Clan Dominance - the Sleepless Ones 2

by Dem Mikhailov

  Damn!

  “Uh...” I said hoarsely, and then hastened to say, “I agree, my good mayor. I’ll have a look around the village. If I see the beast, I’ll take him back for sure.”

  You have received a quest: Find the Unieye.

  Find the runaway unieye in the environs of the Mossy Hills.

  Minimum quest completion requirements: find the unieye and deliver it to Mayor Gregor.

  Your reward: five pieces of silver and a barrel of ale.

  “We’ll be grateful to you no end!” said Gregor, visibly relieved, as he pushed some cloth parcel into my hand. “These are the roots and tubers that he likes a lot! Just make sure to do him no harm, and don’t let his appearance scare you! He might look fearsome, but he’s really sweet as any calf! Give him a sweet tuber once you see him, and he’ll be a friend of yours forevermore!”

  “Uh... Right.”

  “I’ll be expecting news from you, then!” the mayor said, hurrying back to the laden tables.

  I looked in his direction as I sighed sadly and went out into the street.

  Crap. Then again, who could have known? Thankfully enough, I didn’t tell him about the contents of my pack. The remnants of the precious unieye would have given him a hell of a shock, and I’d probably be unable to show my face in the village again. And there I was, hoping for a reward... Moron.

  Those were the thoughts I had as I was walking in the direction I’d been shown, looking around me every now and then. I kept glancing at the moon, too, hanging right there among the stars. It would be full very soon. And then... Werewolf time would begin.

  The temple with its tall spire must have made the hill really picturesque in the daytime. During the night, however, the impression was more one of dread. The night wind kept making the boughs creak; strange shadows of menacing shapes were everywhere, and my ears registered a strange howling — most likely, the echoes of the wind among the gravestones, but realizing that did not alleviate my paranoia.

  The path paved with white stone leading to the temple could be seen very well in the darkness, and it took me very little time to get to the temple’s locked doors. The priest was at the wake right now, raising another toast to the memory of old Jogley.

  Having gone around the square construction, I found myself next to the village graveyard’s waist-high railing. I went past without slowing down, looking this way and that to find a light. I walked some fifty paces before I noticed a glimmer of a flame on the left. Soon I was at Jogley’s grave. I looked around me, seeing nothing, and so I set down and crossed my legs, resting my chin on the palm of my hand. Now that I was where I’d intended to be, I needed to gather my wits about me.

  A neat hill of freshly-dug earth was all covered in wild flowers, and their zesty aroma still lingered. The headstone, cut roughly and still rectangular, still looked fresh — there was some lettering on it, invisible in the darkness, probably something along the lines of “rest in peace.” And amid this flower display stood five oil lamps with a spark of fire in each, arranged in a perfect pentagon. There wasn’t that much light, but it still kept the dark at bay a little. The last light, as it was known...

  That was another quirk of Waldyra’s creators. They could have taken a ready template from any real-world religion, not that there was any shortage. But they decided to think up about a hundred indigenous religions, each one with a creed, prayers, rites, and gods of its own. While the deities of old mother Earth had long been dormant and didn’t reveal themselves to mere mortals, over here it happened on a near-daily basis.

  The gods of Waldyra were perfectly real — as digital entities, of course. And they would often reveal themselves to players. Sometimes they would even give their very own unique divine quests, rewarded very handsomely indeed.

  Not that any of that had ever happened to me — I’d never had any contacts with any deities, be it in real world or in Waldyra. It wasn’t easy to make gods notice and favor you. First you’d have to choose a deity, and then pray piously in said deity’s temple, complete the quests given by priests, and behave accordingly. For instance, if you pledged your allegiance to the militant Grakharg the Fiery, you’d need to spend your life in battle, show no mercy to your enemies, and despise any craft. Literally. The god could start despising you and turn his face from you if you so much as sewed yourself a shirt. There were lots of limitations like that — you couldn’t have your finger in every pie.

  Back in my Khrushchot days I tried to “befriend” the sly god Sness once — he was supposed to favor the human race. He was a god of thieves for the most part, but the bonuses he gave would have been very useful to me, too — greatly increased disguise ability, increased chance of a critical and even deadly strike, noiseless walk, night vision... Lots of things. I even prayed in front of his serpent-shaped altar.

  That was as far as my piety went. I got approached by a priest, who’d told me I should donate five hundred gold pieces to the temple. Well, I did scrape up the last of my reserves, spent a week hunting monsters in impenetrable forests, and performing quests, and eventually managed to get the necessary sum together. I seethed as I gave it to the temple as a charitable gift. The priest accepted the money indifferently, and then asked for a thousand in gold, accompanied by a black dragon’s fang. That was the last that temple ever saw of me. I did find out about the price of dragon fangs out of sheer curiosity — you could find most anything in the alchemists’ shops, after all. It was just under seven hundred in gold, so I ended up deciding it wasn’t my thing, after all. Considering that Sness also favored paupers, he also required you to give alms to any beggar you would encounter. In the best-case scenario, you’d also be a PK stealing left and right from anyone.

