The Clan (26 page)

Doc looked interested. "Lena told me that this castle is the safest place in the entire AlterWorld. Is it really so?"

"It's also the most beautiful," the girl butted in. She was sitting nearby amid the flowers trying to teach them to play Jingle Bells.

I paused, thinking. Then I nodded, "For the clan members
—yes, without a doubt. No intruder can get inside. We have our own guards and the Hell Hounds, plus the Castle's AI is seriously paranoid. And we're backed up by the First Temple and the Gods' support."

Doc rubbed his hands.
"Excellent! What size apartment can we take? How many rooms?"

I had to admit I was slightly taken aback by his pragmatic approach. "Take whatever you need. There's more space here than we can possibly use. But it does need some TLC."

"And if I ask you to allocate us a whole wing?" he nodded at one of the eight buildings that radiated from the Temple. This guy had some appetite.

"Actually, the place is sheer Stalingrad," I answered. "It's nothing but collapsed walls and other debris, stuffed with explosive surprises more than likely. And I really can't afford to renovate anything of that caliber..."

"I could inject some real money in it. From what I hear, the game does have this option. Do you think I could use that money to buy some redecorators?"

I nodded. "Possible. I could hire a hundred through the castle interface if you want. Stone masons, carpenters. No idea how fast they can work but work they do."

"Excellent! Then, with your permission, I'll choose one of the wings and adapt it to my needs, agreed?"

I just shrugged. He didn't want much, did he? Never mind. Time would tell. "It's not as if we're facing overpopulation here. OK, then. Make yourself comfortable."

I shook his strong hand and turned my attention to other things. What was next on my list? The chicks. I wanted to give them a good boost: not the required minimum of 2,000,000 mana but the whole 4,000,000. I just hoped such a waste would positively affect their stats. If I didn't sleep, I'd know it within fifteen hours. Oh, Jeez, I'd completely forgotten why I'd come here in the first place! I'd wanted to try and create a spell scroll!

I slapped my pockets
—good, I had all the ingredients with me: the Magic Parchment and the Sparks of Divine Presence.

I looked around, choosing an open space. Over by the North wall looked about right. Having warned everyone in the chat they were about to witness some loud and visually impressive experiments, I hurried to the chosen area,
mentally scrolling through the calligraphy manual as I walked.

The skill didn't let me down. Even though I'd had t
o temporarily redirect all the altar mana flow onto myself, I didn't think the chicks had time to even notice it. All I needed was patience and enough stamina to withstand the cooldown of the High Spell.

By the end of the second minute my legs were giving way, my neck cracking under the weight of my leaden head. Good enough!

Bang!
I finally stopped casting and collapsed onto the ground. Who the hell said it was easy?—magic was damn hard work.

When I felt slightly better, I scrambled toward the parchment on my hands and knees and ID'd the still-warm charter glistening with wet ink.

Magic Scroll

Item class: Epic

Contains a High Circle spell: Astral Mana Absorption.

Effect: siphons 8,388,608 mana from the chosen target.

Cast time: 115 sec

Protect the person who reads the scroll! Any damage sustained will cause them to lose concentration, breaking the spell.

It worked! Okay, so the magic cooldown would only allow me to make one scroll every twenty-four hours, but that wasn't crucial at the moment. What
was
crucial though was that I could create a Portal to Inferno scroll right there and then!

Two minutes later I was blowing the imaginary dust off a fresh scroll before packing it into my bag. The day had been good. I'd done a lot of what I should have done. Now I had every right to finally check my own apartment and hopefully catch a few Zs. I was completely tuckered.

I walked upstairs, following Lurch's directions and listening absent-mindedly to his bragging about his exploits in the field of perfect interior design. I swung my door open and felt like someone from the Million Dollar Decorators TV show. There was no need for me to whoopee for the camera, but I wished I could do it. This Lurch was one hell of a guy.

