Текст книги "AlterWorld"

Автор книги: Dmitri Rus

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Taali liked our new home. She even managed to befriend the vicious Winnie. Before she arrived, I'd been doing my best to get rid of him. Winnie had taken the most comfortable soft chair by the fireplace, the one I'd been looking forward to myself. But the monster hissed and bared his teeth, slipping out of my grip and stubbornly staying put. Finally I gave up and dragged his chair aside, then brought a new one for myself and put it closer to the fire. For a while, Winnie cussed like a trucker. Then he fell quiet… and a second later, I heard the sounds of a chair being dragged across the floor as the monster pushed it back to the fire. This was how Taali found us: two moody figures sitting on both sides of the fireplace.

With her, Winnie turned all cute and cuddly. He allowed her to take him onto her lap and purred as she stroked him. The moment she'd turn away, he'd cast me unfriendly glances, growling.

Predictably, Taali was overjoyed to hear about specialist help and especially the gun. She said she had about three grand stashed away but if she was going perma, then she could sell some stuff for another thousand. At eighteen, she hadn't had enough time to amass much. I had to tell her that she was doing just fine. Especially compared to some other people who had nothing but a bunch of loans to show for their lives.

We spent the rest of the day rolling cigarettes. I worked my way through the overflowing auto buy inbox and flagged messages from those willing to buy in bulk. I immediately wrote back and got a few responses allowing me to place a few dozen private auction lots for a fixed price. Not everyone put their money where their mouth was, but a good half of all offers went through. By the evening, we'd raised over fifteen grand, plus another six from the auction which was still in full swing. The feeding frenzy had started to flag; the prices were going down: apparently, the first rumors about our alliance had already leaked out.

A bit later, Lieutenant Brown brought armfuls of my stuff from the inn. He still had access to my room there. Almost immediately, I received a letter from the inn owners apologizing for the incident and offering a free month's stay as compensation. No, thank you. They were very welcome to their mousetrap.

All in all, we had two thirds of the required sum, enough for a deposit. I was almost sure it would take Dan and his men a good couple of weeks to get their act together—enough time for us to raise the rest.

As we toiled, we discussed my future clan. Apparently, I already had my first volunteer. No one doubted that Taali would join me. But when we came to the clan's name, she showed her responsible side, rejecting my suggestions. Finally, she made up her mind.

"This is your clan," she said. "You're its patriarch. Its father, in other words. Your Elven name means Child of Night. So this is what you should call your clan: Children of Night."

"And how do you suggest we exist in the Lands of Light with this kind of name?"

"Who forces you to reveal it? You can hide it somewhere in the settings. Lots of people do that. You'll still be Laith to everybody, and that's it."

The next day we met Dan again. He accepted the deposit and spent some quality time speaking to Taali, instructing her and asking her for more details. Things got rolling. The countdown had begun.

We decided to turn the signing of the agreement into a promotional opportunity. A new alliance was coming into the world, whether someone liked it or not. We were guaranteed some conflict, anyway, even if no one dared to challenge us—which was unlikely. The mere feeling of their own latent power could drive other clans to solve their difference of opinions by force. This could be a new clan war in the making.

We issued invitations to the media, including the insistent journalist who'd cadged an interview from me. I had to move it if I didn't want to lose the three grand he'd promised. We spent two hours over some coffee and cigarettes, discussing the main points of his future article. I especially insisted on stressing the existence of the exclusive license, to convince whoever it might concern that they shouldn't waste their breath trying to kidnap me in order to get their share of the pie. The clans had decided against splitting production. Instead, we wanted to build large premises, hire some NPC alchemists and gain momentum gradually, in accordance with the Admins' guidelines. Everyone invested an equal share. Each clan also delegated their members to an observers group which was supposed to oversee all production stages from purchase to crafting and sales.

Soon we had a formal signing of the coalition formation memorandum. I did my bit writing out a five-year license in the name of the Alliance, granting them the right to sub-license it to NPCs. That was a huge load off my mind. Despite its promise of prosperity, the whole tobacco saga had bowled me over like a steam roller, leaving dents and black marks. I had to be grateful it hadn't killed me. I wanted to escape it all, to forget all this business speak and politics and just take my time exploring this little-known world. I still had lots of quests in my log. Forbidden Lands were calling my name.

