The Citadel (Mirror World Book #2) (21 page)

"Shut your mouth," Mammon hissed.

If Bob had heard him, he didn't show it. "Actually, no. I think I know why they do it. Everybody does. It's your sister, isn't it? Had it not been for Clo, no one would have touched you with a barge pole. Guarding newbs is the only thing you seem to be capable of."

"Right, I've had enough!" Mammon put his dukes up and planted his feet wide.

Bob grinned. "And what do you think you can do?"

As if in confirmation, a pale green haze enveloped his body.

This must have been some kind of magic shield. Bob's voice rang with confidence which didn't promise anything good to my reluctant guard. Still, Mammon couldn't stop. Had it not been for a barked rebuke from a passing Alven warrior, an Independent clan member, I'd have become witness to a magic duel.

"Watch out," Mammon murmured, stepping back. "I've blacklisted you."

Bob burst out laughing. "I'm really scared! You can shove your black list where the sun don't shine! You can't frighten a hedgehog with a hairy ass!"

He waved a mocking goodbye and walked away, whistling an upbeat tune.

What I liked about this whole situation was that I had a school student for a guard. These kids were neither particularly observant nor responsible. I might indeed be able to give him the slip. He knew nothing of my bag of tricks.

Predictably the Darkies began leaving their camp — some on their own two feet, others riding their mounts. In about ten minutes, a hundred-plus top-level warriors were going to invade Drammen. No idea what they needed it for. They might be doing some quest. Or just for the kicks. The fact remained, they weren't going to encounter much resistance.

By now, there were only ten raiders left in the camp. Portals kept flashing open, disgorging even more players in a hurry to get to the war. None of them lingered in the camp, desperate to catch up with the main raid — worried about missing all the fun. Interestingly, these late players were mainly of the low-level type.

After another twenty minutes, the portal traffic stopped too. I estimated about three hundred Dark players looting Drammen while I was sitting here. Three hundred! Warriors of Light had their work cut out for them. I just hoped they'd be prudent enough not to assault the enemy in small numbers as new players kept trickling in. Oh, no. This called for a completely different tactic. We were dealing with a top clan, after all.

"Mammon?"

A raspy voice behind my back made me jump.

"Yeah?"

"I've been thinking."

The raspy-voiced speaker walked out in front of me. A Human. Nickname: Raven, level 140. He had a longbow by his side. The quiver behind his back was packed with arrows.

"What is it?" my guard sounded disinterested.

Raven gave me a sly look. Our eyes met. Then he said something I'd been dreading hearing all along.

"Have you checked his bag? The guys said our scouts apprehended him as he was leaving the mine."

"Well, I don't know," the guard hesitated.

"Look at him, look at him!" Raven was almost jumping with joy, pointing at me. "Did you see his shifty eyes when I mentioned his bag?"

I had to keep my cool. I took a few inconspicuous breaths. I had to get a grip.

"It's an emerald mine, isn't it? If he was exiting it, it means he's got a whole bagful of them."

"You think?" Mammon asked, doubtful.

"Sure! A hundred percent!"

"Someone told me Armat had promised him immunity. Said no one was gonna touch him."

Raven waved his suggestion away. "Please. Armat has already forgotten all about him. He has more important things on his plate. In any case, we aren't going to touch him, are we?"

"Meaning?"

"Meaning he's gonna give us the emeralds himself. He knows better than to get hurt because of something that's not even his. Am I right, my good man?"

I gave a non-committal shrug.

"Oh! Mammon, look at him! There might actually be something better than emeralds in his bag. Look, he's all shaking!"

My guard attempted to talk himself out of it. "I really don't know. Robbing a Grinder... it doesn't feel right."

"Bullshit! This is a game. Anybody can rob anyone. You'd better ask yourself what we are doing here. Why such disrespect toward us, of all people?"

Mammon scratched his head. "But how can you do it?"

Sensing his friend giving in, Raven rubbed his hands and turned to me. "You'll see now," he said with a dirty smile.

Chapter Eighteen

"Y
ou sure it's a good idea?"

I might have underestimated my guard, after all.

"Mammon, give it a rest," Raven hissed.

'"It's easy for you to say. He's not your responsibility. If Jed finds out, it's my neck on the line," Mammon repeated, firmer this time.

"Aha!" Raven rubbed his hands. "I knew it! You wanna rob him yourself and take all the loot!"

"Are you nuts?" Mammon looked embarrassed. His cartoon nature prevented him from turning crimson.

"Well, what do you want me to think? Look at it my way. I'm offering you to rob a Lightie. And you're trying to get rid of me, saying Jed this and Armat that. They've already forgotten all about this stupid Digger! Don't you understand why he's still here? Aha! I can see you do!"

"But Armat promised him..."

"Oh, do give it a break!" Raven switched to an angry whisper.

He was too cautious to shout at him. But he was trying to apply pressure to the guy. I wondered if Mammon would have been as unyielding had he known what I had in my bag. Or would he be the first to rob a helpless Grinder?

