Текст книги "The Clan"

Автор книги: D. Rus

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Whether the entity's objectives are limited to restoring the First Temple or they reach much further, we can't tell you right now.

Jan Kaevski, chief of the closed group.

Chapter Twelve

 

I gave the god a quick update on my adventures, then grassed on the sly-assed bag of bones. "You understand, don't you," I concluded, "that I need some mana flow even if only to clear up this mess," I pointed around me at what I remembered to be piles of junk.

The Fallen One studied the gleaming white decor with skepticism, raising a quizzical eyebrow at all the gilding and artwork. Embarrassed, I showed him my filthy hand smeared with the divine blood. "That's all Macaria's work! Outside, the place is a bomb site. The castle is in ruins and so is the Temple."

I started unbending my fingers. "Firstly, I need to restore the castle walls and the temple grounds. Then I'll need to explore the lands and ensure my own safety. Thirdly and lastly, the baby dragons on the North Tower are starving and need to be fed. There must be more, only I can't think of everything at once."

"That's enough," he shrugged off my arguments. "I know about Tianlong. You can't miss him: his lair is absolutely impenetrable to magic. But one-tenth of my altar for eternity—that's a bit thick! Next time you sign up for something stupid like that, at least cross your fingers behind you back. That way your karma cooldown will be less in case you renege on your word. Your contract is questionable in many respects so one could easily circumvent it, especially considering my training: I've made my way through a good hundred thousand manuals of which over two hundred are legal tomes. But... Dragon is our man, if you can say that of a skeletal Elf god. Attracting him to our camp is a number one task. Okay, wait here, I'll see what I can do."

He glanced at the goddess. With a warm smile, he rearranged the ripped shirt on her chest. Perfectionist! He could have restored it had he really wanted to. He snapped his fingers. The girl's body disappeared, on its way to some heavenly chambers awash with the sounds of panpipes. One more snap—and I stood there alone.

I looked around me. The hall was medically clean in its Greek beauty. The god had left, taking all the blood-stained DNA samples with him. What a shame. My inner greedy pig had been pulling at my jacket fighting to attract my attention, hinting that the miserable five vials were nothing compared to a cozy wine cellar stacked up with more of the same.

Okay, what next? I checked my virtual to-do list and grinned. Freebies!

There's a time to cast stones and a time to gather them, I said to myself as I reached into my bag for the Soul Stone containing the Hell Hound. I wiped it clean with my sleeve.

"I've taken good care of you. I haven't wasted you stupidly. So please don't let me down."

I placed the stone onto the altar's mirrored black top and stepped back, just in case. In the nick of time.

My ears resounded with a powerful blast. A portal window materialized over the altar, allowing me a glimpse into the depths of the Inferno: it glowed every shade of crimson, lava flowing unhurriedly amid the strangely formed piles of basalt rocks.

Judging by the flames, the atmosphere there was thinner, causing oxygen to burn faster than the weird-looking Hell flora could produce it. Air gushed into the portal, trying to level out the pressure and pulling in everything within its reach. Like myself, for one. It was a good job the portal had a short-impulse structure. Had it lasted a bit longer, I'd have had every chance to enjoy the afterlife sooner than expected.

It all finished very quickly: with a double popping sound, the portal opened then closed again, with me clutching at thin air, my back a strangely convoluted shape. Talk about a lucky miss.

I switched my focus to read a new quest message:

 

Quest completion alert: Hell's Temptation. Quest completed!

Reward: Access to quest Hell's Temptation II.

Oh. My inner greedy pig opened and closed his mouth, speechless with indignation. Hadn't he had enough freebies? They kept coming faster than we could sort through them. A new quest was a very good thing: the further the unique chain of quests took us, the heftier the prize at the end of it. Consider the lost stone an investment, I told my greedy alter ego before closing the message. Underneath it, I discovered another one:

 

Congratulations! You've learned a new skill: Portal to Inferno.

The connection between a necro wizard and an imprisoned soul is so great that the stone that holds it becomes a flashing beacon calling him. The portal, this smoothed-out fold of matter that covers the rupture to a different plane, cannot conceal from you the crystal's true light. From now on, you can always open the portal leading to the dark depths of Inferno and keep it open for as long as is needed.

Ingredient: a Soul Stone of a level identical or above that of the caster.

