The Forsaken Crypts

by Terry C. Simpson

  “Ah well.” He shrugged and returned to the task at hand.

  From his vantage, he picked out the nearest area with lamias. As he approached, he chose one of the smaller reptilian-humanoid hybrids. Staying low, he used stunted trees and brush as much as he could until he was in range.

  He took aim and unleashed a Staggering Shot, Piercer, Divergence, Aether Shot combo. The lamia wobbled in place on the first hit. The other abilities blasted into its chest and head in quick succession. He was ready with another Aether Shot after its two-second recharge time, and still had Aether Bomb and Concussion Blast. A part of him wished Aether Overload was full for him to use Stand and Deliver, despite knowing the skill would be overkill.

  However, he needed none of them. The lamia no longer had a head. Aether formed a small mote, streaked through the air and into Frost.

  Elite lamia slain.

  Gained 400 experience points.

  “Easy peasy. Only ninety-eight more kills.”

  He chose another lamia and repeated the sequence with the same results. After eight kills he’d exhausted his aether despite the amount regained from Aether Absorption, the percentage return from his abilities, as well as calling upon Replenishment on his way to the next target.

  He sat among the grass and meditated. Replenishment accelerated. Within a minute, he had the sense of fullness again, like a stuffed belly. As he made to get back to leveling, he noted his reservoir for Aether Overload had already begun to decay, but not his aether pool.

  Once more, Frost started up on the lamias. After the first couple kills, Aether Absorption had almost filled Overload once again. And it had done so faster than Replenishment. The decay rate had also lessened while he was actively engaged. He made a mental note of the difference.

  A drake screeched when he was on his thirtieth kill. Lamia carcasses were strewn about the ground. He still hadn’t been lucky enough to find any loot.

  Another screech joined the first. And another. Glancing up, Frost tracked three large drakes as they circled the turquoise lagoon.

  From their size, he assumed they were GUMs. But no title popped into his IM to designate any of them with the boss or mini-boss status of a Giant Ugly Mofo. A part of him was sorry they weren’t GUMs. He’d already envisioned himself riding atop one and the admiration such a feat would’ve brought.

  Unlike their smaller brother or sister below them, the three drakes were solid-colored. Green. Blue. Gray. Wings beating, they descended toward the rocks near the carcass.

  The red and black drake was already there, sniffing at the arket, stalking one way then the next as if uncertain what it should do. It was oblivious to its kin’s approach.

  Wings beating the air, the newcomers descended to the ground. Hissing and snapping, they charged the red and black drake. Red-and-black raised its wings, let out a growling squawk, and waddled away.

  The others turned to the carcass and tore at it. Red-and-black made to return. They attacked the drake again. With a flap of its wings Red-and-black flew to the other side of the lagoon.

  Hissing and screaming amongst themselves, the bullies resumed their gorging. When they finished, only bits of bone and meat were left. They took turns nudging the remains into the lagoon with their snouts. The turquoise water reddened for a moment.

  Together, the three drakes looked toward Red-and-black, raised their snouts, and emitted croaks that reminded Frost of chuckling. Wings flapping, they took to the air.

  “That was mean. I guess even animals in a game can be assholes.” Shaking his head, Frost marveled at their AI. He could not have imagined such lifelike interactions. The creatures seemed too real.

  Red-and-black crossed back over the lagoon. It sniffed at the red-stained area. After a moment, the drake headed to the water’s edge. Head cocked, it stared into the murk. It made a sad cooing sound and hung its head before lurching into the air and flapping over to its aerie.

  Disheartened by the encounter, Frost turned toward the most recent lamia carcass. Most of the others had now despawned. He grabbed the creature by the tail and dragged it to the stained area. With a few swings of his sword he chopped off part of the tail. On the way down he refilled his canteen from the stream.

  Frost returned to leveling. New mobs had spawned. He fully expected them to have adjusted to his strategy. At first, he could not tell if they did. He was too strong. They succumbed to the same method, dead before they could react. But it wasn’t long before he realized their numbers had diminished.

