The Birth

by Paul Kite

  It happened so quickly that I didn’t really have time to react; I just held up my right hand, not letting his mouth close on my neck. The beast knocked me back. Sharp teeth crushed my bones, and the system, somewhere on the edge of consciousness, began to send me messages about the damage I’d taken, but I didn’t feel pain because adrenaline was surging in my blood.

  I tried to hit the werewolf with my other hand, but as if reading my thoughts, it clawed my shoulder, tearing into my armor and stopping me.

  The bear released my arm and his grinning face neared my head. The blood-spattered saliva from his mouth dropped directly onto my face, falling into my eyes and covering them with scarlet veil.

  “Rrrrhrhr!”

  I’m dead...

  But the beast froze, his ears, like radar dishes, swiveled, searching for the source of the disturbing sounds. The shapeshifter turned his head to the side and...

  Vzh-zhih—a blue arrow pierced the beast’s head. Vzh-zhih—another one did the same, and again—vzh-zhih, vzh-zhih, vzh-zhih.

  And the bear collapsed, with all its weight, right on top of me.

  “Aaaah,” I groaned—the adrenaline of the battle had passed, and the pain of my injured arm had flared up in all its glory, and then the carcass fell on me!

  The elf and the hunter swiftly dragged the bear off me.

  “Look, he’s alive!” the cheerful voice of Rokshan sounded. “Well done, man!” He praised me, helping me get up.

  “Thank you for saving me!” I took out the scroll with the spell of full recovery and activated it.

  My body was wrapped up in an aura of healing, my life bar immediately filled up—the bones fell into place with a crunch, and the wounds healed right in front of my eyes, leaving no trace of the terrible injury. It was a pity that there was no magic for restoring clothes; in my case, it would be impossible to restore them without the help of a master. I looked at the almost missing sleeve and the torn holes in the shoulder and felt disappointed at what I’d allowed to happen.

  “It was an unfortunate idea to leave your disciple alone here,” the hunter said, going up to the first dead shapeshifter and cutting his arrows out of it. “They could’ve easily killed him.”

  The elf said nothing, but threw me a displeased look that said ‘you should handle yourself better in a fight’. How?! I’ve never fought anything close to these kinds of opponents before!

  “And what about the third shapeshifter?” I asked. “Why did you come back?”

  “He’s dead,” the elf said shortly. “There are no further tracks, we must return to the tracks of the group of five.”

  Chapter 18

  “H ello, Lady Kiera,” the necromancer greeted the dryad when she descended from the majestic Alkher pterod and approached him. “Congratulations on your wonderful purchase.”

  Livion sat in a cozy arbor, at a table laden with a wide variety of dishes and drinks. He made an inviting gesture and the girl sat down on an empty seat.

  “Have you found Kraven?” Kiera asked him impatiently, without even saying hello. “Where is he?”

  “Yes,” the necromancer didn’t show that he wasn’t very pleased with this kind of behavior, perfectly understanding the mood of the girl. “He’s on the island Harith-Hodor. I think you know the name. Right?”

  “Yeah?” The girl immediately became disheartened. “Are you sure that he’s there?”

  “Of course! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have told you about it. If you want to meet him, you will unfortunately have to wait until he returns to the mainland.”

  “Is it possible to somehow bypass the protection of this island?” Of course, Verlain knew perfectly well what kind of island it was, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking, since she knew that the man had spent no less than five years in the game and had managed to thoroughly explore the many secrets and possibilities of the world of Noria. If anyone knew how to get past the island’s defenses, it would be him.

  “No, unless you delete your character and create a new one, of the appropriate race,” the necromancer dispelled the girl’s hopes.

  “I can't,” Kiera shook her head.

  “After all, knowing that I’d once had the habit of spending all my time in the world of Noria and perfectly remembering who my character was, Kraven would be able to believe only the dryad named Verlain,” the girl continued in her head, not intending to report this to Livion, of course.

