The Right to Choose

by Andrey Vasilyev

  “You’re nice and flexible,” the godi said happily, rubbing his boney hands together. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

  “I’m a free man, so I just care about making sure everything is good for everyone.”

  “That kind of philosophy doesn’t work around here,” the godi replied, shaking his head. “It’s okay, though. Just don’t go spouting that stuff around other people; they’ll strangle you, even if you are kin to MacMagnus.”

  “Why?” I asked in surprise.

  “Well, our kind doesn’t like that type of worldview,” the godi replied, scratching himself loudly. “We had one guy go wandering around the villages telling everyone not to resist evil with violence. He was a funny guy, kept at it, too. An odd duck, though—always barefoot, with this long beard down to his waist… The dumber gelts listened to him, wondering if they really needed to fight. Peace is much easier.”

  “And what happened?” The unexpected twist in the conversation confused me.

  “Nothing,” the godi grinned. “They say the old guy froze to death in the hills—went to sleep and never woke up. At least, that’s what the leaders said. You can draw your own conclusions, warrior. You’re a free man, after all.”

  “Thanks for the advice. So, what about our business? Where am I supposed to look for the axe?”

  “I’m not sure,” the godi shrugged.

  “What?” The twists and turns were getting ridiculous. “What are we even talking about?”

  “I’m not sure. Oes definitely knew where it was; he was the one who hid it. Well, at least, he knew where it was taken.”

  “Where is Oes?” I sighed. “And who is that?”

  “Oes was a great gelt godi,” Talien replied, hands raised to the ceiling. “He founded the Circle of the Enlightened, he knew the secrets of heaven and earth, and he spoke with the gods!”

  “And where is he now?”

  “Nowhere.” Talien, his train of thought broken, glared at me. “He died ages ago. Even my great-great-great-great-grandfather wasn’t around back then, and the men in our line live for quite a while, at least, if nobody poisons them or kills them some other way.”

  “I’m about to get angry, and I can be pretty unpleasant when I’m angry. You should also know that I already have the blood of witches and wizards on my hands, so I’m very well aware that they die just like everybody else.”

  “Are you threatening me?” the godi blustered.

  “Quite.”

  “Ah, that’s much better,” Talien said, switching his tone for the umpteenth time. “You were saying how you just want to help everyone to get what they want, but the minute things don’t go your way, you reach for your knife.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a confirmation that my character had taken a significant turn for the worse over the previous few months. I used to be a peaceful guy…

  The godi shook his head of greasy hair. “Okay, listen. I really don’t know where the axe is; nobody does. Oes hid it himself, all alone legend has it, and there aren’t any notes or letters left. I couldn’t even read them if they existed; true values are passed by word of mouth.”

  “So, where am I supposed to go? Who’s supposed to pass the truth down to me?”

  “Oes, definitely Oes,” the godi nodded.

  I sniffed angrily, feeling the urge to slit the godi’s throat reaching a boiling point.

  “Calm down,” the godi said, catching my eye. “See this amulet?”

  A string appeared out of nowhere in his hand, with a round piece of leather hanging from it.

  “This is the Light of the Borderlands. We only give them to the best warriors and the strongest godi when we send them on their final journey. According to rumor, these open the path to the last camp, where the best of the best make their home forever. They like it there; they get to enjoy war, food, and women, and what else does a weary man need for eternity?”

  “Are you talking about the other side?”

  “What do you mean by that? I’m talking about the afterlife.”

  “Me, too. That’s all well and good, and the amulet is great, but how am I going to get there even if I have it? I’m still alive, and I’m in no hurry to see my last resting place.”

  “It’s the last camp. You’re right not to be in a hurry. We’ll all get there eventually. What I’m talking about is a way for you to stop in for a visit, during which you can chat with Oes. I have the power to send you over there for a short time, and this amulet will open the Gates of Oblivion.”

  “What if I don’t make it in time? How long would I have?”

