by D. Rus
"Kaboom!!!" the shockwave of the cargo portal threw me against the rocks.
The 15-foot arch had appeared in the very center of the summoning point – right under my ass. I felt like a mushroomer who accidentally sat down on a moss-covered mine. War efforts...
Crit! Medium spine injury! Duration: 30 minutes.
Feel the discomfort of old age and watch your health starting now!
Effect 1: Stooping: -1/3 Agility. 15-degree spinal curvature displacement.
Effect 2: Compassion: Better relationship with all NPCs whose age exceeds the halfway point of their race’s life expectancy.
Buncha clowns.
I moaned as I got up, pain shooting up my spine. Looking like the letter "S," I held my lower back. I’ll see these jokers dead!
I pulled a huge bundle of scrolls out of my inventory, found the green healing tab and flipped through a few pages. I tore out the Medium Injury Healing parchment.
Minus forty gold.
Through the spell’s wavering glow, I saw a gigantic Top Demon squeeze his way through the iridescent portal haze. It was one of Asmodeus’ elite warriors.
I wanted to back up fast. But that would mess up the healing spell. Plus, the radar identified the monster as friendly, so there was no need to worry.
"The Master is in the middle of an important ritual. We kindly ask that you wait. If, however, you need immediate assistance, you’ll have to cover the ammo cost. One million seven hundred thousand gold. Your choice?"
"I’ll wait. How long?"
"Nine hundred heartbeats at rest. You are allowed military assistance from the second legion. Total power – sixty thousand levels."
I shook my head:
"Thanks, no military aid needed. I’m here for a private talk."
The demon nodded understandingly. The he glanced sideways and, seeing something, added quickly, instantly losing his assumed aggressive air, "Optional: invitation to the castle. On mutual courtesy terms."
Turning to where he was looking, I saw the Bundle of Nerves rushing our way. I instantly got a toothache. A cold shudder ran down my back. "Invitation accepted!"
"Follow me," the demon sighed with relief and backed up into the portal.
I followed him right in.
A second of confusion following the sudden transfer was accompanied by a polyphonic echo of someone’s "Ha!" The demon and I got dragged over the tiles and thrown against the castle wall.
"What kinda day is this?!"
I rose with difficulty, listening to the demon’s swearing as I looked around. The familiar Small Citadel. Demons and my clanmates were on guard duty, and the yard was full of ear-choppers in training.
I watched as the girls lined up. The instructor assumed an intricate pose and demonstrated a cunning trick with his leather wings to them,
"Ha!"
The manicured fingertips shot upward all at once, accompanied by a hundred exhales. The girls raised a cloud of dust higher than the castle walls. This move was complex as hell: a power attack but an instant one, without a spell. It looked like a wizard’s Air Hammer. The only discrepancy was that the girls were mostly rogues and assassins!
They saw us. Nelson, the former senior lieutenant from the first ear-chopper perma batch, barked, "At ease!" and ran over to me. He had proven himself worthy in battle with Verenus which had earned him his current rank and the nervous twitch in his eye. My bad, the second was due to the fact that it’s hard for a male to head a division of cheeky Drow beauties.
When I used to work in hiring, I saw the ear-choppers as not only warriors but future warrior brides. Relentlessly I tried to whack the nasty feminism out of them, encouraged loyalty and tenderness, fought their matriarchy and bitchiness.
But Drows are Drows. The world’s infosphere ruined them just like everybody else, making them into wild Amazonians – the polar opposite of obedient housewives.
It would have been easier to put a woman in charge of an all-female battalion. There were plenty of worthy female warriors, many of them middle-ranking commanders. But two factors stopped me from doing so.
First, I wanted to emphasize the natural family model, the man being the head of the household. The warrior, protector, and provider. Our sons had already been scarred enough by watching their amoeba-like fathers cower before their dominant moms. Surely this meant tons of work, especially for those who had yet to be fathers. But I had to start somewhere!
Second, I wanted to see if names really did affect destinies. So Nelson worked his ass off doing something he was clearly not very competent at. Hang in there, bro, no pain, no gain! I thought. You have several Napoleonic War victories ahead of you...