I spent three more days at the castle, just to make sure I was safe. The hype started to settle. Fewer people now bothered me with stupid questions. The story was getting stale; the media had turned their attention to other things. What made headlines now was the new ambitious Inferno raid performed by a group of West European clans. The idea interesting in itself, but what raised it to sensation was the loot from the Inferno Archdemon: the group had returned with the Captured Heart of a God of Light. An artifact this powerful would allow the building of a new temple dedicated to one of the Gods of the Pantheon of Light. Each god promised all sorts of bells and whistles in exchange for a certain percent of experience, mana or gold. I still had no idea whether you could get anything off the Fallen One and whether his pantheon had other deities. I'd failed to get to the Dark Altar when I'd had the chance. As the saying went, if you want something done properly, you'd better do it yourself. And the fragments I'd so painstakingly obtained were proof enough.

I spent evenings playing with the calculator trying to suss out an ideal model of character growth now that I had this Splitting skill. In the end, I decided to set aside every third Talent point and every five days drink the Elixir of Wisdom which gave me another point. Trust me it cost: two grand and a five-day cooldown. But the result was worth it. In a couple of months, I was looking at level 100 with at least 25 spare points, which would give me two level-100 pets. True, it wouldn't double my power: one level-130 pet would be almost as strong as those two. Add to it the leveling gap caused by squirreling extra points, but that was only the beginning…

At the moment, this was the state of my characteristics—not counting the items:

Class: Death Knight

Level: 52

Strength: 32

Intellect: 209 (Mana=2090)

Agility: 0

Spirit: 110

Constitution: 61 (Hits=610)

1 Talent point available. 0 Characteristic points available.

I took the occasion to have a couple dozen fights in the arena. The Vets were curious to see what the Dark class was made of. It wasn't very often that their students could cross swords with a Necro or a Death Knight. In such arena-set friendlies, pure casters were an easy win. Not so if they caught you unawares, in the heat of a fight or just after it when you were low on life. You'd miss their first spell due to the surprise effect, then miss the second one as you looked for the attacker and finally, miss the third one as you attempted to do something about it. So in the field, all these PK wizards with their DpS going through the roof could be a force to be reckoned with. Same went for rogues. Absolutely mad DpS multiplied by stealth and some very nasty combos. Many people believed Thief to be the best PvP class. I tended to agree, at least if you looked at PvP as the need to steal close to someone and drown them in their own blood double quick. But where survival was concerned, whether under attack or against groups, they weren't really up to much.

Surprisingly, paladins proved the toughest opponents. In many respects they were the opposite of me with their buffed-up stats, armor and some serious magic support geared against the Forces of the Dark.

Like in other things, having lots of dough definitely helped. Three times I'd met that guy ten levels below myself, and three times I'd failed miserably. The guy had invested over a hundred grand gold in some unique gear raising his combat potential to at least level 70.

We definitely had fun there. The cadets and fighters proved to be a fearless and easygoing bunch. Most of them were perma players, still euphoric about their new life and the opportunities it brought them.

The arena amazed me with its potential. The commandant apparently hoped for a much needed upgrade from the spoils of the cigarette business. Apart from other odds and sods, the level 7 arena allowed us to generate all sorts of monsters. True, they didn't give you level or experience but that wasn't the idea.

The younger crowd had this thing of fighting till death in the full reality mode, complete with having their graves generated in the castle graveyard. In that case, the beaten party had to resurrect right there in the arena and, accompanied by catcalls, hurry across the courtyard to pick up his stuff. Even I had to do that kind of corpse run a couple times. It was funny. The grave stayed there for three hours and was then teleported to town. The Vets had the option of upgrading their graveyard to cemetery status but were apparently too stingy to go for it, even despite its obvious advantages.

By the end, I was totally fed up with sitting within four walls. The Russian salad was already coming out of my ears. The sight of cigarettes gave me a nervous tick. It was time to come out into the open. Logically, the first thing I needed to do was visit Grym and find out whether I was entitled to anything for freeing the Liches. Also, I hoped to hear something about the First Temple.