  But Kiera Cartman was completely unaware that the ravan had known who Kraven was for a long time now and had his own plans for him.

  “Anticipating your answer, I allowed myself to hire NPCs who would closely monitor the coast of Nazhar and the Dark Forest. No need to worry,” the necromancer raised his hand to forestall her, seeing how the girl had wanted to say something, “these people are devoted to me personally and know how to keep their mouths shut. As soon as they notice Kraven, they will immediately inform me, and I will immediately contact you, via Arthur.”

  Kiera nodded, “Well, that will do, I suppose.”

  The only thing that confused her were the attempts of an unknown person in the real world to find out where exactly the son of the Director of the Technical Department now was. But, according to James Grey, they couldn’t find out anything, except that the man, who had been injured in the flyer accident, was being treated in a private hospital. However, the security services were unable to find out who was looking for such information, either. The unknown person had skillfully hid their presence in the network, and the tracking programs couldn’t find out anything about them, because they’d communicated with the servers only through sound communication and through special decryption services. James was very angry and had promised to get to the truth of the matter, but so far, he hadn’t made any progress.

  Although Kiera trusted Arthur and his strange friend Livion, she’d personally checked the information that Kraven had been in the hands of the Guild of Shadows! It turned out to have be true. Unfortunately, those insolent NPCs hadn't allowed her to meet senior members of the Guild in Alatkhdor, they could’ve told her more, but she was satisfied with the information she’d gotten from a servant known as Uvar. Large sums of money sometimes worked wonders. He’d also confirmed that Kraven has already left Noar-Rahor and hadn't appeared there again, yet. Uvar, of course, didn't know where the young man had gone, saying that it was Zorkhan's will. But the girl didn’t despair, she had another idea on how to meet with a senior member of the Guild, which she would try after she left Livion's house.

  “Lady,” meanwhile, Livion continued speaking, “whoever this Kraven is, rest assured, we will not lose him now! Also, please, try this dish, it was prepared according to a secret recipe of a small tribe of Aur-Tah that lives on the edge of the land of Orcs. I personally prepared it, while waiting to meet you.”

  “Why don't you eat it yourself?” she asked, moving to a dish made with long, green leaves, pieces of meat from an unknown animal, thin slices of some kind of fruit, and aromatic spices.

  “You probably don't know much about ex-prisoners,” a slight smile appeared on the face of the necromancer. “There's a lot we can't do. And not only related to the taste of food, but also many other delights of virtual life.”

  “That's very sad,” the girl tasted the salad, and she liked it very much. “By the way, how could I forget, can Arthur follow Kraven on the island? He's also a human.”

  “Alas,” the necromancer apologetically threw up his hands, “our mutual friend has angered the ruler of Nazhar. And even if we can get permission with the king's personal seal, I'm afraid the first guards he meets on the island will grab him without any delay and send him to jail, and then he will be transferred to the prison on the mainland.”

  Yeah? Hmm, when did he manage to displease such a high-ranking NPC? Kiera thought, Alex is a professional player killer and he usually works very carefully and neatly. Did he go someplace where he wasn’t supposed to, or did he perhaps hunt the wrong victim down?

  “
How did he fall out of favor?” the girl asked, deciding to clarify this with Livion, pouring some golden drink into her glass, which turned out to be white wine.

  “It's a long story,” the necromancer hadn’t been prepared to answer such questions, so he was carefully choosing his words, trying to wriggle out of a verbal trap. “You should ask Arthur about it, I think he will gladly tell you about the details of the conflict, because I will be able to tell you about it only in general terms.”

  How could I have missed the possibility of her asking that!? the necromancer cursed himself, but looked outwardly relaxed, sitting in a chair and watching the Dryad. As soon as she's gone, I need to get in touch with Arthur and come up with a suitable answer. After all, this sneaky girl will probably ask him about it at the first opportunity!

  And he was absolutely right, Kiera was already planning a personal meeting with Alex, or at least what she should write to him in a letter. But first she was going to find and visit one of the masters of the Shadows.