I saluted the lieutenant. "Report!"
"Howdy, Sir! All is well, no incidents! Personal guard is on duty and training according to the plan."
"What stage?"
"Covering the basics right now: Right-wing hit with diving transition."
I would’ve roared with laughter if my ass didn’t hurt. "And how is that going?"
"Not too well," the lieutenant said honestly. "Only nine warriors got the hang of the hit power. Still having trouble diving..."
"Forget the flying! Show me what the hit itself can do."
Nelson nodded and turned to the excitedly chattering crowd of she-elves, who had sat down on the cool flagstones.
"Butterfly, attack!" he commanded, flinging a shiny silver coin at her.
The girl swiftly shot up into the air. Her right arm swung forward. "Ha!"
Her invisible bat hit the coin mid-flight and sent it right back. The coin whistled like a bullet right over my ear. It ricocheted off the steel shield of an off-duty squad captain just as he approached me. The loud ring drowned out his swearing. The coin ended up stuck in an oak pole.
The demon accompanying me growled discontentedly: demons were wary of silver. Yet the coin caught the attention of some devil child running by. His eyes twinkled greedily.
Damn, I thought, these girls are like jedis!
"Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee..." I whispered in amazement.
"Aye-aye, sir! That’s exactly why our guys nicknamed her that!" said the captain excitedly.
His shield was covered with notches. His right leg barely moved due to a recent injury. A bracelet with typical Drow markings adorned his mighty wrist. It was the bracelet that a she-elf marks her chosen one with. Looks like the guys are having a good time here indeed.
"How are things overall?" I asked, twirling my finger ambiguously.
"Fine. Asmodeus is restoring the army. We’re terrorizing the enemy, crawling over their castle walls. Every night we follow your orders and search the Drows for any unique traits."
"Yeah, while mapping their birthmarks and intimate hairdos?"
The captain ran his hand over his bracelet pensively, and smiled. "That too... The girls are flaming hot!"
I shook my head. "Easy on the epithets. I’d rather hear you call them Sweet and Tender Kitties. The AlterWorld is malleable like clay. We bend it, it bends us. Every random word or thought has weight. You hit the critical mass, and your flaming-hot girls might just set you on fire. So watch it!"
The captain nodded solemnly. "Understood, Sir. Thank you. I’ll make my pussycat perfect. I’ll be an ass if I have to. She’ll follow me to hell and back! Like we’re one!"
I glanced appraisingly over the 180-level warrior’s mighty frame and smiled. But his face remained serious. "I’m not making the same mistake twice," he said. "I went perma by choice, out of depression. My kids grew up, and love gave way to routine existence. Why I stayed with that bitch, I can’t say. She’d walk around the house in a faded bathrobe, her hairy legs sticking out, her lips pursed accusingly. She’d given me the best years of her life, you see, and for what? Joe’s got a better car, Bob’s house is bigger, and Bubba’s got a longer dick. I got sick of it all!"
I looked him in the eye and wondered if he’d cracked.
The captain smiled understandi
ngly, sounding optimistic as usual. "Don’t take this the wrong way, Sir! AlterWorld’s my home. It’s where I became myself, not the clown that the TV and the teachers tried to make me into. Not whom my parents wanted me to be. I am now the way I had always dreamed of being since long ago. But somehow I’ve forgotten my dreams. This world is crystal-clear, and so are we. No need to suck up, lie, or grovel before anyone. It’s all simple and fair! I’m strong, handsome and healthy. There’s gold in my pockets, armor on my back and a sword in my hand. My bed’s filled with beauties, my friends fight by my side!"
I envied his way of looking at things. Where can I get a pair of such rose-tinted glasses? I wondered. That’s new life euphoria for you. Hormone rush, adios enlarged prostate gland and memory loss. Time got turned back. Fifty years in reality minus two years of perma, and you have a twenty-year-old captain. Magic math.