It merged antique and modern, bent oak furniture the color of ebony and the softest ergonomic chairs complete with a stunning couch. A stuccoed ceiling hung over the marble fireplace and the mosaic parquet in the league of the Hermitage museum. Speaking of which, it was all so beautiful but it didn't give you that 'museum' feeling: just a cozy gloom dispersed by a live fire, a soft chair by the mantelpiece calling your name... Yes, I'm coming! I pulled off my dusty boots in the doorway, strode to the chair and, sighing with delight, began lowering my body onto its cushions.

"Grrrr!" I heard under my backside. I recoiled and groaned.

The White Winnie scowled in the chair. Spikes glistened on his plain collar that now b
ore the Mark of the Fallen One.

Damn.

Chapter Nineteen

A
t five a.m. the next morning the internal alarm clock screeched in my ear. I'd consciously chosen the most annoying ringtone and the most eye-hurting strobe light to go with it. Here, you couldn't cover your head with a pillow or smash the alarm against the wall... it would hurt and cost you a lot of money. Come on now, Mister Cyborg, arise and shine!

A reminder came up,
The chicks!
I shook my head, collapsing message windows, then asked Lurch for a light breakfast complete with a couple coffees. I couldn't think straight. The night before, I'd spent until midnight trying to get the wretched White Winnie out of my bedroom. He seemed to like my reaction to the constant popping of portals. Finally, I'd warned him I'd speak to the Fallen One who'd be more than happy to add a designer muzzle to match his collar. With a painful glare, Winnie growled some kind of four-letter indignation. Then he pissed off, for good this time.

I grabbed a quick bite and filled myself to the brim with coffee. Then I trotted down the dark corridors. My Elven vision didn't help me much. Most of the passages were tucked away in the windowless depths of the building, which was clever security-wise but hard to negotiate, especially at nighttime. The smoking torches did little to disperse the dark: the castle had no free resources available to create some fixed magical lights. Our top priority at the moment was to restore the castle's defense potential.

When I stumbled for the umpteenth time, I sent the economy to hell and dispatched the order to install some proper lighting. I wasn't a ghost, after all, to roam the place in the dark, hurling curses. Those ruins had stood there with their holes gaping at the world for the last eight hundred years, so another half-hour wouldn't make much difference.

I came across some Orc guards by one of the exits. I told one of them to swap his weapons for a couple of torches
and follow me. That was better.

The top platform of the tower was gleaming light blue in the dark. WTF? I hurried up the steps. No nasty surprises this time, luckily: the eggs were so overflowing with mana it was leaking over, wasted, melting away.

Oh. It's been awhile since someone took me to task for forgetting to turn the electricity off. About time the Fallen One arrived and knocked some sense into us. Stealing a look around, I quickly pulled the plug on the chicks, redirecting the mana flow back to the Temple. Then I glanced at the eggs and froze.

Well-nourished and properly formed, they had completed their manifestation in our space and time. Their textured surface swirled with two hundred fifty-six shades of opalescent gray forming complex patterns: a mesmerizing sight sending any careless spectator into a deep trance.

A heavy gauntleted hand shook my shoulder bringing me back to reality.

"D'you want me to go get some more torches, Master?" the Orc torch bearer croaked. "These ones are finished. But it's morning now, anyway..."

Morning? I cast a confused look around, then stared at my clock. Morning it was, already past eight. Did that mean I'd been standing there for over two hours bug-eyed and droopy-mouthed, drooling all over the hatchlings? That was a very curious form of defense. Imagine some curious type like myself wishing to filch a taste of the eggs while the mother hen was away—he'd just freeze, hypnotized, until the dragon came back home grinning, having no need to look for a dessert, least not one that had had the audacity to come and the patience to wait.

If I could only cover our dome shield with an egg shell like that! One glimpse of it could send your surprised enemy into oblivion. A dream waffle.

Taking care not to look at it directly, I tapped the shell with my knuckle. It echoed without breaking. Knock knock, anybody home? I selected one egg as target and read its stats:

Mature Egg of a Bone Dragon. A unique clutch. Chances of hatching a Phantom Dragon: 99.9%. Probable gender: female

Mana: 4,000,000/4,000,000

100% bonus to initial stats.

