The island had a stationary portal with the other regions and several sheds and outhouses built by the local peasants. The bulk of the island was sparsely overgrown with pine trees. The Ravens set up their tents right under them. The proximity of the village was important too: the peasants had laid log roads across the swamps.
Enea and I ported to the old mud road which started at a dilapidated jetty.
The Ravens exercised caution. They weren’t even trying to do any serious farming. Some of them would venture close to the moors alone or in small groups, hoping to see an unheard-of mob or pick up some rare herbs and roots.
They noticed us straight away. Two warriors and a cleric darted off somewhere — apparently to warn the others about our arrival.
“Look at this,” I pointed at a trail of uprooted undergrowth skirting the edge of the moors.
“You think it’s one of the two tornados the villagers told us about?”
“It looks like it. But what is it? Just a weather anomaly? Or could it be magic?”
She shrugged. “You can’t really tell without seeing it.”
“Never mind. Let’s go. I don’t expect Allan to come and greet us in person.”
I wasn’t far wrong. The Ravens clan leader was waiting for us at the center of the camp surrounded by his retinue of players. One of them was especially picturesque: the orc who had threatened me when we’d rescued White from his PK kidnappers.
I had a bad feeling about the guy. I had to keep an eye on him. He was sure to do the dirty when least expected.
The Ravens’ levels were mainly 45 to 47. The orc (whose nickname was Urgorn) was level 50. Allan (nickname Aln2043), level 52.
The crowd parted before us, forming a living heaving corridor. They cast curious glances at us, defiant even, and still their faces were touched with confusion.
No wonder. For me too, the first days after having the implant installed had turned out to be the most impressive and unforgettable experience of my entire life.
“So what do you want?” the clan leader asked unceremoniously.
“Need to talk. In private. Can we do that?”
Urgorn scowled in disdain. The weight of his orcish armor seemed to considerably hinder his movements. Welcome to the club. You can’t lug around a tank track all day, can you?
Alan paused, thinking. Then he nodded, much to the others’ disgruntlement, and motioned both me and Enea toward the listing lean-to.
“So what do you wanna talk about?” he perched on a wide bench behind the wooden table.
We sat opposite him.
“I know what happened to your raid,” I said.
He frowned. Apparently that wasn’t the only problem he was trying to solve.
“Why, what happened?” he replied defiantly.
“You don’t seem to attack anything, you don’t farm,” I replied calmly. “Are you afraid of hydras?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Oh yes, it is. This situation is our fault. I’m gonna tell you it as it is,” I gave him a quick run-down of the details.
“Infosystems fitted you with neuroimplants,” I finally said. “They’re totally cool, I agree. Still, they require some getting used to. The first experiences were very strong and complex, weren’t they?”
“How do you know?” he protested. “They can’t have cryogenized us! That’s bullshit! It wasn’t in the agreement!”
“Al, listen. I’m offering you a truce. You’ve got a stationary portal here. Go back to your castle and take a good look around. Note all the changes. You can’t get to Rion, anyway. It’s gonna be a wipe before you even clear the moors. Even worse, the Reapers might find out you’re here.”
Unfortunately, White had been right. My words had only provoked him.
“We’re not easily scared,” Allan snapped. “So you sent a couple of tornados to us, so what?” he pointed at the strip of uprooted undergrowth which lay very close to the camp almost touching the outer tents. “Next time you should aim better!”
“I didn’t do it.”
“Who did, then? You shouldn’t have bothered to come. We won’t be challenged by anyone! No amount of high walls and magic can scare us into submission. We’re gonna take the castle away from you, mind my words!”
“Did you hear about the recent massacre in Agrion?”
“So what?”
“Reapers did that. They-”
“Oh, do give me a break! That was a glitch! A g-l-i-t-c-h. Local NPCs got out of order, big deal! Worse things happen but no one makes such a song and dance about it! You just don’t have enough warriors to keep Rion, let’s face it!”
“I have plenty of warriors. That’s not the problem.”
“Then go back to your castle walls and wait for us! We won’t be long!” he flashed me a devil-may-care smile.
So obstinate. Then again, how could I blame him? He was only a player, passionate and confident. He hadn’t yet worked out what neuroimplants could really do. He wouldn’t listen to anyone at the moment.
Which meant I’d have to follow White’s advice, after all. I needed to show him that we were dealing with a much more complex situation, including a totally different gameplay.
“Would you be willing to take me on, one on one?”
“What, a duel? Absolutely,” he agreed with ease, knowing his level was superior to mine. “One-on-one, right? Till the respawn?”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“When?”
“How about now?”
“Good,” he pointed at an enclosure which must have very recently served as a cattle-pen. “Wait for me over there. I’ll go change my gear.”
Very well. I didn’t mind the audience. The Ravens needed to see what was going to happen. That might get some of them thinking.
* * *
Enea was visibly alarmed by this change of events. “What do you want to achieve?”
“I just want to teach him a lesson.”
She didn’t seem to like it. “A lesson in pain? Was that my father’s idea?”