I tipped the crown onto my forehead and scratched the back of my head. Curiouser and curiouser. The uberness of the skill directly depended on the degree of the portal's inaccessibility by the usual means. A quick Wiki check showed that no such means existed. Only the planes' respective bosses could occasionally drop portal scrolls; even less occasionally, you could receive them as rewards in some truly mean quests. These kinds of skills only existed as fandom rumors and vague official hints. It couldn't be otherwise, considering the frequency with which a few top guilds raided their respective planes. Having said that, the answer to the question was now right in front of me, so you never know, I might one day lead my guild against some Infernal Arch Demon's castle. Not today, of course, not even next Friday. But it was good to know I had that option if I needed it. I could also earn a quick and quite hefty buck on the side as a gate keeper for some serious customers. This I could also keep in mind as a potential and relatively kosher money spinner.

So where was the promised access to the new quest? I stole a look around, then tapped the altar with a sacrilegious finger. Hell Hound, hello?

A new gust of wind forced me to spread-eagle in an attempt to keep my footing on the slippery floor. Once the artificial tempest subsided, I ventured a look around. The hound stood not far from me, looking quite the worse for wear. She was heaving, her back streaked with blood, holding one paw gingerly in front of her. In her teeth she held a still warm lump of flesh, its severed muscle fibers twitching. She downed it in one forced gulp, spat out a bloodied clump of hair onto the white marble and limped toward me, her glare unkind and unpromising. Her pack—or should I say, whatever was left of it—froze in a thin line behind her back. Three were rather in a bad way—males, as far as I could tell by their impressive size and wide chests,—and over a dozen females of various sizes and ages, each of them holding a puppy struggling half-heartedly in their mouths.

The Hound approached, her neon glare burning a hole in me. A familiar voice resounded in my head,

"Thank you for doing what I asked of you. And doubly so for laying the soul stone onto the First Temple Altar. Its sacred power alone allowed me to survive and save the remains of my pack who were already cornered at the nest's lower level."

"What happened? Why were you attacked?"

"You weren't in a hurry, were you?" she gave me an accusing look. "In the land of the Inferno, it's survival of the fittest. Our hunting grounds are poor. Even the best of our trackers can only find fresh meat but once a week. So once our pack had lost its leader, everybody and their grandmother were after our hunting grounds. I was nearly too late to help—and still my attack from the rear had surprised the enemy and allowed me to break through to rejoin my pack—or rather, the third of it that's still left."

She raised her hackles, her voice accusing. Obeying her non-verbal command, the other pack members stepped forward, baring the deadly needles of their fangs under their threateningly shaking lips.

"Hey, wait!" I recoiled in a rush to activate the shield and locate the new ability that gave me 30-sec immunity. "It wasn't a pleasure cruise for me, either. First I was in jail, if you remember, after you'd left me there. Almost as soon as I was released, I got kidnapped and jailed again. I tried to restore the temple in the City of Light's catacombs which was how I found this altar fragment that allowed me to restore the First Temple. Which I did precisely two hours ago! So what's your problem? Had it not been for me, you'd still be pining away on that chain, looking at the world through prison bars. As an alternative, you might have become a zombie hound serving some Necro summoner," I dropped by way of a hint.

She squinted at me, her intentions unclear—they could have been political as well as gastronomical. Then she tilted her head toward the pack, growling. The hounds stepped back, dropping to their skinny backsides. Their thin ratlike tails, covered in fine armor scales, still brushed nervously across the floor.

Finally, she made up her mind and raised her head to me, her stare hypnotic. "We need a new home."

New quest alert: Hell's Temptation II.

The remains of the once-powerful pack of Hell Hounds have been forced to abandon their nest and are now looking for a new place. Help the creatures of Inferno to find a new home.

Reward: up to you. The Hounds are strong. It's not often they accept somebody's superiority. Whatever happens, do not corner them. Even a rat is capable of attacking a man who's cut off its escape routes.

For your information: The divine particle reacts at the first sign of aggression that targets its bearer and dissolves in his aura granting him a near-absolute immunity. You can now enjoy maximum protection from mental control spells.

Bummer! How was I to know that? I wished she'd have swiped me with her claws, then I'd have gotten some physical damage immunity instead. That way I'd have been a true monster killer. What. A. Shame. Never mind, we'd simply have to work with what we had. I glanced back at the Hound who was studying the effect the news had had on me. I smiled, shaking my head.

"Sorry, babe. That's not how we're going to talk."

She shrunk and dropped to her ass, dumbstruck, jerking her bad paw with an involuntary yelp.

"I'm afraid you don't seem to know who you're trying to manipulate," I said. "I am this Temple's First Priest and the God's personal friend. If you need something from me, then we'll have to discuss it on equal terms, no mind games. Let's try it again."

