Archemi Online Chronicles Boxset

by James Osiris Baldwin

  Below us, Vesper struggled, striving to recover his altitude. We'd flown high, very high, at least five thousand feet off the ground. Disarmed, experiencing uncontrolled freefall for the first time, Lucien screamed, red-faced, as the wind ripped at his everything.

  "What’s the matter, man?" I briefly struck a pose in the air beside him. “Never felt the wind in your hair before?”

  "Vesper!" He shrieked as I moved around him in three dimensions: dashing, jumping, rending him a death by a thousand cuts as my timer ticked down to 42 seconds. Lucien was down to 2/3rds HP by the time his dragon's shadow passed over us. I used most of my remaining AP to angle my weapon down and, as Vesper snatched Lucien in one hand, hit Umbra Blast. It boosted me up, and I caught onto Vesper's longer, thicker hindleg with Spider Climb.

  "Kill him! KILL HIM, you stupid piece of shit!" Lucien banged his dragon's palm as I crawled up the huge limb as fast as I could, watching my enhanced regen battle with the expense of the ability. "What are you doing, Vesper!?"

  "Suffering every minute of every day because he has to live with you." I stabbed Vesper in the soft join between his thigh and his groin, regenerating just enough AP to keep hanging on as he bucked and groaned. I levered myself up with the Spear and kept climbing... all the way up to his back, where I broke into a desperate sprint. Lucien's curses drifted up from the dragon's hand as I ran, soaking every sharp turn, every jerk and roll. The dragon was about a hundred and twenty feet long. With enhanced speed, it took thirteen seconds to reach his head, then five more to hold onto his eye ridge, brace my foot on one twisted horn, and plunge the Spear of Nine Spheres into Vesper's eye.

  The dragon threw his head to the side with a squealing roar, and Lucien's curses turned to shrieks. "You stupid fucking dragon! Stop! STOP SQUEEZING!"

  "Don't worry! I'm not a high enough level to kill him, but damn if this doesn't feel GREAT!" I snarled as I rammed the Spear in again, deeper, and burned my last AP on one final Umbra Burst. There was a garbling scream from below - and then a satisfying wet squelching sound as Vesper's feet and hands clenched and he squashed Lucien like a grape, plunging into a desperate barrel roll.

  [You have defeated player Lucien Hart!]

  [You gain 2000 EXP!]

  [The Demon's Legions are in retreat! You have won your first Mass Combat Campaign!]

  [You gain 3500 EXP!]

  [Congratulations! You are Level 20!]

  [Congratulations! You are Level 21!]

  [You earned a new Badge: Like a Grape]

  [Quest Updated: Unto Death]

  "Yippee kay yay, motherfucker!" I had to hold on with just my strength now, my arms and legs wrapped around one of the dragon's horns as he careened over the remains of the wall. He couldn't shake me off, and was either too stupid to remember he had magic or didn't have any left to use... and so I waited out the last five seconds of my timer, bracing to die. But just as the timer reached 2, Vesper snarled the words of a teleportation spell. I let go just in time as he vanished, flinging my arms and legs out like a skydiver over the floodwaters below.

  [Your Death Sentence has been removed!]

  "No! Dammit." I scowled into the tearing wind. My fall was subjectively dilated by three seconds, giving me way too much time to notice how many corpses were swirling through the water. "This is annoying. I just wanted to die like 'bleh!' not fucking crash-land into the river of bullshit!"

  "Allow me to assist you."

  The voice that lanced through my head was sharp, painful and... wrong. I winced, then froze as a cold shadow fell over me. Literally froze. My eyes widened as I realized that not only was I no longer falling, but I couldn't move.

  Tempest glided out to my right, then dipped down beside me, hovering like a kestrel. Violetta was crouched near the tip of his wing, her spellglove subsumed in a pure black radiance. It made her hand look like a glove-shaped hole cut out of reality - just like her eyes. They were fathomless. It was not the cool, pressing darkness of nature, but a true void that slid away to be replaced by her milky blue irises as she struck a tall, straight-spined pose.

  "What the hell happened to you, Violetta?" I couldn't move my lips to speak, so I tried just thinking to her. Not via PM - I had her blocked, like everyone else I'd met at the Eyrie other than Kira and Owen, the peasant healers. "What did Baldr DO to you?"

