The Clan

by D. Rus

  And artifact jewelry, my inner greedy pig pointed out, spying the glimmer of bejeweled rings on a skeleton's fingers that were still clutching an expensive-looking sword. The ruby in its hilt was enormous. True, there was plenty of loot here but we weren't grave robbers, were we? Still I crouched over the body and lowered the torch wishing to read the stats. I didn't want to miss something epic, something lost in the dust of time, capable of moving mountains and shaking the earth.

  I brought my face closer, then recoiled. The skull stirred and swayed. A huge hairy spider forced its fat belly out through an eye socket. His beady lavender eyes stared at me with hatred as he waggled his mandibles, a little drop of cloudy yellow venom forming on them. No, thank you very much. Could never stand those eight-legged creepies. I spat in his direction and barely dodged when he spat back, the venom missing me and landing on a massive siege shield that almost covered a dwarf's skeleton. The metal spumed and smoked with corrosion. Ignoring my pride—no one could see me, anyway—I darted out of the creature's range.

  Finally, the dome. I probed it with my finger, afraid of poking through the fragile bubble. As if! Not a trace to be seen on the surface as strong as concrete. My attempt to punch it equally failed as the weird material was absorbing my blows without as much as a vibration or sound. I looked around for something more effective and found it: a mace with a top of meteoritic iron.

  I'll teach you to have doorbells! I took a swing and bashed at the dome, falling through it, weapon and all. The mace clattered over the floor while I found myself in a position unworthy of a warrior, standing on all fours with my hands flat on the flagstones. You didn't expect me to break my fall with my nose, did you? Grunting, I scrambled to my feet and looked back. The opening had already sealed as instantly as it had opened.

  "Liquid steel, UFO technologies," I commented under my breath as I studied the Llos altar unit in the braziers' uneven light.

  "The Impregnable Dome Shield," Ruata corrected me, emerging from the shadows. "The Great Goddess can learn from her mistakes. She'll never allow for another eventuality to submit her to oblivion. Hundreds of years ago a group of warriors of Light forced their way into the Temple through deceit and treachery, conducting the Banishing Rite. None of them lived to see the sun again but as the First Temple had already been destroyed, we couldn't summon the Great Mother back."

  Ruata's voice changed. She lowered her head, sinking on one knee in front of me. "Greetings, my lord and my husband."

  A shiver ran along my spine, my head foggy, my mind ringing with desire. I gulped, taking in the aroma of wild strawberries, unable to force my eyes away from the velvet of her bare neck.

  Mental attack!

  You've been exposed to some dangerous frequencies!

  Pheromone attack!

  We are taking measures to block and purge your organism of them.

  A wave of freshness ran over my body, washing out any unnecessary hormones and giving my mind a jolt. "Stop it, Ruata. You don't need magic crutches: you're beautiful in your perfection as you are."

  She raised her head, looking at me with surprise. Then she stood up, a promise in her smile, and stepped toward me, smothering me with the aura of her perfume: forest and strawberries and a woman's hot body.

  She shook her hands, flicking eight purple sparks from the tips of her fingers. They darted aside, burying themselves in the small heaps of incense that were piled up in golden bowls. Smoke swirled toward the ceiling. That was something I could relate to—hadn't I doubled up as an incense maker? I quickly scanned the stats,

  Submission Potion... the Powder of Bliss... Ecstasy Mix... the Brew of Desire...

  Ruata's soft hand lay on my cheek, forcing my head away from the bowls and toward her own eyes, dragging me into their purple vortex. Her eyes locked with mine, she rose on tiptoe, her lips reaching for me. The taste of wild strawberries and mint, of absinth, of cannabis...

  Repeat mental attack!

  You've been exposed to mind-altering substances!

  Pheromone attack!

  An unidentified alchemy attack!

  We are taking measures to completely block and purge your organism of them.

  My taste buds shut down. It felt akin to a dentist's anesthetic shot, the layers of smells replaced by a long-forgotten high school memory of a gas mask on my face: rubber and coal dust. My eyesight glitched, blinked and switched to black and white mode. Thank you, Macaria, thank you.