Do you want to break the egg and help the chick get out?

Do I not? I slammed a virtual fist on the button, flooded with relief like anyone who'd just completed a long and tenuous task.

Yeah, right. Keep on dreaming.

Congratulations! You've learned a skill: Broody Hen.

Now you'll be able to instantaneously hatch any egg of your choice, bringing a new creature into this world.

Oh, no. I had to make sure no one found out about this new ability. I didn't look forward to being nicknamed the Broody Elf for the rest of eternity. My sarcastic friends would be constantly pestering me to hatch eggs for them! Wish I had had this ability in real life. At least then I could get a job at some poultry farm and start raking it in!

Quest completion alert: Grief of a Dragon II. Quest completed!

Reward: a new skill Dragon Whisperer.

 
Once every twenty-four hours, you will have the ability to divine all hidden gold within a thousand paces, boosting your treasure hunting instincts.

I shrugged. This particular ability definitely didn't look promising. Did they think AlterWorld was stuffed with unclaimed gold? Windows kept popping up, obstructing my view; I swept them away and stared at the egg. What are you like, then, a baby Phantom Dragon?

The shell cracked into perfect petals, opening up. A curious head poked out, shattering the air with a deafening screech that defied the sound barrier. The little chick didn't hold her emotions back. A powerful surge of joy and happiness flooded the place forcing your lips to smile as your heart missed a beat in anticipation of something inevitably wonderful. The baby dragon's tiny armor scales gleamed as she tried to change her colors, chameleon-like, or make herself invisible altogether. Her little fanged face glowed with all the colors of the rainbow which occasionally resonated, making the chick disappear for a few brief moments like a faulty hologram.

She looked around, casting a facetious glance my way baring a threatening upper lip. Then she whistled again, only this time emitting an alarm call filled with uneasiness and loneliness, with her desire to cuddle up to a strong bone chest, trusting it to protect her and conceal her in the swirling darkness. Mom, Mommy, where are you?

Unwillingly I recoiled, covering my ears. This little 'un had to stop it pretty soon. She had no idea of her own ability to jack-hammer other people's heads!

Still, her alarmed squeaks rose to a crescendo of hopeless desperation, finally growing into an eye-watering physical agony, pushing me further and further away. Leaning forward as if against a gust of wind, I tried to stay put without letting it force me off the platform. In the clatter of the stones falling behind my back, I heard the Orc scream as he toppled off the tower. His voice gave me the extra motivation I needed. Why wasn't my appeal for divine help working? Was it because this wasn't a conscious mental attack but a simple amplification of emotion? Jesus.

I should probably let her brother out, too. Together they might cheer up a bit.

Pressing my back against a dangerously loose rampart, I selected the second egg and set the chick free.

Weeeeoo!
The second shriek, alarmed and inquiring, joined the song of bitter desperation. A brief pause, a rapid exchange of mental images—then a double surge of anxiety and fear hit my momentarily eased nerves. I collapsed to my knees, groaning with the mental pressure and sniveling with my suddenly bleeding nose.

I barely registered the sound of bare feet slapping quickly against the stone when a disheveled Lena rushed onto the wretched platform. Her slim frame was barely covered by a thigh-long T-shirt, her feet bloodied by her mad sprint across the shards of stone that covered all of the castle's floors. At least she wasn't followed by an equally half-dressed Cryl, saving me from any indecent ideas.

She looked me over, her eyes tearful with sympathy. "Hold on, Max," she gasped, rushing toward the chicks. She struggled to reach and hug both their spiky heads, paying no heed to the blood that started oozing from at least a dozen cuts on her arms and hands, and whispered something very soothing, kissing and stroking the sobbing baby dragons.

The pressure started to subside. The pain and anxiety were still there but at least they didn't make you feel like wanting to jump to your death in a stupid attempt to escape it.

