The Forsaken Crypts

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The Forsaken Crypts Page 13

by Terry C. Simpson


  He saw her now, flitting around him during the battle with the emperor. She employed her Aether Overload skill, Song of Ice and Fire, an oval cyan Aether Barrier surrounding her, red and blue Aether Shields on her arms repelling almost every attack against him.

  Most of all, he remembered their time outside the game. First, in Equitane Towers, surrounded by a hut made of MX1 boxes, their lovemaking steaming the air. Then, in the Hotel Manzania after Mom had come out of her coma.

  Thinking of those moments made him want to be with her now, right here in game. He wondered how different the sensations would be. Need tried to rise, but he pushed it away.

  Daylight died a slow death, the western horizon swallowing the sun. Night crept in like a cold worm slithering across his skin. A hunter’s horn of a moon had taken its place in a sky that had donned an ebon dress sprinkled with glittering jewels.

  Below him, myriad lights marked towns and cities. The colors varied from the orange flames of torchlight to the blues, whites, and yellows of short glimmerwands, longer glimmerstalks, or the circular luminance that were bloomglobes. A quick look at the map showed he was still on a direct line with Nalanda. Not long afterward, the town appeared at the edge of a forest’s stygian stain.

  Message @DanteBlackblade.

  “What up, Dante. I’m about to land in a few minutes. See ya soon.”

  Frost directed RnB toward a square field on the outskirts, certain it was a Landing. If the lone person wielding one red and one green glimmerwand was any indication. Sure enough, as RnB began its descent, the person waved the green glimmerwand and directed them until they touched down.

  The attendant approached. To Frost’s surprise, he was a gurash boy, the short mane suggesting he had to be in his early teens. Slight for a member of the race, he had deep brown skin, which had an odd look to it beneath the mixture of the colored glimmerwands. The boy’s leonine features spoke of tiredness.

  “Hey, mister.” The boy yawned. “Kinda late to be flying in. Do you need a stable for—” He stared at RnB, rubbed his eyes, then looked again.

  “For my drake?” Frost waved the boy off. “No. He stays with me.”

  “Fine. I hope he’s tamed. If he bites somebody, the guards will most likely kill him.”

  “Not gonna happen.” Frost meant that more toward possible action on the part of the guards.

  “If you say so.” The boy moved out of the way, but his gaze followed RnB.

  Frost rode into town where the streets were mostly empty. Music drifted on the air. As did the echo of raucous songs from some nearby tavern. A group of drunken gurashi staggered from an establishment, boisterous voices echoing.

  On a whim, Frost focused on the map again. It had changed from a world view to Nalanda alone, filled with streets, lanes, and buildings. Location names unveiled as he rode, adding to those already uncovered by his flight.

  He was on Osian Avenue, a main thoroughfare. Heading due west, he kicked the bolsters, encouraging more speed. Soon, they were running at a decent rate, RnB’s claws clicking on cobbles, Frost’s cloak fluttering in the cool breeze. When he got to the intersection of Osian Avenue and Dervish Street, he stopped.

  “Which way, RnB?”

  The drake gurgled. Frost stroked his aether ring while trying to decide. He considered asking one of the few people strolling along the avenue.

  To his right, two guards approached, both gurashi dressed in leather armor, the hilts of large two-handed swords jutting above their shoulders. Well aware of the bounty on his head, Frost tensed, ready to flee should the need arise. But the guards paid no more attention to him than to anyone else.

  Breathing a relieved sigh, and again glad for the design of identification, Frost rode over to the men. “Heyyy there, fellas. Which way to the Creeping Man?”

  The bigger of the two jutted a thumb back in the direction from which they’d come. “Two intersections over.”

  “Thanks. Goodnight.” Frost dipped his head and set off.

  The Creeping Man was a five-storied building. A sign outside declared the name in red letters. Yellow and white bloomglobes lit the exterior. Music and laughter drifted from inside. Four drakes and several kirins occupied sections of the hitching rail. Frost got a spot for RnB, petted the drake on the head, and then strode into the tavern.

