The Clan

by D. Rus

  "So by themselves they're useless, aren't they?"

  "No, they're not," Zena protested. "If you drink them, they'll give you a temporary Vampirism ability and part of the dealt damage will come back to you as hits. The number defines its strength and duration. No need to cringe. It tastes of grenadine juice—no innocent babies were harmed in its making."

  "I see. So what now? Are we all clear?"

  Zena made a face. "I wouldn't be so sure. In case you didn't notice, these were the youngsters, not a single Elder in sight. It could be they're leveling their young in which case they're off to lick their wounds. Alternatively, these were only skirmishers before letting out the big guns, the Nest masters. In which case we're toast."

  "So what did they try to achieve? We've chopped up a nice pile of vampires. Now you'll resuscitate Freckles, then we'll be ready for round two. They should have attacked us all at once."

  "Not really. Freckles will have a debuff now. They've burned out our long-term abilities and sussed out our potential and tactics. The Elders won't risk their necks, they get their XP anyway getting stronger every day, growing a new level every week. And the youngsters will respawn in twenty-four hours. They don't have much to lose and they won't drop below level 100. So it's fifty-fifty, really: either they're going to attack us now, all of them, or they'll let us go. Preferably, the latter. That's it, my mana's at fifty, I'll be resuscitating Freckles before she screws my PM up completely."

  We spent the next fifteen minutes cleaning ourselves up, buffing and restoring mana. Finally Zena shrugged, "It looks like they won't be coming."

  The next moment the bloodsuckers attacked us again. Talk about speaking too soon. Next time I should duct-tape her evil mouth shut!

  The Junior vampires unstealthed first. There weren't many of them left, seven at the most. We accepted the fight, distributed the targets and began casting. Then about a dozen Elders appeared on the scene, followed by the Patriarch on top of the already-familiar cliff with his entourage of three high-level warriors.

  Zena glanced at them and swore through her teeth, shaking her head. "Kill whoever we can and retreat. We can't fight through them. Team up and try to kill at least a few, we have thirty secs at most!"

  I chose an Elder busy fighting with Whizz. The rogue chick was desperately spending all of her abilities and combos trying to destroy an opponent of equal strength. I set both my pets on him and began siphoning off his life hoping that the spell lived up to its promise of ignoring all types of magic resists.

  "We're leaving! Freckles, pull us out!" I barely recognized Zena's voice. Targeted by three ancient vampires, she was busy fighting them, sending sparks, blood and f-words flying as the four were swirling around.

  My target wasn't going to last long: the others had already forced the vampire's hits into the orange zone. Gritting my teeth with disappointment, I activated Destructive Touch. Bang! The Elder lost six-something hundred hits and collapsed onto the rocks. The evacuator popped open. Freckles pulled us out a few hundred feet away from the scene. Trust my luck to land in a crevice in the cliff twenty feet deep, losing half the hits in the process.

  I heard her cast a portal spell—a classic group one this time. With a pop, we found ourselves about three miles from the battlefield, just next to the Manticore's Lair. Good job we'd noted its location—well done, Freckles. Saved us the trouble of retracing all the way back. The girls hissed and cussed under their breath and still some sounds were missing. Too quiet. Almost knowing what I was about to see, I checked the group's status. Minus Zena and Charmsy. Oh.

  I checked the group chat. Zena was there spitting orders as she changed into a spare kit meting out instructions to the rest of us. I got my share, too:

  Relax, dude, this is business as usual. Charmsy and I have respawned at the Guild's, I just need five sec to discuss something with someone, then Freckles will bring us back. Just wait up a bit.

  The five seconds lasted a good quarter of an hour. Add to it the teleports followed by buffs and meditation time—the clock kept ticking. I had barely two hours of paid time left and we had covered barely five miles.

  Zena came over and crouched next to me. "Keeping an eye on the time, eh?"

  I nodded.

  "You understand, don't you, that we're not going to make it?"

  I nodded again.