I wiped my still bleeding nose with my sleeve and dried my tears, then struggled to my feet to take a look at the chicks. They were sniveling and complaining, crystal liquid forming in the corners of their eyes. A heavy viscous droplet rolled down a scaly cheek, hardening as it fell.

Ding dong, the vitrified tear rang against the flagstones and rolled toward my feet.

Forcing my cramped muscles to move, I picked up the still-warm crystal.

A True Tear of a Phantom Dragon.

Item class: epic

Effect: +75 to a characteristic of your choice

Holy shit. I'd never heard of anything like it. I didn't even dare to venture a guess at its price. I buried myself in the Wiki pages, scanning the search results, my fingers squeezing the crystal even stronger. Fifty to a hundred grand! The price for a unique object like this floated across a large scale, limited only by the buyer's financial muscle. Not everyone was able to pay the price of a good car for a couple of virtual marbles, but the item's cataclysmic rareness and its properties outweighed any expenses in the eyes of those who understood those things. An item like that could allow you to improve any piece of top gear or create a unique customized set of jewelry tailored to one's particular needs. So for the perma players like myself the stone was priceless.

If you think about it, how many billions, in real life, would a football team owner pay for a tiny diamond which, when pinned to one of his players' shirt, would add 75 points to his strength? How much would an aging millionaire be prepared to offer for +75 to his dwindling life? Or a scientist for an equal bonus to his intellect?

Ding dong
, another crystal rolled across the floor, disrupting my fantasies. The baby dragons kept sobbing and weeping, generating a steady flow of artifacts...

How's that for a money mill?

Oh-ow
, an especially heart-wrenching bout of despair doubled me up. A tear mill, more likely. How much for a child's tear? And for a baby dragon's? What would I be like, trading in infants' misery?

"Max!" Lena called anxiously. "Where's their mom?"

I gulped. Spitting out more blood from my bitten tongue, I croaked, "Dunno. In a zoo... hopefully."

"You've got to find her! The babies won't last more than a day without her! I can't prevent them from panicking for long!"

New Quest alert! The &#ç$ Priestess' Request!

You have 24 hours to find the Phantom Dragons' mother and set her free.

Reward: ?&@$*é№

'xcuse me? Was it that Lena had just sent me on a quest? "How did you do that?"

"What're you saying? Hurry up!" she tilted her head, annoyed. She bit her lip, blood from her scratched arms streaking the chicks' scales red.

"I got a quest from you! To find the chicks' mother!"

"Then go and find her!"

"I am going! Only how are you going to-"

"Master!" Lurch's worried voice broke into my mind. "The goblins are all running off! The guards have been forced out past the outer walls, and I.. I can't stop crying for some reason... even the starlings have abandoned their nest! They're gone."

Here's another one looking for a shoulder to cry on. What was it with me that they all turned to me for help? Can't someone help me for a change, at least to get up and clean my face from all the blood and tears?

"Wait a bit, Lurch," I managed. "Everybody's screwed up at the moment. We've got some new chicks hatched here and their mom is gone. So they're crying us a river. Wait a little, I'll think of something."

 
Ding dong
. What kind of sadist was he who'd come up with that wretched sequence, grief—tears—money? Couldn't they have thought of Crystals of Laughter or something? Disgusted with myself, I picked up the precious tears from the flagstones making myself the solemn promise that I'd do everything it took to set the Dragon Mom free and wouldn't linger for a second to acquire an extra crystal.

"Hold on, Lena. I'll be back as soon as I can."

I scrambled back to my feet, activated the portal and teleported to the Temple. Here the pressure wasn't as heavy but I still found it hard to concentrate, especially considering Lurch's quiet whimpering that had added to the Dragons' duo.

I had to do something about it. This was a real psychological weapon from some governmental agency's arsenal. Like when the secret services hide a tiny transmitter the size of a
dime behind your wallpaper. And there it would sit resonating, driving their unwitting customer to such mind-wrenching depression it would only take him a couple of days to step off the balcony. Or swallow a handful of sleeping pills before laying his head back on the pillow with an angelic smile on his face, anticipating a quick end to his misery.