Dan granted me permission to bind in the portal hall. I did so happily. I raised Teddy, summoned an average pet to chaperone us and off we went to the city. For me it was a forty-minute walk, but a mount's speed is three times that of a human. Unfortunately, it didn't apply to the pet. Finally, we decided to sacrifice our safety and let the pet's poor soul go. Then we crossed our fingers and trotted toward the city. Once we reached the inhabited zone though, the chat filled with underage killers' cussing so I decided to play it safe and summoned another pet. A five-minute walk wouldn't cost me my crown. Actually, I was wearing a crown—and I wouldn't lose it even if someone lifted me by my feet and tipped me upside down.

I passed the Gnoll Hill to the teen players' delight and stepped onto the trail leading to the city. This was the easiest way: I had to turn off into the woods just before the city gates and there we were.

I spoke too soon. I hadn't made a hundred paces when I walked right into a well-organized ambush.

Teddy was trotting just next to me when a rogue unstealthed behind his back attacking him with a long combo. Bellowing, the bear swung round and charged at him, met by the attacker's two blades. Another rogue materialized a dozen feet away from me. He held two swords covered with steaming green poison. The pet froze a couple dozen feet away from us, unable to help—apparently, controlled by an enemy caster. Oh. They made quick work of my Ted. I tried to freeze the rogue nearest to me when a warrior tumbled out of the roadside shrubs and went for me in large leaps. Tavor, the motherfucker.

I switched target and activated Deadman's Hand. It worked. My first stroke of luck. Time to leg it. Nothing was keeping me here. I pressed the mental teleport pictogram. Activation took five and a half seconds. Would I keep the concentration? The rogues went for me, their four blades showering me with blows. My shields seemed to hold. They absorbed damage preventing the two from disrupting my casting.

Two seconds. Would I make it? Tavor bolted, going for me in one large leap, and kicked me to the ground. His special abilities again. The two jumped onto my back twisting my arms, not letting me get to my feet. A mage appeared from behind the trees, a glowing artifact in his hands.

"Quick, hand him over and come right back. I got a word from the gate there's another digital shit coming to the Gnoll Hill. Would be nice to get him, too."

He activated the artifact in two clicks and dropped it onto the ground in front of me. The gold-framed crimson stone filled with light and discharged in a flash.

Warning! Scared Crystal creates an energy spike! This is a spatial anomaly zone! Automatic teleport to the mother stone. Destination: Forest Cats Castle.

With a pop, we fell on the hard, damp stone tiles. The weight of the bodies collapsing on top of me kicked the breath out of me.

Welcome!

Warning! The clan is at war! The castle is concealed by Small Silence Dome. For reasons of confidentiality, all outgoing messages and access to built-in portals are blocked. Contact the commandant to gain clearance to send outgoing traffic.

If you don't agree with the above conditions, you must leave the Castle at once.

Warning! You've been affected by Astral Stone! The unique half-sentient crystal grows smaller copies of itself and teleports them to all corners of the world. When Scared Crystals sense its magic, they create a portal anomaly teleporting the Mage to the mother stone which absorbs all magic energies.

Effect: -30 pt. mana per second.

Some people grabbed me under my arms and dragged me up some stairs, panting and cursing the fucking rock. I noticed the gloom of an enormous dungeon and the iron bars that divided it into separate cages. Behind the bars, prisoners' faces showed in the crimson glow of an enormous crystal.

Any struggle was pointless in the grip of those thugs. Nor could I cast a spell on the go. I couldn't even try and smash my head on the stone steps as suicide wasn't part of the game. I tried to send a message to Dan, hoping that the welcome warning was BS. It wasn't. Contact the commandant to get clearance…

They pulled me out into a courtyard. Sunshine hit my eyes. I squinted, missing the exact moment when they pushed me out into an arena.

Welcome to a training fight at the Forest Castle Arena!

Laith, level 52, vs. Danathos, level 144

Fight mode: Combat realism, fight to death

Respawn location: arena

Grave location: graveyard

On guard! May the strongest one win!

Before I could raise my eyes, a powerful combo drove a sword up my ribs, sending me to the Rainbow Bridge.

A second later, I respawned. Hot sand was burning my feet. Again they grabbed me under my arms and pulled me running downstairs back into the dungeon, peppering me with kicks and punches. The bastards had it all choreographed as if they were doing it a dozen times a day. Having said that, maybe they did.