  “Forty minutes or an hour, no more.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “That isn’t much time for me to find a person I don’t know in a place I’m not familiar with. It might not work.”

  “That’s your problem. Regardless, if you don’t have enough time, come back in a year. That’s when I’ll be able to open the gates again.” The godi held out his hand with the amulet and shook it under my nose. “Of course, that’s only if we’re still alive. This war, along with everything else, doesn’t exactly lend itself to long life.”

  “Well, if that’s the only way…” With a sigh, I took the round piece of leather.

  You completed a quest: Into the Godi Tent.

  Reward:

  1100 experience

  Light of the Borderlands Amulet

  I dropped the odd little amulet into my palm and looked at it. In the middle of the yellow circle, there was a diamond, but the lines didn’t meet and the sides were higher than each other.

  Light of the Borderlands Amulet

  Non-player item

  Gelt warriors who lived an honest life and can look Death in the eye receive these amulets.

  After leaving the land of the living, these open the doors to eternal happiness for them.

  A non-player item? I’d never seen anything like that.

  “Well, you weren’t struck by lightning, so everything’s good,” the godi croaked happily as he rubbed his hands together.

  Lightning? Me? Was he experimenting or something?

  “You could have been,” Talien continued. “The amulet doesn’t accept just anyone. If it hadn’t liked you, you would have been hit with a bolt of lightning, and that would’ve been it. You’d be nothing more than a cloud of smoke wisping out of your shoes.

  You unlocked Last Camp.

  This is the third in the Ruling Axe series of quests.

  Task: Pass through the Gates of Oblivion and find the great godi, Oes, in the last camp.

  Reward:

  2500 experience

  1000 gold

  Action: Places That Are Not (variable, only if this action has not yet been unlocked)

  The next quest in the series

  My visit to the other side certainly wasn’t going to give me much. On the other hand, Snakeville didn’t give me that much, either.

  Talien stood up busily. “Well? Shall we get started? Here, give me your hand; I need your blood for the ritual.”

  “No, no, no, I can’t do it right now. I have other things to take care of.”

  “What things? The Borderlands are in danger. Give me your hand, I said!”

  “Sorry, but I can’t,” I replied firmly. “How long are you planning to be here?”

  The godi pursed his lips. “Two days, and then I’m leaving. The holiday is coming up, so I need to pay my respects to the graves of my ancestors.”

  “Expect me the day after tomorrow in the morning, then.” I stopped there, realizing that I would probably be in no condition to head to the land of the dead the morning after New Year’s Eve. “No, that afternoon. Yes, definitely, the afternoon.”

  “Suit yourself,” he replied, wagging a threatening finger at me. “If you don’t show up before sunset, you’ll have only yourself to blame.”

  “Understood.”

  With that, I stepped quickly out of the tent.

  “Well?” Krolina asked, runnin
g over immediately. “What did that boney idiot say?”

  “Forget him,” I replied with a wave. “Of course, he told me what to do, but it’s more than a little tricky. I have to go…over there…”

  “Over where?” Kro was practically spluttering from curiosity.

  I spat. “Over there. The side there’s no return from, the other side of good and evil.”

  “Could you just tell me?”

  “He’s sending me to the other side of the grave. In this case, gelt heaven. From what I can tell, all the different peoples here have their own afterlife, the one they believe in.”

  “So what? Okay, so, you’re going to the other side. What’s wrong with that? Or did you think this was the real world? I’m going to have to disappoint you; we’re playing a game.”

  “Kro, stop it. I get all that, but you have to be in the right frame of mind to go visit even virtual dead people, and that’s not me right now.”

  Of course, that was a white lie. I didn’t have any pangs of conscience; I just wanted to get through the plan I had for the day, and I’d already lost a good hour on that nonsense. Who knows how much more time I’d waste jumping in right now? I would have taken the final journey, then the dead godi would have sent me on somewhere else… No surprise there. No, better just head to Selgar. What’s that noise?

