The Way of the Clan 8

by Dem Mikhaylov

  Kisa, by the way, was saved. Moreover, they also delayed saving him, so that the savages could show him the way. Why? Well, according to genre traditions, Kisa was tied to a thick pole, which was picked up by four savages and dragged along a narrow path into the jungle. Kiso, swaying on the poles, could free himself, but preferred to wait. He was dragged to the very temple, where, after a couple of mean words, they tried to throw him into a sacrificial pit full of ruby stakes. Yes — stakes made of sharpened huge rubies. Here Kiso began to fiercely resist. And he continued to fight until help arrived, which was right at the last moment. In general, according to their adventures, you could have safely shot an adventure film about lost cities and civilizations. The finale of this was the phenomenon of the main enemy – the crimson tentacles which crept out of the pit, the runes on the walls lighting up, the earth shaking, the lianas shaking, the monkeys screaming, the savages wailing... They did not stay to find out what would happen. They piled up their goods on their boats and got out of there.

  Orbit took three of the rubies. And this was allowed — during the raid the bald elf proved to be very useful, pointing at least seven times to hidden traps. Now Orbit tried to attach the ruby stakes to the log of white wood ... Roska, sitting next to me, was drinking compote and chatting to me about adventures. I listened, fighting off the greedy trunk of Kolyvan, which was trying to take from me a roll with pineapple jam.

  We were sitting by a brightly burning bonfire, located five meters from the edge of the shore. The waves rushed over the shore with a lazy hiss, leveling the sand-strewn tracks. There were hundreds of bonfires. The deep lagoon was filled with colorful lights. Luminous ships, lanterns on palm trees and eucalyptus trees, and a huge yellow lantern on top of a tall ancient baobab. Bonfires in the sand, lamps under the water, shoals of shining fish and gently rocking sea anemones in shallow waters — and along the edge of the beach, crabs with lanterns and luminous anemones on their shells.

  The day of the long campaign had ended. Laughter and music was heard in the night, and somewhere, they had already started to dance. Far away in the damp forest, there was howling, cries, groans, crunching and cracking — war cries were heard. This was the hunting and extraction of resources. The night shift had begun.

  The baroness sat next to me, at the neighboring fire, chatting peacefully with the girls. Kaylen, Kira, Goldie, and the others – they were all there, having arranged a real bachelorette party. It became immediately from their faces that male guests were not welcome.

  Tyrant was drying off — he had raised six levels today. Six! The wolf had spent an excellent day fighting and you could tell by his face — he was clearly happy. Roska continued to talk in awe. And, judging by her glowing eyes, my digital daughter also likes how everything was going. I worried if it affected the issue of becoming a goddess — but she was clearly more interested in interesting adventures. This phrase was repeated at least five times per hour — “interesting adventures, interesting adventures...”

  I waited by the fire as my daughter spoke — until she fell asleep, with a happy smile on her lips. Then I covered her with two blankets, patted Tyrant on the neck and looked at the bald elf, who was asleep under the trunk of Kolyvan, said good-bye to the Baroness and the others, and then pressed the exit button to the real world. I did not alert Kira – let her drink wine and scold the men who imagine themselves to be the crown of the universe. Sometimes girls need this...

  My today's watch was finished. I did not let anyone down. It gives a feeling of calm peace...

  Flash…

  Hello rainbow...

  Exit.

  There were two people in the kitchen ... my father and the chief guard. Between them stood a bottle of vodka. A plate with a snack. God… my pie with meat had been heated in a microwave and cut ... Kira would not forgive them...

  Both men looked at the screen of a large television showing the sailing ships in full swing. I was only paid a drop of attention. There was a silently nod, and then the conversation continued.

  "And a cup of tea, son. Strong. You know how.”

  “Uh-huh,” I nodded, stomping over to the teapot.

  The epic days of the Great Navy were over. The kitchen days had begun...

  “And get some food, not like in the game, real food. Then call mom.”

  “Good.”

