Clan Dominance - the Sleepless Ones 2

by Dem Mikhailov

  “Stevan?”

  “Oh,” the shopkeeper sighed. “When you started talking, it was like... Like I saw old Jogley’s face again. Went straight to my heart.”

  “I see,” I said, somewhat puzzled, scratching the back of my head. “Then I feared that we’d get into a whole lot of trouble if you decided to stay. It could have been the end of our village. You never know.” I turned back to the young woman to add, “Forget about revenge, I implore you. It’s a done thing. Live for yourself, your husband, and the children you’ll bear him. That’s what your father told me last. As for me... Well, I guess I should be on my way.”

  “Pray do,” the shopkeeper said, wiping his eyes. “I was fearing that we’d get into a whole load of trouble if you decided to stay.”

  “Why, sure, thanks a bunch, Stevan,” I bowed sarcastically.

  “Hey, whoa! You see what’s happening, don’t you? I could have lost control of my bladder. Why don’t we go to my shop already?”

  “Let’s,” I agreed, nodding goodbye to Alishana as I made a wide detour around her, heading for the shop.

  Had it been a regular village girl, I’d given her a brotherly hug as a token of comfort — locals would have considered it perfectly normal. But hugging a married oriental woman would most likely result in getting stabbed with a dagger and coming to my senses at the respawn location, with some XP lost.

  But who could this Alishana possibly be? I really wondered about the identity of this woman — the wife of a village oaf with the skills of a killer.

  “Are you coming?"

  “Sure, on my way,” I responded grumpily.

  “Hold on for a second, stranger,” a soft voice stopped me. “You are kind-hearted and wise.”

  “Uh... Thank you.”

  “Take this as a humble token of my gratitude,” a tiny round object was squeezed into my fingers. Before I could take a look at what I’d been given, the girl disappeared without a trace.

  “That’s some speed,” I said wistfully as I opened my palm.

  The object lying in my palm was a small ring — most likely, carved out of bone, by the look of it. Now, what was that all about, I wondered?

  The item could not be identified!

  Damn!

  “Rosgard! Are you coming or not?”

  “On my way!” I shouted in response, following the shopkeeper. Still, I took one last glance at the temple hill. Well then... Divine judgment would have to wait. I was leaving. Someday, though... Someday, I’d definitely return to find out more about the mysterious local affairs.

  As I was sitting on Sist’s wide back, I looked at the map sullenly. The longer I looked, the more sullen I became. Mossy Hills were left far behind, and I was literally at a crossroads with three roads lying in front of me. I needed to choose one — either head right toward the Ravendark swamp to take care of the quest received from the mysterious fortune-teller Snessa, or left toward the village of Selene on the banks of a nearby river to continue the search for Grym’s legendary armor. The swamp was right nearby, but Elyrne lay a long way off — it would take a two-day journey to get there at least. If I carried on along the road, I’d come to a small town by the name of Lagenbrock after about two hours, but there wasn’t much for me to do there.

  The swamp still glowed yellow on the map. However, the crimson segments marking serious danger were no longer there, with the exception of just one, located at the very center. And I could feel it in my bones that the hut I’d need to burn to the ground was somewhere there. Thus, I only had a very small chance of surviving there. Also, apart from monsters, there were the regular “pleasant things” one ran into near swamps, including the risk of drowning in a morass. Basically, no one ever visited such locations on their own — the risk would be too high. And I wasn’t allowed to join any groups...

  Selene was located inside an oval area blinking yellow encouragingly, so the decision was far from easy. Then again, no one was forcing me to do anything, and I did have my own priorities, which were simple — level up as much as I could and get hold of at least another part of the legendary suit of silver armor. So that was my answer. I decided to pay Kumowan the trader a visit.

  I brought up the quests window, checked the information, and made sure once again there was no time limit on either quest. I could easily turn Sist back and keep on moving. But losing two days to get to a location...

  I scratched my chin, weighed up all the pros and cons again, and then headed straight for the small town with the comical name of Lagenbrock confidently. If I got lucky, I could get hold of a teleport scroll and travel straight to Selene, without losing a single day, hour, or minute.

  I had another reason for wanting to get to a magic shop as fast as possible — I needed to identify the strange stone ring received from the beautiful Alishana. It might give good bonuses to mana... Hell, any bonus would do. I’ve never been a fussy person. Should the ring turn out to be completely useless, there was always the option of selling it and buying something I would actually need.

  Those were the thoughts in my head as I kept moving onward, occasionally switching Sist to a trot, and then slowing down again. After an hour of traveling like that, I saw a rock by the side of the road with a huge cavern in it — it could possibly house about a dozen people. There was a sign on a post, too — darkened with age, and hanging crookedly, but the lettering on it was perfectly clear, and it said “The Peaceful Haven.” It was a tiny safe zone where no one could attack you and where no aggressive monsters ventured. It was empty, much to my delight.

  I got off Sist’s back, took him in, and tied him to one of the many bronze rings affixed to the long basalt wall. Then I gave a positive answer to the system response that had popped up. The horse instantly became covered in a mist, blinked, and disappeared. The bronze ring sparkled, and its diameter changed — you could barely fit a finger in.

