The Way of the Shaman [06] Shaman's Revenge

by Vasily Mahanenko

  “We haven’t the forces to take that city,” the Emperor shook his head. “At first we held out the hope that the Free Citizens would be able to rout Shadow’s enormous armies, but as soon as Geranika entered the battle, our faith in victory faded. The Free Citizens continue to assault Armard by inertia, and they have managed to breach its walls several times, but they could not entrench themselves and develop this breakthrough further. I sent the masters of Stealth to look for Adelaide, but they too have failed.”

  “You didn’t send Plinto,” I objected. One of my clan members could receive a quest. I needed to help him do so.

  “Plinto was punished and stripped of his powers.”

  “They should be back now. Plinto has a week to prove that he is the best.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Naahti said pensively. “I shall send him right after our meeting. But it doesn’t do to depend on Plinto’s agility and fortune. We need to insure ourselves.”

  “What do you know about the properties of the Altarian Falcon?” I asked, understanding what Naahti was getting at. “Can it scatter the clouds, stop the rivers, or subject the beasts? What is Karmadont’s creation capable of?”

  “Karmadont lived thousands of years ago,” the Emperor smiled bitterly, stroking Tisha’s hair as she wept beside him. “The scepter was lost about the same time. There is no mention of this item in all the tomes of Anhurs. We have already checked. Mahan, I can’t force you to go look for something I don’t properly know about myself. I can only ask you. You have a week to find the Altarian Falcon.”

  No quest appeared. So this really was a request of the Imitator, instead of a scenario event. Erm…Is that possible in Barliona?

  After a little thought, I opened my system panel and wrote a letter to the game admins.

  Good day! I’d like to report that I just received a request from the Emperor. However, I received no quest to match it. The, uh, Imitators—they’re not planning on conquering the world by any chance, are they?

  “I will try to fulfill your request. The Altarian Falcon shall be found.”

  As soon as I spoke the typical response for accepting a quest that I had not actually been issued, a notification popped up telling me that I had received a response from the game admins:

  Hi! Everything’s fine. The scenario hasn’t been finished yet. In fact, we haven’t even tested it yet and are fixing bugs on the fly. After all, we have to fix the Shadow Dragon disaster somehow…So assume that you already have the quest and the reward is ‘variable.’ By the way, what the hell do you need that hilt for anyway?

  Why look at that! Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re aren’t after you! While I was chilling here, the devs are trying to salvage the work they put into the Shadow Dragon scenario and therefore constantly tracking my whereabouts. Why mine? What’d I do to them? In any case, it’s clear now where the Altarian Falcon—which no one’s ever heard of before—showed up from: They had just made it up!

  “The Herald shall return you to the city. Take this amulet,” the Emperor offered me what looked like a bunny leg on a chain. “It’ll conceal the Shadow item you’re so attached to.”

  The Emperor didn’t mislead me—Viltrius didn’t even bat an ear when I appeared with the hilt in my bag. Mr. Kristowski had already managed to familiarize himself with the castle and had drawn up a list of preliminary measures for stabilizing the clan. He presented me with several candidates for the positions of financial manager, personnel manager, activities manager, and social media manager. Mr. Kristowski placed a particular emphasis on the need to advertise the clan and present it in a good ‘gaming’ light.

  After I familiarized myself with the offered candidates, whose hiring would be included in the costs of the management service, I added an additional term to our future contract—Altameda’s coordinates would remain hidden from everyone. Viltrius and the portal demon maintained the secrecy of Altameda’s location, yet the new hires might want to take a walk around the castle where the coordinates could not be blocked. I didn’t need that.