  A short blue-skinned gurash woman, which meant she was about Frost’s seven feet, greeted him at the door. “Welcome to the Creeping Man.”

  Her eyes were the purest silver. Her shape was quite svelte despite her beige kimono. She wore an oversized sash, cinching from her waist to a hair below her breasts. “Do you wish to rent a room or are you here for entertainment?”

  “Looking for a friend. Friends, really. A crimson gurash about this big. Red mane.” Frost gestured to indicate a height a foot taller than himself. “Totes a large black axe most times. Has a really high voice. Like a girl. Probably will be with a cocky goblin who has way too many muscles and has a habit of speaking in rhymes.”

  “Oh.” The woman smiled warmly. Even her eyes twinkled with delight. “Chaotix and Aximand. They’re in the bar. Back right corner.” She pointed to a door from which music, voices, and laughter filtered out.

  Frost smiled at the names, glad he hadn’t used their real ones. At the same time, he shook his head because Dante had not mentioned their aliases in the Comm Orb message.

  He made to cross the room when the door to the bar exploded in a spray of wooden shards. The body of a green rough-looking gurash crashed into furniture. A blue one followed. Neither moved from where they’d fallen.

  From inside the bar came the clash of steel on steel. Someone cried out. Women’s voices screamed. Men yelled.

  In a flash, Frost had The Stunner out of his inventory. He aimed the black cannon at the door, ready to let loose if need be.

  The fighting stopped abruptly. The yelling died down. Whimpers followed.

  A broad chain-mailed back and a shaggy red mane appeared at the shattered door. “Sorry for the trouble, Tiya. I’ll leave some credits for the damage.”

  Frost smiled at Dante’s high-pitched voice.

  Ryne strode through Dante’s legs, the short sleeves of his robes revealing bulging arms. His hair was still in the same top knot and his wispy beard was a bit longer.

  The blue gurash was creeping across the floor, struggling to rise. Ryne’s foot landed a precise kick to the chin. The gurash crumpled.

  “Chaotix! Aximand!” Frost laughed.

  Dante turned, grinning madly. His red mane fell around his face. “Oh, hey, Fro—hey, buddy. Long time no see.” He rested the black-bladed, long-hafted crescent axe on his shoulder.

  Ryne did a little hop step over the unconscious gurash’s head, voice like a rumble of thunder when he spoke. “Hello, friend. Glad to see you didn’t meet your end.”

  “Same here.” Frost shook his head as he took them in. “I actually didn’t believe you two would be together, considering how y’all went at it before.”

  “The little guy and I have an understanding.” Dante smiled fondly at the goblin.

  Ryne jabbed a tiny thumb up at Dante. “Indeed. He understands I provide a need. He’s reckless. I’m here to clean up his mess.”

  “What can I say, bro?” Dante shrugged. “You know I’m all about the action, right?” He crossed the room, clapped Frost on the shoulder, and gave a friendly squeeze with fingers like iron.

  “Right.” Frost winced and tapped Dante on the hand.

  Dante snatched his hand away. “Sorry, bro. I tend to forget my strength.”

  “It’s all good. What happened?” Frost nodded toward the unconscious gurashi.

  “I’ll explain in a sec.” Dante strode over to the woman. He passed her a wad of Lothal dominion credits. “Sorry about the mess, Tiya. Tell Angrim if he needs a
nything else to send word.” He glanced toward a hall with stairs. “Let’s go. Their friends will be down soon.” He spared a glance for Frost. “Let me add you to the group real quick. And I hope you’ve got a flyer outside.”

  “I do.”

  They hurried from the Creeping Man.

  CHAPTER 12

  IM informed Frost he was part of a group. The moment they ran through the front door, Ryne and Dante put whistles to their lips. Hoots and screeches echoed in the night. Beating wings followed.

  “Where’s your flyer?” Dante headed toward the open space near the hitching rail, carrying his massive axe as if it were a twig.

  “There.” Frost pointed toward RnB, an electric excitement creeping into him.

  “Good. Ryne, CC their mounts.” Dante blew his whistle again and ran toward the rail in those lumbering gurash strides.