  That was that. My faithful steed was stabled, and would remain that way until I claimed it back by pulling the shrunken ring toward me. The system would identify me and bring my horse back.

  As for me, I needed a break from Waldyra, and there were a few things to do around the house. I sat down upon one of the mossy rocks scattered around the entrance, and pressed Exit.

  There was a flash.

  The iridescent whirlwind embraced me happily.

  Logout.

  * * *

  The first thing I heard upon returning to the real world was a melodious tinkling sound coming from somewhere near. I pulled the helmet off my head, lifted the cocoon’s lid, and sat up with a grunt. There were twinges of pain in every part of my body, but I was happy to feel them — they were caused by exercising muscles properly just a short while ago by running up and down the staircase, carrying heavy loads, and what technically amounted to jogging. It was almost a proper workout routine.

  I massaged my stiff neck with both hands, lifted my eyes, and sighed heavily as I located the source of the sound. It was Kyre.

  The girl was sitting on my bed and looking at me ponderously, stirring the sugar in my favorite glass.

  “Morning,” I grumbled, sliding down to the floor and trying to find my slippers on the floor with my feet.

  “Yeah,” Kyre replied in the same tone, taking a sip from the glass, and making the satisfied conclusion, “This sure is sweet. Your slippers are by the bed.”

  So it was my slippers, too... Not to mention the glass and the bed.

  “How are you doing?” The purloiner of my possessions replied.

  “I’m fine,” I shrugged. “But that’s what I should be asking you.”

  “Actually, I feel okay,” Kyre confessed, sighing at the skeptical expression on my face. “No, really. I’m actually surprised about that. I’d been thinking I’d wake up feeling a lot worse. But my left shoulder hurts a bit. Would you like some tea? It’s still hot. And I’m hungry. You’ll make me breakfast, won’t you?”

  She was amazingly straightforward, and amazingly bold.

&nb
sp; I looked at Kyre, batting her eyes innocently, grunted vaguely, and shuffled my feet toward the hall. Then I grunted,

  “I’ll make something in a second. Fried eggs?”

  “Sure!” I heard a delighted reply from the room. “Three eggs, sunny side up, make sure the yolks don’t run. You can also spread some cheese over it. And I’ll have a glass of tomato juice, freshly-squeezed, of course. Oh! And how about...”

  I listened to her name all the items on the menu with some confusion, and didn’t look under my feet, which resulted in me tripping on the corner of the hallway rug and crashing to the floor. The clothes stand fell, too, landing eagerly right on top of me.

  “Ros? Are you all right?”

  “Sure am,” I said hoarsely, emerging from underneath a pile of clothes. “Just peachy. So, what else did you want, other than the freshly-squeezed tomato juice?”

  “Too slices of toast, done easy. I’m ravenous!”

  “I see,” I said with theatrical notes of care and attention in my voice. “Three eggs, make sure the yolks don’t run, sprinkled with cheese, a glass of freshly-squeezed tomato juice, and two slices of toast done easy. I haven’t missed anything, have I?”

  “Mmm... No, I don’t think you have,” Kyre drawled slowly from behind the wall. “You’ve got excellent memory, Ros!”

  “Urgh-h-h!” That was the only sound I could squeeze out of my throat, cradling the elbow I hurt falling — the very same one I’d hurt yesterday falling down with Kyre’s unconscious body in my arms. Actually... She was a lot nicer unconscious.

  Having taken a deep breath, I was just about to express my honest opinion about fried eggs and tomato juice when the doorbell rang loudly behind my back. I jumped up, startled, landing on the clothes-hanger lying on the floor. It cracked pitifully as it broke in two while I was hopping on a single leg like a delirious kid goat cradling the injured foot in my hands.

  I hopped to the door, opened it, and nearly choked as I saw an incredibly motley dressing-gown containing a beaming Ms. Bobrikov, large as life and smiling twice as wide.

  “Good morning, Rostie, my boy!”

  “Urgh...” I wheezed, desperately trying to get a breath of air. “Same... I mean, a very good morning to you, too, Ms. Bobrikov!”

  Ye gods. Why did I have to crawl out of my cocoon and leave the comfort of Waldyra? What have I, what have I, what have I done to deserve this?

  I could hear my mother’s worried voice in my head; she’d always been trying to shield me from unnerving experiences. “Rostie, this is too much for your nervous system! You’re an impressionable boy...”

  “I’ve made some pastries for you,” Ms. Bobrikov smile got even wider as she handed me a dish, covered with a towel, making me certain I’d been asleep and having a nightmare. “With raspberry jam. Yummy, even if I say so myself!”

  My elbow and my foot hurt like hell, and my head was filled with angry thoughts about the royal breakfast requested by Kyre. I’d accumulated a sleep deficit, and gone through a lot of stressful events, in Waldyra as well as IRL. So, facing the neighbor who’d contributed to my stress and all the tribulations, the only thing I’d wanted to say was, “Ms. Bobrikov, why don’t you take your pastries and stick them where the sun don’t shine?” However, when I looked into the eyes of the woman who’d come with her peace offering, I took the dish gingerly and muttered,

  “Thank you so much, Ms. Bobrikov... You really shouldn’t have...”

