Rain of Glass
Chained from Hall of Mirrors. Twist acrobatically mid-air, unleashing a second blast of Dark energy shards down on a group of enemies. 1050 damage to 5 enemies. Damage and number of affected enemies increases when you level this skill.
I’d been saving my Ability Points during the grind so that I could spend them just before we went to Myszno, and now I was glad I’d waited. I did a rough calculation on the damage that Jump, Master of Blades III, and Rain of Glass I would do together. Times four from Jump on one target, then 2176 per two lances per target, then another 1050 each on the same target and four others… that came out to almost 4000 damage leveled on a single enemy at Level 17.
“Hooollly fuck.” I rubbed my eyes and did the math again. Yup: 3966 damage to a single target, with damage in the thousands to everything else. And, if the critter I was smacking around was weak to Darkness, they’d take double on Rain of Glass. That was insane. Like… completely overpowered.
Naturally, I was tempted to dump all the points into those two new abilities, because with a little more math, I worked out that by Level VII – attainable at Level 35 – I’d be dealing five-digit damage. IN. SANE.
However, there were other abilities that were just as tempting. Umbra Blast was already awesome, and at Level IV it could effectively entangle, freeze, and damage ten enemies to the tune of 1500 Dark damage. Blood Storm, my old faithful, went up to 250% damage with 45 HP regained on good hits. If I hit between 10 and 15 targets – say, on a crowded battlefield – that was up to 675 HP regained from that one combo: about half my Max HP.
Of course, these abilities all had a cost: all those Darkness abilities were hungry for Adrenaline. The total cost for Master of Blades III to Rain of Glass I was 88 AP, which meant I didn’t have enough Adrenaline Points to use the combo twice unless I somehow recharged those points. You could recharge AP by taking damage or by using moves that recharged AP. Whirlwind Butcher could recover 120 AP if I landed all twelve hits.
“How is Jump even legal?” I muttered, selecting my options. At Level 17, I could level my abilities to a maximum of four, so I spread my points out to select Jump IV, Whirlwind III, then Master of Blades III and Rain of Glass I. The Dark Dragoon class was basically AoE DPS – building it as a crowd controller played to its strengths.
Next up were the Mark of Matir abilities. I only ever got two choices for these, and they were never the same abilities. I couldn’t just go back and select one of the ones previously offered to me, and I couldn’t change the abilities once I’d selected them.
I felt a twinge in my gut as I opened that menu and reviewed Matir’s offerings:
Purify (Life)
Cure or inoculate one target of your choice against any communicable disease. Does not work on diseases caused by curses.
Plague Lord (Entropy)
Infect any target of your choice with Filth Fever, a virulent Choleric disease which instantly debilitates and weakens targets with fever, muscle weakness, shaking and eventual death. Does not work on enemies resistant to disease. Inflicts Corruption debuff.
“Wow.” My heart screamed ‘Purify!’, but my head said ‘Plague Lord’. On the one hand, the ability to cure disease – any disease – was on my Top Five Magical Powers list. Being sick was the worst thing I could think of… which is why the idea of cursing Lucien with Filth Fever was seriously tempting. There was no cited level restriction, so resistance would be based on stamina. There was a problem, though. I still didn’t know what the Corruption debuff was, because in all the times I’d used Life for Life, I’d never seen any meter or timer appear. I’d never felt anything.
I rubbed my chin, leaning back into the steaming hot water of the bathtub. But as I stared frowning at the menu hovering in front of me, I realized something. I called my character sheet to a second window, and reviewed the Gifts of Matir panel again:
=Gifts of Matir=
(New) Shadow Lance: Your weapon transforms into a lance of solid darkness. In a single strike, you deal bonus Dark damage equal to 150 x half your Will score. Your opponent gains the Blinded status (unless immune). Consumes AP. Current damage: 2775. Cooldown: 60 seconds.
Blessing of the Raven: You call on your power and gain increased insight into knowledge and skills. +10% Skill EXP for 45 min.
Life for Life: Channel a blast of damaging dark energy into your enemy and drain their lifeforce to replenish your own. Inflicts Corruption debuff.