  That was when he noticed the burrows. If a lamia saw him first, it would slither away and into the holes in the ground. Most of them remained close to those habitats.

  Frost adjusted his strategy, using any cover he could find to get in range. Sometimes, he crawled on his stomach. When he’d killed a few in a row he cut off the snake portion of the body and made a small pile.

  At kill number fifty, he discovered a skill shard, this one in the shape of a teardrop gemstone, the aether coiling lazily inside. Frost pumped his fist.

  Skill acquired:

  Homer

  Requires level 12

  He nodded his approval. Frost tucked the shard into his inventory and resumed the hunt. From time to time, he stopped to wipe sweat from his brow, eat a bit of dried meat, and take a swig from his canteen. He continued to work on Leap, increasing its distance, his body quickly growing accustomed to the skill.

  Lost in the monotony of the process, he refined his Replenishment and Echolocation. He used Cannon Kata to speed up his target engagement. When he checked his stats again during a meditation session, his aether had increased by one to thirty-one.

  The distorted coin of a sun was past the midway point when a cry announced Red-and-black’s return to the lagoon. Red-and-black was soon followed by the bullies. The scenario played out in a similar fashion.

  After the three bullies left, Frost picked up one of the tails he’d set aside. Holding the tapered bottom end in both hands, he whipped his arms around, and tossed the tail up toward the bloodied spot at the lagoon. Staying motionless, he waited.

  Red-and-black’s attention snapped toward Frost. The drake tilted its head. It let out a sound trapped between a growl and a squawk. It peered from the meat to Frost and back again.

  Soon enough, the drake flapped across the pool and landed near the morsel. It looked to Frost again. With a sudden move, it dashed to the tail, snatched it up, and flew towards its aerie.

  The three drakes met it in the air. They attacked from multiple directions until Red-and-black dropped its meal. One dived down to feast. The other two chased off Red-and-black.

  Frost sighed. He retrieved another tail, placed it in the same spot, then got back to the grind. Soon enough, he leveled.

  Level 11 gained

  Attributes increased by 3 points

  Strength: 23

  Agility: 28

  Vitality: 32

  Aether: 34

  Frowning, Frost pondered why there hadn’t been an extra increase in vitality. He’d gained six total points between agility and strength. One conclusion made sense. Agility and strength counted individually. Not combined.

  Noting he now needed eighty-five thousand exp to level, he continued to grind. He relished the fact the increase in aether meant more power, faster kills, and the use of more abilities before he needed Replenishment.

  The day died, giving way to evening. Wanting to push to the next level, Frost took on extra fights. He paid for the mistake several times, forcing him to kite a lamia or chug down a pot.

  On one occasion, two beams from Divergence had struck additional lamias. With no way to successfully kite three mobs, Frost was left with no choice but to use Concussion Blast. The explosion cast a fiery white haze on impact, stunning one lamia and killing the other two. Frost cursed himself. When
he finished off the last creature, he waited a while before resuming the grind.

  Evening birthed velvet night and a sky immersed in a panoply of radiance, fitful spurts of voidstorm lightning. Or rather, the remnants of the last voidstorm. With night came the cold. Exhaustion set in. Frost shivered. He’d tried to wait for Red-and-black to show again, but the drake had not returned.

  Frost killed one more lamia then cut off its tail. He placed Deadeye in his inventory, the cannon disappearing as if by magic. Dragging the tail behind him, Frost made to head toward the gurgling stream. He stopped, mouth agape.

  The air above the lagoon’s surface burned with turquoise fire. Such was the glow that it lit the area. Insects flitted through the radiance like snowflakes in a squall.

  Enthralled, Frost did not know how long he stood there staring. A wind carrying a chill like death and the pungent odor of rotten eggs knocked him from his trance. As did a long lingering roar of something on the hunt farther up the mountain.

  Remembering his prior task, he filled his canteen from the stream, and drank a few mouthfuls of cold water, relishing its fresh taste. After refilling the canteen, he took one last look at the lagoon, grabbed the lamia tail, and trudged downhill in the direction of the cavern.

