by Paul Kite
In the same instant, there was a loud and joyful cry somewhere far away, in a cozy little room of a small house.
Chapter 27
I said goodbye forever to Princess Ariana. She was still under guard on the ship.
I had somehow grown fond of this girl, as a younger sister I never had. Alas, most likely I would never see her again.
Then I found Kirk, and, wishing him good luck, left the house, which Ir-Zan generously provided for him.
The Game and reality... the dividing line was getting thinner for me every day. Nevertheless, I still wanted to return home.
Well, I had one interesting thought about solving my problem! I pinned my hopes on that divine source of magical energy. What was could it really do? What was Lsaeros hiding from me? Of course, I took into account the new information on the restoration of the totem. Still. What would happen if I myself stepped into the source? Was it able to break the charms of the Ansr-run collar?
Freedom... I longed to be free! I was planning to run away from all this commotion, to hide in the farthest corner of the mainland and find a way to contact my father.
Thoughts swarmed in my head, but I had to go back to the hut and try to sleep. After all, Lsaeros decided to move in the morning, as soon as the sun rose over the horizon. It would be hard enough for me to march for two days to the mainland as tired as I was. Well, at least the wizard managed to get us food provisions from Ir-Zan while we were chasing the orcs. Therefore, two large knapsacks full of products and wineskins filled with water were already sitting by the front door. I didn’t understand why we needed so many products. However, I decided not to argue with the wizard. What is more, he offered me to carry the lighter knapsack.
By the way, given that the players remembered me well, I decided to minimize all possible risks and prepared the Arum amulet ahead of time. I was going to put it on tomorrow, as soon as we left the village. Well, I removed the light elf armor for obvious reasons and threw it into inventory. No one was in a hurry to kill me in the orc settlement, but I wasn’t so stupid to flaunt my elven clothes in the Wastelands. Therefore, I only had one thing left to do before leaving. In the morning, I had to visit Ir-Zan and get permission to search his storeroom for suitable clothes.
Getting up early before dawn, I headed for the shaman’s dwelling, hoping that I wouldn’t wake him up. However, as it turned out, he was already up. Therefore, Ir-Zan fulfilled my request quickly and gladly. Apparently, the highest level of reputation mattered. The shaman handed me the keys to the room where he kept a variety of things, including weapons and armors. He also allowed me to spend as much time in there as I needed, and take everything I liked.
There was a huge amount of artifacts. I selected a few rare scrolls and flasks and threw them into my inventory. There were also two sets of seemingly unsightly, but still good armor from somewhere in Nazhar. According to the stats, they were almost the same quality as my elven armor.
As for Lsaeros, apparently he decided not to bother too much with his armor, weapon, and appearance. After all, he didn’t participate in battles, he was playing on the sidelines. The orc players would hardly pay much attention to the adult NPC if they saw him again. By the way, he had an unremarkable appearance, with thinning gray hair. Lsaeros seemed to be in his fifties, at least outwardly. I forgot to ask how old the archwizard really was. On the other hand, I thought, those players remembered my appearance perfectly, as did Kirk and Turgen!
I returned to the hut soon and stared at the wizard, who had already changed, putting on the costume of a well-to-do urban dweller. So, after checking everything once more, we threw the knapsacks on our backs and headed off...
Ir-Zan marked the island orc settlements on the Lsaeros’s map for us. Then we went to the mainland, trying not to make contact with the orcs. I tried hard to remember what the Wastelands looked like.
For the most part, the whole territory was an endless sandy desert with few oases. The sparse vegetation was by the mountains in the south and west, near the Valand River and the seashore. The orcs didn’t build cities. They didn’t have permanent habitats. Orcs roamed all the time, occasionally stopping at large oases. There were only four oases in all of the Wastelands. This, by the way, concerned both the NPCs and the players. Only representatives of other races, that the orcs allowed to live on their territory, settled in such places. They built houses and their lives around them.