Spider Climb: You gain the ability to climb and travel vertical surfaces, crawl across ceilings, and hang on walls. Level this ability to extend duration. Duration: 20 seconds.
“Umm.” I blinked a couple of times. “What happened to Fury Drain?”
Fury Drain had been my first Mark ability. It was a relatively weak ability compared to Life for Life, draining 10 HP per second or minute of contact. I couldn’t actually remember. But I knew I’d had it… but it was gone, and now, I had Shadow Lance. It was a sweet move, don’t get me wrong… but I hadn’t selected it.
A shiver ran through the muscles of my back. I had lost Fury Drain at some point… but when? When I’d last died, maybe? I’d had some weird, but temporary memory loss the last time I’d croaked it, forgetting Karalti’s name, forgetting stuff about the quest I was doing. Had I forgotten a move, and had it replaced?
I stood up out of the water, letting it rush down my body, and waded out to get a towel and take a look at myself in the mirror. Same old Hector. The Trial of Marantha had given me literal eagle eyes, with no whites and oversized storm-blue pupils. Otherwise, I was looking pretty good for a dead guy. I only had three marks of any significance: a knotty scar inside my elbow, where the drugs given to mutate me were administered; the Mark of Matir, a nine-pointed chaos star-like symbol burned onto the back of my right hand; and an enduring legacy of my glitchy start to Archemi – a triangular patch of black nothingness on my left shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel like skin… I couldn’t feel anything with my fingertips when I touched it, but my fingers also couldn’t go through it. Sometimes – like now – my mind tricked me into thinking it had gotten bigger.
“Fuck, man.” I jerked my shoulders, suddenly creeped out. Then I went back into my HUD and selected Purify as my new ability. “Ugh. No Corruption anything, thanks.”
With a towel wrapped around my waist, I went back out into my bedroom and plopped down cross-legged in front of the fire. The Spear lay on my bed alongside my pack, glimmering in the firelight. I turned to watch the flames dance and sighed. The warmth seemed to soak into my bones. It felt… nice.
[Warning: You have reached the limit of your Endurance!]
“Eh? Oh… first time that’s everurrrgh-” The fact I was slurring by the time I reached the end of that sentence was the last thought I had before gravity pulled me down like a hand reaching up from the earth.
Chapter 8
I woke up to a solid pounding. On the door to my suite, that is.
“Hector!” Suri was on the other side, beating the door hard enough to rattle the solid oak in its frame. “Wake up, lover boy! It’s time to go see the King!”
I whined against the rug under my face. “I don’t wanna see the King.”
“Too bad! Are you okay in there?”
“Uhhh…” I was flat on my back, stark naked, and lying on a damp towel. Irritable and slightly alarmed, I patted over myself, then sat up and swiped in my HUD. Yep, there was the Unto Death quest alert, which I’d slept through. It was after ten PM. “That’s debatable. Is passing out naked and waking up five hours later ‘okay’?”
“Oh, I see how it is. I go to the Festival all alone, while you whack off until you pass out from dehydration.” Suri called back. “Not even going to invite me in, are you?”
“Not until I have pants!” I was already getting dressed, hopping around with my breeches until I remembered that I could just equip the damn things.
“Yeah. You need pants to go see the King.”
I equip
ped some of my armor but left off the gauntlets and the visored helmet I used for flying. I slung the Spear over my back, shortened up the knotted cord that acted as a bandolier, and then I reached out to my dragon. “Karalti? Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” She sounded - and felt - grumpy. “I suck at hunting.”
What’s giving you trouble?”
“Everything! I can’t do it!” she replied. “I’m black and shiny and don’t have any camouflage! I can’t hide in the sun, so the animals see me coming and go into the caves!”
“Okay. What about hunting them at night?”
“None of them are awake at night!”
I grimaced. Since gaining in size, Karalti had been ‘hunting’ by picking off herd beasts from the royal flocks. They were fenced in with nowhere to run, like a bovine smorgasbord. I was tempted to just tell her to go and pick off a cow or a ceratopsian, but it was important that she learned to hunt like an adult. “Try thinking strategically, then. You can’t change your scale color or the way your camouflage works. What about hunting just after sunset or just before dawn?”