They rushed me into the dungeon under the influence of the strange crystal, dragged me into a cage and threw me onto the stones. A knee nailed me to the floor.

"Five minutes," a guard croaked. He spat on the tiles next to my face.

Stone chippings bit into my cheek. When I tried to move, I got a nice kick in the ribs. The other guard placed his dirty boot onto my head, pinning me to the cold floor. Scumbags. Cursing soundlessly, I scrolled through my combat and social logs, moving their names onto a separate list. I was going to find each and every one of them. I'd make them wear Negators, then kick them into a waste pit up to their chins and keep them there until the shit turned rock solid.

"Time," the hoarse guard snapped. "The cuffs!"

They jerked me to my feet. Shackles snapped shut on my wrists. A long chain dangled from them. The guards hooked the chain up to the ceiling. One of them struggled to turn the winch as the rusty mechanism pulled me up. Now I was hanging in the middle of the cage. Even if I had enough mana, I couldn't dream of casting anything in this position.

"He's done. Let's go back to the crystal. They're bringing another one soon."

The other guard wasn't in a hurry. "Wait up. You know me. I always finish with my signature punch."

He took a boxing stance and started jumping around me, pounding my ribs and liver with a rather decent punch sequence. My health shrunk somewhat, a wave of shallow pain running through my body. I winced.

"Quit screwing your face," the boxer guffawed. "This is nothing compared to what our torturer has in store for you. With his experience and imagination…" He raised his voice, addressing the other prisoners. "Am I right, shitheads?"

The dungeon echoed with curses and groans. Someone wept.

"See?" he went on. "Everyone here knows Ivan the Terrible. They have respect for him. So will you. Just keep hanging here for a bit."

The two walked out of my cage and sat down on a bench not far from the wretched stone that took up most of the far wall. Not a wall, really, but rather a slab of rock exposing one side of an enormous crystal gleaming an ill-boding crimson. The Forest Cats must have come across the artifact while investigating or working the caves and had enough sense to buy the land and build the castle.

My inbox flashed. I opened it praying for a miracle and cavalry.

Hi Nec! So they got you too?

The sender was Cryl—the rogue I'd met on my first day and with whom I had then lost all contact. So he was here? I strained my eyes, scanning the cages.

On the ceiling, Cryl prompted.

I raised my head and recoiled, swinging on my chains. My jailors glared my way.

Awful, eh? Cryl gave me a sad smile.

You could say that. The kid hung by the ceiling, his flesh pierced by a few dozen rusty hooks every which way. His rib, his elbow, his shoulder blade, his hand… Bastards. Just wait till I get to you.

"Are you crying? Don't," he wheezed. "Don't worry. I have a high pain threshold. I don't feel a thing… almost. The Cats aren't worried I'll go nuts so they hang me up here to instill a fear of God in the rest."

I hadn't even noticed I was all tearful. Not with fear—these were tears of sympathy, anger and helplessness. What kind of monster is man?

"It can't be," I managed.

"It can. I got perma-stuck three days after our gnoll adventure. My dad is a programmer. He writes virtual world stuff so he has this password-protected capsule with no time restrictions on it. I hacked his password—it was easy, he has the same one for everything. Mom and Dad left for the weekend, and all I wanted was to play a bit longer. But it got me perma-stuck…"

"How did you get here, then?"

"I was an idiot. I was sitting there by the Gnoll Hill wiping my tears and wondering what to do and how to log out. That bitch, she came over to me, like she wanted to help me. Fuck her… She said she'd help me contact my family. Then she said I could stay in the castle. I joined her group and we teleported here. They do the same to everyone. They take you to the arena first, then keep you in a cage for twenty-four hours to bring mana to zero and make sure you're hungry and thirsty. You won't die from that but you won't be able to regen. Then they show you around the castle pointing out the good conditions slaves live in. They suggest you make a bind point in a special dungeon room. If you say no, they'll take you on another tour, this time to the torture chamber. To meet Ivan the Terrible. He's an amazing man. He'll try to convince you to do as they say. He nearly always succeeds. Then they either leave you in the castle giving you twenty-hour-a-day crafting jobs. There's other work available, too. Some Cats like their beds warmed by young boys. Not just male Cats—there're some really sick females among them, too. They can use you as a target for archery practice… you'll have to catch their arrows with your own chest and fetch them back to the archers in your teeth. They've lost all perspective here. They're drunk with anarchy better than liquor…"

Blood pounded in my temples. My mind was clouded with hate and fear. There had to be a way out. It wasn't the first time I was walking a tightrope. I could do it.