  “Can you share this salad recipe with me?” Kiera smiled, taking another sip from the glass and enjoying the pleasant taste and divine bouquet.

  “Gladly, lady.”

  * * *

  The tracks of the second group of shifters led deeper and deeper into the forest, and most importantly, as Rokshan had said, they went in a completely different direction. If only we could ask someone alive all about it, but, alas… Corpses were not able to speak to us, and we didn't have a necromancer.

  “I don't like it at all”, the hunter suddenly stopped, motioning for us to do the same.

  “What?” the elf asked.

  “Look!” Rokshan pointed first to the grass, then to the bushes nearby. Completely different prints appeared there, and the rest of the shifters joined the five previous sets.

  Well, in my inexpert opinion, they were all almost similar. And how did he know that these footprints belonged to the one kind of species and those to another? The legs of the bears, for example, looked the same!

  “What were those three doing?” I asked the question and that caused my 'teacher’ to frown.

  “They were drawing attention, diverting possible pursuers as far away as possible. After all, hardly anyone dares to follow in the footsteps of a large group,” the hunter explained, offering his reasoning of it.

  “It's logical,” the Master of Shadows agreed. “I think they knew perfectly well that there were no intelligent hunters in Rovar’s settlement, as well as no soldiers.”

  “Who do you think I am?” Rokshan was offended. “I am a hunter!”

  “You are a hunter, of course. But how often do you come to the village? And who's the headman to you?”

  “You’ve guessed, after all,” the man chuckled.

  What did he guess? I listened attentively, trying not to miss a single word.

  “Rovar mentioned, more than once, a relative, a military man, from the Kingdom of Nazhar,” the light elf said, looking at me. “The husband of his dead sister, who periodically visits him with news about his former homeland. And the Ravens, as far as I remember, are part of the king’s personal guard there, and they are not only hunters, but also excellent trackers, and besides that, good swordsmen. They’ve caused us a lot of trouble.”

  “Mhm,” Rokshan nodded. “That’s me. And what else can a retired military man do? I have no children. My parents, sisters and brothers were killed when I was a child. We lived on the border with Havrtol. Since then, I’ve been an orphan. And the King of Nazkhar recruited the Ravens from abandoned, homeless children.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t know,” Dazrael apologized with mild sadness.

  What has he done? I can’t believe ... the light elf has apologized? And to whom! The hunter who clearly showed that he can’t stand Shadows, back at the headman's house. What the hell…

  “Don’t say that. You don’t know who kill- “Rokshan said, before he got cut off by the elf.

  “I’m guessing,” the elf said quietly, interrupting the hunter. “The Shadows, in an attempt to ignite another conflict between the two kingdoms.”

  “Yes, 54 years ago. The village of Krashlok.”

  “That isn’t my handiwork,” looking straight into the hunter’s eyes, Dazrael said quietly. “Believe me.”

  “I believe it. Even though I was five years old and I’d hid in a haystack on the field, I remember the five dark elves that left the empty village at dawn well enough. If you were there, I would have remembered you, you blond-haired elf,” a faint smile touched the old man’s face, thereby defusing the situation. “You don’t even look like a drow. Please...” Rokshan hesitated, “forget what I told you at Rovar’s, and forget about the favor. I was too angry. Despite the fact you’re a Shadow, you are also a good person... I mean, a good elf. After all, I knew Rovar and his children’s story and about your role in their rescue, but still, when I saw you and understood who you were... Ah,” the man waved his hand in dismay. “Believe it or not, I thought about trying to kill you bastards on the way back.”

  What a versatile personality Dazrael is!

  “Well,” the elf smiled slyly. “You would’ve failed.”

  “Really?” The hunter exclaimed. “I…”

  “T-s-s!” the elf said, gesturing for the man to be silent, “Actually, we are busy right now. Maybe we shouldn’t shout so loud that we notify the shapeshifters of our coming? And if you want to try it, I will gladly agree to a training duel. But only after we return to the village.”