"Leave Armat alone!" the archer kept fuming. "Who is he? Is he your commander? The leader of your clan? He has no right to boss us around! We're not his soldiers! This isn't an army! I didn't sign for this!"

"This is an alliance," Mammon offered.

But Raven had already got on his high horse. Angry with the top brass, he'd finally found an audience to pour out all the negativity he'd accumulated. If the truth were known, I could understand him. Clan members weren't a regular army. They'd paid to play the game and wanted to get their money's worth. And here they were, stuck in camp while all the others were busy looting Drammen.

Raven grinned. "And? Why should it be us remembering about it? They didn't think about leaving
us
without loot!"

"Hold on! You're dead wrong there! Once the raid is completed, everyone's gonna get his share."

Raven snarled. "Yeah right. You really are simple, aren't you? Okay, let's presume we'll get something out of it. But how about Valor? Have you even thought about it?"

"You might be right," Mammon mumbled.

"Just imagine how much loot and Valor we could have gotten! After a high-level attack like this!"

"Probably," Mammon didn't sound too sure.

"I view this guy's stones as a small compensation for the damages. Robbing a Lightie is a sacred right. Especially because the stones don't even belong to him. They're the property of whoever owns the mine. And that's the Steel Shirts, if I'm not mistaken."

He turned to me. "Am I right?"

I gave a reluctant nod.

"You see? He doesn't mind!"

My guard shrugged.

Oh, Mammon... I thought better of you. Then again, why should he care? I was a stranger, wasn't I?

"Actually," Raven squinted at me, "He's not so simple, either. His Profession level is good. His gear is quality. I bet it's got runes installed. You see his cloak?"

Mammon shook his head.

Raven grinned. "Neither do I. What does that mean?"

"That he's got elemental protection installed on all his clothes."

"Exactly! Good boy!"

Raven crouched next to me, studying my gear. I didn't like his expression at all.

"You know what, Mammon? The more I look at him the curiouser I am. I'd love to know what he's got stashed in his bag."

Mammon walked closer. "So how are you gonna do it?"

"Haven't you ever robbed Grinders in raids before?"

Mammon and I cringed simultaneously. "Nah," he said.

"Injuries!" Raven raised a meaningful finger.

"Excuse me? Are you going to-"

"But of course. Their gear has no Defense installed. You cast an injury on him, then strap him up and share out his stuff."

Mammon opened his eyes wide. "You nuts?!"

"It's tricky, sure," Raven mockingly agreed. "His stuff's Durability will suffer. But if even some of them have runes installed, they'll still be auctionable."

"I'm not talking about that! Are you suggesting we mug him?"

"Not
mug him
, stupid. Just
act in self-defense
," Raven grinned. "This is enemy territory. I can understand leaving our Dark Grinders alone, but you can't expect me to ignore a Lightie! Do you think their raiders spare our Grinders? Well, don't. Right, enough whining! Let's do it!"

His last arguments must have worked. Mammon's expression changed. Doubt had left it, replaced by a threatening squint. He must have imagined poor Dark Grinders being attacked by the army of Light. Shame I couldn't ask him how I fitted into the picture. But even if I hadn't been gagged, somehow I didn't think these kids would have listened to me.

Raven turned to me, his face a mask of mock sympathy. "Listen, dude. Neither I nor my partner here wish to hurt you. Why would we want to? We can't even level Fury on you: all we'll get is a miserable +1 if anything. But you're gonna suffer. Not only will you lose your gear, you'll end up paying a lot of money to a healer. With our levels, you'll get injuries for 24 hours at least. You know that, don't you? You have a Burn already: thirty hours plus the level of the injury. It's gonna cost you, I tell you."

I sighed. The scumbag was damn right.

"I can see you're a smart dude. You know how these things work. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, that's all. Shit happens. It can't be helped. Sure it's a game but we're at war: this is martial law, as simple as that. No hard feelings, eh? You would have done the same yourself. We're offering you a chance to cut your losses."

Oh, yes. He was generosity itself. Damn those Grinder account options! At least combat classes could die if necessary.

Admittedly Raven was a crafty bastard. If ever he had to report to Armat, he'd have an ironclad alibi saying that the "Grinder" had removed his gear willingly. Then again, I somehow doubted it would come to that. Raven had been right: Armat must have long forgotten all about me.

Oh well, I'd have to play for time, wouldn't I? I had a few surprises for them up my sleeve, provided I got the timing right.

And now it seemed to be just perfect.

"Whassup, guys? Why are you stalling?"

A Rock Horrud stopped a dozen paces away from us. Level 170: a walking ten-foot destroyer. He sported the logo of the Independents: the alliance's leading clan. Apparently the highest level around, he must have been running the coop in Armat's absence.

"Hi Morph!" Raven stood up to his full height. "We're just having a chat with this Digger here. You have a problem with that?"

"Chatting?" the Horrud growled. "Jed cast a gag on him. You, Mammon, are supposed to guard him. And you," he turned to Raven, "were supposed to be with the wagons ten minutes ago. I suggest you leave him alone."

Raven chuckled, turning to Mammon. "You see? What did I say? Too many chiefs and not enough Indians!"

