Clan Dominance - the Sleepless Ones 2

by Dem Mikhailov

  Item class: Regular.

  Effects:

  Appearance: +3.

  Stamina: +7

  Agility: +9

  Defense: +10.

  Additionally:

  Weariness accumulates 20% slower.

  Durability up by 20%.

  I shuddered against my will, once again reading the final sentence of the description — or was it an advertisement? The foul waters of the Ravendark Swamp, no less. That was... quite a coincidence.

  “Nice boots,” I admitted grudgingly. “I’ll take them if the price is right.”

  “Just thirty-six gold pieces, good sir! And that’s cutting my own throat!”

  “That’s plain robbery!” I retorted, pushing the boots away, just to make a point.

  “Thirty-five! And that’s final! Not a copper less!”

  “Agreed,” I nodded, counted out the money, pulled on the boots, and instantly felt like a presentable human being again. “I’d like to take a look at a few other things, too. A cloak, a jacket, trousers, and, perhaps, some other stuff. It all has to be a perfect fit.”

  “Oh! I’ll find the best for a customer like you,” the shopkeeper assured me, scurrying off to pick a few pieces of equipment displayed on the walls for everyone to admire.

  “This one looks good,” I pointed toward a long leather jacket with metal studs.

  “Oh, not that one, my good sir! Take a look at this one first! It will look very becoming on you!”

  I took a look at the jacket.

  Traveler's Sturdy Jacket.

  Type: equipment

  Minimum level required: 20.

  Description: A jacket from strong leather reinforced by metal insets and equipped with a large number of pockets. This outstanding piece of attire is made out of the tanned hide of the Grey Grokh, a creature that only lives in the foul waters of the Ravendark Swamp.

  Item class: Regular.

  Effects:

  Appearance: +3.

  Strength: +7.

  Stamina: +12

  Defense: +15.

  “You must be freaking kidding me,” I said hoarsely, looking at the shopkeeper.

  “Sorry, sir?” the shopkeeper’s surprise was perfectly genuine. “I don’t think I understand. Is there anything wrong with the jacket?”

  “No,” I said gruffly, not even knowing what to think.

  “We carry a very wide range of goods! You’ll find anything you need!” The local started to prattle. “If you buy more than four items, you’ll get a small but pleasant gift from our shop!”

  He wanted to add something else, but the very same moment I heard an incredibly loud cracking sound behind my back, accompanied by bells ringing merrily.

  I turned my head at once to see the air filled with fireworks exploding and a dark figure with hands raised up high, standing on the Merry Man’s bow. The Baroness herself. The bells faded away, followed by a mellifluous voice speaking in complete silence and audible to everybody in the square — or, perhaps, even in the entire city.

  “Great heroes! As clan head of the Sleepless Ones, I would like to apologize for Merry Man’s unexpected maneuvers personally, and am once again welcoming you aboard! But apologies alone won’t do, so I declare today to be the Great Sale Day! Any item sold on the deck of the ship can be bought for half the price — or, in some cases, even a third! Free food and beverages for all! Catering by the best chef of the Sleepless Ones! All the food gives long-lasting positive effects!”

  The deafening roar of joy that followed testified to the players’ thorough appreciation of the idea. Through the doors of the shop I could see that the most intelligent ones didn’t shout, but rather rushed toward the welcoming gangway, eager to get to the deck before the rest.

  “Baroness, you rock! I love you!”

  “Kudos to the Sleepless Ones!”

  “Go get the gear, everyone!”

  “I need a loan of three hundred gold pieces! I’ll pay you back three hundred and fifty! Somebody! Please!”

  Baroness waved to the players and continued from her impromptu podium,

  “Every guest we have is of the utmost importance to us, and it grieves us to hear the cry ‘man overboard.’ I will personally give a special expensive present of Rare class at the very least, for any level that suits you! Ahoy, ye sea dogs! The party is far from over! All aboard!”

  I kept staring at Baroness, who’d gotten me in such a pickle, as I thoughtlessly took off my old jacket and started to put on the new one.

  “Hey! My good man! You haven’t bought the jacket yet! That’s not how we do it! I’ll call the guards! But before I do, I must say it suits you well. The fit and the cut are superb!”

  “I’ll buy it,” I said curtly, switching to gamespeak and not really too happy about it. “Also, pants, gloves, headgear, and a cloak. A belt, if you have one. Stamina’s key, followed by Intellect or Wisdom. ASAP.”

  “What color would you like I have...”

  “Just make it snappy. Any dark color will do. And tally up everything at once, my good man. I’m in a great hurry.”

  The shopkeeper started to dash around the shop like mad, finally placing a heap of items on the counter, taking only a minute, and blurted out, panting,

  “A hundred and eighty-two gold pieces, sir!”

  “Here goes,” I gave him the necessary sum and instantly started to put on the freshly-purchased gear. It looked like my plan to visit a jeweler and take a look at a few rings, no matter how basic, would now fall through, unfortunately.

