Avatar of Light

by Dmitry Bilik

  “I got it. If I as much as sneeze in the wrong direction, I’ll be dead,” I said. The adrenaline rush had begun to abate, taking my initial courage with it. Still, I was doing my best to keep up a front. “I don’t need your money. You’re keeping my friend prisoner. I’m prepared to forget your debt in exchange for her.”

  Instead of just smiling or chuckling politely covering his mouth with his hand, the governor roared with laughter like a fully grown donkey. His goons — who’d only a moment ago had been quite prepared to rip me apart like a Jack Russel with a hot water bottle — followed suit.

  “All the money in Purgator wouldn’t be enough to pay for Arts,” the governor replied, wiping away the tears. “And in a couple of days, she’ll be mine for good.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You see,” he said, his original smug manner returning to him, “there was this item that I needed. So I struck a deal with the beautiful Arts who promised she’d get it for me. And what do I see? The deadline for the contract — which is the beginning of a new cycle of the Blue Moon — is only a two days away, and she’s done zilch!”

  “How do you expect her to procure the item if you’re keeping her locked up?”

  “I’d have loved to let her go. Provided she swore an oath that she’d be back before the deadline. But no, our princess is much too proud… or stupid. That’s why I have to keep her under lock and key, just to save myself the trouble of having to look for her.”

  ‘Does it matter who procures the item?”

  He gave me a long look. “What do you mean?”

  “If I bring what you’re looking for, would you let her go?”

  ‘Oh,” he paused, pensive. “Can’t see why not. If you bring me the item I need before the start of the new Blue Moon cycle, sure I’ll let her go. Otherwise I’ll take your pussycat,” he pointed at Litius. “I’d say that was fair enough.”

  My mouth went dry. I tried not to look at Litius who indeed resembled a bedraggled cornered beast. The worst part about it was, I had no choice now. I couldn’t renege on my promise.

  “What exactly are you looking for?”

  “The Elixir of Power. Jumping Jack’s got it. If you bring it within two days, you can pick up both your friends. If you decide to flee the coup or don’t fulfil your part of the bargain, then…” he made a helpless gesture.

  “Very well. Come on, Litius, let’s go.”

  “Oh no,” the governor raised a warning finger, “your pussycat will stay here with us. I swear I’ll treat him like a human being while you’re away. He will come to no harm.”

  Another golden flash sealed his oath.

  “…But once your time has run out, my hands will be free as far as your friends are concerned. Now just go. We have nothing more to say.”

  He made a sign to Rock who walked over to me and started ejecting me from the room. There was nothing more I could do but obey and leave.

  Once outside, I perched myself on the front steps, shaking with nerves, anger and moral fatigue. Oh great. I was a real master negotiator, wasn’t I? I’d entered his house with the only creature that could have helped me and ended up leaving him hostage.

  Still, just sitting here was pretty stupid, wasn’t it? I got up and staggered down to the local tavern. Crude plank tables and chairs, a Purg waiter and a small bulletin board by the bar with a few missions posted on it.

  For three grams of dust, I ordered a plate of fried pork and onions and a beer. Once it had arrived, I attacked the fragrant meat with gusto and polished it off in five minutes flat. This I regretted immediately as a sharp pain shot through my stomach. I shouldn’t have overtaxed my system. Deciding that it couldn’t possibly get any worse, I continued to sip the beer, thinking.

  I’d had a strange presentiment that had it been so easy, Arts would have already procured said elixir for that schmuck. The fact that she hadn’t done so meant that there was some kind of complication. Having said that, there was one thing I didn’t know about contracts here. Were they as binding as oaths, or could they be broken? Because if they could, nothing prevented that asshole from taking the elixir from me only to send me off to feed the antelope. Not by hand, you understand, but as fodder.

  Alternatively, that might allow me to disregard the contract too. But in that case, how was I supposed to liberate Arts and Litius? That was the $64,000 question.

  The best thinking strategy is pretend you’re busy doing something else. That way the right answer just pops up automatically. Which was why I opened my interface.

  The good news was, the rachnaid Queen’s clutch of eggs was still there. Which meant I potentially had some capital. All I had to do was find someone to sell them to.

  Also, hadn’t they said something about me receiving a new level?

  Available points: 3

  Strength: 26 (x)

  Intellect: 18 (x)

  Fortitude: 20 (x2)

  Agility: 24 (x2)

  Stamina: 18 (x3)

  Rhetoric: 15 (x3)

  Speed: 16

  That was a no-brainer. Rhetoric and Stamina, of course. On one hand, they weren’t really the right attributes for the job. But what could I do? I seemed to be constantly leveling up the wrong skills.

  The last available point got me thinking. Both my knife and my Katzbalger were technically short-bladed weapons. Which meant that Agility would level up in synch with them. But Stamina wasn’t quite so clear-cut. Let’s invest it in that.