  As he walked, he took in the distant coast and the tiny lights marking the Coalition expedition’s base of operations. He wondered what had become of Nomarch Setnana Botros. He still had quests that concerned her. Namely, The Black Hand and Vengeance For Anefet.

  When Frost arrived at the cavern, he built a small campfire by way of the flint and tinder. He chopped the lamia tail into chunks, skewered some of them, and placed them in the fire. Smoke rose into the air, giving off a righteous scent of roasting. His stomach grumbled.

  While chewing on the tough lamia flesh, he decided on which quests to pursue, the main lines being The Cure and The Black Hand. Those chained into others, many of which were unidentifiable.

  He took a quick look at some of the others, pausing at a sub-quest titled: Kill Umesh Madara. He scowled as he considered the massive GUM who had held Tia prisoner. Even if he hadn’t promised Umesh’s death to Nepia, he still would have seen to it.

  Despite the draw of each objective, none raised his interest like the Forsaken Crypts. It might be a while before he found the quests to direct him to the dungeon, but he already had a reason to venture into its depths. Pops. The Crypts had been on the list of locations to acquire the second protocol.

  Frowning, Frost took a look at the chest. I coulda sworn I left that closed. He got up, strode over to the chest, and flipped the lid shut. He glanced around, wondering if someone had been in the cave.

  His Comm Orb dinged.

  Meritus’ voice was breathless with excitement. “An epic zhua? A hierka that levels with the owner? Come on, dawg, you didn’t even have to ask. I got you. And curing the Gray Death? Wicked. Just wicked. Might be able to convince the Coalition to lift the bounties if we pull it off.

  “I already bought a bunch of mystic skills and a scepter, and I’m putting in the work. I’ll hit up my contacts about the empowered skills to see what mobs we can farm for them besides those in the Sanctum.

  “Also, the gargant Highseekers gave me access to one of the upper levels of their Halls of Illumination to help. A few books claimed hierkaneers can craft the skill-effect shards by way of a Genesis Engine. I’ll research the details and find out if anyone can confirm it. Keep you posted. Good luck and see you soon, my dude. Meritus out.”

  Frost smiled at his best friend’s enthusiasm. He finished his meal and washed it down with water. His tiredness abated. With the fire crackling, the wind howling outside, he stripped down to his pants and leather boots. He removed his greaves, cuisses, and bracers.

  After he limbered up by hopping from foot to foot and shaking his arms, Frost worked through a series of stretches. When he was loose enough, he lost himself in pushups, pistol squats, shadowboxing, and various core exercises. All things he’d done when Pops had hired trainers to teach him MMA, both IRL and by way of sims.

  Remembering the few sessions he’d had on the basics of swordsmanship, he retrieved the blade. He ran through several drills. Time passed, the weapon growing a bit more comfortable.

  As Frost practiced and exercised, adding Leaps in various directions to his repertoire, he devised a strategy to capture and ride a drake. The hunting roar echoed again.

  CHAPTER 6

  Standing upon the battlements of Modra’s Keep beneath an unforgiving sun, Setnana felt broken inside. Pain gripped her heart. She had not slept. Unbidden tears streamed down her cheeks. She cursed Bakui Assam regularly, blaming him for her presence at this godforsaken place on the border of Puria, Lothal, and Khertahka.

  Every time her Comm Orb dinged, she hoped it was news she yearned to hear. News of Perihy’s retrieval.

  But the reports were the same every time. Failure. No more than a glimpse of her son.

  At first, she thought Perihy was faster than should have been possible. A thought she dismissed when she considered he was no longer a true erada, no matter how she denied it. He was a draconid. Drake riders were the only ones able to keep up, but he vanished whenever they drew close.

  She had spent the entire night and day following on a drake. West. Always west. The same direction chosen by many corrupted when the Gray Death first spread. She wished she knew the reason for the choice.