Feeling like a smartass old bastard, I made a note in the planner: hold off this fellow’s promotion until he faces reality. He hadn’t been crucified in the dark dungeons yet. Hadn’t dug up slaves from their damp oblivion after they had been buried alive for several years. He didn’t see the situation clearly, which could prove dangerous on active duty.
I was distracted by a messenger imp. The creature was patiently shifting from foot to foot, clopping his hooves on the stone tiles. The blacksmiths must have shoed him as a joke.
Having caught my glance, the little creature reported that the temperature in the Archdemon’s private chambers had been lowered to reasonably tolerable. A warm chair was awaiting me along with a glass of magic mulled wine and an attractive succubus from Asmodeus’ personal escort. As the messenger talked, his brow twisted in an obscure manner as if he had no control over it. By the mix of jealousy and bliss on his muzzle, I could tell I had been granted a marvelous reception.
I nodded, tossed the demon a silver coin and headed to the castle entrance. The demon hissed and oohed, juggling the coin like a hot potato. At last he managed to throw the tip into his skinny wallet and hurried ahead of me, courteously opening the doors and showing me the way. His tail wiggled at the thought of what he could spend his unexpected tip on.
As far as I knew, silver was rare in Asmodeus’ dominion. The precious metal was reserved for military purposes.
Asmodeus’ study was rather hot: he was clearly nostalgic about infernal resorts. The roasters in the spacious room were still giving off tiny streams of smoke when I came in. Soft armchairs and a table laden with snacks had been politely placed by the open stained-glass window.
Asmodeus looked tired, a bit emaciated but happy. A massive demon was sitting next to him, his silver armor glistening with spikes and magic runes. Poor furniture.
Asmodeus said with a friendly gesture, "Have a seat and meet Lightfighter. He’s my right-hand man and the general of the legendary Silver Legion which we will surely get back in shape with Inferno’s meager grub! If only you knew what it took to pluck its essence from the Virtual Worlds! But it was worth it. It will bring a hundred times as much gold as had gone into the pentagram! Those stupid puppets spawned out of the Well of Power are no match for the True One!"
I stared at the real-life demon in bewilderment, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "Why does he look so... lost?"
The general really didn’t look very well. His gaze was vacant, and he was drooling as his fingers crushed the oaken armrests, making them creak.
Asmodeus laughed. "Don’t be afraid to say it: he looks like an idiot. But it’ll pass. Give him time to pull his shattered mind together. Two thousand years of oblivion can really leave a mark."
While Lightfighter was busy defragmenting his memory, I nearly went nuts in disbelief. Did Asmodeus really turn to other realities, or even to the Great Nothingness itself to retrieve the soul of his ancient ally?
What if?! Taali!!!
I waved away the succubus that had crept up behind me and tried to give me a gentle shoulder massage, warming my neck with her hot breath. Leaning forward, I asked anxiously, "Can you pull anybody out? Even if they died in a different reality?"
"A mortal?" the demon asked in a business-like manner, sensing a potential profit.
"Yes!" I nodded, brimming with hope.
"When did it happen?"
"Almost three weeks ago!"
And... fail.
"Impossible... the soul won’t last more than nine days in the Great Nothingness. It will drink from the River of Oblivion and fall asleep, awaiting its next incarnation. Had this been a Great Hero, a Mighty Emperor or a Theomachist of some kind covered with unique astral marks, then sure. The marks are like shields. They help temporarily preserve the mind and prevent emptiness from penetrating the subject’s consciousness... The soul of a mortal is about as firm as fog. Someone like you, who has become a little firmer like clay, would’ve lasted about forty days. Lightfighter is pure silver, although he was on the edge. Two thousand years is no joke. And I am noble steel! The gods are mithril and adamant. The stars will go out, yet they will remain, waiting and hoping..."
I hung my head. Asmodeus said insightfully, "Don’t disturb her... Nothing good will come of it. Let her rest. She won’t recognize you now. Until the soul reaches the next level of perfection, a series of rebirths await it with short naps in between. A larva needs room to grow."
Sighing heavily, I nodded. Sleep, Taali. Sleep, my dear.
Asmodeus hurriedly broke the pressing silence. "How is our mutual business? Did the dwarves speed up the order?"