  Mr. Kristowski flew back to Anhurs to recruit the new people and to terminate my contract with the recruitment firm. Meanwhile, I sat down in my favorite rocking throne and, rocking to the beat of the song stuck in my head, began staring at the nearest wall and seeing absolutely nothing. My thoughts wandered far from Altameda’s halls. They circled my meeting with the Emperor, trying to understand the principle by which the devs would hide the quest in Barliona. The only existing creation of Karmadont was the Imperial throne. That’s where I’d begin tomorrow. I assume the devs and scripters will be able to adjust it to my needs. That’ll be the first step. The second would have to be a visit to the hermit. I need to figure out what Karmadont was really like. The third step would be to send Plinto to Armard. Let him have his fun there. The fourth and my favorite would be the next Dungeon. Tomorrow Kalatea and her Shamans would complete their adaptation to our continent and receive the ability to kill the minions of Shadow. There’s only a week to complete this Dungeon, recover the missing items and head out to Armard on my own. Why should anyone take Geranika at his word? If he’s already blackmailing the Emperor, he’s not going to stop. The only way out is to eliminate the cause of the blackmail. That is, rescue Adelaide from Geranika!

  I sorted my mail but did not find a letter from the old man or his associates. Either he’d come to terms with my disappearance, or I was executing his plan so accurately that there was no need to contact me. Or there was some third factor that I didn’t know about.

  All of a sudden, I felt a pang of anxiety—so sharp that I jumped up and began to pace around the hall. It was as if someone close to me was in great danger and desperately needed my help. I went through the mail and the chat logs one more time, but there was nothing that could have caused such worry. I contacted Kornik, but my teacher only made fun of my condition and announced that this was simply my Shamanic powers returning to me…and that earlier I had been blind and deaf, but now my premonition had returned and was now telling me what a worthless Shaman I was—especially for bugging my poor ailing teacher. Making sure that I really could summon Spirits again, I tried to calm myself and take control of my feelings, yet with every passing minute my anxiety grew stronger and stronger.

  Guessing that perhaps this was somehow tied with something out in reality, I left the game. The cocoon’s lid slid aside, I traipsed around the house, but didn’t discover anything. Just in case, I picked up the handset and got in touch with the operator—everything was fine though. Since I was at it, I asked for some beer and again began to wander around the apartment. My anxiety refused to leave me even in reality. To the opposite—it seemed to be growing even stronger.

  Someone needed my help really badly. But who?

  Kornik? I had checked. Fleita? She wasn’t in Barliona. Plinto? He was with the Emperor, receiving his quest. And anyway, he could hold his own easily, especially now that he’d regained his Rogue powers. So then who?

  Not Anastaria surely? Impossible! Considering her relationship with me, the only thing I could feel towards her was hate. Certainly not anxiety with hints of concern.

  The long-term immersion capsule features a complete set of medical sensors that keep track of its subject’s organism. In the event of an emergency it would simply eject the player from the game. Out of harm’s way. Worried that perhaps I was experiencing heart problems, since I’d never felt something like this before in reality, I spent half an hour on a complete medical analysis of my health. The capsule’s diagnosis was unambiguous: ‘cleared for orbital missions and even extravehicular activity.’ So my physiology was not the problem here.

  Damn! What is going on with me?

  “Darling, are you ready to preform your spousal duty today?” I sent Anastaria a crude question as soon as I reentered the game. Having ticked off all the options and found no reason for my anxiousness, I decided to try the unrealistic options. I began with Stacey.

  Anastaria d
idn’t reply. The system did not announce that Anastaria wasn’t in Barliona so I knew for sure that Stacey had heard me. But she didn’t reply.

  “Stacey, I don’t want to fail the High Priestess’s quest. Are we going to meet tomorrow or push it back?”

  Silence reigned.

  “Are you even alive?”

  Silence.

  You cannot summon your other half. Your other half is in a trial arena.

  “Plinto, I need your help. It’s an emergency!” I wrote into the clan chat when I realized that neither Plinto nor Anastaria were going to answer their amulets. I assumed he was still with the Emperor.

  Silence.

  “I call upon a Herald. I require your assistance.” I became desperate.

  “You called me and I came,” sounded the Herald’s bell. “If your summons was a false one…”

  “I have reason to believe that Anastaria is in danger. Real danger—not just something in-game. Can you hear me, developers? Check up on her!”