  Gently I prized her off me. "Another manipulation attempt, Princess, and we'll part enemies."

  "I'm so sorry, my Lord. I only wanted to be desirable for you..." she cast me a confused glance, lowering her head in guilt.

  My eyesight blinked again. The picture glitched and switched back to color. The magic of her lavender eyes didn't oppress me any more.

  Only now could I finally see her in a true light which instantly made me want to revert back to monochrome. The Princess looked, er, quite seductive. The torch flames behind her back shone through the thin silk, outlining her perfect shape. The dress's left chest pockmarked with hundreds of holes did little to conceal the perfect hemisphere of her breast. I gulped again. Even without using her mental magic, Ruata exuded the very essence of femininity, an unrestrained hurricane of passion. Wait a bit. What was that for a dress style? Covered in hundreds of cuts and spotted with rusty red from neck to its hem? Blood. It was everywhere: on the fine silk, on her hands and the floor, covering the altar and the plain steel dagger that had been thrown nonchalantly onto its black polished stone.

  "You... you sacrificed herself to Llos?"

  She gave me a tired smile. "It's not about Llos, really. I needed to do something to become equal in strength with the man I liked. He wasn't in a hurry to gain power. And tomorrow... tomorrow the Council of Elders was going to force their own choice of husband onto me."

  There was just a hint of reproach in her stare, but it was enough to make me want to apologize. "I'm sorry. I had too many things on my plate. The castle, the clan, that wretched Temple..."

  Stop! I shook my head forcing myself to shut up. It looked like even Divine Immunity wasn't able to completely block out her pressure. Still, I'd never been a henpecked doormat and wasn't going to become one any time soon. This kind of behavior just wasn't typical for me. Which meant it had been forced onto me. Another reason to stay away from this femme fatale. I braced myself as if about to take an ice dip, and spoke,

  "Ruata. This is about Llos. How could you summon-"

  She raised her hand to stop me. A spider the size of a dog crawled out of the shadows and scurried toward her. Ruata lovingly scratched its bristly back, making the creature roll two of its side eyes with delight. Still, it didn't prevent the thing from watching me with the seven remaining eyes, a drop of toxic spittle forming on its jaws.

  She gave the spider a good scratch calming it down. "You should never mention the Goddess' name in her own temple. This way you address her directly, attracting her gaze. She is not particularly fond of men. And as for the Temple... Please do not be cross with me, my lord. For centuries have the Drow been guarding these walls. Thousands of our warriors have died defending its sanctuary. Other gods have no place here! This is our altar. But I don't want you to be ridden by anxiety, so I'm going to tell you about a place where you can find an untouched altar of a Dark god. Take it to any temple, then summon a god of your choice.".

  I nodded. Her offer made sense. The deal with the Dwarves might just go though, after all. Very well. Time to take a deep breath and move to the main subject.

  "Thank you, Ruata. I'll be more than happy to take you up on your kind offer. But there's another thing. I'm sorry, but I really can't marry you. I already have a girlfriend and I'm happy with her."

  And she makes me feel like a man and not a doormat, I added mentally before going on, "Consequently, I can't be a Prince, either. And I don't think I could be one even if I tried. Look at me! I'm struggling to control my clan, its castle and the First Temple. It
really sounds very tempting what you're saying but I'm afraid I have to say no to both counts."

  Large tears welled in her eyes, then spattered on the flagstones. Ruata sank to her knees, plea in her stare. "Prince! Please don't give me to the Elders! If you reject the throne, the Elder's son Ulgul will take it. A dumb, fat, lecherous pig that can't wait to lay his greedy hands on the title and my body! I shudder when I think of him groping me..."

  She grabbed at her virtually bare breast and squeezed it tight mimicking Ulgul's greedy hands. I gulped again, perfectly sympathetic to some Elder's son urges, and registered a surprising pang of jealousy.

  The Princess raised her tearful eyes to me and pointed at the blood spots, the dagger and her lacerated chest, disrupting my concentration,

  "Have I done all this for nothing? I have died two hundred and seventeen times today, hoping that the late Prince's throne would go to one who's worthy of it..."