  But that was nothing compared to what some people had to go through. I used to know a paladin — we even fought as members of the same party a few times. He was a real fanatic, and had managed to receive divine protection from a god of the Light Side. It came with ostensible bonuses to healing, negation of evil influences, and something else. I asked him once about the things he needed to do in return.

  His reply was the weirdest thing. He shrugged, smiled a crooked smile, and went away, singing a Michael Jackson song through his nose,

  “Heal the world

  Make it a better place

  For you and for me

  And the entire human race.”

  That got me thinking...

  I kept on ruminating and recollecting, and spent about half an hour at the grave, but Jogley’s spirit didn’t show itself. The Last Life kept on shimmering, and the night wind kept on whooshing through the trees. There were several methods of summoning spirits, but I’d hoped I wouldn’t need to resort to any of those for a variety of reasons. First and foremost, it affected your standing with the Gods of Light negatively. There was also the fact that I didn’t know how it was done, nor did I have any necessary paraphernalia — I certainly hadn’t counted on old Jogley dying this early.

  But gods were only half the problem. I could do my research at the forum, but what would I do about the ingredients? If I needed marsh gas or a few dozen black toadstools, I’d be out of luck.

  I spent a few more minutes like that, which seemed never-ending, sighed, got up, took a few steps to the side, and sat down again, resting my back against a mossy gravestone. Then I pressed the Exit button.

  The iridescent silent whirlwind embraced me eagerly.

  Logout.

  * * *

  Nothing has changed in my room since my “departure.” Kyre was still lying on the bed, her head on the pillow, and her blanket tossed aside. I got out of my cocoon and approached the bed, trying not to make any noise, and scrutinized the girl’s pale face. Fortunately, she was still alive. Her breath was troubled, however, and her face, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, sometimes contorted in a grimace, and there was a barely noticeable tremor shaking her body. It must have been the comedown.

  “Oh, Ros,” I whispered softly to myself. “Why the he
ll would you get involved in any of this, eh?”

  I looked at Kyre glumly and headed right to the kitchen. This wouldn’t do. She didn’t want to go to the hospital or call her parents... Damn!

  First I rummaged through my meager first aid kit, producing an opened blister of activated charcoal. I made a rough measurement of the girl’s weight, and counted out four black pills, then thought about it for a moment, and added another one. I grabbed a bottle of water and got back, no longer trying to move silently. I’d have to resort to time-tested methods. I sat down on the bed and shook Kyre’s limp shoulder unceremoniously, without lifting her dark-haired head off the pillow.

  “Kyre, wake up!” I roared, trying to shake her awake.

  “My head... hurts,” Kyre said, without opening her eyes.

  “I believe you,” I nodded, grabbing her by the shoulders and placing her upright. “Take these.”

  I filled the palm of her hand with pills, and said,

  “Come on, take them. One by one.”

  “What is it?”

  “Activated charcoal,” I explained patiently. “And you have to swallow them all.”

  “I won’t...”

  “Down the hatch, I said!” I raised my voice, giving her a bottle of water. “Three of them right now. Then three more in about two hours. Followed by another quarter-gallon of water.”

  “Ros...”

  “Get on with it,” I said. “It will feel much worse otherwise.”

  Kyre obediently took three black pills, and spent quite a while with the water bottle. Once she was done, there was another complaint,

  “I’ve got a splitting headache.”

  “You’ll have to wait it out,” I said, trying to comfort her. “You should go back to sleep. You’ll feel better when you’re up again.”

  “Haven’t you got any painkillers?”

  “I’ve only got aspirin, and you shouldn’t mix it with alcohol. And you’ve been drinking, I can smell it on your breath. It may lead to an internal bleeding.”

  “Come on already,” Kyre said, pressing her face against my chest. “An aspirin. Just one. Please. I haven’t had that much alcohol, just one drink.”

  “Oh, all right,” I pulled out the bedside table drawer, got out some aspirins, and handed one to her. “Here goes. And drink more water... It’s never easy with drug fiends... That’s how it goes, more water.”

  “I’m not a drug fiend!”

  “Sorry. Just a clumsy joke,” I smiled. Having made sure she’d taken her aspirin, I gave my next order. “And now, get up, and off you go to the bathroom.”

  “Say what?”

  “The bathroom,” I said, looking at the suddenly bashful girl with unfeigned surprise. “Was there anything confusing about what I’ve said? Get going.”

  “Ros! I didn’t mean to... And, really...”

  “No objections, cadet!” I barked, copying my father. “Follow orders!”

  “Listen here...”

  “You listen to me! You need to get the toxins out of your body. It might be serious! Alcohol and an unknown drug are a hell of a cocktail. There’s risk of liver failure — or it might affect some other organ. So what you do is get to your feet, go to the bathroom, and get rid of the waste. Then you drink more water, and lie down again. Get to it!”

