The Forsaken Crypts

by Terry C. Simpson

  “I doubt Gilda has enough time for someone to level the craft,” Saba said. “And we don’t have the credits to hire a hierkaneer.”

  “Which is why I’m contacting Adesh Hamada.” Frost was already contemplating the next step. “Blue Sky’s got hierkaneers. Meritus, where we gotta go to farm the spells, the forsaken bones, and the void beholder’s eyes? We can probably get the void beast blood from the beholders also.”

  “One sec.” Meritus held up his index finger, his brow furrowed. “We can get Empowered Suppression and Empowered Rejuvenate from mobs in the Sands of Salanda, west of here. Of course, there’s also Imanok Sanctum. Someone got an Empowered Ameliorate from Grenok the Devourer, the first boss in the Forsaken Crypts, which is where we’ll also find the bones and void beholder eyes.”

  Frost arched his brows. “You trust that source about Grenok?”

  “She’s always been spot on.” Meritus shrugged. “Why?”

  “Because there hasn’t been a World First announcement for Grenok.” Frost stroked his aether ring. “So how’d someone get a drop off him.” He paused for a second, brows drawing together as he mulled over the question.

  “I can’t answer that one.” Meritus shook his head. “But if my girl says someone got a drop from him, then they did. And it wasn’t just anyone who made the claim. It was Kazuto, the leader of WaR.”

  Frost nodded, lips forming a tight line. There was a chance the leader of the game’s most powerful guild would lie about loot if he intended to keep the real source to himself. But Frost doubted it. He could see a person in that position bragging because no one else could kill Grenok. At least not yet.

  “That still leaves the Genesis Engine,” Frost mused. “Which means either trying to get to the one buried here if Setnana doesn’t have her people retrieve it, or going to the Dagoda Front, which we aren’t near high enough level to be able to do. Not without help.” He ground his jaw in frustration.

  “Let’s get the easy stuff first and reach level twenty for the Crypts,” Meritus said encouragingly. “Worry about the Engine after. One thing at a time, dawg.”

  Frost let out a slow breath. The moment he’d given himself hope, it had been dashed again. He struggled to keep his frustration in check.

  But fear nagged at him. A fear he hadn’t voiced. A fear borne of the knowledge that if Gilda died, that if any of them died, they might become invalids, or have some other adverse effects on their brain functions.

  Agnar returned with two dvergar carrying chests. He flipped open the lids. “Fifty pieces of dragonwood as requested.” The shiny wood was smooth and a dark mahogany brown. “And there is this.” Agnar held out a pear-shaped gem laced with blue.

  “Where did you get your hands on a skill-effect shard?” Meritus asked.

  “One of our enemies dropped it when he died.” Agnar looked from the shard to Frost. “He was using a weapon like yours.”

  Frost reached out and took the item.

  Acquired skill-effect shard:

  Multi-Lock

  Skill:

  Homer

  Effect: Gives Homer the ability to lock onto separate targets. While charging Homer, aim at a target, and tap the trigger to lock.

  Frost was unimpressed. But it was better than nothing. He absorbed the shard.

  “Thank you.” Without waiting for Agnar’s reply, Frost nodded to Meritus. “Take the wood.” He also removed Benediction’s schema from his inventory. “And this also. Bless it as soon as you can.”

  Saying the words hurt. He couldn’t help but feel like a failure.

  ******

  Setnana prowled at the edge of the fissure, scowling at the Azureguards and the regular soldiers working below. Digging through the rubble proved to be a slow and laborious process. She had to at least salvage the Genesis Engine from this disaster. The thought sparked a smoldering heat deep inside her.

  “My nomarch.”

  Closing her eyes, she willed her rage to subside. A Botros shows no weakness. Strength always. She took a deep shuddering breath and turned to face Ihuet.

  And gawked.

  Raynor was on his knees beside Ihuet, head bowed. He held a zhua in his hands. She did not need to touch it. She knew it was Benediction.

  Setnana threw back her head and laughed. When her mirth subsided, she strode over to the dvergr. “Thank you, Zerker Raynor.” She removed the zhua from his grasp and smiled at the confirmation.