We were just heading to one of these oases. Der-Hawk was the closest to the islands, and besides, it had access to the sea and the port. We couldn’t reach the middle of the wastelands on foot and with no security. Therefore, we needed a caravan going either to the west or to the east. Finding companions in Der-Hawk was our only option!
By the way, the lake Gran-al-Hron, one of the largest oases in the Wastelands, was surrounded by dense wild forests, inhabited by terrible and dangerous creatures. It looked completely out of place in a desert. The lake was created to protect the very divine source of magic that Lsaeros was so much eager to get to.
Each magic source had its own legend. Gran-al-Hron had a very tragic one. I didn’t remember the story at all, but Lsaeros knew it well.
The lake had always existed. A portal to another reality had existed at its center for thousands of years. The greatest warriors and shaman orcs used to come there to prove their equally great power. They brought trophies and sometimes terrible and horrible monsters they captured.
Оnce upon a time, the great shaman Va-Mokh gathered his strongest disciples and persuaded the clan leader to permit them to enter the portal. A squad of hundred swordsmen went to the other side! They were absent for more than seven days. At the end of the eighth day, twenty beaten and wounded warriors finally emerged from the portal. They were the only survivors! The great shaman himself and his disciples perished forever, torn to pieces by the monsters of the other world. However, the creatures didn’t stop on the border of the worlds but followed the warriors into the Wastelands.
The orcs managed to destroy the first wave of monsters by joint efforts, but the second wave swept away the whole army and ruined the nearest camps. The monsters were spreading farther and farther across the desert and annihilating all life on their way.
Then the most powerful shamans of the Wastelands came together to conduct a complex and dangerous ritual. They prayed to their patron god. He answered! The god destroyed all the monsters and sealed the portal with a magic spell. He created a source of his strength that secured the seals and prevented the opening of the portal. Then the god surrounded the lake with a dense forest and populated it with monsters from that reality. He intended to protect the source from those who wanted to break the seals and repeat the tragic feat of their ancestors.
“So since then, very few people dared approach the lake,” Lsaeros finished his story.
“Do you think it will be easy to pass through the forest full of thousands of dangerous monsters? Without guard! Just you and me? Are you kidding?” I grinned sadly.
“No,” the wizard said shortly. “We will make it!” he added confidently.
“I'd like to believe this.”
Therefore, we stepped on the last uninhabited island closest to the mainland. We had to swim to the other side. However, it was not a problem, because the distance between the island and the mainland was only fifty yards.
Getting out on the water, we lit a fire and quickly dried all our clothes.
“We’re about a couple of miles from the oasis,” the wizard said, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He threw the slightly lighter bag of provisions over his shoulder. “It will get dark in three hours. Let’s hurry.”
I completely agreed with him. Despite my intuitive reluctance to walk on the hot desert sand in the afternoon, it was very dangerous to travel at night. Scorpions, spiders and other small and large animals usually chose this time for hunting. Ordinary desert insects and small reptiles weren’t dangerous. I thought that their large brethren were quite capable of tearing apar
t a small force of well-trained warriors.
Still, the islands were better than the desert. Local vegetation cast at least some shadow and saved us from the merciless scorching sun.
When we finally got to the first small village, the water was already running out. The houses were made of dry limestone, they had no windows or doors and looked abandoned.
“Oh, yes!” sitting down in the shade, I said happily.
“Let's go to the center of the village,” the wizard said, standing next to me, “We have no time to sit around.”
“Let’s at least take a five minute break,” I dismissed the wizard.
“No, you’ll have the whole night ahead. We must find a caravan.”
“All right,” I agreed, getting up. Lsaeros was certainly right. There was no time for rest yet.
Walking between the monotonous buildings and tents, we hurried to get to the palm trees we saw in the distance.
“People?” suddenly, two tall orc NPCs stood right in front of us. Both were wearing strange scaly armor.
“Slaves?” one of the warriors grinned.