  She broke down, dissolving in tears. I sat next to her and stroked her hair. What was wrong with her today? Never before had she been so tearful—she used to be a true iron lady. Were things really so grim?

  "Try to see it my way," I said. "I have a girlfriend. She would never understand this."

  "Very well," Ruata snapped. "I agree. We can perform the divorce ritual now in front of Llos while we're still in the Temple. It's possible. We'd have had to go to her anyway to seal our marriage... or our divorce. But Laith, I beg you! Give me one year! Take the Prince's place while I find another worthy suitor. You won't have to do anything. Everything will go as it does now. I'll occupy myself with my clan's needs and you can continue doing your own thing. You will have full access to the treasury and the artifact vault. You will also be able to take command of my cutthroats whom you like so much. I just hope," she forced a sad smile, "that you'll be fair and just and you won't leave the clan without money or warriors. The House of Night will never forget your help. We'll forever remain your friends and allies of your clan. Please. I beg of you..."

  Again she buried her tear-strewn face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. I stared around me helplessly. This was a very generous proposition. In essence, she was offering me to bear the Prince's title for a year with full control of their troops and finances. What could you not do, having five hundred elite Drow warriors under your command? Just by sending them on an Inferno raid, you could get hundreds of thousands in gold worth of loot on a daily basis.

  I mulled over her offer and couldn't see a single catch. Any way you looked at it, it was all pros and no cons. Wasn't it about time, really, I got lucky without having to worry about being set up? I glanced at the weeping girl and shook my head, making up my mind. "Okay, Ruata. I can take the Prince's throne for a year. I promise to treat the clan's warriors with care and won't abuse my access to the treasury. But," I looked her firmly in the eye, "on the prerequisite that we get a divorce."

  She nodded submissively. "Very well, Prince. Our marriage was attested by the gods so only they have the right to undo the knot. We need to die here in front of this altar, in order to face the Great Mother. She will separate our lives. After that, you'll be free from this marriage."

  With a quiet smile, she pointed at the altar where the dagger still lay in a pool of blood. "Are you ready?"

  I flinched. "Is it the only possible way? Stabbing oneself, you know... Besides, from what I hear, your goddess is quite a piece of work..."

  She shook her head reproachfully. "The Drow have themselves a timid prince. Look at me!" again she pressed her hand to the round perfection of her breast. "I died hundreds of times today, all for you! So find the courage to sacrifice your life but once, even if only in farewell! Do not fear the goddess. I'm her priestess, you're safe with me. Just don't look her in the eye. Keep your head low and add some respect to your voice. It won't cost you anything and she likes that sort of thing."

  She came to a small mithril chest and opened the lid, scooping out a generous handful of gems and flinging them into the red black flames that burned at the foot of the altar. The fire flared up, consuming the disappearing gems, even those that had missed their target. Lavender smoke swirled around, forming eight circles. Ruata grabbed the bloodied dagger and shoved it into my hand.

  "On the count of three! We'll strike together. You strike me and I'll strike you. But wait! You're going to resurrect at the other end of the world! Immortal-" she spat out an expletive.

  "Quickly!" she hurried. "We have less than a minute. I've just spent two hundred grand worth of gems so I'm not doing it again! You must change your resurrection point. I know you can do it. Why this hesitation? You're the First Priest in a temple of Darkness and a Prince in your own house. There's no other place in the entire AlterWorld that's safer for you. Come on, now!"

  Succumbing to her logic and pressure, I scrolled through the magic book, found the necessary spell and activated it.

  Ruata was watching me closely. "On the count of three," she nodded. "Close your eyes if it makes it easier for you. One," she reached behind her back for a second dagger. A very multifunctional dress she had on. "Two!.."

  No idea what made me open my eyes. I saw her hand raised over my head and the dagger she clutched within it. I froze. The dagger was shaped as a spider, its eight pointed legs contracted together to form a scary-looking blade. I instantly looked up its stats,

  The Spider Dagger of the High Priestess Llos.