  The Cure

  Retrieve the Epic Zhua Benediction

  Objective Complete:

  Acquired Benediction

  15000 experience points

  2500 Ignis dominion credits

  2500 Khertahka dominion credits

  Raynor looked up at her, piteous eyes filled with tears. “Can you cure Inga and Sten, now. Please, Nomarch Setnana.”

  Anxious to save Perihy, she was on the cusp of denying the man before she changed her mind. “Certainly.” She gestured for him to stand. “Follow me.”

  “What of the Genesis Engine?” Ihuet asked. “We should secure it first.”

  “Leave men behind to dig it out.” She raised the zhua. “I possess what is most important. Have simurghs readied. Tell the Sky Swords and trackers not to let my Perihy out of their sight. We shall be on our way shortly.”

  “Yes, my nomarch.” Ihuet bowed and then glided away. He shouted orders to several guards.

  With Raynor waddling beside her, Setnana strode toward where Vindicator Dita healed the wounded. “Dita.” Setnana cracked a smile as she raised her prize. “Leave them and come with me.”

  Vindicator Dita’s blue eyes were fixed on the zhua as he approached. His ossicones trembled with anticipation. “Is… is that what I think it is?”

  “Take it and find out.” Setnana passed the zhua to the grand kora.

  Mouth open, Dita turned the zhua in his hand. He caressed the claw at the top. “Praise be to Jerad.” He looked up to the heavens.

  “Now, we get to see if it works. Follow me.” Setnana led them toward the rear of the dungeon where she kept the corrupted imprisoned. Her stomach roiled as they drew closer, the idea of another failure weighing down on her.

  When they reached the foul-smelling chamber and its line of cells, she looked down at Raynor. “Find your wife and child.”

  The little dvergr ran off toward the cells. Corrupted snarled and snapped at him, reached through the bars, while others mewled. It did not take him long to find his loved ones.

  They were scrawny, pitiful things, their stone skin chipped and splotchy, brittle in many places. A semblance of sanity existed in their round pleading eyes. They crawled to the bars but could not get past the other corrupted who were craving blood. Raynor stared at them, a hand covering his mouth in horror.

  Setnana called for several guards. Using spears, they stabbed at the corrupted near Raynor’s wife and daughter. When they managed to bunch them to one side, a guard opened the door.

  Inga and Sten stumbled out. The guard slammed the door shut. Raynor ran to his wife and child and threw his arms around them.

  “Sergeant,” Setnana called to the head guard. “Take your men and help with the excavation.” Once the guards left, she turned her attention to the dvergar. “Raynor, move aside so Dita can cure them.”

  Raynor whispered soothing words to his wife and child and then backed away. Sten clutched her mother’s leg. Inga watched Dita approach with wary eyes.

  A shiver of anticipation ran through Setnana. She could not help it despite past failures. This was the beginning of a fervent dream to which she had clung.

  Benediction glowed. Blue, yellow, and white wisps spiraled up from the zhua’s claws. They spun, merged together, and formed a golden ball. The ball shot out and struck Inga.

  Golden energy swept
across the dvergr’s body. A once brittle surface became hard again. Gray rock became beige sandstone. In seconds, Inga was cured. Even as Inga cried out in joy, Dita cast the same spell at Sten.

  When Dita was finished, the family hugged and cried. Raynor looked Inga and Sten up and down in amazement.

  Warmth suffused Setnana. She wanted to scream in joy. Vindication. Instead, she forced her emotions down and smiled at the family before her.

  She heaved a breath and basked in their elation as if it were her own. This is how it will be with you and I, Perihy. She soaked it all in. The giddy laughter. The tears of joy. The love.

  And then she cut the family down with a barrage of Shadow Globes and Nether Lances.

  Vindicator Dita squeaked before slapping a hand over his mouth. “My Jerad, what have you done?” He regarded Setnana with round fearful eyes.