  “Hey, who even are you?” Nazir asked a bearded gelt who was staring him down. “Get out of here!”

  “What’s going on?” I asked Kro. She was watching the assassin’s flared nostrils, too.

  “He looked kind of upset when he was kicked out of the tent right after me. That guy in the beard stepped on his toes or said something he didn’t like, so they started with a staring contest. Now, they’re gearing up for a fight. Who’s your money on?”

  “Have you lost your mind?” I circled a finger around my temple. “That’s the last thing we need. Nazir!”

  The assassin turned to me after taking a few quick steps backward and lightly laying his hand on the hilt of one of his swords.

  “Let’s go, time to leave,” I told him in a commanding voice. “Come on.”

  A quick grimace floated across his face, though he followed us without arguing.

  “I’m still going to kill him later,” he told me quietly. “He’s mine.”

  “I don’t care what you do after the war. In the meantime, he’s our ally, and he could kill a few of our enemies. Why would you kill someone who could be useful to us? Kro, do you still want to come with us?”

  “Of course!” she snorted. “It’s fun with you guys.”

  “That’s a page out of Tren-Bren’s book,” I replied, looking around. “Careful or she’ll come running.”

  ***

  I pulled out a portal scroll, activated it, and stepped forward into the noise and hubbub of the Selgar market square.

  “Ah, I love this city,” Kro said, stretching and tilting her head back to bathe her face in the sunlight. “There are tons of thieves, of course, but it’s so beautiful!”

  “It’s also in a constant uproar, and the merchants never leave you alone.” I pushed away an exceptionally zealous water peddler who was trying to stick a funnel in my mouth. “Leave me alone! I don’t drink water.”

  “Sharpen swords or razors, repair armor, sell metal!” I heard someone else call and perked up.

  “Oh, that’s different. I’ve been meaning to visit a blacksmith for forever.”

  I had actually begun to worry that my armor would start to break. That was how long it had been since I’d last visited a blacksmith. I’d just never thought about it when I had the opportunity, so it was fortuitous that I’d hear that one shouting.

  Anyway, I ended up paying him a princely sum. The arithmetic was simple: if you didn’t need much repair work done, you didn’t pay much at all. If you got your armor fixed every day, you could get by on pennies. The problem was if you let it go too long.

  While that was going on, I stopped a mustachioed city guard who was walking by.

  “Excuse me, my good man. Could you tell me where I could find a great wizard and mage by the name of Bakhramius?” I asked him politely.

  “There are lots of mages, wizards, stargazers, sorcerers, and other practitioners in our great city. Well, not sorcerers—we cut their heads off. Still, many who know the secrets of the world live here, foreigner. Hmm…”

  The guard looked at me hopefully, his mustache puffing up and his thumb rubbing against his index finger.

  “Perhaps, this coin will help you remember how we could find Bakhramius, in particular.” I was in no mood to argue with him, so I just handing him a gold coin. “He lives in the city’s tallest tower.”

  “Absolutely right, foreigner,” the guard replied. “He’s in that one.”

  The tower we were looking for may have been just a block away, but I still didn’t feel stupid. Sometimes, it’s simpler to kiss a little gold goodbye than to go around knocking on the doors of all the city’s towers. As far as finding the tallest one went, that would’ve been iffy—his may have been just taller than the neighboring towers, but it wasn’t by much. You couldn’t tell from the outside, either.

  The door to Bakhramius’ tower was large, oaken, and thick, the kind a serious and wealthy magician might have. There was a bell attached to it, as well, and the silver it was made from told me he was respected—simply by the fact that it hadn’t been stolen, even in Selgar. Although, maybe, everyone’s just afraid of him.

  I banged the bell against the door a few times, hearing someone call out just as I swung it for the last time.

  “Who’s out there ringing? Why so many times? I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  First, we saw the long, fat, banana-like nose of the speaker poking out from behind the door, followed by its owner. He was a beanpole, six-and-a-half feet tall, with a nearly bald head, wearing wide pants and a greasy vest over an otherwise naked torso.