  The sorceress did not reply. She twitched her fingers, and then walked back up her dragon's wing as securely as a cat on a fence. I floated after her, tethered by a faint flickering leash of magic. Her dragon was abnormally still. Frozen in time, like a snapshot... one which Violetta could manipulate and move through at will.

  An awful hunch crawled up my spine. "Look, I have nothing against you, Vi. We never did anything to each other before this. The War's over. We won. You don't gain anything by taking me to the Eyrie."

  "We’re not going to the Eyrie." The slim sorceress turned to me once we were back on her dragon's saddle. With a gesture, she spun me around until I was facing her. Still floating.

  I swallowed. "Then... uhh... where are we going?"

  Violetta never smiled. She had no expression at all as she conjured a swelling ball of water from the air, and let it drift toward me. It was about the size of a basketball - just big enough to cover someone's head.

  "Karhad. You, me and Ashur are going to kill a god," she grated, just before the water enveloped my face. "Your god."

  Chapter 49

  I dreamed of drowning. Of a crushing weight on my chest, pushing me down under filthy water. I flailed, trying to surface, but every time I found purchase, something grabbed me and pulled me deeper. Bodies bobbed past me in the grimy depths. Some of them were zombies, restless dead reaching for me with grasping hands. Some of them were UNAC soldiers in uniform, bleeding out from gutshot or missing their faces or limbs. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't swim. In desperation, I began to kick at something trapping my legs, and when I looked down, I saw Suri's eyes glowing angrily through the silty water. She was pale and putrid, her rich brown skin tinged with green.

  Her lips moved, slowly sounding out two words. 'Find me'.

  I woke with a rattling gasp, coughing water. My lungs were burning, chest thick with fluid. It was dark, and I was lying on a stretcher. Faint moans carried on a damp, fetid wind, and for one horrified moment, I thought I was back at Fort Richard in San Francisco, dying of HEX in a quarantine tent. It was enough to drive me up off the bed and onto my feet.

  Bare feet. No shoes. No gear, no weapons. I wore a pair of ragged trousers, and heavy steel wrist and ankle cuffs engraved with runes. I couldn't see the runes, but I could feel them when I ran my thumb over the one on my left wrist.

  "Fuck." I hissed under my breath. Even speaking one word bought on a rumbling, phlegmy cough. Lightheaded, I sat back down on the bed, and stared off into the dark.

  I was gonna be okay. This wasn't my first rodeo as a prisoner. It seemed every big quest I undertook in Archemi led to me seeing the inside of a cell at some point. If I kept my cool, I'd find a way out. There was always a way.

  The first thing I did was remember how to breathe. I coughed until I retched. I had vague memories of Violetta choking me out with a floating ball of water. Fucked up, but effective. Once bodily functions were back online and my brainstem stopped screaming at me, I pushed the flimsy cot up against the wall and went into my HUD. I had a look over Karalti's character sheet, relieved to see that she had about three-quarters of her HP and a normal status.

  "Karalti? Can you hear me?" I thought out to her.

  [You are incarcerated. Private messages are currently disabled.]

  Shit. Clearing my throat, I went to check my Friend's List. Rin was online, but I couldn't contact her. Suri's name had vanished from the list, as had our PM history. My pulse quickened anxiously. She had to have respawned in Al'Asad. Like me, she would have the Incarcerated status, meaning she was uncontactable.

  I checked the Mass Combat menu next to review who we'd lost. Admiral Gehlan and h
is brother were both dead. Vash Dorha was not. Bittersweet relief flooded me, tamping down the anxiety over Suri. For one thing, I liked Vash, and I wanted to get to know the guy better. For another, if Vash was alive, then Karalti had made it to safety for sure. For now, at least, they were okay.

  I checked the map to try and work out my location, but it was blank. After that, I had a look at my own character sheet.

  "Damn. Two levels? First time that’s ever happened," I muttered, opening the leveling screen.

  [You have 6 unassigned ability points!]

  [You have unlocked new combat abilities.]

  [You have unused skill points.]

  [You may select one Mark of Matir ability]

  I glanced to my right. My eyes were adjusting to the darkness now, and I could make out the contours of the cell. There was a torch flickering outside a barred oak and iron door, but no sounds of life or unlife outside.

