I still had enough available slots in my inventory, it was probably time for me to start thinking about finding some safe storage. Which brought me back to the bank.

That settled it, then. All the chests and boxes would have to wait until I got myself some vault space. It wouldn't be nice to blow it all simply out of greed and impatience. I wasn't a teenage newb. Better just to forget about the loot's existence for the time being.

The nearest Reflex Bank branch was in Drammen. It was nothing compared to its main office. The Drammen branch only offered a few staple services. Vault rental was one of them. I didn't know the rates yet; I just hoped that the game developers would abstain from ripping off their players.

The wind had abated but not the rain. It was bucketing down.

After a confident dive, Boris landed onto a narrow cliff ledge. We could have arrived directly in the city, no one would have even noticed in this kind of weather. Still, my prudence had served me well in the past. Better safe than sorry.

I gave the bedraggled Boris a hearty hug. "Time to get some rest, kiddo. You've done a great job. No idea what I would have done without you."

I activated the summoning charm. Apparently, even zero-level pets could be useful. I dreaded to think what might happen once they started leveling up.

The rain grew ever stronger. This was exactly the kind of weather I'd encountered on my first visit to Drammen. Mud and more mud. Actually, at the moment I was lucky: the rocky trail down to the mine was quite clear.

The mine was almost in sight, behind this one last bend.

I took a step toward it. Or rather, I tried to. Something powerful jostled my chest and sent me flying backwards. It knocked the wind out of me. My vision darkened with sharp pain.

"What in the devil's name-"

System messages began flashing before my eyes,

You've been attacked by another player: Lance.

A Fire Arrow has bored through your chest!

Damage received: #%@&*.

You've received a Burn to your chest.

Effect: -150 pt. Life every 40 sec

Through the haze of pain, I realized that had it not been for my Grinder's account, I'd already have been dead and sent to my resurrection point at the Altar. As it was, I'd received a rather useless debuff and a nasty injury.

My jacket dropped to the ground, losing 15 pt. Durability. I quickly picked it up and shoved it into my bag. As my college teacher used to say, "poverty learns you a few tricks".

"Lance, did you hear that? He called you a devil, the bastard!"

I turned my head to the sound. The voice was high-pitched and sneering.

The speaker's appearance matched his voice. He was small and lean, with green skin and pointy ears. A Forest Dwand, apparently. His level... oh wow. Level 240.

I racked my brains, trying to work out what such high-level players might want with me. Had Shantarsky, this psycho, finally got to me?

"Mind your tongue, Glitch, before I give you a dose of lightning."

This must have been Lance. I still couldn't see him no matter how hard I tried.

"Be my guest," the Dwand parried.

"Shut the fuck up, you two!"

Oh, there were three of them there. I couldn't see the third one, either. But judging by the fact that both Lance and Glitch promptly shut up, he must have been the alpha dog here.

His voice resounded somewhere very close to me. "Cheeky, take him and get him to the camp!"

They were
four
, then? Wait a sec... What camp was he talking about?

A warrior, wrapped in a dark cloak, walked out of the torrential rain. Race: Human. Level: 210.

"Move it!" he barked.

"I'm very sorry but could you please be so kind as to explain what's going on..." I mumbled, forcing my feet into a trot.

Without saying a word, the warrior strode behind me, giving me an occasional shove in the back. I was tormented by doubts. Somehow I didn't think these were Shantarsky's people. He didn't have to hire top-level players to trap the humble me.

Then all my doubts were gone.

The clearing before the emerald mine, deserted only yesterday, was now packed with players. There were at least a hundred raid members. Portals flashed open as more people kept coming. Strangely as it sounds, I was glad to see this. They couldn't have all arrived just to arrest me.

Admittedly they had come prepared. Their wagons were even sturdier than Uncle Vanya's, placed strategically in a circle in the middle of the opening like some kind of a siege vehicle. I could make out the outlines of archers and crossbowmen through their narrow window slits. The wagons were packed, but not
packed
packed. They had all sorts: dwarves and gnomes, Dwandes and humans, I even glimpsed a few Horruds and Rhogghs. At least 80% of them were levels 200+. I hadn't noticed a single person below level 100. Warriors in purple armor were especially eye-catching. I also saw some wizards and snipers. Swordsmen and lancers kept a select distance from the rest. The others were enjoying an eyeful — covert or otherwise — of the elite warriors' gear. The latter behaved as if they owned the place. They didn't look around, they just stood there talking in low voices, casting occasional impatient glances at the portals. No one had bothered to check me out, though.