  There was an awkward silence, which needed to be filled by a few glib and appropriate words, but all I had in my mind was a sleepy mush with three eggs sunny side up at its center.

  I’ve never been that good with glib words, anyway — IRL, at least.

  It was Kyre who came to my salvation. A confident hand was placed on my shoulder, pushing me aside.

  “Good morning, Ms. Bobrikov!” Kyre’s wide and sincere smile deserved an applause. It really felt like two ancient friends meeting.

  “Why are you just standing? Come right in! I’ve just made some tea... Oh, are those pastries? Thanks so much! What’s the filling, if I may ask?”

  “Raspberry jam,” the neighbor was clearly in a state of shock after such a come-on, meekly allowing Kyre to usher her in.

  “Raspberry? Oh, they’re my favorite!” the girl cooed as she directed the scourge of our block right toward my kitchen.

  The lock on the door clicked shut, leaving me standing next to the entrance to my own apartment, staring at the women moving toward my kitchen like an idiot, still clinging to the dish with the pastries mechanically.

  That’s what it means to smile like a politician, I thought to myself. I’ll be damned... She’s already inviting guests to my apartment.

  “Ros, why are you standing in the doorway like that?” Kyre asked me, surprised. “Get the pastries over here. You’re a real fairy godmother, Ms. Bobrikov! We were about to have breakfast, and you’ve just given us something amazing to munch on.”

  “Oh, think nothing of it,” Ms. Bobrikov said dismissively, clearly flattered. “You young folks never have time to cook, and to me, it’s always a pleasure.”

  I reached the kitchen on wobbly feet, carefully placing the plate down on the table. The second — and last — stool was claimed by Kyre, so I had to stand. I didn’t stand without doing anything for long, though — Kyre nodded toward the teapot, and then the cupboard, clearly trying to make a point. I sighed the sigh of a doomed man and reached for the cups.

  What a mess... What a horrible mess. At least I did have some sugar at home, as well as a few fossilized biscuits, too hard even for a young person’s teeth, but what could you do?

  While I was setting the table for tea, Kyre kept chatting with the neighbor. All I could do was gape at how Ms. Bobrikov kept looking younger and more alive with every minute. There was no sign of the reserve she’d shown but a minute ago. Soon she felt chipper enough to go back to her favorite activity — collecting personal information — after a sip of tea and a bite of the rock-hard biscuit.

  “Kyrie, and how long have you known Rostie? I hadn’t seen you before yesterday, and that’s a shame, you’re such a pretty girl.”

  Kyrie and Rostie? Gah... I thought to myself, putting more biscuits on the plate irritatedly as I rolled my eyes and instantly started coughing once I heard Kyre’s reply,

  “Ros? Oh, I met him at the Crèche,” the girl said in a matter-of-fact way.

  “Really?” The little old lady’s eyes gleamed triumphantly, and she paid no attention whatsoever to my fit of coughing. “That long? Since pre-school days? Oh, dear... So, you’re childhood sweethearts? And Rostie’s not even from over here... Did you follow him all the way to our city? That must be a real feeling when a girl cannot stand to be parted from the boy she loves...”

  “Ms. Bobrikov, she’s not talking about an actual crèche,” I barely managed to utter as I wiped my tears. “It’s, uh... A really popular night club. That’s where we met.”

  “Right on,” Kyre took the cue. “And it was just a short while ago.”

  “So, a disco, then?” Ms. Bobrikov had to be absolutely sure. “I get it. And how long have you known each other?”

  “Well...” The girl rolled her eyes, doing her best to mention a presentable date of our hypothetical acquaintance. “Not that long ago, really.”

  “Ms. Bobrikov,” I interjected, realizing this would take a while. “With all due respect, I really need to leave you and get some shuteye. I didn’t manage to get any sleep during the night; please don’t get me wrong there.”

  “Oh, but sure, Rostie,” my neighbor dismissed me genially. “And me and Kyrie here will have a girly talk. No sleep last night, you say? Oh, you young ones. I was like that myself, staying up all night.”

  “He’s been up all night playing,” Kyre said hastily, looking at me with malice as if any of that had been my fault.

  I just waved my hand fatalistically before I retreated. Sleep was the only thing I cared about right then. A few hours
would be all I’d need.

  “Oh, I’m sure he didn’t spend the time bored,” the old lady giggled. “It isn’t work for sure, and you’re one fine young lady! Although, Kyrie, dear, we never used to call it ‘playing’ back in our day.

  “No! It wasn’t like he was playing with me! He was in a different world, in a way...”

  “Oh, you youngsters! You always come up with funny words like that! Back in my day we used to call a spade a spade.”

  “No, that’s not what he’s been doing! He was playing a game. With a helmet on his head, you know? A cocoon, the works. A role-playing game.”