  “Your summons was a false one. Therefore…” The Herald’s face froze, his eyes glassed over and James’s voice sounded through him:

  “What’s all this fuss? Why are you freaking out? What does Anastaria have to do with anything?”

  “I have no idea. Yesterday she was yanked out of the Dungeon to some trial arena and today she’s unreachable and I have a really bad feeling about it. Please check on her!”

  “I think maybe you’ve been playing too long. You should pop out to reality, take a break, get some sleep.”

  “I just came from there. Listen, I’m not asking you to do anything crazy. Just check on what she’s doing and ask her if she is okay. That second part is really important. That’s all I want.”

  “Do you understand that this would constitute interfering in the player’s gameplay? Without official permission—and I should mention that I do have permission to speak with you—we aren’t allowed to interact with players.”

  “Can you imagine what’ll happen if something happens to her?! What if she’s in some closed game loop without access to the outside world?”

  “Things like that don’t exist in Barliona.”

  “Oh yeah? What about prison?”

  “Apples to oranges!”

  “Please, James, I’m begging you—trust me! Just trust me! If this is revenge for the project you lost, then adjust the scenario. I’ll steal the egg back from Renox and bring it back to Geranika on a silver plate. Please just check on Anastaria!”

  “You’re not going to give up, are you? Check on her check on her…All right, we’ll do it! But if we find that nothing’s happened to her…”

  The Herald’s eyes regained their alertness and color and he completed his phrase:

  “…you are hereby fined in the amount of ten thousand gold. The fine has been withdrawn from your account. The next false summons will carry a penalty of twenty thousand gold.”

  Collapsing in my chair wearily, all I could do was smile. The Corporation just went on making money every way it could—even one player’s desire to help another. The one good thing was that as soon as I had finished speaking with James, my feeling of distress passed. Completely.

  If the anxiety had been caused by something that’s happened to Anastaria, I’ll kill the girl myself.

  Chapter Nine. The Dungeon of Shadow

  “Mahan, I’ve crunched all the data and you don’t have any objective reasons to reject me,” Fleita announced the next morning. “Let me join your clan!”

  I hadn’t received any news from James or Anastaria. I messaged Stacey several times, but either received the ‘this player is not in Barliona’ message or nothing at all. Anastaria had left the game without saying anything to me. A few more times I asked out loud what had happened, hoping that someone was still watching me, but there was no response to this either. The only consequence was that Viltrius brought me a mug of strong tea, evidently concerned that his master was talking out loud to no one. In view of the upcoming monumental event called ‘the Raid of the Shamans’ which was scheduled for the next day, I decided to leave everyone alone and get some good sleep.

  “You can’t join my clan,” I shook my head. “The rules say that subjects of one Empire can’t join a clan of another one.”

  “Kreel did! He has people from Kartoss and Malabar playing with him!”

  “He’s from the Free Lands. They allow that kind of thing over there—with a ton of restrictions of their own.”

  “Not at all! Evolett has several players from different continents! Aren’t I in the same boat? Let’s try it at least, Mahan!”

  “I’m not against it, but there’s one ‘but’—you have to leave the Dark Legion first. Are you really prepared to risk your position in the top clan of Kartoss over a small chance that we succeed?”

  “Erm…” the girl muttered.

  “That’s what I’m talking about…”

  “I call upon the Magister!” exclaimed Fleita suddenly. “I require your assistance.”

  “You called me and I came,” the analog of Malabar’s Heralds appeared in my hall. “If your summons was a false one, you will be punished.”

  “I want to join Mahan’s clan, but he belongs to a different Empire!” Fleita said. “The two Empires are building relationships, forging political alliances, making exchanges and conducting trade. So why can’t the Free Citizens join whatever clan they wish? Why are these restrictions still around? I want the authorities to review my request and permit me to join the clan of my teacher…Please.”

  “Your request has been heard,” the Magister replied after a moment. “It shall be reviewed by the Dark Lord. Your summons has been deemed well-founded. May I be of any further assistance?”