“Don’t worry. There’s no other way I can make him see my point. Whatever I say, my words can’t penetrate his gamer’s shell. Until he knows what having the implant feels like, our talks will go nowhere.”
“You don’t think it’d be better to wait for someone else to teach him this lesson?”
“What, just to keep my hands clean? But if he does bring his raid to Rion against all the odds and decides to storm the castle, we’ll have to fight to the death against fellow players! And that’s something I can’t afford.”
“I understand. I’m sorry,” she flung her arms around me and hid her face on my chest. “Of course you’re right.”
I’d chosen a patch of trampled ground at the center of the camp, fenced-off with some crooked poles.
Allan walked out of his tent. His clanmates cheered their encouragement. He gave me a defiant look and slammed his sword against his shield, winding himself up before the fight.
“Al, do him!”
“Show him what Ravens can do!”
“Teach him a lesson!”
They catcalled and shouted, impatient for the fight to begin. I couldn’t blame them.
“Come on now!” they surrounded the enclosure.
Allan didn’t need any encouragement. He felt superior, anyway. He must have heard about my multiclass but considered it a weakness, not a forte. An experienced warrior wouldn’t invest in Intellect and other characteristics necessary for a wizard. In his opinion, I was very badly leveled, as simple as that. He probably thought I’d been too greedy when creating my char, choosing some abilities I didn’t really need, and that now I was paying the price. In his eyes, I was neither a warrior nor a wizard but a weak, average nincompoop.
He raised his shield and advanced on me.
His polished armor glistened predatorily. It must have taken at least a hundred pounds of mithril to make, the fabled “true silver” which, once treated, became hard
er than steel.
Somehow I didn’t think he wore this set of armor on a daily basis. He’d probably last wore it for some special occasion before he’d received the implant.
Otherwise why had he just stumbled, losing the spring in his step?
The crowd’s cheering stopped. The Ravens appeared lost with their leader’s indecision. Why wasn’t he attacking me?
He did lunge at me, apparently intending to perform his signature combo. Unfortunately, the sheer weight of his armor had slowed him down. I easily dodged his attack and sliced through his arm, dealing him a purposefully shallow wound that would seize his muscles with pain and cause blood to gush down his fancily decorated bracers.
The cargonite blade of my sword came as an unpleasant surprise to him. He must have believed mithril armor impenetrable.
Still, the fight was far from over. Wincing, he recoiled, gasping but keeping a watchful eye on me. He gave me a crooked smile, apparently believing this to be some dirty magic trick. He activated one of his warrior skills, wrapping himself in a wave of golden light which improved his strength and reduced fatigue, then attacked again.
He missed.
His sword sliced through thin air as I somersaulted out of its path. His armor’s momentum dragged him forward, forcing him to take two extra steps. Immediately he paid the price as blood from a new wound flooded down his thigh.
His labored wheezy breath was the only sound in the sudden silence.
Then he worked it out. In one smooth motion he removed his gorgeous set of armor and sent it back into his inventory.
I couldn’t deny him his spirit or combat skill. Free from his cumbersome dress armor, he grabbed his sword with two hands and attacked me with renewed force.
Our swords met. Still, his two wounds were bleeding profusely, weakening him. His life hadn’t dropped that much at all, though. He was still going strong; he had no need to revert to elixirs; he’d rather save them for emergencies.
Familiar tactic. I used to make the same beginner’s mistakes, too.
He parried my blow. For a brief second, we stood face to face.
“Drink your elixirs now, or I’ll smoke you!”
“Leave me alone!” he croaked.
Our swords met with a long screeching sound. We circled each other again, pinning each other down with our glares. I was calm; he, intense. His hair was damp and disheveled. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose.
“You can’t take our castle,” I said. “Do you know now what 100% authenticity feels like? It’s gonna take you hundreds of respawns just to get used to it. Not all of your men will survive it. Some will die for real. I offer a truce.”
“Fight!” he gasped.
“If you say so,” I said in a deliberately loud voice so that the other Ravens could hear me. “Just remember we have a common enemy now!”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he attacked me again with a fury multiplied by his desire to shut me up. I had to use a couple of rather painful blows just to stop him. He staggered, barely keeping on his feet. Me, I hadn’t even broken a sweat.
The difference between us was so dramatic that some of the crowd booed their indignation,
“That’s cheating!”
“He’s using illegal tricks!”
It looked like the situation had reached a deadlock. My lesson hadn’t worked. Did each of them have to suffer a virtual death just to finally see that the gameplay wasn’t what it once had been?
I wouldn’t have put it past them to attack Enea and myself all together, thinking I was indeed using some cheat codes.
“He’s got damage disabled!”
The flimsy fence creaked, about to give under the crowd’s pressure.
“Step back,” the orc said, stepping into the enclosure. He staggered under the weight of his massive armor, clenching a battle hammer far too heavy for him to properly wield.
The next instant, Enea ported to my side. “You step back, all of you. Or you’ll regret it.”
“Dream on,” the orc croaked, struggling in the immobilizing clutches of the Staff of a Hydra.
“Alex, let’s go!” Enea said, ready to port back to Rion. “You can’t prove anything to them!”