  "Actually, time isn't the only problem. We won't be able to make it past the vampires. We've got to either hire more people, at least the same again, or take another road past the nearest city, but that's 150 miles with no guarantee of success."

  I shook my head, "Two teams for another twenty-four hours, that's fifteen grand. Too much. I'm not some oligarch picking dosh from money trees."

  Zena lay her minute green hand on my chainmail gauntlet. "I understand. We've been getting the measure of you. You're all right. You're not bossing anyone around. You're not tight with money. And you're not an idiot. Summing it all up, we've got a counter proposal for you."

  I looked up at her with interest. All sarcasm was gone from her intelligent eyes.

  "We'll switch to an hourly rate. Strictly as a private offer: the guild doesn't list this kind of service. This way, you're happy and we can skip the 20% guild tax. Just do keep your mouth shut about it, okay? I've already had my first warning. Four hundred an hour, will that be okay with you?"

  That was a good offer. In fact, it was perfect. My freshly-gained authority was starting to bring in its first dividends. I needed to tell my inner greedy pig to take a leaf out of my book. Not everything is measured in money. Good contacts and healthy relationships can often do more than any amount of gold.

  "Agreed," I said. "But that's not all. You've just said we can't get through."

  "I did. But I haven't finished talking yet. Now, I have a friend. She collects those numbered vials. She has seventy-one of them already. Whenever she hears about a new vampire spot—especially a fresh nest like this where they may drop rare numbers—you can't stop her. I've had a word with her. She can bring her team to join us if they get the loot and you don't claim the nest and promise to keep the information under wraps for a week. What do you say to that?"

  "I say, awesome! Thanks, Zena! You're the best!" unexpectedly for myself, I leaned over and pecked her snub little nose. Then I drew back blushing as I realized what I'd just done.

  Zena burst out laughing. The girls' faces blossomed with unsure smiles. It wasn't often their leader laughed so wholeheartedly, especially without a good reason. On the contrary, this was some serious brow-wrinkling time.

  Zena looked up at me, her eyes moist with cheerful tears. "I bet you thought I'd drop my frog skin and turn into a princess?"

  Taking in my embarrassed face, she laughed some more, a happy laughter as she blotted the corners of her eyes with a promptly-materialized hanky.

  We spent another hour waiting for the other team. I relaxed, trying to enjoy the fact that my money was flowing away, direction unknown. I had a funny feeling everything was going right. Everything was as it had to be. So I dozed off on the grass under the gentle sun.

  I awoke as Zena gently shook my shoulder. "Get up, commander. The reinforcements are here. Time to clip the vampires' fangs."

  Astra's team was a cut above my own. Although her ladies belonged to the same Sullen squad, all of them were a good thirty or forty levels above Zena's team. Plus vampire-tailored gear. Much to their disappointment (and to my quiet joy) we crossed the vampires' territory without a glitch. The bloodsuckers just didn't dare attack a group twice as big. Astra kept looking this way and that, indignant, as her two rogues branched out a few hundred feet, trying to encourage the cautious vampires, but they'd apparently thought better of it. The tough chick pursed her thin lips, promising to sieve the area and dig it all up as long as she found the wretched nest. At least she stuck to her part of the deal, taking our team all the way to the Bone Fortress. There, she shook our hands reminding us about her exclusive rights to the farm. Impatience glinted i
n her eyes as she shifted from one foot to the other, impatient to bolt off and add to her vial collection. True collectors are all like that. I remember reading about some rare stamp or other leaving a bloodied trail of collectors' bodies, too weak to fight their obsession.

  The fortress protected the narrow—and, more importantly, the only—passage leading to the boulder-locked Valley of Fear. Its startling architecture had a bad effect on my head. The unknown builders had used giant dragon bones as building material. Twenty-foot high vertebrae formed a massive wall from one end of the passage to the other—the wall highly resistant to both steel and magic. The towers were put together from ribs, the enormous skull serving as the gate tower, about fifty feet high, its fangs as tall as myself. No idea if it delivered on its promise, but the visual effect definitely did.