  Eventually, her Azureguard trackers were forced to stop. Perihy had crossed the border into grand kora territory. The last sighting was of him heading into Puria by way of the Isfet Mountains.

  Gazing longingly at the distant peaks, she spoke into her Comm Orb, the message directed to Khafra, who was leading the search. “I cannot ask Aishani to arrange safe passage through the Isfet. Too many questions would be asked. I was already forced to concoct a story to Bakui Assam concerning our presence there.

  “Return to me but have the Azureguards skirt the mountains and wait for Perihy to emerge on the far side. Stress to them the importance of remaining Concealed. If the grand korae capture them, they might as well kill themselves.” She ended the message.

  “Major Neferna.” Setnana faced the Sky Sword leader who waited atop an owl-faced zephyr. The major was dressed in scale armor and a cloak, its hood secured to keep her face and horns hidden. “Take the company to the border between Lothal and Puria. Help the trackers once Perihy is well away from the grand kora strongholds. Be careful. Fight if you must, but if anyone falls, make certain there is nothing left to identify them. They must think you are humans not eradae.”

  “As you wish, Nomarch Setnana.” With a pull of her reins, Neferna sent the zephyr into the sky, its diaphanous wings spread wide.

  I will never give up, my sweet Perihy. Your mother will find you and save you. Even if she has to raze everything in her path, it will be done.

  Her Comm Orb dinged. Without even thinking to see who it might be, she was prepared for disappointment. She frowned. The messenger wasn’t a tracker. It was Sid, one of her Trade Conglomerate contacts, Sid. As Setnana listened to Sid relay the information, she could not help her smile.

  ******

  Half a day and several simurgh Velocity Surges later, she, Ihuet, and Khafra arrived in Ezaki. Despite being a rather small Lothal town, it brimmed with activity, primarily gurash miners who were seeking fortune in the distant Jurojin Mountains. Following Sid’s directions, they soon located the store in question.

  She was on the verge of approaching the establishment when Ihuet grabbed her arm. He jutted his chin toward a nearby stall.

  Her eyes widened. She could not believe her good fortune. After all she had suffered, all the obstacles, all the trials, all the unanswered prayers to Nif, Gilda Mordian had strolled into her path.

  The girl was a slim erada, her color that of a clear afternoo
n sky. Soft. Not quite unlike Setnana, and yet not as beautiful.

  Gilda’s color was the only thing seemingly gentle about her. The girl carried two chakrams on her belt and often twirled a dagger as if born with it. She moved with a fighter’s grace. Her long twisting horns and face spoke of youth. Her average features spoke of a commoner. Barely better than a sceeve.

  Setnana grimaced. To think these sceeves were the reason she had failed to secure Benediction. The reason Perihy had turned. And thus, the reason Perihy was lost.

  The horrific moment rose anew. The failed healing. The impossible contortion of Perihy’s body. Perihy’s skin bursting apart like a rotten fruit. The revelation of scaled metallic skin, the infection of gray, deep green, and electric blue veins that belonged to a draconid grunt. She squeezed her eyes shut against the images.

  Hands folded into fists, Setnana let out a shuddering breath. She opened her eyes. The girl was still haggling with the vendor.

  Setnana smiled grimly, again pleased with her luck. And for contacts like Sid. She almost praised Nif. Almost. She grimaced. This isn’t Nif’s work. The gods care nothing for my worldly problems. This is my doing and my doing alone. My will. My love.

  Scowling, she recalled Aishani’s attempt to steer her from this course, trying to convince her Perihy was past the point of curing. But Aishani was wrong. Setnana would find him and fix what was broken.

  “Give it up,” Aishani had said. “You’ll ruin everything if you don’t. You’re letting love blind you. I told you time and again, show me a man in love, and I’ll show you his weakness.”

  Setnana shook her head. If I do not give it my all, what kind of a mother am I? Her all began with the girl.

  Gilda Mordian must have sensed something was wrong, because she spun and snatched the chakrams from her belt loop. The great circular discs lit up with aether-infused power. Aether Shields shot up around her arms.

  But it was too late.