  The teapot whistled. I just had just enough time to walk around the corridor, getting my muscles to start working. I drank about a liter of water, which almost evaporated with a hiss in my parched stomach. Back in the kitchen, I made tea, laid out the patties on the plates, heated them in a microwave, and put a copper pan onto the fire. Scrambled eggs with onions and tomatoes. I added a pot of water next to the frying pan – for dumplings.

  There was a serious conversation going on in the kitchen. I would sit at the edge of the table If I could, sit quietly next to Kira, listening to the "adult conversation," the level of which was unattainable for people under the age of forty. I wondered exactly what they were discussing.

  I do not know why, but I was sure that they did not want to see the proud leader of the Great Navy.

  I made a gallant six eggs, and then Kira crawled out of the room, stretching and yawning, looking ridiculous in a shirt too big for her. Noisily sniffing around, my paladin disappeared into the tub. The running water rustled, and as I loaded eggs to a plate, I poured a mixture of dill and green onions on top and served the dish to the table, where the admiral's fork immediately plunged into it.

  "Bread?"

  "I already have it," I answered, pulling out a warmed loaf of bread from the microwave oven and chopping it into large pieces. “I am making dumplings, too.”

  “Very good.”

  Delivering another portion of food to the table, I did not forget to listen. On the TV, the image of sailing ships was replaced by a demonstration of a rather outraged crowd. Mostly women, almost all quite adults — all without exception, armed with huge posters with bright inscriptions. And what kind of demonstration was this?

  “Who are these people?” I decided to clarify, with a shudder, reading the inscription on the biggest poster, stunned by the extremely furious little old woman. The inscription read: "Cut the hellish umbilical cord!"

  On other banners, the inscriptions were no worse: "Bring back our children and husbands!", "Enough artificial coma!". "Save the victims of the GhoST!", "Valdira is ruining us!", and “He is not Moses – he is the Antichrist!".

  “Wow ... “ I said, after reading the last statement.

  “Yes,“ my father nodded, chewing the eggs. “Good eggs.”

  “Okay. So what's going on?”

  "Do not you see? A protest against your sect,” my father snorted.

  “Huh? What sect?”

  "Victims of GhoST," laughed the chief guard, pouring out the vodka into shot glasses. "I do not toast to you, Ros.”

  “Why?” I was offended.

  "Well, only one or two. Want some?”

  “Pour it,” I said, getting a glass from my pocket and putting it on the table with a knock.

  "Do you always carry one with you?" My father narrowed his eyes.

  “Even in the shower,“ I said without blinking an eye. “So what is the sect about? What does victims of GhoST mean?”

  “You just could not imagine! Great hostile Sea Trek, GhoST as an abbreviation. It was so named in the programs. And as soon as this GhoST began, tens of thousands of people stopped coming to work, coming to institutions, attending lectures at the university, going out, serving in the police and, according to rumor, they even stopped guarding some political leader. What are they doing? Well, nothing, in fact. They lie in their cocoons for fourteen hours, then creep out, take a shower, eat hastily and then repeat the cycle.”

  "Right ..." I said, and reached for the vodka.

  "First eat!" My father cut off my father. “And fry more eggs. And boil the water… for the dumplings…”

  "Come on! They think I am an Antichris
t? Me?”

  “You. It is delirium, of course,” said Pal Pavlovich. “They are talking nonsense. They say Moses led his people, but the Great Navigator, hell knows where he came from, led them astray. God commanded Moses, and here someone obviously whispered into the Navigator’s ear. Total nonsense.”

  "But people believe it," the admiral interjected, watching the old woman screaming into the camera on the TV screen and trying to hit a guy in the guard's uniform with a poster.

  "Yes ..." I repeated, and crunched a cucumber from the refrigerator. “The Antichrist ... insane.”

  “Yes, nonsense — I say the same. But news channels just throw out an idea, and they spark a fire from a spark. I remember we sank one boat in neutral waters, and it quietly sunk, almost without noise, but in an hour they were already saying — these damn Russian scoundrels are starting the third world war! Therefore, it is the same here. Do not pay attention, son. Just do not go out into the street.”