The hound shook her head in disbelief. She gave me an unsure look and repeated haltingly,

"We need... a new home. This area abounds with game. My pack could regain its old powers soon; potentially, if we could find a way to stay here for long enough, we could become the strongest clan in the Rocky Wastelands. What we need is an official permission from the landlord. Somehow my gut feeling tells me it's you. Do let us stay. At least until our pups shed their baby armor."

All that unclaimed power sitting there doing nothing, waiting for my decision. No idea why they'd mistook me for the landlord but something in her words struck a chord besides the usual kind of compassion that we feel for homeless pups. Did she say a clan? We could try, I suppose...

"I've heard your request," I said. "Still, you are a force too threatening to remain a wild independent pack living in the shade of the First Temple," seeing the hound stand up about to say something, I raised my hand, gesturing for her to let me finish. "As the First Priest and clan leader, I am responsible for lives other than my own. It is possible that soon this place will be crowded with people, some of them my own. So what do you suggest I do when you start slaughtering each other? Wait! I'm not finished! So I suggest an alternative solution. You and your clan will swear me your oaths of allegiance. That will automatically change your status to allied which will allow us to join forces against our mutual enemies. That's the only proposition you're getting. Here, catch!"

I clicked on the contract template that I'd thrown together earlier on, securing their junior-partner position in my freshly-baked alliance, and pressed Send. I'd wanted it to cover all the relevant rights and liabilities that marginally resembled a liege oath. The contract wasn't meant for NPCs, of course—only for existing clans of real human players. Then again, no one had ever tried to argue with a Hell Hound before, let alone negotiate.

The Infernal creature stared at me trying to second-guess the weird human's motives. For the first time, someone offered her friendship and protection instead of demanding gold or services. I could almost hear the game's gears crunch as it adapted itself to accommodate another piece of their newborn world puzzle that was forced into its mechanics. It must have, because the Hound had accepted my proposal.

 

Congratulations! The NPC Clan Hell's Fire has joined your Alliance of The Guards of the First Temple as a junior partner.

You can now summon the Clan's warriors to your service and claim your share of their taxes.

"Excellent!" I gave her a wink as the Hound concentrated on her own feelings, surprised. "Now try to add the Alliance tag."

Answering her bewildered stare, I decided to give her a demonstration. "Watch the name," I poked the imaginary halo over my name where with a minimum amount of willpower a player could conjure up some basic information about the person.

 

Laith

I ticked the menu,

Laith, Level 72.

 

More clicks:

 

Laith, Level 72, Death Knight , .

I unticked the extra information. "Your adversary doesn't need to know your particulars," I nodded to the Hound. "See now?"

The Hound wrinkled the only line on her forehead, all her muscles trembling with the exertion. Once again I could hear celestial gears crunch. Finally, another piece of the world puzzle fell into place.

 

Hell's Hound. Level 151. .

I glanced at the mini map and smiled. The red dots that had marked the hounds as dangerous and aggressive were now glowing blue: the color of regular NPCs like the guards that used to patrol the Vets' castle walls.

Throwing caution to the wind, I approached the battered animal and patted her armored neck level with my chest. The pup must have been hanging on by the skin of her teeth. Only now had I noticed that her life was deep in the orange zone and virtually not regenerating. Was she so hungry? I studied the pack again—this time not as a victim but as a proprietor. Fugitives any way you looked at them. Deadly dangerous, still seething with the heat of the battle and the agony of their loss. Their puppies were their only salvaged possessions. Time to bring the pooches under control: this was not the right moment to breed anarchy.

I rummaged through my ever-lengthening ability list for the God's gift. Help of the Fallen One. I selected the pack's leader as target and activated it. In a flash of special effects, the Hound sprung back on all four feet. Tilting her head this way and that, she studied herself, disbelieving. Then she turned her massive head to me, slouching in a grateful bow.

I nodded and shrugged her gratitude off: don't mention it. I'd better double-check my control of the pack, outline a few tasks and try to solve a few pressing problems in the bargain.

"Think you could use the Temple cellars for your quarters?"

The Hound glanced at the altar. A greedy spark flashed in her eyes. Looked like I wasn't the only one profiting from my close relationship with an artifact of this caliber. It had plenty of goodies to go round.

"Very well," I said. "Now listen here. Make a quick check of the cellars. Purge any insentient creatures. Leave the sentient ones for me, I'll sort them out later. Find yourself a good place to make a den, preferably in the furthest reaches. If it needs a bit of work, just let me know. The whole place needs quite a refurbishment so it won't be a problem digging a couple extra rooms or exits."