“But that’s when I wanna sleep.”
“Karalti. You can’t change what you are, okay? You have to work with what you’ve got. That means timing your naps, hunting when it’s dark enough to hide, and working with the times your prey is out and about.”
“But...” Karalti sounded positively dejected. “I never had anyone to show me how to do this. Will you please come out with me and help?”
Oh boy. I took a deep breath to steel myself. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have to figure this out. You can figure this out.”
“But I don’t know how!”
“I just gave you some advice.”
“But you’re not a dragon. You don’t know unless you see what it’s like!” She was sounding increasingly like a surly teenager being told she had to do her math homework.
“No, I’m not. But I am your human, so here’s how I’m going to help you. Tell me what you want to eat.”
“Beef. The Volod’s farm guys feed them beer! They’re really tender and-”
“No. Tell me what game you want to eat.”
She thought for a moment. “Fine. I like sheep. Or goats. They’re a good size. I’ll be flying a lot tomorrow... I don’t want to be too heavy.”
“There you go. Where do they live?”
“On the mountain.”
“Okay, you know where they are. What can you do to find them?”
“Smell them, I guess,” she muttered.
“Right. And they’re habitual critters, right? They make trails and graze in regular spots?”
“No. But they go to these salty rock-places to lick the rocks when they wake up.”
“And when do they wake up and come out of the caves? Dawn?”
She huffed. “Fiiine! I’ll camp near them! But they won’t come out if I’m there!”
“Try to stay downwind – that’ll help. I’ll see you after dawn tomorrow, okay?” I said, opening the door. Then I saw Suri, and nearly choked on my tongue.
She was still dressed for the festival. Her scarlet hair was styled like a 1950’s starlet, falling in waves over one eye. The other side was pinned up with a golden fan that kept it out of her face. Her dress poured down her curves like a river of amber scales from neck to ankles. It was slit all the way up to her hips, baring a long stretch of bare brown leg. When she saw my expression, her lips curled in a wicked smile.
“Okay.” Karalti sounded a little better now. “What’s the matter? Your thoughts just got all fuzzy.”
“Nothing. Just going to see Ignas.” I held up a hand to Suri, pointed at my head, and then made a little flappy-flappy dragon motion with my hands. Her grin widened. “You come back tomorrow with blood all over your face for me, okay?”
“I’ll try!”
She cut the link then, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “Wow. Sorry... talking Karalti through some teenage angst.”
“Story of your life.” Suri motioned me with a finger. “Come on: Ignas is waiting.”
She turned, and my blood pressure went up a little more when I saw the back of the dress. The front was demure, but the back plunged all the way down to her tailbone. I moaned a little.
“So about sleeping in that bed tonight...” I said. “Your place or mine?”
“Yours. Your room’s warmer.” Suri’s high heels struck the floor as she sashayed ahead. “Is your big black dragon buttplug old enough for me to do naughty things to you without traumatizing her?”
“She should be. Admittedly, I’m not thinking very clearly right now, because I’m mesmerized by dat ass.”
Suri laughed, and put a little extra sway into her walk. It was only when she almost stumbled on one of her heels that I realized she wasn’t just in a good mood. She was drunk.
The Writing Room was a small parlor off-side the Grand Hall, where the Raven Throne brooded at the end of the cathedral-like chamber. The court was bustling: nobles and other courtiers were gathered round large trestle tables, picking at finger food and drinking in celebration of the Dark Moon Festival. Many people curtsied or bowed to us on our way to the parlor door, which was guarded by a pair of heavily armored knights of the Order of the Dragon, Vlachia’s Kingsguard.
“His Majesty awaits.” The one on the right gave us a short nod, then opened the door ahead.
Ignas was seated in the same overstuffed scarlet armchair that his younger brother had once occupied. Andrik had a habit of putting his feet up with a bottle of wine and a glass alongside his elbow, but Ignas did not. He had both feet on the floor, a glass of water resting in one hand and an open letter in the other. He looked up as we entered, smiled, and set both down on a table next to his seat before standing. “Welcome, lord and lady. Veela’s Grace, Suri: you are a vision of loveliness tonight.”