"Relax," he said. "Try not to attract attention. You will regret it."

"I won't," I tried to pull myself together. "Any other options?"

"Not many. We have customers here every couple of days or so. From the Arabic cluster, I believe. Just yesterday we had three dudes from the African zone. They have a new fad going there, the all-Caucasian harems. They don't even care which race white girls play for. They just want a white soul behind all the menagerie. Those are all our options, I'm afraid. Some guys just disappear. The guards collect them and take them away… and they never come back."

I nearly howled with my own helplessness. "What about the Admins? Surely the Cats couldn't block the access to Technical Support and Administration?

Cryl gave a weak shake of his head. "You try. They're fucking imbeciles."

And try I did.

I opened the Technical Support menu and dashed off a complaint about a group of players keeping me against my will. I also demanded to be released from the castle and attached the list of their names I'd compiled earlier. I forwarded a copy to the customer service. The latter replied immediately.

Thank you for your message. After due consideration, it was further divided into technical and administrative categories. A new technical support ticket has been created. Ticket number: 1176121b.

Message overlap warning! Tickets 1176121b and 1176002 have been merged. New ticket number: 1176771.

In response to your message 1176121a, please be advised that the said players' accounts were disabled over a year ago, following numerous complaints and breach of EULA agreement.

AI Crimson 9/155.

A minute later, the technical support chimed in:

Thank you for your message 1176771. After due consideration, we have granted your request re: forced imprisonment.

Commandunstick Error! Bug report generated!

Commandgate Error! Bug report generated!

Activating forced relocation via database. Error! Bug report generated!

We regret to inform you that relocation has failed. A report has been forwarded to the software developer. Estimated response time: 14 days.

AI Crimson 9/115.

Morons. I could forget it. Just in case, I wrote to them again asking to interfere and kill me somehow—with a lightning bolt if they wished.

We regret that we are unable to grant your request. Per section 14.1 of EULA, Administration cannot intervene in the game by eliminating particular players or NPCs.

Cryl watched the change of expression on my face with an understanding smile. "Having fun?"

"I'm not going to leave it like that. They're all idiots, those paper pushers."

"They're not. I think they understand everything. But for some reasons of their own, they either can't or don't want to interfere. They probably don't have an opinion yet or they just can't decide on their position toward the players and the players' position in the world. Here, catch their answer to my last email. It sums up six days of our correspondence. Saves you time."

In response to your messages 1172121, 1176612 and 117775 please be advised that the issue of the legal rights of digitized persons has been included in the Agenda of the September Session of the U.N. General Assembly.

"That's the end of it. They haven't written to me since," Cryl said.

Immediately I received Dan's message. The inbox worked without a glitch.

Hi Max, were are u? Need to have a talk.

Come on, agent, show us your training. He'd had an Alliance member kidnapped from under his nose and was none the wiser.

A bit later I received Taali's text saying she was on her way home. I just gritted my teeth like a convict watching the happy outside life unfold beyond his bars.

Our jailors admitted a new prisoner, a level 12 kid, scared out of his little mind. Soon he was hanging on a chain too, whimpering with terror.

I kept applying heat to the Admins demanding they put me in contact with a human being and trying to prove to them the error of their ways. It looked like they just strung me along.

Dan flooded me with messages. He seemed to be worried now. Soon, I started receiving Taali's PMs—concerned at first, then outright panicky.

A gorgeous Elfa with a frozen face of a wax doll walked into the dungeon. She brought some beer and food for the jailors and stood next to their table motionless and vacant, oblivious of the guards' groping hands and hoarse suggestions of whether they should have a shag or eat first. Overhead, chains rattled as Cryl got restless.

Whassup? I PM'd him.

This is Lena. Don't mind the sexy avatar. She's only thirteen. We got here the same day. She was cheerful at first. Very brave. Then they took her somewhere. She came back the next day, only now she doesn't react to anything. She does everything she's told, then she clams up again. She doesn't reply to my messages any more.