  He who dies from its blade spilling his blood onto the Altar, dies a final death, his soul forever cast into the Halls of Gloom.

  "Three!" Ruata barked, taking a swing.

  I caught her hand in full flight, barely stopping the fragile wrist. "What do you think you're doing? Are you out of your mind?"

  She looked at me with pity. "You little fool. I wanted to make it easy for you. You wouldn't have felt a thing." She forced a smile and ordered someone, "Immobilize him!"

  The enormous spider went for me, sinking its jaws into my hip. I yelped, burying the dagger I was holding into its back. The blade went right through not sensing any resistance. I pricked my hand on the spider's bristles as the dagger's blade slid back into its handle without hurting the monster.

  Ruata laughed. I flung the useless dagger at her. Numbness spread over my body, paralyzing my limbs and forcing me to fall on my side.

  "Lay him on the altar!" she ordered.

  I heard the shuffling of many tiny feet. Something lifted me and threw me onto the icy-cold stone.

  The priestess came over to me and looked into my eyes, stroking my cheek in sympathy. "Dear boy, did you really think that I could be interested in you? That you were worthy of taking the throne of the House of Night? Had you once seen our Prince, you'd have known that compared to him, you're like a mouse next to a dragon. My Prince..." her eyes misted, her lips opening in excitement. "Very soon, my lord," she whispered, "you need to wait but a little longer. Soon..."

  I was frantically searching for a way out. Magic was out of the question. No good trying to cast a spell when lying on a stone—and paralyzed, too. Blindly I slammed the Shield of Faith button: 30-sec immunity, now think, think! I didn't know how high the risk of dying was from that scary artifact of hers but somehow I didn't want to find out. Fear clung to me, paralyzing my will and thought. All I wanted was to curl up, cover my head, and pee in my pants, whimpering with fear.

  No way! I scowled, grinding my teeth until the enamel crunched. I bit my tongue that just happened to be in the way, clearing my mind with a flash of pain and hatred. There had to be a solution! I had to find it!

  In the meantime, Ruata lowered her hand, menace in her stare. "So you want to suffer before you die? Then you can listen to what awaits you. My lord and my husband was slain in battle. The Fallen One did not show him mercy. My beloved couldn't respawn and stayed forever in the Land of Shadows. How I begged! How many sacrifices did I offer! The Fallen One turned a deaf ear to my pleas. But the Great Mother didn't! A new soul of the same status and potential can replace my husban
d in the Halls of Gloom—you! A naïve little idiot marked by the stamp of the powers that be, one that failed to live up to their expectations! A perfect substitute. Llos will be pleased with the sacrifice. She will accept your soul and send the Prince back to the world of the living. She has the power to do that. I have sealed our agreement with the blood from my eighty-eight voluntary deaths!"

  I barely listened to her, busy going through my list of skills. Wrong, wrong, all wrong... how about the Destructive Touch? Take that! Ruata jerked with the charge. A dozen red-hot mandibles sunk into me, admittedly unable to deal me any damage as immunity still worked.

  "Heh! Don't touch him. It's more fun this way."

  Oh, well.

  How about Macaria's Voluntary Death? But what could it give me apart from the loss of experience and a few gained seconds? I was going to resurrect right here anyway, and it had a one-hour cooldown... Why, oh why had I changed the resurrection point? In the future, I should never, but never bind in places I had no control over. Whatever could I do? If only I had a hotline to God! Having said that... Appeal to Gods!

  "Help me, O Fallen One! It's urgent! It's too fucking urgent!"

  Max, his unhappy voice boomed in my head, if this is about... Wha-what? Who? Who dared to-

  Bang! The outer dome resonated with a blow. Bang! A drop of sweat rolled down Ruata's temple. She narrowed her eyes, catlike.

  "So your petty little god has decided to bring on the cavalry? Well, tough! This is the Impregnable Dome Shield!" she stuck out her arrogant chin.

  Bang!

  Not Impregnable, actually, the Fallen One murmured. But it'll take some work. Fifteen minutes at least. The weaving is too complex, you can't just break it open, we'll have to push through it. Macaria babe, help me!