“Thank you.” She smiled back pleasantly as we bowed. “Can’t live in armor all the time.”
“Indeed.” The Volod motioned us to the seats he’d set up for us, a pair of gilt golden chairs he’d arranged on an angle to his own seat. “Please, sit. Do you want a drink?”
“Sure,” Suri said. “Slivovitz, if you’ve got it.”
“Same again,” I said.
“Naturally.” There were no servants here, so Ignas just went to the cabinet on the other side of the room and poured the drinks himself. “It’s late, so I won’t waste your time with pleasantries. If you’re wondering why I summoned you, the short answer is that I must ask for a great boon in order to obtain great reward. It has to do with the politics of the outer provinces.”
“Nothing like a bit of politics before bed. Gets the blood flowing.” While his back was turned, I let a hand hover over Suri’s leg and arched an eyebrow. She nodded. I rested it down, fighting the urge to work my fingers under the hem of her dress.
“It gets the bile flowing, more like it.” Ignas snorted, bringing back two little glasses of clear, sweet liquor. “But that is why we have liquor. Well, I’ll try to keep it as simple as possible. Your quest should update with the essential details after the fact.”
It was still weird to listen to NPCs - like Ignas - so readily fall into metagaming.
“I’ve only just realized how far Andrik let the Crown’s authority slip,” he continued, setting the glasses down on the small table between Suri and me. “Do you understand the essential structure of Vlachia? Politically, that is?”
“Something about Voivodes ruling provinces,” Suri recounted. She threw her slivovitz back like a shot.
“Yes. Eleven of our twelve provinces are ruled by a Voivode, save for this province. I am both the sovereign of Vlachia and the Voivode of Taltos, though the administrative role is relegated to my Castelleny, my governors.” Ignas resumed his seat, and had a sip of water. “A Voivode is a vassal the Crown appoints to administer the affairs of an individual province. They also serve as judges in the Royal Court. Every province is div
ided into counties, and every county has its own ruling lord: A Satrap, which is a rank equivalent to a Count. Voivodes are also Counts. This means that Satraps, while deferring to the Voivode as their governor, are not lower in terms of their peerage. This is important to know and understand.”
“Okay. So Provinces are ruled-“
“Governed.”
“Sorry, governed by Voivodes, who oversees counties run by Satraps,” I said. “Both have the rank of Count.”
He nodded. “Correct. The fact that the Voivode and his Satraps are peers is a vital balance against the Voivode’s power. There is a historical precedent of ambitious Voivodes bullying their Satraps into fealty, usurping the royal dues, and even fomenting rebellion against the Crown. The further the province from the capitol, the more readily this kind of rotten behavior sets in. My dynasty has endured for almost a thousand years because we manage our outer provinces firmly and fairly. Our airships link the East and West, and nothing commands loyalty from a Voivode quite like their monarch paying a friendly call with an armada of Hussar-class destroyers at his or her back.”
“Right.” Suri reached down and lay her hand over mine. A small thrill passed through my chest.
“Andrik rarely left Taltos, and he never did a royal tour of Myszno.” Ignas motioned toward the east. “Without strong central leadership, the regional nobility took on more and more authority. They’ve had five years to get used to it. The Voivode of Myszno, Lord Jozef Bolza, was a conservative loyalist and my father’s contemporary. He did the best job he could, despite retaining a strong dislike of my brother. But then the Demon attacked, and Andrik saw that as a chance to ‘get back’ at the Voivode who ‘snubbed’ him.”
I made a face. “Fuck. You said Lord Bolza is probably dead. Who’s in charge now?”
“Good question,” the Volod replied wryly. “The Satrap of Vastil County, Count Lorenzo Soma, has taken it upon himself to assume control of the province in Bolza’s absence.”
Suri’s eyebrows lifted. “Did he petition you before deciding he was taking charge?”
Archemi Online Chronicles Boxset Page 85