  “Look at you, all high and mighty,” Kyre grumbled.

  “Should I carry you? And make sure you do everything you’re supposed to?” I inquired gruffly. “I guess I could, if I absolutely had to.”

  “No, I’ll do it on my own!” The girl replied at once, and instantly winced. “My head...”

  “Listen to your body as you go,” I added. “Pay attention to your arms and legs — whether there are any pains or any strange pops, and whether or not everything bends the way it’s supposed to. You’ve just been in a traffic accident, after all. Or would you like me to take you to a hospital? They could do a decent checkup, give you a drip and a few shots to perk you up...”

  “No!”

  “Well, suit yourself, then,” I sighed, looking at the girl slowly walking down the hall. “Call me if there’s anything.”

  “She’s got a great figure,” I thought to myself all of a sudden, having seen Kyre out of the funny-looking checkered quilt for the first time. She had a short white top and tight blue jeans; both garments outlined her shape perfectly.

  Whoa, cowboy... I was rushing into something I could well do without.

  I shook my head, turned away, and prepared myself for some forum-searching.

  I ended up finding lots of stuff, but nothing of any use. There were dozens of know-it-alls and gurus sharing all kinds of information, listing all known methods of summoning and controlling spirits, describing the associated rituals and everything remotely related to the process in great detail, but nothing was pertinent to my case, since I’d lacked absolutely everything in the way of items and ingredients.

  Only by reaching the second page with links did I encounter a short comment by an unfamiliar author, who said it clearly and concisely — the spirit remained linked to the buried body, and, correspondingly, the grave, for the duration of the first few days after death. That was the very reason they placed the Last Light on a fresh grave — it was supposed to provide the ghost’s dark abode with some illumination, preventing it from returning to the world of the living at the same time. Therefore, any beginning summoner should take care of the Last Light first. They could put out a lamp or two, or rearrange their order. The author advised against putting out the lamps to avoid provoking the spirit in question. Moving some of the lamps aside would give the deceased an opportunity to answer the call, given that they were so inclined. That was a necessary condition. Otherwise, the ghost could be summoned by force, but in that case one would need special gear. Well, it never hurt one to try...

  Right then Kyre entered the room — as pale as before, but her motions seemed less stiff. She glanced at me with darkened eyes silently, then got back into bed, and placed her face on the pillow again. I wondered how she managed to breathe through the fabric.

  “Have some water,” I reminded her.

  Kyre mumbled something incomprehensible, refusing to move.

  I sighed and repeated myself, louder this time.

  “Have some water, then lie down on your right side and cover yourself. Your jeans are at least two sizes too tight, so I advise you to undo your designer belt and unbutton the jeans themselves. You don’t have to look at me with such suspicion. All I’m saying is that nothing should interfere with your breath or circulation, particularly at a moment like this.”

  “Ros, you’re worse than Aunt Lena, really!”

  “Who?”

  “Never you mind who,” Kyre coughed in response, obediently taking another long pull from a well-depleted water bottle.

  “So much for the conversation, then,” I concurred. “Lie down. When you wake up tomorrow, life will look a lot brighter.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And get something to cover yourself.”

  “It’s hot as it is...”

  “That’s good. The more you sleep, the better you’ll feel eventually,” I concluded as I got up and stepped toward the cocoon.

  “Are you planning to sleep inside that thing?”

  “Almost,” I chuckled, groaning as I got onto the elastic bed and reclined. “I’ve got things to take care of in Waldyra. And you need to get some sleep. Oh, one more thing. If you feel worse, for whatever reason, get me logged off at once. Just press the emergency logout button. Got it?”

  “Yes, daddy. By the way, what’s this fossil?” An eye peeked from underneath the blanket, scrutinizing my rather ancient cocoon. “I don’t think they even sell them anymore. They don’t have any auxiliary systems, do they? Just the basic functions, as far as I remember.”

  “I’m not that well-healed. This is the best I could afford,” I said in a muffled voice, placing the helmet on my head. “It works, which is good enough for me. Good night
, Kyrea.”

  “Good night...” was the last thing I heard.

  The iridescent vortex opened itself up in front of me, pulling me ever deeper.

  Logging in.

  * * *

  Nothing’s changed at the graveyard since my departure — neither for better, nor for worse. I hadn’t expected anything else, in fact.

  I looked around me furtively, going down on one knee, and broke the circle of lamps with a few quick motions. I simply moved four of them aside, and removed the fifth from the earthen mound altogether. Before I managed to stand up straight, a gust of wind put out the Last Light I’d disfigured in a blink of an eye, and the grave was lit up by a ghostly blue light. I was about to rejoice at the success of my endeavor when a horrendous bearded face with glowing red eyes came out of the earth, got close to my face, and yelled, showering me with ectoplasmic spittle,