  Quickly, I went to the abilities menu to see what was available. I'd unlocked four abilities this time, but one of them immediately caught my eye.

  Black Lotus I

  You manifest a terrifying garrote of shadow that wraps around your target's neck and crushes the life out of them. The garrote has a range of 40ft, inflicts 35 damage per second, has a 30 second duration, and causes the Suffocation debuff. Range, damage and duration increase by leveling this ability.

  That sounded good, because I didn’t have much in the way of ranged attacks. I selected it and leveled it up to Black Lotus II, then spread the other four points between Master of Blades, Rain of Glass, Jump and Shadow Dance. I froze as a bang echoed up and down the corridor outside.

  Quickly, I surfed to the Mark of Matir selection screen to see what was on offer there:

  Enervation Strike (Entropy)

  Black, liquid energy coats your weapon like venom. As you strike your enemy, Darkness flows into the wound and spreads through their veins, leaving them weakened and sapping their strength. On a successful hit, you drain 5 points of your opponent’s strength per skill level and add it to your own for the duration of the battle. This ability does not affect creatures lacking Vitality, such as constructs or undead.

  Dancing Fly (Life)

  You prey on your opponent’s fears and lack of confidence, remaining forever just out of reach of their weapon. When this ability is activated in combat, it drains one Adrenaline Point per second. Each time you successfully evade an attack while activated, your Evasion increases by 5%. The bonus is cumulative and ends when the combat ends or you run out of Adrenaline.

  My ears pricked as footsteps became audible outside: two pairs of boots with an awkward, shuffling gait, and one set of softer shoes.

  I liked the idea of draining the strength out of my enemies, but Dancing Fly had more strategic potential - plus it affected all enemies, including undead and constructs. I selected it, made sure I was up to date on the most important changes - HP, AP, my stats - and closed my HUD to wait and see who was coming.

  Sure enough, the footsteps came to a stop outside my door. I stood, ready to look for a gap in security - and as I did, the bracelets on my wrists warmed, and then my arms were forced behind my back by an invisible, irresistible force until the metal touched. My ankles grew heavy, too - I looked down to see a faint energetic tether connecting the cuffs.

  "Great," I muttered.

  The door opened, revealing a pair of... I wasn't entirely sure. Two identical guards flanked Violetta, who had swapped her form-fitting battle armor for a modest black battle dress and scarf. Her spell gauntlets were fully charged, humming with mana.

  "Nice dress. The soulless black really complements your eyes." I scowled at her as the two guards advanced. They were heavily armored in the Vlachian style, wearing tarnished, grotesque masks under their helmets. There was something unsettlingly squishy about the way they moved, as if there were no actual joints in their limbs. Despite that, they took my elbows in an unnaturally strong grip. "C'mon, Vi - you've got to be in there."

  "And how do you fathom that?" She turned, her eerie voice echoing off the walls of the cell.

  "You lied for us when you came with Lucien to Taltos." I tested the grip on my arms as the guards hauled me off.

  "I didn't lie for you. I lied for myself."

  "Okay, fine. So why are you working for Baldr?"

  She walked ahead of us, her soft shoes pattering on the floor with each step. "Because I have to."

  Had to? A light flickered to life in my head. "Oh, shit. Baldr has control of the geas?"

  Violetta opened the door ahead of us with an arcane gesture, walking on through.

  "Look, Vi, you don't have to strongarm me into anything when it comes to Baldr, okay?" I said, carefully testing each restraint. They were extremely secure. "I'm willing to put aside our differences and help you take him out pro-bono. No debt, no hard feelings, no nothing."

  "You will help me, yes," she replied.

  I kept trying to talk to her, to reach her somehow, but my words were met with calm silence as my escort took me on a brisk drag through the ruins of Egbolt Castle. Egbolt was built on top of a cliff overlooking Karhad, but its resemblance to Vulkan Keep ended there. The castle had the stately appearance and intricate stonework of an old cathedral: soaring stone spires, intricate buttressing, tall gold-trimmed towers. It was built to a draconic scale, but it on only had walls on one side: the side that, through the gate, fed out onto a road to the city. The smoking ruins of Karhad was nestled in the alpine valley below the cliffs. Once, it must have been green and blue and gorgeous. What I could see of it now was gray and brown, as dead as the army of zombies toiling on repairs in the oval-shaped courtyard that linked the guardhouse to the Main Hall.