“Guests,” Lsaeros corrected him, not showing he wasn’t amused by the joke. “Our ship crashed near the islands. The locals helped us get to the mainland and showed us the way.”
“Are you the only survivors?” the orc asked with interest.
“Yes, alas,” the wizard spread his hands. “Will the great desert warriors prompt us when the nearest caravan departs to Tir-Dom? Our path lies in the Free Lands.”
“Hmm,” the orc was pondering something. “No one will take you.”
“I can pay. Not with money, but the shamans are unlikely to refuse such things.”
“Well…” the orc said, scratching his stubbly chin thoughtfully. “Go to the largest tent. It’s near the pond and has an embroidered pattern of a sandy gorkhan. Ask for Gui-Ten, he’s a senior shaman. Discuss it with him. And if he’s satisfied with your proposal, he will tell you who to contact.”
“Thank you,” the wizard bowed his head slightly and prodded me with his foot. I quickly understood what was required of me, and followed his lead. We had to show respect to the good NPCs.
While we were walking towards the center of the oasis, local buyers of precious jewels, various goods, weapons and slaves, harassed us more than once. The wizard didn’t look like a commoner, so the merchants were interested in me. Thanks to the amulet that changed my appearance.
Amazing! They offered Lsaeros a large amount of money for me, and the wizard was struggling to keep his composure. However, after many vain attempts, they finally gave up trying to get a new slave.
We found Gui-Tens tent rather quickly. Two warriors were standing guard at the entrance. They let us in shortly. The wizard still didn’t dare leave me alone in the street, but he asked me to keep quiet and let him do the talking. He was worried that I would spoil everything. Well, I could shut up, of course.
There was what seemed to be a pile of animal skins and soft pillows in the middle of the tent. Then we saw a short, elderly orc who seemed to be dozing. He was dressed in a large velvet robe. Lsaeros wasn’t in a hurry to interrupt the senior shaman’s sleep. Obviously, he decided to wait for the orc to notice us, because the guards were obliged to warn him. Before allowing us to go inside, one of the guards briefly disappeared into the tent. I thought the orc was just pretending to sleep in order to check us out.
Finally, Gui-Ten opened his eyes, stretched, and stared at the wizard.
“I’m listening ,” the orc said. With a slight gesture, he invited us to sit down on the carpet in front of the dais. “What is it that’s so special that you’re offering me, in return for me letting you go or even helping you?”
“These things,” Lsaeros managed to surprise me. Opening the bag with provisions, he began to get various amulets in the form of bracelets, rings, and chains with stones.
That was why his bag was so heavy. The wizard wasn’t carrying only provisions and water. He didn’t trust me! I wondered why.
The shaman looked lazily at a small handful of magical items.
“Such things are easy to get.”
Lsaeros wasn’t upset. He slowly took out another amulet. It looked like a small cube with thin and sharp spikes protruding from the middle.
“That’s different,” Gui-Ten smiled and stared at the strange cube as if enchanted.
What is so unusual about it? I thought.
“Where did you get the highest Amulet of the Communicator with Spirits?”
“I found it,” the wizard shrugged. “By chance.”
“I’ll try to believe you,” the shaman laughed. “By the way, a detachment of immortals was recently destroyed on the islands. What an amazing coincidence, there was a very strong shaman. He owned the same amulet.”
“Anything might have happened,” the wizard answered calmly. “Islands are very dangerous! We would have hardly reached the mainland safe if not for the help of the local residents. This is a very hazardous place.”
“Can I take it?” rising, the shaman approached us and extended his hand to the artifact.
“Of course,” Lsaeros immediately placed the cube neatly on Gui-Ten’s palm. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yes, sure,” the orc nodded, looking at the artifact. “The caravan you need sets off at dawn, with the first rays of the sun. The owner is An-Har. I will write him a letter now, and they will lead you to his camp.”
Apparently, this artifact was very valuable. It provided us a safe passage through the oasis, as well as good relations with the senior shaman. Lsaeros was a wise man. He stocked up on food, and also took into account our complete lack of money. For some reason, I didn’t think about barter at all.