"Fucking shits…" I whispered.

By evening, I became lethargic. Cryl and I kept exchanging half-hearted messages. No idea what I'd have done without him. How on earth had he managed to last the two weeks he'd been there? How come he hadn't broken down yet?

Dan began sending in brief reports. He'd worked it out that I'd been kidnapped and advised me to stay put and try to provoke my kidnappers by spitting in their faces or trying to fall on their sword, and whatever I did, not to change my bind point.

The inbox flashed—him again.

Max, cheer up. We're working. We think it's the Olders. We're looking into them. You're probably under a silence dome or some other silence spell. If latter is true, you'll still have access to the auction. Try to place an empty lot in your name in the subject line. Use the description field to tell us where you're are. We're monitoring the auction.

I tried it. As if! I tried all game services. I could only get access to the Wiki, the bank and technical support forms. Players couldn't edit Wiki content. I could, of course, try to send some money to someone, but I still couldn't add a text message to a transfer. At least that way they'd know I was alive. Having said that…

I grasped at the inkling of an idea. Unbending my fingers and moving my lips, I did some calculations. Then I sent Dan four money transfers for 3, 1, 20 and 19 silver. My inner greedy pig, even dangling in the noose, had still objected against sending gold. I thought a moment and sent identical transfers to Taali and Eric. Come on guys, use your brains.

Dan worked it out first. His intelligence job made him used to riddles. He replied with two words.

Forest Cats?

Again I started unfolding fingers. 'Y'… 'e'… 's'… I sent three more transfers, each sum denoting the letter's place in the alphabet. This time I sent gold, to stress the message's importance.

Got it. Well done, Max. Hold on. And watch fur fly.

An hour later, the dungeon door swung open. Footsteps of several men pounded across the room. A group came to my cage: a high-ranking clan officer and several fighters with torches, including Tavor. The officer studied me for a while, then turned to him.

"What did I say to you? You were told to bring newbs without clan support—and run them through the database first. What the fuck did you bring him for? He's level fifty-plus. The Vets are going ballistic. Now they've sent an ultimatum to the Commandant. We're to hand him over within twenty-four hours or they'll raze all three castles to the ground."

Tavor scowled. "They can try. We can still invest in more guards and soldiers. Then we'll be on a par with them. You need at least a five to one superiority to take a castle over."

"You think? Then you probably heard about the new tobacco alliance? If so, you probably know that this fuckhead you've brought is a member? And he's the author of the cigarette recipe? You didn't know that, did you? Really, what's the point of reading the news if you can screw some slut instead."

He turned to me. "Don't get any ideas, dude. That won't help you fuck all. Twenty-four hours! They're bluffing. We'll drag it out for two or three days. In the meantime, you'll have to disappear. For good. Sorry, dude, nothing personal. Business is business."

Now it was my turn to speak. "Disappear? Where to? We're immortal here, aren't we?"

The officer nodded. "We are indeed. But there is a catch. Death has one universal instrument: pain. Hand me a torch!"

He held out his hand to take a hot, tar-drenched burning torch. Then he stepped toward me and shoved it under my arm. I tried to jerk away but he kept pressing, smearing the burning tar over my skin. At first, it didn't hurt much: it felt more like an aching tooth. But the smell of my scorched flesh, the crackle of bursting skin and the flames dancing so close to my eyes—they all scared me and wound up the imagination. The pain kept growing.

Don't breathe, close your eyes. There is no pain, it's all in your head.

Cryl's message came just in time. I closed my eyes and stopped breathing. In a couple of seconds, I felt better. The pain decreased to the level of an inflamed tooth. Very unpleasant, very. But I could take it.

They took the torch away.

"You think you're so smart? Wait till you see our Ivan the Terrible. You know what he does? First he'll cut off your eyelids, and then he'll be working on you. You've still got a lot to learn about pain. One thing I can guarantee you is that in twenty-four hours—forty-eight max—all your Vets will see is a bubble-blowing idiot, roaming around town pissing his pants."

He turned to Tavor. "Ivan will finish in an hour. Take this loser to him. You have twenty-four hours. And if by the end he has more brains than a sparrow-"

Tavor grinned. "Yes, Sir!"