  Ryne Flickered ahead. A green drake swooped above the goblin then lowered itself to the ground. At the same time, Ryne stretched a hand out toward the other flying mounts hitched at the rail. The black shackles of Immobilize encircled their bodies. The captive drakes and kirins cried out in protest. Ryne climbed atop his mount.

  Sprinting beside Dante, Frost grinned at the sight of tiny Ryne atop the large drake. “So, what was that about?”

  “A little difference of opinion.” Dante chuckled.

  “About what exactly?”

  “Shevla and politics. They didn’t like losing to a draconid hand.”

  Frost’s brows shot up. “A draconid hand? I woulda been pissed too. You shoulda known better than to take the situation lightly, card game or not.”

  “No rules were set, bro,” Dante protested. “And their leader threatened to take me to his boss if I didn’t return double the amount of credits they lost.” A kirin landed gracefully a few steps ahead of Dante, blue and white energy swirling up from its yellow hair, particularly its bushy mane.

  “They’re almost at the door.” Ryne was focused on the Creeping Man.

  “His boss is one o’ the worst pieces o’ shit in recent gurash memory.” Dante heaved himself atop his kirin. “Umesh Madara. Who is only topped by the bastard above him, the traitor, General Dakshi Asamar.”

  Frost swung up onto RnB, The Stunner in one hand. “I’ve seen Umesh’s work. He slaughtered most of a village I passed through.” A quick look at the Creeping Man’s first floor windows revealed shadowy figures crossing the front room. “I had to save Tia from him. Promised to bring his head to a friend. Even got a quest for it.”

  “Count me in for that one.” Dante tugged on his reins.

  The three of them had barely lifted from the ground when several gurashi burst through the Creeping Man’s front door. Frost smiled. Pulling on his reins with his left hand, he fired a Concussion Blast into their midst. The white streak exploded, tossing them into the air.

  Looking down at the gurashi, Frost steadied The Stunner across his left arm, which still gripped the reins. A cyan globe formed at the cannon’s tip, growing to the size of a basketball in the 1.5 second cast time. The Aether Bomb spit from the muzzle with a whoosh, rippling diagonally toward the gurashi who were just now slamming into the ground from the Blast. The Bomb exploded on impact, setting them afire.

  “Nice shot.” Dante’s falsetto voice piped through group chat. “Let’s get to hell outta here before more of ‘em come.”

  “On my way.” With a kick of his bolsters, Frost sent RnB flapping after Dante and Ryne’s mounts into the night sky.

  Assuming his friends had a plan, Frost followed them, the howling wind ruffling his cloak. Every so often, he glanced over his shoulder, expecting pursuit. Any dark blotch in the sky, any screech of a drake, hyoo of a kirin, or call of some animal below them set him on edge. He kept The Stunner ready.

  A couple hours’ worth of flight saw them pass several farms, ranches, homesteads, villages, towns, and cities. The night air grew cooler, the wind picking up. Finally, they descended toward a home with a barn near it, located within a hundred feet of an obsidian forest.

  They landed outside the barn. Dante led them inside. Despite the darkness, Frost still made out a few things. Along the walls were several wooden pens, complete with food and water. Dante rummaged along a wall to their right. A bloomglobe flickered to life. Dante ventured farther inside and turned on another.

  “This your spot?” Frost took in the training area at the back of the barn. He squinted, and then his brows shot up. “Yo, is that a weight bench and an Olympic bar. Hold up… hold up… hoooolldd up… you had someone make some plates too? And dumbbells?”

  Dante laughed in that high voice of his. “Yeah, bro. A man needs to stay fit. Especially if Sidrie’s claims about TNT are true. Plus, any type of exercise we do enhances our attributes over time. Besides.” He nodded toward the goblin. “You seen Ryne’s guns? I can’t have his pythons outshining mine.” Axe in one hand, Dante got into a quick single bicep pose.

  “No doubt.” Frost glanced from Dante to Ryne, forehead wrinkled. This was the second time Dante called Ryne by name rather than making reference to the goblin as gnome to get under Ryne’s skin. “How’d you come by this place?”