  “Cool,“ I shook my head and nevertheless took the shot glass. “It is nothing, but do not go out into the street ... right, or some old woman will put a bullet in my neck ... ugh ...”

  “What did you want? They blame mostly Valdira, but now you are her main star,” Pal Pavlovich laughed softly. “The brightest star!”

  "I did not crave such glory," I muttered, feeling the good vodka descending down my esophagus with a fiery lump. I needed to get some bread, otherwise I would be hungry. Six more eggs went to the skillet with a hissing sound, and not a single yolk broken. I can still cook!

  “Dozens of suicides,“ continued the already gloomy Pavlovich. “Many emergency hospitalizations. Infarctions, strokes, exhaustions from physical and mental labor, a few gone crazy, and one broke into the neighbor with a cudgel and robbed his refrigerator, storing food, explaining their rudeness by the fact that their warship went to the bottom and it was necessary to somehow repair and replenish the food supplies...”

  “Oh ...”

  "Eighteen murders," his father said harshly.

  “How many?!”

  “Eighteen. This figure is growing. Until recently there were eleven — seven fresh bloomers were just added. Clans clash in the city of Mumbai. A wild fight in the streets and in the house, two hundred people took part, not only guys but also girls. They tried to destroy the game cocoons, and the rest defended themselves. As a result, more than thirty were hospitalized, about a hundred walked away with minor injuries, and seven went to the morgue.”

  "I'd like another drink," I sighed.

  “You eat first.”

  “Fine.”

  "Not less than a couple of hundred people have been arrested around the world for trying to infiltrate someone else's house. And they do it to destroy the game cocoons. Some cut the wires. There was another arrest for trying to rob a store – for the sake of a new game cocoon, because the old one was disabled. What was noteworthy was that the thief was an eighteen-year-old girl weighing thirty kilos, thin as a match. A shot from the revolver struck her in the chin, and she fainted. Woke up already in the hospital, chained to the bed with handcuffs. This is one of the least tragic cases. And yes, everyone was probably used to the fact that wives, husbands, sons and daughters, and sometimes even parents, do not crawl out of their cocoons for two or three days in a row. But here it has already been a week...

  Throwing an omelet on the plate, I shook my head, dumbfounded. Moral freaks and excessive fanatics had always existed in the game worlds. But to that extent ... it was as if the abscess was opened with the cut of a scalpel.

  "And this demonstration?"

  “Next to a branch of Valdira. They demand to turn off the server and let the people go home to loving families. They are responded to — we do not keep anyone by force. And the demonstrators – we do not hear you, come closer, even closer, so we can strike you with a poster. Or close enough that the old women can spit and it will reach your corporate brazen faces.

  “What is good — if you want to interview a few tabloids,” again laughed Pavlovich “Ready at anytime, anywhere, and for a lot of money. I heard it in the TV. Everyone was hungry for you, Rostislav!”

  "They thirst after me with knives ...," I muttered. “Dad, pour some vodka to your son! Why are you grinning? Soon an old lady will break in to our home with a knife and you will have not a son, but a daughter! With whom will you drink then? Pour!”

  "Thirty grams! And for today your alcoholic voyage is over. Did the dumplings get stuck?”

  "They are being already cooked. And I will bring them now. Um ... let us drink to the kindness of women!”

  "And for the skill of the surgeons," Pal Pavlovich said, and I almost choked.

  "It will not be for long," my father frowned, taking a piece of bread. "Civilians are like this. But their Interest evaporates. Today they are busy with Valdira, tomorrow they will already be amused by something completely different. So forget it, and continue to stand on watch, sailor.”

  "I will," I nodded.

  “Forget about what?” Asked Kira, having returned, slightly pink and smelling of shampoo. “I want to eat!”

  “About this,“ I said, and pointed to the TV. “Trying to prevent massive self-burial in the cocoons.”

  “They try in vain,“ Kira snorted. “It is always like this — here you are dull, stooping, and gray, and there you are a bright, unique, valuable and widely known warrior, and now also a potential pioneer.”