  “No, thank you,” a broad grin unfurled on Fleita’s face and—as soon as the Kartossian messenger left my castle, reminding me one more time that I needed to get some hobgoblins…after first tossing Anastaria’s chest with its smelly contents…after first gaining access to it…after first killing myself from all these ‘after firsts’…ahem, but so yes, as soon as the Magister left us, Fleita squealed loud enough for all of Altameda to hear her: “I told you it would work!”

  “What would work?” I asked.

  “I read that the two Empires are ready to work together in their struggle against Geranika, so all kinds of alliances, weddings and similar stuff is being arranged. That’s why I figured that maybe I should try and join your clan. I mean, I want a projection too!”

  “You risked ten thousand gold for a projection?” I exclaimed.

  “How much?! Ten thousand?! Where’d you get that number?” Fleita answered just as impulsively.

  “I’ve uh summoned a Herald falsely before.”

  “No way! Will you tell me why? Mahan, will you let me join your clan if they allow it? What projection do you think I’ll get? I want a little Dragon too, but one that looks like my Totem.”

  “By the way, how’s Bunny doing?” I interrupted the girl’s rant.

  “Well…” Fleita rubbed her nose cutely and confessed: “I kinda killed him a little. He still has three days before he respawns.”

  “You killed him a little?”

  “We were hunting rats, a wolf showed up, I didn’t make it in time…Anyway, everything we’d leveled up to that point is gone. It sucks.”

  “You’re leveling up your Totem through hunting?”

  “Well, yeah. Am I doing something wrong?”

  “To be honest, yes, everything in fact. That’s not how you level up a Totem.”

  “How then? There’s nothing on the forums about it! How’d you train your Draco?”

  “All right, listen up,” I assumed a theatrical pose to Fleita’s endless irritation and proceeded to tell the girl everything I had learned about nurturing a Totem up to that point. I didn’t want to become another Kornik or Prontho. Almis’s approach is more to my liking—at least he taught me something, unlike the other two green fellows.

  “No way!” m
y student interrupted me periodically. “I can level him up to Level 20 by just playing? They grow like children? Wow! That would’ve never occurred to me!”

  “Mahan, this is Kalatea.” Our lesson was cut short by a vibrating amulet. “We’re in position…”

  The Dungeon of Shadow really was full of shadows. The entrance was located right in the roots of the desiccated oak, so the Dungeon’s decor was accordingly decked in gloom: It seemed like the earthen walls from which the tree’s roots protruded were pressing in on us and were about to collapse on our heads, and this made the Dungeon a hell for anyone suffering from claustrophobia. Instead of using torches for illumination, the Dungeon’s light emanated from some kind of green and glowing bugs, endowing the players’ faces with a deathly pallor.

  “Bjorg, you’re on point,” Kalatea began to arrange the groups. “Aozaki and Antsinthepantsa, you stay with Mahan. You’re his ears.”

  “My ears can be my own ears,” I joked—happy that I had decided to spend the money on an Astrum language pack the day before. It cost a pretty penny, but it was looking like it had been worth it. Since I had two invitations to the Astrum palace, I figured it’d be nice to understand what all the gossip would be about.

  “Wonderful! In that case, you can join the fourth group. What’s your specialization?”

  “Erm…Rephrase that question in an accessible language.”

  “She’s asking whether you’ll help heal us or help us bash everything that moves,” Plinto quipped, rolling his eyes in picturesque exasperation with the dummies he was forced to work with. It’s nice to be picturesque and all but in doing this, Plinto also showed everyone that he understands the language of Astrum. Kalatea simply smiled to herself.

  As I guessed, the Emperor had ordered the Rogue to infiltrate Armard. Plinto made one successful attempt, passing within the walls, but didn’t stray any further. According to him, the teleportation problems remained as before and it was still impossible to pull a player out of the city, so he’d start working on Geranika and his capital in earnest only after our raid. The main info was in hand—entering the city was complicated but possible. Even Reptilis hadn’t gotten that far.