  Impassive, Setnana watched the smoldering corpses. “Our possession of the cure must be kept a secret until I am ready. Imagine the leverage it will bring us within the Coalition. The accolades when we save the world. I could not risk them telling anyone. And they would have. Who would not reveal they were saved by a miracle?”

  Setnana could see it now. Her goals were within her grasp. For the cure alone, she would at least be named Exarch.

  But there was an additional reason for the killing. A message. By the terror writ large upon Dita’s turquoise face, the way his ossicones quivered, the grand kora understood.

  “Come. It is time to save my Perihy.” Setnana stalked away, collected Ihuet and Khafra, and abandoned the diseased, the dying, and the dead.

  CHAPTER 22

  The dvergar provided Frost with a new drake. A blue one. For all the creature’s beauty, Frost could only think of RnB.

  After the dvergar and his friends harnessed Gilda to his back by way of a series of leather straps, Frost and the others took to the air, flying west toward the Sands of Salanda. Heart heavy with regret, he took one final look behind him, the gray pearl of dawn creeping across the sky, black smoke snaking up from Modra’s Keep.

  Refocusing on the task at hand, Frost activated his Comm Orb and sent a message to Adesh Hamada, relaying the dire situation, their need for a hierkaneer, and help locating a Genesis Engine. The Blue Sky leader promised to look into the problem and return an answer as soon as possible.

  Though exhaustion threatened to overwhelm Frost, he refused to give in, focusing instead on reaching the Sands. Hopefully, Gilda would be somewhat recovered due to rest and Meritus’ efforts. If she could function as well as the corrupted they encountered at the mines, she’d be useful.

  During the flight, he found himself whispering to Gilda despite her unconscious state. “You’re not gonna die. I won’t let you. I’m gonna save you no matter what.” She groaned. Was she awake? “Gilda? Gilda?” She didn’t answer so he snatched a look over his shoulder to where her head rested against his back.

  She mumbled something, low at first, but then louder and slurred. Frost strained to make out the words.

  “Cow king. Claimed there wasn’t.” She giggled. “So funny. Mooo.”

  The incoherent babble continued for another minute. Frost tried to get her attention several times, but not once did she acknowledge him. She drifted into silence.

  Frost waited to see if she’d start up again. But she did not.

  Eventually, his thoughts shifted to RnB. He missed the drake dearly. Sorrow was a weight on Frost’s heart. Why’d you follow me? Did you feel I needed protection? Frost shook his head. The idea seemed absurd.

  Frost also considered that today was the beginning of his sixth day in-game, which meant he’d been gone from the real world for over two weeks. Questions assailed him. Questions of Mom and Kai’s well-being. Questions about Sidrie and the plots she might yet be hatching, her intentions if Equitane became the top Corp, her intentions for the gameborn and Whole Brain Emulation. His mind conjured the worst scenarios, which reminded him of Pops’ secret fight against Equitane.

  At some point he would ask Gilda if she’d passed off the protocol to her people in the First Ward. And warn her that Sidrie might be tracking their every move IRL.

  Shifting his thoughts to Void Legion, he worked out strategies to hasten their leveling. Beneath him, the wheat yellow and ochre of sun-kissed savannas and sands raced by, occasionally broken by patches of greenery and lonesome trees. Toward the north, a river carved a snaking path. Southwest of them was a line of hills.

  A cool wind caressed his face as he imagined a quick grind, a smooth run through the Forsaken Crypts, and a cured Gilda, her skin once again the purest cerulean. He smiled at that last. Once she was healed, he would find a nice beach to take her to, one reminiscent of those in Barbados. It would be better than any Virtual Vacation.

  A sprawl of stone, thatch roofs, roads, and lanes appeared far ahead, the river beyond them. Meritus’ zephyr banked on diaphanous wings and descended. The rest of them followed. With a quick look at his map, Frost saw the town was named Toma. They landed at a copse perhaps a mile from the town and made their way among the trees.

  “Why’d we stop?” Frost maneuvered his drake near Meritus.

  “For supplies and to rest.” Meritus petted his zephyr’s owlish head. “I don’t know about you, but I’m dog-tired. Gilda’s got another hour before she wakes. Getting some sleep is a good use of the time.”