I tossed my head, driving the sad thoughts away, and said slowly, "I told them it’s a rush order. Aulë paid them a personal visit and gave them his blessings. The first ammunition and weaponry is already in stock. Sorry, but I can’t open portals to send it. It’s too expensive. The clan treasury’s become a zombie mice cage."
I paused for a second, blushing in embarrassment. Yeah, the kids summoned the mice in a snap! No spells or ingredients! So I had to try it too... and what was the quietest place in the castle? The treasury, of course!
I didn't have the heart to destroy the raised creatures. The wide-eyed rodents, digging through the gold, reminded me of one fat-cheeked piggy...
So now they lived among the coins, ingots, and mithril waste, squeaking discontentedly when Durin would bring in an empty cart, and purring happily whenever his cart was filled with coins. They even helped unload it, which was why the noxious treasurer reconciled himself to their existence and even gave them an allowance.
I cleared my throat. "Ahem... I’ll send your legions to the Valley at X-Hour. You can pick up your gear then."
Asmodeus shook his head and said, "The astral watchers have crossed all limits. All neighbors are watching my dominion. The moment the troops leave, I’ll have guests from all the four sides of darkness."
"So we need scare tactics! To make them afraid to even look at you!"
Lightfighter suddenly moved. He wiped away his drool and emptied the goblet of precious wine in one gulp. Then he grabbed the succubus refilling his goblet by the waist and cried excitedly,
"Let’s crush the strongest enemy in a surprise attack!"
I shook my head. "Hello, once again. It’s a good idea, but now’s not the time. You’ve yet to familiarize yourselves with Verenus’ abandoned lands. Expansion is unwise if the new borders cannot be protected. I suggest we... hm... show off the power of the Inferno and the Alliance combined. We’ll get more mercenaries, heavy artillery, golems, platforms with mobile dome shields, and siege and field machinery..."
The two demons’ eyes flashed in synch. "A legions’ march!"
"Let the ground shake beneath our feet!"
I nodded. "Precisely! We could then officially invite audiences from the neighboring dominions and the press. They can have a proper look, we’ve nothing to hide! There’s no power like ours in all Inferno!"
Lightfighter said pensively, "I fear they might join forces in the face of an external threat..."
Asmodeus waved his hand d
ismissively. "Those jackals can’t trust each other."
I smiled. "I can have ambitious clans infiltrate the lands of any new alliance. My place is teeming with candidates."
"So it’s settled! In five days, we march! I’ll have emptied out the Well of Power by then. We'll have something to show! A toast!"
We clinked our golden goblets together. "Here’s to our partnership!"
The hot, sweet, two-year-old mulled wine enriched with spices burned my throat and gave me 90 Strength points for the next four hours.
Some wine cellars Asmodeus has! I could use a few myself.
"Asmodeus, I have a favor to ask..."
The demon grunted ironically. "Of course! What can I do for you? Someone needs a body switch?"
"No... I mean, yes. I do... You see, I have to get into Tavor’s body. Can you do that?"
Chapter Five
Selected letters from Laith’s mailbox:
Sender: Bug < Grumblers >: Congratulations on the successful destruction of The First Temple! I hereby declare you an idiot!
After your show of strength and the incredibly powerful artifact, they finally started to take you seriously. The invading army is recruiting allies; everyone wants to join. The new Europeans alone boast over fifty independent units.
The Polish, the guests from the Great Kingdom of Ruthenia and the Ivano-Frankivsk State, the German Totenkopf clan, the Lettish Forest Brothers, the Rodents from Free Georgia, and the knights from the Restored Livonian Order will all be paying you a visit.
Also, look out for the new clan, Just Cause. Their goals: to fight the dark terrorists, to free the child hostages, and to establish a protectorate over the First Temple.
Thanks to their infinite monetary resources, they were able to quickly recruit over two thousand high-level mercenaries, equip them with high-end gear and gain all the gaming mass media support. Their officers are mostly cyber-athletes from English-speaking clusters. Instructors in camo fatigues have been sighted. Their class and clans remain unknown.