  The last thing I’d put on was a hat with a pointy end, somewhat resembling a medieval Russian helmet, stuffed my old stuff into the bag and fished out a teleportation scroll.

  “Sir! You’ve forgotten your present!” The shopkeeper was running toward me with a length of gray cloth in his hands. “It’s a scarf! Thank you for your visit!”

  “Thank you!” I said hurriedly, wrapped the scarf around my neck in a single motion, crossed the empty space on the scroll with my finger, and whispered barely audibly, “Selene.”

  Algora and the enormous ship’s silhouette disappeared in a bright flash.

  The iridescent waves dissipated without a trace, and I was in the fishing village of Selene again, three paces away from the entrance to the inn.

  I entered, went upstairs, nodded to the girl behind the counter in passing, and opened the door to my private room. Once I got back to my personal safe space, I leaned against the wall and slumped down to the floor slowly.

  So there we were.

  My lips stretched in a grin. That sure was some adrenaline rush — I hadn’t experienced anything like that in ages. All it took was for a beautiful girl to say a few words, nice and kind. Hell, she even apologized. And yet I felt like someone had threatened me with a knife in some dark alley.

  So, dearest Baroness. Someone who follows the time-honored principle: “If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad, Muhammad will come to the mountain.”

  The only really important question that remained was whether they had tracked every player boarding the ship, and if they had, just how they did it. I hadn’t seen any players scrutinizing every buyer and idler ascending the Merry Man’s gangway.

  Another question of great interest was how the Sleepless Ones had known what would happen when the Navigator boarded the ship. I had no idea about that myself.

  Or could it just be a conjecture?

  In that case, money must mean very little to the Sleepless Ones, given that they can spend an enormous amount of money to check a conjecture. Still, the prize was probably worth the gamble.

  One of the things in my favor was that the activation of Navigator’s skills didn’t happen immediately — it took a couple of seconds, and players who’d been exactly behind me also managed to board the ship during this time. The gangway was packed, and everything was in chaos — some people were trying to board the ship, and others, to leave it. A throng moving chaotically in every direction at once.

 
I had but a single thought in my mind: the logs. What about the logs? If the ship was a clan location, the leader and her deputy could check the logs with the names of everyone who’d visited their location and the exact time of the visit. In which case, the possible list of players suspected of having mastered a unique ability could be trimmed down to a few dozen names.

  On the other hand, if the ship was a simple decoration installed on Algora’s main square by the “generous” clan for all the players to enjoy, they’d never get anywhere near the logs for the entire city. The Immortal Ones wouldn’t let them anywhere near information as sensitive as that.

  I pondered this for a second, then activated the interface menu and displayed the information about the unique spell in front of me.

  There was nothing. No additional information and no mention of the Navigator’s passive skill.

  I closed the grimoire and pressed the logout button. It was time to check out the forum.

  A flash.

  Logout.

  * * *

  Once I’d crawled out of the cocoon’s womb and looked toward the bed sideways (with some trepidation), I found out there were no surprises waiting for me this time. In general, there wasn’t anyone waiting. The bed had been empty and neatly made.

  I scanned the apartment, flexing my whole body’s muscles as I did so, and came to the conclusion I was completely on my own. Kyre had disappeared without a trace.

  I found a note once I’d already put the kettle on and started working on my pelvic joints. As I kept twisting my bony posterior this way and that, I found a piece of paper covered with a key.

  “Thanks again, Ros. Still, you’re a bit of a slowpoke, aren’t you? See you in Waldyra. Kyre.”

  First I gave a sigh of relief, and then started pondering this more seriously. Why would she call me a slowpoke, anyway? Some cheek! Provide a damsel in distress with food and a place to stay, and she calls you a slowpoke in return. Sounds like some old chestnut.

  Anyway. All’s well that ends well. I was, once again, the sole ruler of my domain.

  I whistled louder than usual waiting for the kettle to boil, just because I could, grabbing a few snacks in the meantime, then opened the cupboard to find another piece of paper leaning neatly against a cup.

  What the...

  “Don’t look for your glass. I’ve taken it with me. Thanks for such a lovely present! Bye-bye once again. Kyre.”

  “Urg-h-h-h-h...” was all I could say, popping my knuckles so hard they hurt. My favorite glass! Damn! Why, you little... All right, I needed to pipe down a bit.

  I breathed hoarsely, muttering to myself, “relax, Ros, take it easy,” made a ball of paper out of the note, grabbed the first cup I could reach and started to make coffee.

  It turned out as bitter as hell — I must have overdone it due to agitation. Actually, no... It was just that my favorite glass had been twice the size of this cup.

  I put another spoonful of sugar in it, stirred whatever mud-like substance I’d concocted, took a large gulp, and suddenly burst out laughing. Kyre sure was something.