  Frost made to protest, but he knew Meritus was right. He nodded instead.

  “When we wake up, I’ll go get the supplies.” Meritus dismounted. “Considering how much void beast blood we’re in need of, I’ll get some empty flasks. Then we hit the Sands.” He pointed. “Which’re just over those hills to the southwest.”

  “I’ll Conceal my Defilers and have them keep watch.” Ryne waved his hand.

  Three black-robed Defilers appeared, red eyes glowing within black hoods. They glided away in three directions before disappearing.

  Weariness gnawed at Frost, the idea of rest freshly planted in his mind. “Someone give me a hand with Gilda.”

  Dante was at his side in a flash. Frost unstrapped the harness. Dante eased Gilda from the drake’s back. Cradling her in his arms, he carried her to a tree, where Saba flattened grass with her hooves. The gurash lay Gilda on her side and covered her body with her cloak.

  Frost climbed down from his mount. “Keep the mounts close in case we need ‘em.” He guided his to where the first trees hid it, then headed over to Gilda’s side. When he took a seat beside her, the need for sleep crashed down on him.

  ******

  Something tickled Frost’s nose. He opened his eyes. And stared into Gilda’s cerulean and gray face, partially hidden within her black hood.

  She had ditched the robes for a pair of baggy beige pants and a mahogany shirt. She also wore leather gloves. Two silver chakrams hung from her belt loop. The circular weapons were at least two feet in diameter, the two-inch-wide blades that made up their circumference etched with glyphs.

  Her green eyes met his. “Hey.” She smiled, if a bit weakly, and eased away to give him space. She pulled the front of the hood forward a little more, but not before he caught a glimpse of sores.

  “Hey.” Frost sat up. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Hide your face. However you look is fine by me.”

  “I can’t help it.” An uncomfortable silence followed before she added, “Meritus said it was time to wake you.”

  Frost glanced around, the chill of dawn having been replaced by late morning warmth. Dante, Ryne, and Saba were off to one side enjoying meals. The gurash and goblin took bites from chunks of meat while Saba chewed on fruit. The smoked goodness of roasting hung faintly in the air. Frost’s stomach grumbled.

  “Where’s Meritus now?” He didn’t see his friend.

 
; “He went off to scout for a bit. He said to give these to you.” Gilda held out her hand. Several containers of Korbitanium Projectiles appeared in front of her.

  “Thanks.” Frost stood, took the ammo, and placed it in his inventory. “How you feeling?”

  “Weird. Kinda strong. But still mostly like shit.” She shrugged. “But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

  “We came as soon as we knew where—”

  She waved him off. “No doubt. I don’t think there’s much you could’ve done to change things anyway.” She took a deep, shuddering breath.

  Frost fought down the urge to draw her into his arms. Not because he didn’t want to, but rather the feeling she didn’t want to be touched in that way. Gilda prided herself on being hard, being able to deal with anything thrown at her. “We’re working on healing you completely. Mighta been done already if I hadn’t lost Benediction. I’m sorry.” he hung his head.

  “Saba told me what happened in the dungeon. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

  The words did little to soothe Frost. His eyes shifted to an exposed portion of splotchy skin in the space between the top of her glove and the end of her sleeve. “Does… does…” He cleared his throat. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not so much hurt as it burns sometimes. Feels as if my insides are all over the place. And there’s the sores.”

  He fought back a grimace so his pain at her suffering wouldn’t be misinterpreted for scorn. “How’d she do this to you?”

  “Poured blood she claimed was from a newly-made draconid onto my wounds after she tortured me.” Gilda’s hand formed a fist. The fist shook. Her dagger appeared. She twirled it, a distant look on her face. “Said she wanted me to feel her son’s pain. Wants all of us to feel his pain. She said he died from the Gray Death because of us.”

  Frost shook his head. “How? We don’t even know him.”

  Gilda put away her dagger. “She blames us because we took Benediction from the Sanctum.”

  “Damn.” Frost let out a breath and shook his head. But there was something more pressing he needed to know. “What day did she infect you?”