She was right — but the goblins prowling around the camp wouldn’t miss their chance. If we failed to convince the Ravens to break camp and go home now, they were unlikely to live through the night.
I dodged the orc’s heavy swing, then used his shaky balance to knock him off his feet.
The crowd heaved. I braced myself, thinking they were about to attack us but -
The crowd dissolved in shouts of surprise. “Over there! Look!”
A swift shadow, definitely stealthed, rushed over the island. This must have been the combat avatar of a demon, no less!
The blurred outline flashed overhead, disappearing from sight. Another one followed in its wake, flapping its leathery wings. This was an Ancient Wyvern whose shadow momentarily eclipsed the sunlight. Luckily for us, the wyvern ignored us entirely, its attention firmly focused on its prey.
* * *
Urgorn was the first to recover from the shock. Awkwardly he scrambled to his feet and threw his hand in the air, pointing at four small dots in the distant sky.
“Mobs!” he growled in a deep guttural voice.
Jesus. Our “normal” diplomatic quest was beginning to take on a life of its own.
A group of wyverns was rapidly approaching the island. Unlike their boss, they’d already noticed us — and they weren’t too squeamish about going after this new quarry. They banked into a steep turn and went for us.
As far as I remembered, wyverns were an evolutionary branch of dragons. Normally they weren’t very big, but their long serpentine necks made them dangerous opponents. Two strong legs with sharp claws, a pair of membranous leathery wings and a powerful tail completed their look.
They weren’t a common sight in our part of the world. Normally, they nested high in the Azure Mountains.
“Run! Take cover!” I shouted.
Naturally, no one listened. The next moment, the wyverns began spitting fire. Their attack was powerful but not too accurate. The jets of flame singed the moors, throwing up hissing fountains of parboiled mud and scorching a couple goblins who were lying in ambush amid the mossy driftwood.
“Alex, look!” Enea exclaimed.
I’d noticed already. Some tall creatures whose race I couldn’t recognize were riding the wyverns.
Finally, the players put their brains in gear and scattered in all directions. No one was stupid enough to take a fiery shower.
The Ravens attempted to take cover behind the limestone outcrops quite common on these little islands. Unfortunately, it was a bad choice. Limestone has a tendency to explode when exposed to sources of rapid uneven heat. And that’s exactly what it did, showering the area with razor-sharp rock fragments.
Steered by their impassive riders, the wyverns soared back up, banking into a new attack.
Enea cast a Fire Shield. She hadn’t lost her cool. She’d even managed to read the creatures’ levels. Apparently, this group was quite doable for us.
“Run to the tents!” I shouted.
The next moment a new gust of fire pummeled the island. Players screamed in agony. Some had been burned, others wounded by the rock shrapnel. Fire raged everywhere — but the fabric tents, true to their digital nature, stood unharmed under its scorching breath.
The only way to avoid a respawn would be by shamefully escaping to one’s own personal sanctuary. Still, not many approved of this option. About a third of all Ravens had stayed put and faced the enemy, placing their hopes in their numerical advantage.
The fence around me burst into flames. The raging torrent of fire knocked Allan off his feet.
“Heal him!” I shouted.
Enea and I seemed to be the only ones who’d kept their cool in the surrounding chaos.
Alpha the Black Mantis took off from her shoulder and headed for the top of a lo
ne cliff, maneuvering among the dying tongues of flame. Once on the cliff, he emitted a chirruping noise. His hard underwings fluttered as if sending a signal to someone.
In the meantime, the riders had regained control of the wyverns and forced them to soar back up.
I kept a watchful eye on the enemy. My Observation Skills ability allowed me to read their tags.
A shiver ran down my spine.
Reapers.
Their levels weren’t high. The Reapers themselves were the least of our problems at the moment. The fiery breath of their mounts was the main danger as they resumed their attack, nosediving toward the little island jam-packed with people.
Enea met them with two bolts of lightning cast with both hands.
A crit! The wyverns’ leader jerked and listed on one wing, then began to drop. Its Reaper rider lost his balance and fell from the saddle, crashing into the quagmire.
Sensing its sudden freedom, the wyvern spread its wings and shot up, barely avoiding a collision with the ground.
The rest of the flock scattered across the sky; even their powerful reins which made up an integral part of their bodies had failed to keep them in check. With a thunderous roar, the wyverns ignored their riders’ desperate tugging and darted every which way across the sky, barely missing the treetops.
* * *
Thanks to Enea, we’d managed to repel the first attack.
Many of the Ravens had proven to be fearless warriors ready to fight till the bitter end. Still, at the moment they lacked a united command which meant they were basically doomed.
The Reapers weren’t going to leave us alone now. The prey was too sweet.
Allan was squirming on the ground, his clothes smoldering, his skin covered in blisters. Nobody had healed him.
I darted toward him with a vial in my hands.
As I gave it to him, I took a look around. The wyverns had regrouped over the forest and were now heading back toward the island. There were three of them left now. The riderless one was already disappearing beyond the horizon.
The Reapers (The Neuro 3) Page 6