  “You’re right, sorry,” the hunter shrugged apologetically. “So, the next set of tracks clearly make one path.”

  “Lead on then, but if you don’t like something, immediately warn us.”

  “And what if they’ve prepared an ambush for us?” I ventured. “They far outnumber us.”

  “Of course, they might have, but, in any case, we need to find their camp.”

  “And the fewer of them there are after we’re done with them, the better,” the hunter added fiercely to the elf’s words.

  We went deeper and deeper into the forest. And, according to the map, we were halfway between the river and Rovar’s village. The hunter crawled ahead, I followed him, and the elf, taking on the role of a sentinel, circled somewhere nearby, fearing ambushes or just an accidental collision with the enemies, who would’ve hardly left their camp without external protection.

  Suddenly, the hunter stopped and, putting an arrow on the string, crouched down on one knee, looking at something to our right, behind the trees.

  “Have you changed your mind?” the elf appeared behind us. “Then shoot at Kraven first, he will definitely not expect it.”

  So funny! Lol. Although I understood he was referring to the hunter’s thoughts about murdering us, such a mockingly humorous attitude is still unpleasant.

  “No, of course not,” Rokshan grinned. “I just noticed that you were coming back to us very quickly, as if you were afraid of something.”

  Okay,” the elf said. “I stumbled upon a watchman, fifty paces from here—he was carefully following you.”

  “And, of course, he is already dead?” Rokshan asked, to clarify.

  “Alive,” the elf grinned. “Wounded, but alive. And still in a human shape. I tied him up and came back for you.”

  “And how did you make him transform?” The hunter asked, removing the arrow from his bow.

  “I asked him very gently and he simply couldn’t refuse such a request.”

  “I can imagine the way you asked. Well, let's go and find out where their camp is and why they attacked us.”

  Only I noticed the elf’s reaction to the last of the hunter’s words, because I knew him rather well. Hmmm, I'm afraid the answer to the last question will not please Rokshan.

  The shapeshifter was absolutely naked, well, it wasn’t because of magic, of course. He was a young guy—about twenty years old—slim, a little shorter than me. He had short hair and expressive eyes filled with fear and anger, looking at us intently. He
was fully conscious, and beside the ropes on his arms and legs, he had a gag, rolled out of a coarse piece of cloth, stuck in his mouth. What else has the elf got in his bag?! And on the guy’s side, there was a long, ragged wound, already covered with a thick crust of clotted blood, and neat puncture wounds on the chest and hands that had also begun to heal. Wow, what regeneration!

  “Let's talk,” Dazrael sat down next to the werewolf, who nervously flinched, trying to crawl away.

  “Um-m! Um-m!” he grunted through the gag in his mouth. “M-m!”

  “I can ask in another way,” the elf suggested.

  The boy's eyes widened, and he quickly twisted his head in different directions.

  “And you said, ‘gently,’ I seem to recall?” Standing next to the Shadow Master, the hunter chuckled.

  “Are you going to talk?” not paying attention to Rokshan's words, Dazrael continued to question the werewolf, and the boy nodded quickly. “I'll take out the gag, don't scream.”

  The hunter sat down beside the elf and I just stood behind them, carefully watching our surroundings, just in case.

  “Where's your camp?” the master of Shadows began to ask.

  “Th-there,” a hasty nod followed, aimed in some vague direction, “about a thousand steps from here.”

  “How many people are there?”

  “T-twenty.”

  “Are the mages alive?”

  “Y-yes,”

  “Where are they?”

  “In the camp.”

  “Thanks,” the elf was about to grab his sword, clasping the handle, when he was suddenly stopped by the hunter.

  “Wait,” he even put his hand to the Master of Shadow’s shoulder. “Why did you attack the settlement?”

  “Because of them!” the guy couldn't point at us with his hands tied, but it was clear who exactly he meant. “Hontar ordered us to.”

  “Who's Hontar?” the hunter asked squinting in concern.