  Actually, two important things had also happened. My Vigor had stopped at 60 pt. which was twice as much as I’d started with. I might be able to level up Athletics now, why not? Secondly, the number of available charges had grown to 36. And once I’d reached level 10 which was already almost within sight, I could lower the number of cooldown points, too. Which would allow me four consecutive attempts at rewinding time.

  No, no, no, that’s not what I should be thinking about. I still needed to find out about Traug. Only this time, I’d have to change my visiting strategy. I shouldn’t be barging in trying to dictate my own terms but show a little more humility.

  My train of thought was broken by a glimpse of a familiar puny figure by the tavern door. Tartr walked in, approached the Purg behind the bar and started unloading all sorts of vials on the counter. The orange-skinned bartender studied everything fastidiously, then measured out some dust — a rather small amount, actually. Now I understood why this hobbit had been so happy to clean me out.

  “Tartr?” I called in a low voice.

  The alchemist turned round and gave me a friendly nod. Yeah right. With friends like these, who needs enemies? Even if I’d died, he’d have found a way to send me the bill. Now, too, he matter-of-factly sat at my table and cast a sideways glance at my beer mug, forcing me to ask for another mug and treat him.

  “Where’s your friend?” he asked, taking a sip.

  “Off on his own business. Listen, you don’t happen to know a guy called Jumping Jack?”

  He choked on his beer, exploding in a bout of coughing. I thumped him on his back. When he’d finally caught his breath, he gave me a reproachful look. Like, ‘you should have warned me first’.

  “What do you want with hm?” he asked.

  “I need to find him. He’s got something I need.”

  He laughed. “In that case, I don’t envy you. You’re not the first person who tried to rip off Jumping Jack. None of them have ever been seen since.”

  “Please expand. Who the hell is he, anyway?”

  “Jumping Jack is the most famous alchemist around here,” Tartr’s voice filled with equal doses of admiration and jealousy. “And he’s not the worst among the wizards, either. He used to live here during the time of the old governor.”

  “An alchemist? Not your mentor, by any chance?”

  “No,” he said, crestfallen. “He was the mentor of my mentor. As for me…” he hesitated, apparently unsure whether to tell me the whole story. “He didn’t accept me. He sa
id I had no aptitude for alchemy. Said I’d be able to keep a shop but that I’d never make a brilliant researcher.”

  “What else do you know about him?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Everyone thought he was the next candidate for governor. He was well respected in the Community…”

  “What happened, then?”

  “Pull and his goons, that’s what happened. The bastard put two and two together and started creating problems for Jack. He wanted to make him leave the Community. Apparently, he even tried to kill him. So Jack just left. He went into the mountains,” Tartr pointed out of the window, “and had all his stuff moved there: all his furniture, the chemicals, glassware, all the books and equipment. That’s where he lives now. Whoever tries to approach his cave has a death wish. It’s absolutely laden with traps.”

  “So stealing an elixir from him wouldn’t be viable? Is that what you’re saying?”

  He shook his head. “Impossible. No amount of cunning or crude force can do that. You have a better chance of seeing a pantherfen dance under the Blue Moon.”

  I didn’t want to inquire about the meaning of this particular expression. There were more important things to ask him about. “Does that mean that Pull and Jumping Jack are not the best of friends?”

  “They never were the best of friends, but now you just can’t imagine the degree of animosity between them.”

  “Excellent,” I said, easing myself away from the table. ‘This is simply wonderful. At least now I understand what I have to do.”

  Chapter 3

  IF ONE PARTICULAR cartoon theme song were to be believed[1], morning was the best time for visiting your friends. I couldn’t quite follow its sage advice, seeing as it was already afternoon, but it looked like I might have to visit Virhort’s top fortress anyway.

  Perched on the side of the mountain, the stronghold overhung the city. From a distance, it appeared tiny like a child’s toy — but as I approached, I was able to appreciate its quite impressive size. Massive round towers, tall walls and a sturdy squat donjon: the best way to storm the citadel was definitely from the air. Troops just couldn’t approach it via the narrow road lined with smooth sheer cliffs on one side — clearly the work of master stonemasons — and a precipitous drop on the other.

  Two Archali — a girl and a young man — guarded the main gates. Even though I’d never been religious, I couldn’t but appreciate the sheer beauty of their species: their exalted features, the tall bodies and most importantly, their neat, swan-like wings. They stood there like the epitome of Yin and Yang. Their shitty attitudes were the only departure from the traditional angelic norm. Which one of them didn’t hesitate to demonstrate right away.

  “Good morning,” I said boldly. “I’d like to see Commander Vifeil, please.”

  “The audience hours of the Hierarch Vifeil, Standard Bearer and Commander of the Fifth Legion of the Holy Host of the Archali, have already ended,” the angelic young man announced with a stone face.