  We were already about five hundred feet away from it when a heavy steel spear sank into the ground not far from us. We got the message and stopped watching the fortress defenders appear on the walls: a good couple hundred skeleton archers and warriors carrying shields and short broadswords. Among them we glimpsed the stooping silhouettes of Liches wrapped in their gray cloaks. Considering that every skeleton was way over a 100-plus, trying to storm the fortress without a small army for backup was madness to say the least.

  Zena stared at me with interest. "Here we are. The contract's closed. You owe us eight hundred for the two extra hours. But honestly, I wouldn't mind spending it on a few front-row tickets to see you charge it."

  I was riding a wave of reckless courage as sensing the end of my long-winded journey gave me added strength and nerve. I readjusted the Crown of the Overlord on my head. "Agreed," I gave her a wink. "Choose your seat and go get some popcorn. And don't you tell anyone you haven't seen anything."

  At least that way I had someone to resuscitate my arrow-perforated body, I added mentally. I also wanted to leave some lasting impression on the girls. I liked them. It would be a good idea to catch their interest with some intrigue and some prospectives. Our clan's combat section was desperate for a few battle-wise warriors.

  I left the group and waved my hand to them. Slowly I walked toward the fortress.

  "Make a death wish..." one of the girls whispered behind my back.

  When I passed the spear that was buried deep in the ground, I ran my hand along its shaft as if I owned it, my insides shrinking in anticipation of yet another one already in the air, about to pin me down like a large beetle. One step. Then another. A bead of sweat slid down my face. My feet raising clouds of dust as birds sang in the sky, I walked, moving my wooden legs, until I entered the shadow cast by the skull. I stopped right in front of its grimacing face and tilted my head up, peering into the dark void of its eye sockets. Slowly, its jaw opened, allowing me access to the fortress. Looked like I made it.

  Chapter Ten

  From the Analytics Department report made at the AlterWorld Corporation's last board meeting.

  Agenda: The tendencies in AlterWorld's self-induced development.

  Recently, we've been witnessing a new and rather frightening tendency as AlterWorld seems to be switching to perma mode all by itself, not only acquiring more and more independence but also gaining depth, recreating and generating its own past and present.

  Just one example. During our worldbuilding phase, we came up with a multitude of myths and legends for our game concept. One of them was the story of Centaurs that had populated the world's prairies from ocean to ocean, then disappeared in as yet unknown circumstances. The gaming community kept pestering the admins to create an event that would bring the Centaurs back into the game. A week ago, the forums exploded with the news of their return, complete with videos and screenshots, even unique loot items that suited the new four-legged mounts. The sole problem being, we hadn't introduced any Centaurs, not even at a design draft stage! The world had created them on its own accord.

  We won't even mention little details like the discovery of the Cursed King's lost sword or the grave of the legendary hero Sadaus, etc., etc., that we the developers have nothing to do with!

  J. Howards, Director of the Analytics Department

  * * *

  The dragon skull's massive lower jaw dropped open, thudding against the ancient cobblestones. Its mouth was at least fifteen feet wide—big enough for a wagon to pass had it not been barred by a row of teeth, perfectly white and straight. So how was I supposed to squeeze through?

  The problem resolved itself naturally. Noiselessly, the front teeth folded in, exposing a dark cavity behind. I caught a cool whiff of lavender as air escaped from inside. Did they have an aircon there or something?

  I stepped in quite willingly, especially as the darkness proved not as pitch black as I'd thought. The skull bones emanated a greenish glow making movement inside quite comfortable. I had barely taken a dozen paces when the teeth shut close behind my back. The glow turned crimson; my head felt as if clasped by a steel band. My vision darkened. I dropped to my knees. The heavy boulders of someone else's thoughts stirred in my mind,

  What an interesting sample of a sentient microorganism. He thought of using the Crown of the Overlord as a white flag, manipulating the lower organisms' primary instincts. Oh vain creature, you can't even start to comprehend what it is that you're wearing on your empty head. Heaving said that, who am I to accuse anyone of having an empty skull? And you seem to collect astral marks. The mark of a newborn god, three High Spell cooldown bars, the mark of a Dark Princess and of my little Bone Dragon brother. Next time you reincarnate, don't forget to thank him for the few extra moments of life his mark has granted you. And now, prepare to part with your power willingly. That would considerably simplify and quicken the process of killing you whilst giving me a few extra bits of energy, allowing me to drag out my miserable existence for a short while. I still might see the Titans come back; even Ophion himself might turn his regard to his prostrated servant...