What the hell was going on here?

We approached the center of the camp. Cheeky put me in front of a giant Horrud and froze, apparently awaiting orders. The monstrous creature simply had to be their commander. Next to his bulk, my friend Greg would have looked like a starving artist.

The Horrud's armor gleamed scarlet red. Level 280. If I wasn't mistaken, the legendary Romulus from the Steel Shirts was only five or six levels above him.

"You didn't gag him, did you?" the Horrud asked calmly. Or should I say, roared calmly.

A new system message popped up,

Warning! You've been gagged! You cannot contact other players for the duration of: 2 hrs.

"It's all right, Armat. I've done it," an Alven wizard in magic-class armor stepped forward from behind the Horrud's back.

With a curt nod, the Horrud turned back to Cheeky. "Tell Critter he's really fucked it up this time. This Digger must have already messaged half his friends about us."

"I don't think so," Cheeky replied calmly. "He didn't know what hit him. Lance really did his best. He still can't get over it."

Ignoring his explanations, the Horrud turned to the Alven wizard. "Jed, I want you to leave some extra guards in the camp."

The wizard nodded, then zoned out, apparently forwarding the order to the raid chat. I had no doubts that this was a Dark raid. The players' clan logos spoke for themselves. These were the Independents, one of the four clans that had fought at the Barren Plateau. I could see a few other clan members too, but still the Independents seemed to be in control. What would one of the game's most powerful clans want with the shitty one-horse Drammen?

Then again, trying to second-guess it wasn't worth my time. I had very little idea of Mirror World's political layout. I had nothing to do with it. I was just a little guy farming mines, earning Rep points and hoping for a bank loan. They might have been in the middle of a major clan war for all I knew. One thing I was sure of: I had to keep a low profile while these big guys played their war games.

"Jed, get your men to keep an eye on this Grinder at all times," the Horrud roared, then turned to me. "All you need to do is keep your head down. You've already ruined our surprise attack as it is. We'll let you go once it's over. Or maybe even before that. Don't worry, no one's gonna hurt you. Nod your head if you understand."

I nodded enthusiastically. We seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

Having finished talking, the Horrud seemed to have lost all interest in me. He turned away and walked toward the opening portals. What a beast. Somehow I didn't think this was a schoolboy playing. The player must have been quite old — and used to ordering others around. Just look at all the players fussing around him. In real life, he was probably a very influential person. Somehow I doubted I was lucky enough to have stumbled over the Independent Clan's leader but you never know. In any case, I could always look him up later.

A light nudge in my back motioned me toward a wagon.

My guard was a whopping level 260. I didn't know whether it was supposed to make me feel sad or proud. Level 10 would have been plenty for me.

The guard's moniker was Mammon, a Dwand. Some magic class, judging by his gear. Affiliation: the Wasters clan. Interesting name. He looked as sour as a lemon. He wasn't looking forward to the prospective of sitting the entire raid out in the camp guarding some worthless newb. He must have invested a lot of money into all sorts of buffs and elixirs. Other raiders shook their heads or smirked as they walked past.

No wonder. They couldn't wait to lay their hands on Drammen and its loot.

Another Dwand stopped a few paces away from us, grinning from ear to ear. He looked very pleased with himself. "Mammon, dude! Make sure you keep an eye on this wonder warrior! We don't want him escape!"

My guard snorted.

"No good snorting, man. He might be a Lighties' spy. You never know, he might grow a pair of wings and report on us to his bosses! Heh!"

He had no idea how close to the truth he was.

"Listen, Bob," my guard said. "Do me a favor. Go somewhere and die a hero's death. Think you can do that?"

As if! His buddy was only warming up. "No, but really, Mammon. It's not for nothing Jed entrusted him to
you
! Heh heh! If he gives you the slip, that's gonna be fun! Is there anything you can do without fucking up? I'm surprised they still take you on raids."