  “What do you need?” he asked me amiably.

  “I’d like to talk to the wizard,” I smiled. “Bakhramius; I have something for him.”

  “Come back later,” he yawned. “He’s busy eating right now.”

  “Why don’t I just wait here? Sure, lunch and everything, but that won’t take long.”

  “Yeah, right. He already had his chorpa, so now he’s digging into his lamb. Then, he’ll have rahat lokum—he loves that stuff. Finally, he’ll go take a nap. How can you not after lunch?”

  “And then, what?” It struck me that experienced wizards had a good life. I want that, too!

  “Then, he’ll have dinner, drink some wine,” the character with the nose replied evenly. “Afterward, he’ll sing for a little while and go observe the stars. Don’t come back today; tomorrow would be better.”

  “Whatever you say, brother.” Kro hissed angrily behind me, not realizing what I was doing. “Your words are like cotton candy to me—always pleasant and always welcome.”

  The beanpole smiled.

  “But hey,” I said hurriedly as he started to close the door, “what happened to your head? Why don’t you have any hair?”

  “I’m old,” he replied, rubbing a hand over his head. “My hairs left me.”

  Who wrote that text? It was like the instructions for some sanitary wipes from China I’d read a decade before. Woman wipe. Man no wipe. Wipe self. Not wipe other. Sanitary leave you. It was the same thing there.

  “That’s no good,” I said as I shook my head. “I don’t want my friend, almost a brother, to be walking around with no hair, to have the street urchins pointing and laughing. I’d rather tear out my own liver than have that happen.”

  I dug around in my bag and found a skull cap I’d picked up in Ort’s cave. Holding it in my hands and clucking my tongue to show how dear it was to me, I offered it to him.

  “Wear this, brother. It even has a healing effect. In three years, you’ll have new hair growing in.”

  He took the cap and put it on his head. “Ah, my own mother never ga
ve me presents like this one.”

  “My heart weeps honey to see your happiness,” I said, plastering sadness on my face. “Anyway, we’ll be back to see wise Bakhramius tomorrow.”

  “No!” the beanpole bellowed. “I would never forgive myself! Come into the tower, and I’ll arrange everything.”

  “How?” I slipped in, followed by Kro and Nazir.

  “I’ll tell him that you have something important for him!” With a wise look on his face, the guard raised a thick finger toward the ceiling.

  That was exactly what I’d been going for. NPCs all had a backup plan you could talk, scare, or buy your way into. Their creators had been aiming to make players create, experiment, and try new things. Incidentally, the roundabout ways were always simpler and more effective.

  “Great idea, brother.” I patted him on the arm, involuntarily associating its heft with the oaks in Kuskovo Park. “Give that a try.”

  “How long will it take us to walk up there?” Kro asked in wonder when she saw the winding staircase. “Sweet mother!”

  The beanpole adjusted the skull cap with relish. “Why would we walk when we have a carpet? Let’s go!”

  ***

  At the far end of the tower, there was a recess, with a faded carpet lying on the floor inside.

  “Put your feet here,” my new best friend said, showing us how it was done by going and standing in the middle of the carpet. “Ready? Carpet, up.”

  My ears popped, a feeling of nothingness appeared suddenly under my feet, the carpet rippled, and we shot upward. The mage has a carpet elevator? Damn!

  “Cool!” Krolina shrieked.

  I’m not sure what was so cool about it. The whole way up, I just felt like we were going to go crashing to the ground.

  “Master!” my friend yelled from the carpet before trotting on ahead into a hall that was hidden from us by a curtain. “Master, some good people are here. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but let them in. The one with the two swords is my sister’s cousin.

  Nazir nodded instantly, although nobody really noticed him.

  “You’re lying!” I heard an old voice call back. “But they can come in. I finished my rahat lokum; I’m drinking my tea now. Hey, you out there, come on in. I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll give you a few minutes.”