  The alien conscience tolled in my head, suppressing my own will. Thinking was a struggle: I just couldn't force myself to resist the dragon's will, let alone do something against it. I just couldn't have cared less. If only I could take a nap in this cool numbness...

  I don't know what gave me new heart. It could have been the Fallen One's power forcing its way through the magic-absorbing ancient bones. It could also have been my inner greedy pig throwing a wobbly in my head as he realized we were at the point of being not just killed but also robbed.

  "Wait," I forced my lips to move. "What's the point of killing the golden goose? You need strength, don't you? I can arrange for hundreds of sentient beings to scale your walls and dozens of volunteers to cram into your mouth for you to chew on."

  The pressure on my chest subsided somewhat. I could finally take in a lungful of air.

  "You sound interesting, o micro sentient. Speak on."

  "Have you ever heard about the First Temple?"

  "Have I?" the glow around me flashed as a wave of crippling aggression assaulted my consciousness, sending me reeling back to my knees. Blood trickled from my nose and ears as my life bar blinked, shrinking rapidly.

  "Have I!" I heard as if through a layer of cotton wool. "I was the first to take the impact of the astral breach! The lands around the temple were littered with my scales and the bodies of the slain metal giants and their steel-shelled servants. It was after that battle that the Scarlet Hills had turned into the Dead Lands and their beautiful poppy meadows had become the Valley of Fear. All life had turned into dust and those who possessed enough magic to combat the invisible death had become the walking dead. Look at the proud freemen crawling my spine in the shape of skeletons! Arise, o sentient one. No one dies here without my permission."

  A refreshing surge of life coursed through my body, returning me my sight and hearing. I shook my head. "What happened after the breach, then?" I managed. "Did they close the astral portal?"

  "The Titans never left enemies behind. Once they'd squeezed them back into their own realm, they fol
lowed them, intending to teach them a lesson and find their true rulers. None of them have ever come back, though. The Temple was destroyed, the Titans were gone, and all life was terminated by the invisible force: in the three days that followed, all the flesh came off my bones which still glow until this very day. Here I lie now, feeding on crumbs of micro energies. Now you've raked it all up... so much so that I even wasted some of my precious energy on healing you, you miserable piece of protoplasm. Now the time of my rebirth has been moved another twenty-four hours. If it keeps going like this, I'll only need to hold out for another hundred and eighteen thousand years. Plus another day which you owe me now. Speak up!"

  Jesus. How's that for blackmail. First he tried to strangle me, then he poured some cold water over me and fixed me up with a bill.

  "Ahem," I cleared my throat. "I can restore the First Temple."

  Bang! It was like being stuck inside a giant church bell hit by a howitzer. In an already well-practiced motion, I dropped to my knees, opening my mouth in a silent grunt. As I clutched my ears, blood poured down my hands.

  "You bastard dragon! You're gonna kill me before you have a chance to really learn anything from me. Can't you keep your emotions in check?"

  The riot of colors died down as the swirling food processor in my head had finally stopped its maddening rotation. Bony idiot, the killer of the immortals—trust him to scorch my brains and pretend he wasn't even there.

  "Say it again."

  "You bastard dragon-"

  "No! Not that. What was it you said?"

  I squeezed one eye shut in anticipation of a new bell toll. "I can restore the First Temple," I blurted out, shrinking, waiting for a new Bang! It didn't come, phew. My new dragon friend had somehow restrained his primary instincts.

  "Go on."

  An inkling of an idea scratched the surface of my mind and I caught it just in time. "Eh, Sir Dragon-"

  "I'm Tianlong, you moron! Long for friends."