  Hundreds of Kalxat perched on the crenellations of the inner keep, croaking and preening, tracking us on our way through the great double doors. I braced myself for the stench of rotten flesh and burned wood, but we entered into a scene straight out of a Conan the Barbarian story. The Great Hall had been hella cleaned up, hung with gauzy silks, lain with carpets and exotic furs, painted benches, stuffed chairs and cushions. People stood together in knots, laughing and chatting in artfully draped robes, loin cloths, gauzy dresses and other ancient finery. The women wore intricate plaited wigs; the men had long curled beards, gold beads glinting on every coil. Every single person was undead, from the cadaverous [Wight Officers] to the most morbidly beautiful of the [Napathian Vampires]. And at the back of the room, lounging on a chaise sofa and surrounded by a heap of attractive, naked, collared [Vampiric Thralls] of all sexes, was none other than the Demon himself.

  The sofa was big enough to seat an ogre, and for a moment, I thought the Demon was one. He was not the tall, pale and interesting stereotype of a vampire. He was huge, big and brawny, with bronze skin - true bronze, like an antique lamp. His hands and forearms were streaked with black and blue-green tarnish, like old metal. He was dressed like an ancient Pharaonic warrior in a fine loincloth, leopard skins, and scaled armor. His face was handsome in an artificial, statuesque way: eyes shadowed and narrow, set above high cheekbones; a large aquiline nose, and a thick, rubbery mouth. To either side of him stood a pair of superfluous bodyguards - big, dark-skinned dudes in fancy armor and Egyptian style headdresses with tower shields and swords - and a shrunken lich in white linen robes. He or she was so old that they looked like a well-used haunted house prop.

  The lich drifted forward, hands clasped in their sleeves. Their voice was as sexless as their appearance, dry and crackling, like old wood. "You are brought before the Chosen of the Sun, His Divinity Ashur of the Ten Thousand Swords; the Ox of the River, the Undying, hero and general of Napath's armies."

  I cocked my chin at the wispy, skeletal person, then turned a hard glare onto the vampire at about collarbone height. “I'm Dragozin Hector: Queensrider, Commander of the Myszno Defense Force, and if I have to listen to your litany of trumped-up titles ever again, I’m going to stab my own eardrums out.”

  Ashur sat
up and slapped his knees with a booming laugh, flashing a mouth full of flesh-tearing teeth. The fangs were as black as pitch, fitting together as neatly as the teeth of a bear trap.

  "Ah-hah, so this is the general who gave us such an interesting battle at the Prezyemi Line." The vampire’s accented voice was a low bass snarl, like a lion's roar turned to human speech.

  "You mean the general who kicked your ass?" I scowled back at him as the two guards forced me to my knees.

  "That very same one." Ashur bent forward and caught my chin in unnaturally icy fingers, lifting it. It was an effort not to recoil as the rusty stench of iron and old blood washed over me. "You are smaller than I expected. And pretty, with exotic features. A Tuun… I suppose it makes sense that a member of the oldest human people to walk this place should become the Spear Bearer. Look at me, boy."

  I didn't know a huge amount about vampires - especially this kind - but I knew one rule from every game and movie I'd ever played that had them. Never look a vampire in the eye, especially the old ones. “No thanks.”

  "Hmmph. As you wish. Violetta: now that we have this man, you have the Spear that unseals Matir’s crypt, yes?" Ashur let go of my face and leaned back, his hands resting on his thighs.

  "Yes," Violetta replied. "We have it warded and under guard in the Mage’s Oratory."

  “Utuapsu. Do we need this man, or just the weapon?” Ashur addressed the lich and motioned to me.

  Fuck. I had to think fast. Combat was out of the question: There were about fifty vampires in here, all my level or higher. Even the naked slaves purring around Ashur's feet had red skulls next to their character titles, and the guards behind him had violet skulls, making them Level 30 or higher. If I died, I’d respawn in my cell thanks to the Incarcerated status.