“Done,” Gui-Ten handed over to the wizard a rolled-up sheet of paper. Then the shaman loudly snapped his fingers three times. One of the guards immediately reacted and entered the tent in a hurry.
The shaman briefly explained to the orc what was required, and turned to us.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” Lsaeros didn’t forget to flatter Gui-Ten.
“Ah,” the shaman waved him off, “These are mere trifles. By the way, have you got anything else of value?” he hinted at other artifacts of similar rarity and power. “Take your rings. Offer them to An-Har, he will pay you good money.”
“Alas, but no!” Lsaeros spread his hands apologetically.
“Okay, then,” the shaman sighed in disappointment. “Goodbye.”
Gui-Ten nodded to the guard who opened the tent curtain. It was understandably the time for us to leave the senior shaman of the Der-Hawk oasis.
Chapter 28
A man in matt-black tight-fitting armor slipped quickly into an alley. He soon found himself standing before a high brick wall that blocked his way. With a disappointed sigh, the man pulled out a terrible demonic mask and covered his face. Then he turned around and idly pulled his razor-sharp swords from the sheaths.
Despite the late night, the light of the full moon was enough to illuminate the narrow lanes and central wide streets. Only a shadow cast by high houses perfectly hid the man from the inattentive looks of passersby and NPCs. However, his relentless pursuers were unlikely to let their prey go that easily. Of course, the wall wasn’t an insurmountable barrier for the man, but he nevertheless decided to fight them.
A few seconds later, two green-skinned orcs, armed with sharp axes, ran into the same ally. The tall, muscular orcs froze in place, blocking the way out of the dead end. Both were wearing good high-quality armor made of the chitinous shell of the local giant centipede. With tenacious attentive looks, they began to inspect every nook and corner of the alley littered with trash and waste.
The victim had nowhere to go. After all, the wall was not easy to climb, which meant that he was hiding somewhere nearby. Well, it was stupid of him to play hide-and-seek with them.
One of the orcs, wearing a black eye patch, sniffed the air loudly and said,
“Miroh
, I can smell him. He's there, straight ahead,” he pointed to the thick, smoke-like smoke shadow where the walls of two houses met.
His partner pulled a small throwing ax out of the loop, took three steps forward and threw his weapon forcefully.
“Yeah, Digar, there he is,” Miroh snorted, noticing how something or someone moved in the dark, evading the trajectory of the ax. “Let me see …”
He didn’t finish his sentence. In a blink of an eye, the black figure dissolved into the air and materialized right before the orc who didn’t even have time to be surprised.
Reflecting the light of the moon shining in the sky, the blades of the swords and the inhuman eyes flashed in the slots of the eerie demonic mask. Miroh collapsed. Chitinous armor, which was able to withstand at least five hits of the scimitar or the ax, was powerless against the enemy’s weapons. The unknown warrior wasn’t finished. The next moment, he glided closer to the one-eyed orc, making a sharp lunge with his right hand. The orc only had time to lift his ax in an attempt to defend himself from an inconceivably fast man. However, was it a man? The orc did not see the warrior’s second sword, or simply did not have time to think about it.
A loud cry broke the silence! The ax fell to the ground with a thud, along with a hand that was still gripping its handle tightly. Despite the one-eyed orc being a great warrior, with dozens of serious and dangerous battles under his belt, one of which even cost him his eye, it was scary for him to be killed by an opponent whose movements he couldn’t even see.
A desert warrior should not fear death! Therefore, firmly squeezing the bloody stump of his hand, the green-skin proudly raised his head and closed his single eye. Mentally, Nagor was already at the throne of his patron god.
“Who sent you and why?” a soft, but frightening, rustling voice resounded above his ear, instead of the hiss of cold steel.
“Arenar, the head of the local thieves’ guild,” the orc responded readily, not opening his eye.