  I got so lost listening to him that it took me some time to grasp the meaning of what he’d just said. So I couldn’t see the Commander today. Which unfortunately didn’t agree with my own plans.

  “The thing is, I’m not seeking an audience,” I said. “This isn’t a private matter. Vifeil has arrested my friends. I would like to know why.”

  “The audience hours of Hierarch Vifeil, Standard Bearer and-”

  “Oh, do shut up, Aryil,” the girl angel said. “You could ask the paladins about it. Our holy brothers in arms might know the reason.”

  “But we still can’t let you in,” the young man said with a hint of a smirk. “If you give me the paladin’s name, we might go and get him. All we need is the name of one of the seven paladins serving under Hierarch Vifeil, Commander of the Fifth Legion of the Holy Host of the Archa-”

  “I got it,” I hurried to say, trying to remember the name and rank of the female Archalus I’d met only recently. “In that case, could I please speak to Ilya, the Captain of the Second Company of the Fifth Legion?”

  To say I’d cut him down to size would be an understatement. The young man’s face fell, like that of a little boy who’d been mistakenly given the wrong Christmas present and then asked for it back.

  The girl beamed, however, and all but flapped her wings with joy. “Do you know Ilya? I could get her. What do I say?”

  “Just tell her I’m a friend of Arts’. She’ll know.”

  The next ten minutes the guard and I spent in each other’s silent company. I can’t say we did anything productive. The guard did his best stone-faced impersonation of a Kremlin sentry, pretending I wasn’t even there. Very well. No skin off my nose. He wasn’t at the top of the pile he thought he was. According to my Insight, he wasn’t even a Player. Apparently, the local commoners were more than happy to invite themselves to the Seekers’ Community. Why not? If you were lucky enough to kill a Kabirid or if you happened to be around when an Archalus died, you had every chance of becoming a Seeker yourself, inheriting their skills. The question was, how did they do it? If my memory served me correctly, a commoner couldn’t even enter a Players’ Community.

  “Not you again?” Ilya said behind me.

  I turned round. The Archali captain looked… how can I say it… she looked divine. Her light translucent robes didn’t make her look like a shapeless old hag; on the contrary, they seemed to highlight her shapely figure. Apparently, she was one of those women who eschewed bras, which was why it took me a while to remember what I was about to say. She must have noticed my inability to conduct a constructive discussion because she folded her wings and wrapped herself in her scarlet satin cloak.

  “I need to talk to you about a rather sensitive business,” I said in a hushed voice to make her understand I needed to speak to her in private.

  We moved some distance away from the guards. The Archalus girl kept craning her neck and hushing the other guard up who was trying to talk to her. She was clearly more interested in what we had to say rather than what he did. I took Ilya even further away, just in case.

  “You have my friend. Traug.”

  “What, that Korl smuggler? As soon as the commandant brings the garrison back, he’ll be doing a little digging down the mines.”

  “From what I hear, he’s being accused of stealing Angels’ Ashes, whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

  “Well, that’s simple. When Players die, they leave nothing behind. But when Archalus commoners die, they gradually decay, releasing what we call ashes. This friend of yours broke into our crypts and desecrated them. And not only here in Purgator, but also in Elysium.”

  Aha. That’s probably why his Karma was still light. Apparently, it only reflected what was good for your business, not for your soul.

  “That’s truly awful,” I said. “I understand it. But what would be the point sending one dumbass Korl down the mines? You wouldn’t happen to know of any way to get him out, would you? I would be greatly indebted to you.”

  She gave me a long appraising look, chewing her lower lip in thought. “I can see that you’ve somehow managed to join the Light since we last met. Otherwise I wouldn’t have even given you the time of day. But now… honestly, I’ve no idea if you can save your buddy. Although the accusations he’s facing aren’t punishable by death, they’re still quite serious. We’ll have to speak to the commander.”

  “Yeah yeah. Hierarch Vifeil, Standard Bearer and Commander of the Fifth Legion of the Holy Host of the Archali,” I finished her phrase for her.

  She shrugged. “I just call him Vif.”

  “That’s exactly what I’d like to ask you about. They told me to come tomorrow. But unfortunately, time is an issue.”

  “Yeah,” she nodded. “Very well. Follow me, Lightie.”

  She turned round and headed for the gates. When she approached the guards, she nodded at me to say I was no longer a persona non grata.

  The guards stepped aside. I walked past them and found myself in an
inner court crowded with outhouses. A huge stable housed several of what must have been gryphons: giant beasts with eagles’ heads, clawed front paws, and horses’ posteriors. The only difference being, they were almost twice as big as any horse. The only other thing that gave away their kinship with horses was their smell which really prevented me from taking in a good lungful. The place was bustling with Archali busy both walking and flying around, who didn’t seem to be fazed by the smell at all — looking at them, you’d think the place was filled with frankincense.