  "I hope you're not talking about me?" I asked hopefully.

  “No, darling, why did you even think so? You are great all around! Oh, eggs! Hello, calories! We have not seen each other for so long!”

  “Stir the dumplings,“ I said, and stomped to the computer. “I will call my mom. Dad, before this, I was holding back, but now I will ask you — how do you like Valdira?”

  "It is ... something ...," my father said cautiously.

  All right then. The admiral does not know what to say, and prefers not to express his opinion. But still, Valdira hooked him. Oh, it sure did…

  Dialing a number on a secure communications program, I mentally ordered myself not to joke. My mother was nervous, and an alarmist and that is why it was better not to make such jokes as “You gave birth to the digital Antichrist!" And the like.

  “Sonny! The mother's voice sounded happy as soon as she heard my greeting. “So! That’s how it is!”

  “How is what?”

  "First one disappeared! Now the second one disappeared too! I do not understand! You - Grokhotov family members - simply do not care about the poor old mother's heart, right? Will I stand on the shore all my life?”

  "I lived in another city!"

  “And how about the other one? Where is he?”

  "He sits at the table and drinks vodka," I happily reported.

  “Ha-a-a...“ Mom's voice was composed.

  The Admiral sitting at the TV grunted discontentedly, and began to get up. He hurried to whitewash his name. He does not drink, but drinks a little.

  “And Lena?”

  "And what about Lena?" I was surprised.

  “She rings and rings!”

  "I will sort it out," I promised. "Are you all right, Mom?"

  “Yes! I am fine. Seamen are always gone. But is your father not afraid that I will find myself a real handsome man while he’s away? Let him come back faster! While I am still here! While I am still pretty like the others!”

  "Better than the others," I corrected, involuntarily smiling. "So much better!"

  “Whatever!”

  “Father’s at the phone,” I informed her, rising from my chair and giving him the phone. “I will call tomorrow, Mom!”

  “I will wait!”

  “I am here,” my father entered the conversation.

  “What do you mean? And where is here?” Retorted my mother.

  And I hurried to the table. While my father did not see, I'd grab another thirty grams of vodka. And it was high time to get the dumplings out of the pot. Kira had already eat
en the fried eggs, and dabbed the bread in the remains of the yolk. She did not even look at the vodka, or rather, shook her still wet head when Pavlovich pointed to her glass. Then I’d take that…

  "For your health," I whispered.

  “To the enemy on the sea,“ Pavlovich winked at us, and we took a shot.

  I started towards the stove to take out the dumplings. A good dinner was planned...

  Lena ... what was she doing again?

  I should also check my mail. Surely, there were a couple of letters from her. And maybe, not only from her. I would check. It would be necessary to do this. But first, a joint dinner — and to watch some old and funny film. A perfect evening...

  And tomorrow, the tour again. The BB reported that analysts predicted a fast start to the most interesting part of the journey.

  What would our capricious fortune send us next?

  Chapter Sixteen.

  Resistance grows stronger.

  Fortune sent us a lot. And everything came along with trials — and despite this, also a lot of gifts scattered across the vast ocean. Very rich gifts.

  For example, there were huge herds of enormous whales, slow and low-risk creatures. The hunters killed them easily, and took the loot.

  Standing out of the water were separate "candles" and whole candelabra — thin and high rocks rising from the bottom of the ocean floor, breaking through the surface of the water and rising another ten meters, and sometimes even a hundred! Some of the rocks were covered with valuable herbs, others had dozens of nests full eggs. A couple of "candles" consisted entirely of very rare mineral. And then they were immediately smashed to pieces.

  Still, flocks of low-flying birds constantly crossed our course. Once it got to the point that we all became like inveterate hunters, skillfully using any weapon, right up to the most ridiculous. You threw up a boot – and soon it fell down again, and a couple of ducks flopped behind it, immediately turning into already plucked carcasses. The hunt was over. You could cook it or eat it raw — that was good for half-orcs.