The Hound stomped and shifted her feet, impatient to dash off in search of fresh food, experience and a new home. I hurried to finish,

"One last thing I want to ask of you. If you find any big lumps of metal like this one," I reached into my bag for a handful of the purple fragments, "bring it to me here, will you? You can leave it... say, over there," I pointed at a far corner, gesturing in the air to show them the size of the anticipated pile of wonders.

The Hound leaned forward, sniffing the fragment, and recoiled. "The true silver! The cursed metal. Very well, my Dark brother. We'll keep our eyes open."

Turning her armored muzzle toward her pack, she barked a short command. The females looked relieved as they laid their puppies on the floor, shepherding them expertly together. Three of the more battered ones stayed on to supervise the nursery while the rest followed their leader who had already dashed off, disappearing into the depths of the Temple.

 

Quest completion alert: Hell's Temptation II. Quest completed!

I dismissed the rather useless message and wiped the sweat from my brow. Phew. Looked like I'd just settled a potentially stinking situation and even emerged with some decent prospectives. I glanced at the tired hounds sprawled on the cold floor watching the puppies crawl about, their blue tongues hanging out.

Remembering my school years and mom-packed lunches that I used to feed to our local feral dogs, I pulled a dozen sandwiches out of my bag: I had plenty left after leveling my culinary skill. I walked over and crouched next to the immediately tense animals. I removed the cover and took a bite, demonstrating their edibility. Thank God, they started eating, casting grateful glances my way. I patted a puppy behind the ear and returned to my position by the altar.

It was probably a good idea to invest into a couple of Sparks of Dark Flame. Useful ingredient, you should never be without them. Wonder how much I could retail them for? There was a chance that the auction crowd had no idea how to get them and was therefore prepared to pay a King's ransom for them. In that case, they could be a veritable cash cow. I clicked an auction window and basked in anticipation as I typed in the key word. Then I froze. It wasn't that the Sparks weren't available—on the contrary, a good couple dozen had been languishing at the auctions for several months. Even though raid bosses dropped enough of them, no one had yet thought of a way to use them. And as for NPC priests, they weren't interested in goods-for-money exchanges. Still, it was a freebie even though of a different kind. The offers were for fifty gold, you couldn't complain about that. I activated the auto buy with a mental raspberry to all the priests (whom I admittedly hadn't appointed yet). Those would quickly catch up on the item's true value but by then I'd cream off all I could.

Only then I noticed the Inbox flashing. Oops. Two PMs, one from Zena, the other from Dan. In different wording, both said the same thing:

Is this your work? We need to talk.

Zena I could understand. But how could our cloak-and-dagger have figured it out? I understood, of course, that they were obliged to keep tabs on me as an important figure, a patent holder and a universal lockpicker. In other words, the clan's mysterious friend that they were obliged to keep an eye on so that he didn't stray to the wrong side of the barricades.

I paused to think, then typed off a quick note explaining I was awfully busy but ready to speak once I had a free moment. Told them there'd been some interesting developments—asking them not to make their speculations public just yet.

A portal popped open, bringing me back to reality. The Fallen One hummed something, looking pleased with himself. Catching my quizzical glance, he gave me a wink. "You'll be paying the Dragon five percent of mana flow for next year. I'll add the rest. We need to resuscitate that bag of bones double quick. Shame to waste mana, of course, I could use it myself. I need to grow too, and in my case simply killing monsters won't cut it, I'm afraid. That's it, gotta dash. I have some plans for tonight."

He gave me a meaningful smile, then glanced over the nervous hounds and gave me a thumbs-up. Apparently, he was already in the know. Had he kept an eye on the Temple all the while?

"Ahem, Sir... O Fallen One, I wonder if I could have these stupid marks removed? I'm all covered in medals like a champagne label."

The god tapped his forehead, remembering, then snapped his fingers, materializing a bottle of champagne. "Why? Do they itch or something?" he guffawed, turning to me. "That bag of demented bones must have forgotten that a mark works both ways. The astral link that connects you is his own doing. You have a long life in front of you; you might still cross paths with the Titans and talk them into granting you a couple of skills—Rider, or even Tamer. Then the boot might be on the other foot: the dragon will be yours to ride and travel on! Okay then, got no time to chat, sorry. I've got business to attend to," he lovingly stroked the bottle as I came up with some last-minute advice,

"Don't forget some flowers for the lady, you Romeo. And a box of chocolates."

The god nodded, preoccupied, before disappearing down the portal.

"Wild nights, wild nights! Were I with thee, wild nights should be our luxury," I commented into thin air.