Mammon didn't reply. He stood there silent, closely watching the potential developments.

"Raven, quit being fresh. I can see the guys were right about you."

I'd only known Raven for the last five minutes but even I could see this wasn't the way to speak to him. Not if you doubted your chances against him. Morph didn't seem to have a problem with that. I could see a few other players appear behind his back, walking toward us. All sported the Independents' logo. Morph must have already posted about the upcoming show in the chat.

"Morph, you sure you haven't hurt your head dropping from the piss can?" Raven's smile promised nothing good. "You watch your filthy mouth, dude. You think if you lick Jed's ass you're the boss here?"

The timing was perfect. The moment Morph went for Raven, I'd... but no. The Horrud apparently wasn't that tough, after all. He just stood there grinning.

"So much for you, Raven. All you can do is make trouble. And that's on a raid, right under the Lighties' nose. Well done, dude. Once the raid is over, our clan's blacklisting you."

Raven forced a chuckle. "Fuck your clan! And your black list!"

A level-120 Alven archer stopped next to Morph. "Is he stoned again?" the archer smirked knowingly.

Morph gave a curt nod.

"You idiot!" the archer snapped at Raven. "You wanna be blacklisted by all of the Glasshouse? The Loafers clan leader will kick you out, and rightly so! I'm surprised he enrolled you at all! You're a real pain in the butt!"

"There he comes," Raven shrieked, "another asslicker! Phil, dude, how does it taste like?"

The archer didn't boast Morph's self-control. As if in slow motion, I watched a mask of fury distort his handsome Alven face. His right hand darted for an arrow behind his back.

Raven reacted fast: the level gap was in his favor. He dropped to the ground, rolling over and loosing off three arrows in a machine gun-like succession. All three smashed against a translucent pale green cocoon that had enveloped the figures of Morph and Phil. It must have been the work of a Dwand wizard who'd stopped a few paces away from them.

"Now you're toast!" Morph growled and went for the bully while Morph's arrows pierced the ground where Raven had just stood.

"Mammon, help me!" Raven shouted.

"You keep out of it," Phil stopped Mammon. "I don't think Clo's gonna like her little brother side up with junkies stoned out of their heads."

"Mammon, I'm your clanmate!" Raven insisted. He'd already received two arrow wounds: one to his leg, the other to his shoulder.

I didn't wait for him to make up his mind. This was a perfect moment for me to escape. The gaming gods wouldn't send me a better one.

Step by tentative step, I moved toward a trail to my right: the one I'd taken not fifteen minutes previously.

I glanced back. It looked like Mammon had sided up with his clanmate, after all. Not the smartest of decisions but apparently chivalrous. I was pretty sure other raid members would forgive him, chalking it up to his young age and lack of experience. But as for Raven... I didn't even want to think about what awaited him now.

I was ten paces away from them. No one seemed to notice me, engaged in a short-lived combat.

Twenty paces. I stood up almost to my full height and ran. When I stopped and turned back for a look, Mammon was performing wonders of bravery — even though I had the funny feeling that others were sparing him. A deep blue haze enveloped his body as he adopted a defensive stance.

The nearest wagon was fifteen paces away. This was the most dangerous leg of my escape. If they failed to notice me now, I might have a chance. I could always have summoned Boris, of course, but I didn't want to risk it. Firstly, because I had no desire to expose myself to them. And secondly, no one could guarantee they wouldn't shoot us down as we took off. Then we'd have a real problem. No, I'd have to try and slip out on my own. It seemed to be working, anyway.

"Going somewhere?" a raspy voice asked.

I'd celebrated too soon, hadn't I?

I turned around. Bah! This was the Dwand wizard who'd cast a shield over Morph and Phil. He was quick, wasn't he?

Mechanically I attempted to speak. System messages flooded my mental view, informing me of my temporary handicap.

"Take it easy, dude," the Dwand offered, his voice hopeful. "No one's gonna hurt you, I promise."

Oh no, thank you very much. I'd had enough of the Darkies' company. Their leader had already promised me that, and what was the result? They'd very nearly mugged me right there and then. True, as a Lightie I couldn't have expected a red-carpet treatment. So it was probably better I just left.

My eyes must have betrayed some of the above because the Dwand stepped forward. I stole a look around. No one close enough.

"Hey, keep your hair on," the Dwand offered me one last chance. His voice rang with threat.

Too late.

I opened my inventory. A small glowing ball of light appeared in my hand.

The Dwand's eyes reached the size of coffee saucers. His hands shook. His frog-like mouth opened in a silent scream. A pale green haze enveloped him. Doubtful it would help him though.

Our eyes met. He seemed to know what it was in my hands and how things were going to progress from there. Well, wrong guess. This was a surprise.

Would you like to activate the trap: Yes/No

I mouthed a silent
Sorry!
to him, then hurled the glowing ball in front of me and pressed
Yes
.

In a fiery flash of yellow light, my prisoner materialized in the clearing. I barely glimpsed a system message,

Warning! The Caltean trap has expired! It's about to evaporate into the game's cyberspace!