  “Built it. All you do is claim a plot and file it with the Coalition. Once approved, you can farm your mats and build.”

  “Sweet.” Frost was already considering where he might do the same. He loved the idea. His eyes narrowed. “You sure this place is safe, considering there’s a bounty on us?”

  “A friend filed the claim for me, so this place isn’t in my name. Stable your drake.” Dante gestured to the pens before he returned to his kirin and led it to the first enclosure.

  Frost followed suit in the second pen, whispering soothing words to RnB. The food was meat of some sort. RnB busied himself with the meal.

  “That’s a strange one you got there.” Dante strode over to Frost. “Hold on, is that the one from the aeries on Maelpith? The one the others kicked around?”

  “Yeah.” Frost shrugged. “I didn’t like seeing him get bullied.”

  Dante chuckled. “You always had a soft spot for that stuff. Come on, let’s go inside, get a bite to eat, and you can lay this plan of yours on me.” Dante strode toward the door.

  When they left the barn, Frost took a quick look up at the night sky but saw no flyers. Out of habit, he clicked. Echolocation revealed the immediate area was clear.

  Breathing in the fresh cool breeze that set the trees and grass murmuring, Frost sighed, the last bit of adrenaline bleeding from him. He followed the massive gurash and his tiny counterpart to the large house made of wooden logs, the two of them carrying on with playful banter.

  Once inside, Dante activated two bloomglobes set in sconces along one wall. Soft yellow light illuminated a spacious room complete with an area rug, a center table, four cushioned armchairs, a sofa to match, and paintings. The perfume of incense threaded the air. A dark hall led into the rest of the house.

  “Welcome to my humble home.” Dante gestured around him. “Have a seat. Relax. I’ll be right back.” He headed deeper into the house, another light blooming moments later.

  Frost eased into a chair. He eyed Ryne, who had climbed onto the sofa. “How come you two ended up together?” As Ryne’s services were still contracted to Frost, the NPC’s actions were intriguing.

  Ryne leaned back into his seat, skinny legs showing past the bottom of his robes. “The night we were celebrating your victory in the Sanctum, you four disappeared. One moment you were there, the next, elsewhere. Exactly where, I had no clue, but I had this urge to wait for you.”

  Stroking his wispy beard, Ryne paused, green forehead furrowed. “And so, I waited, breath bated. I spent time hunting and helping Dagrun, Gunarr, and Sigrid as more of their people came. Some in good health, some wounded, some lame. Then, a day later, Dante, Saba, and
Gilda returned, looking like new. But not you.” The look he gave Frost was almost accusatory.

  “That was outta my hands.” Frost shrugged.

  “So Dante said. He said a lot of things then and since.” Ryne’s expression became studious. “Some things that were hard to believe.”

  Frost regarded the goblin with a raised brow. “What did he say?”

  “I told him where we were from.” Dante was standing at the hall to the rest of the house, balancing two platters of food and bread on his large hands. Tin plates were tucked under one arm.

  “You did what?” Frost gave the red-maned, lion-faced gurash an incredulous stare.

  “Told him we were players. Explained the game to him.” Dante crossed the room in two strides and placed the food and plates on the center table. “Sidrie liked to boast about the AI, so I figured I’d put it to the test. I don’t see the harm in it.”

  In truth, Frost didn’t either. “I guess.”

  “I’ll get us something to drink.” Dante left again.

  “I was not surprised to learn you were dreamers.” Ryne hopped off the sofa and waddled over to the table on spindly legs. He took a slab of meat in his tiny hands. “The way you talked about your skills, some of the things you said… they were… different to anything I lived or read.

  “I’d heard some of it before from people who claimed to be dreamers, but some of them were mere schemers. In the end, I followed my nose, because where there is smoke, there is likely to be a fire. And solutions to mysteries of which I do not tire.” Ryne popped the meat into his mouth and chewed, bright eyes regarding Frost.

  “Interesting.” Frost took a step to the table, picked up a plate, and loaded it with meat and bread. “How’d you decide what to do.” He bit off a piece of meat. It was cervin, basted in a sweet sauce. He nodded his approval.

 

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