  Right. I needed to get to my PC urgently to read the forum and learn about the latest development. Then I’d log back in and genocide all the wolves in the vicinity of the village, progressing to spiders eventually. All the locals would start treating me with respect, which would be when I’d pay another visit to their liege’s mansion to talk to him about his collection. And then...

  I couldn’t finish my thought. The telephone that was standing by the bedside jumped and started ringing hard enough to give one a toothache. As a result, I spilled hot coffee over my legs and nearly hit the ceiling.

  My voice must have sounded pretty unfriendly when I grabbed the receiver and barked,

  “Hello?”

  “Ros! Ros!” Gosha was panting into the receiver, and his excitement was nearly palpable — he must have had thousand-volt currents going through his nerves.

  In a split second, a myriad hypotheses flashed through my mind, complete with a vision of another smashed car, Gosha’s bloodied face, and Kyre’s unconscious body, but the only thing I managed to squeeze out was,

  “What, again?”

  “What do you mean, again?” Gosha yelled, clearly stressed to the max. “Why aren’t you logged on, Ros?! Where are you? Kyre can’t get in touch with you — not here, and not in Waldyra, either!”

  “I’ve just logged out,” I responded, surprised, calming down instantly. Nothing particularly horrible appeared to have happened.

  “Get back into the cocoon at once!”

  “What happened?! Why are you shouting like mad?”

  “The schedule! The schedule’s changed! The Immos have compressed the event schedule! All of it due to the sudden freaking appearance of that Navigator bastard! I wish someone stuffed his own helm up his ass!” I choked on my coffee, spilling it over my legs the second time today. “The second part is beginning already! The temple has opened! On the other hand, I’m actually happy about it! A great chance of finishing the second part earlier and not having to wait as long. Have you still got any transportation scrolls?”

  “I have,” I replied automatically, without understanding anything. “What second part? What temple? Gosha, could you be more specific, please?”

  “Yeah... Sorry, Ros. It’s just that everything’s happened at once. Now we have a chance to begin the second part of the chain. You finished the first when you won the tournament, and this one’s the second! It’s a chance, Ros! One hell of a chance! As good as any Christmas present!”

  “Ouch... You did say two weeks minimum.”

  “I’m telling you — the schedule’s been moved, and the temple’s opened! Some events begin earlier now so that players can take advantage of them before the Zar’Graad craze peaks. A present from the administration, if you will. There’s no time to explain everything right now. Just log into the game, and instantly head for the Foothills of Sorrow. Kyre will meet you there and explain you everything as you go. Tell it back to me!”

  “I teleport to the Foothills of Sorrow, meet Kyre there, and get my instructions from her. But, Gosha, we haven’t really leveled up yet!” I yelled into the receiver. “We’re complete noobs! I’m only at twenty-three!”

  “I know! I’m telling you, it’s a chance. A ghost of a chance, but a chance all the same. Even if you do get snuffed, I won’t at least regret never having tried. It’s worth the risk.”

  “Hold on. What if we do get snuffed and just plain fail to manage?”

  “In that case, we’ll have to start from scratch — delete the character, the Crèche, the tournament, and so on. Come on, Ros, I’m counting at you! A lot, in fact! If you manage, it will change lots of things for our clan! As for me... I don’t know what I’ll do if you succeed. I’ll introduce you to all the prettiest girls in the city! Another thing, Ros! Remind Kyre of something! Tell her to raise the stone to the Face of Fire! Don't forget! Good luck!”

  Gosha disconnected, and I was looking at the wall in front of me in a state of stupor, mulling over what he’d just told me: “start from scratch, delete the character...”

  No way! Sorry, Gosha. That just won’t happen. I would never delete Rosgard for whatever reason.

  I finished off the coffee, peeled off the soaked pants, and got into the cocoon.

  Should I try to use this ghost of a chance? Well, why not? I would definitely give it my all.

  There was just one thing, though. Should we fail, it would be somebody else starting from scratch with Kyre. Not me for sure. Hey, Gosha, no offense, but I hope you understand...

  A flash.

  The rainbow carried me away, smiling encouragingly.

  Logging in.

  Chapter Six

  The Foothills of Sorrow. The scarred Face of Stone. Seaweed and Pillars. Love and Madness Are but a Step Apart.

  THE FOOTHILLS of Sorrow. I have been here before.

  There’s a tiny and relatively small piece of flat land on a rock
and there stands... well, you wouldn’t even call it a village, would you? Just a few randomly placed long one-story buildings of stone, the general atmosphere being somewhat lugubrious. Walls of gray rock; dark crimson tiled roof, and narrow arrow-slits of windows that look anything but welcome.

  There’s a mountain towering over the walls of the buildings, shrouded in heavy clouds, always promising a thunderstorm. A nondescript temple on its slope, its doors sealed shut, a narrow and steep staircase leading to it, carved in the raw rock. It’s always wet from the rain, blown sideways by the wind, never-ending.