Deadman's Retinue

by Pavel Kornev

  Suddenly I realized I was hungry — and thirsty. I had neither food nor drink on me: I just hadn’t thought about it. A deadman doesn’t need refreshments.

  06 hrs 17 min…

  THE TUNNELS SEEMED to go on forever. I would stealth up, creep toward yet another gaping hole in the wall, make sure it was safe and keep going. Goar in his pitch-black armor followed at some distance. His sword dangled uselessly in its sling behind his back: the tunnel was too narrow to use it, anyway. Goar’s bare hands were an awesome weapon in and by themselves, not to mention his magic skills.

  When I got completely out of breath, I slowed down, allowing Goar to approach, and whispered, “Where are we going?”

  By way of answer, he touched his finger to his helmet, then twisted it at his temple.

  Yeah, yeah, I know. We had to keep quiet.

  Gradually the tunnel began to go uphill. We started coming across bottomless crevices with wooden planks thrown across them. Goar caught up with me and mouthed in my ear,

  “We’re almost there. Watch out, there should be guards posted on this side too.”

  Almost there! He jinxed it, didn’t he?

  Just as we started along yet another plank bridge, it creaked and sank down. It didn’t drop all the way to the bottom but stopped on the next level below, taking us right into a caveful of kobolds.

  I was saved by my stealth. The entire screaming, growling horde went for Goar, swarming all over him, poking their serrated daggers at his armor joints and eye slits. Goar gave as good as he got, crushing their skulls with his gauntlets. He seemed to have forgotten all about rushing me in the heat of the fight.

  I didn’t sit on the sidelines, either. I slid my dagger across the nearest Kobold’s throat, stole behind another’s back and buried the dagger under his shoulder blade.

  Stealth mode: disabled

  Immediately one of them attacked me, trying to grab me by the neck. I threw him over myself, leapt aside and brandished my dagger, trying to keep them off me. In the resulting dogpile, I had to use my dagger blindly, slicing, stabbing and punching as I tried to break their ring and stealth back up.

  They showered me with blows which luckily were neither too strong nor accurate. The only kobold who tried to sink his teeth into my foot failed to bite through the boot’s thick leather. I finished him off by poking him in the ear with my dagger — then realized that everything was already over.

  Completely covered in blood, Goar stood amid the guards’ lifeless bodies. His gauntlets were covered in some gross substance — brains, I suppose.

  “Run!” he wheezed. We climbed a ladder leaning to the wall and legged it, followed by the echo of gongs ringing behind us as the kobolds raised the alarm. Goar, who could normally make mincemeat of a whole army of those little abominations, was now scampering away so fast I could barely keep up with him.

  I’d love to know what was on his mind.

  By the time the tunnel ended, my lungs were on fire, my heart jumping out of my chest. This was by far the most exhausting stretch in my entire gaming experience.

  I ran out of the dungeon into the open. The momentum forced me to take a few more steps; then I doubled up with an open mouth, gulping the fresh air. I brushed the sweat from my face, looked up and very nearly gasped in amazement.

  The crude granite walls were gone, replaced by the whitest marble. We were standing in a round courtyard, its high carved columns reaching high into the night sky. Impenetrable darkness swirled behind the dainty parapet of the second-story gallery. A wide marble staircase led up to the next level; there were no other exits apart from some niches in the walls which might conceal secret doors.

  “So where are we?” I asked Goar once he’d caught up with me.

  He didn’t reply.

  Zzzzzing! Something hit me just below my ribs, piercing my body right through and exiting from the small of my back.

  The pain dumbfounded me. For a moment, I felt like a pinned beetle. My head swam, my legs gave way under me; had it not been for an almighty shove to my back, I might have slumped onto the cold marble tiles, curled up and died. As it was, I was forced to take a few more steps toward the far end of the courtyard. Two more arrows hit the floor where I’d just stood.

  “Upstairs!” Goar thundered, drawing his sword from behind his back.

  The shock seemed to have released me. I stealthed up and dashed toward the stairs.

  Dzing! Another arrow whooshed past my ear, hit a stone and ricocheted off it. The archer’s Insight must have been high enough to notice me despite my stealth. I leapt aside, promptly dodging the next arrow, flew up the stairs and took cover behind a column.

  My health was deep in the yellow. I fished the minor healing potion out of my bag and poured it into my mouth, then broke off the fletches of the arrow stuck in my side. Even so, as I began pulling the arrow through my body, I very nearly swooned. My guts felt on fire, my head went round; it was a miracle I didn’t collapse.

  What the hell was going on?

  The clanging of metal reached me through my catalepsy; I spat out blood and looked down into the courtyard.

  I didn’t believe my eyes. Three snakemen were attacking Goar below. Their scaly tails swished over the marble tiles; their human torsos swayed; their heads appeared almost humanlike. The monsters clutched heavy scimitars in each hand, their tails trying to sweep Goar’s feet from under him. The paladin swung this way and that as he parried their attacks while sparks flew off his black armor whenever arrows hit it.

  Of course! The archers!

  I bared my dagger and walked along the gallery until I heard the low-pitched twang of a bowstring. I peered from behind a column and saw another snakeman who was loosing off arrow after arrow at Goar.

  Could he be the bastard who’d just shot me down too?

  A wave of fury surged over me but I forced myself to calm down and peered at the archer, looking for any vulnerable spots. Finally I noticed a tiny little marker just under his left shoulder blade. It was only there a moment; then it blinked and disappeared. That’s the problem you have with low Insight.

  Never mind. The archer didn’t look anywhere near as burly as those swordsmen below. I stepped behind him and stabbed him in the back. I hit the right spot, even though I didn’t kill him first time. The monster jumped up, writhing, but I buried my dagger in him three more times, every blow dealing double damage. Greenish blood gushed out of the wounds.

  The Naga Archer has been killed!

  Experience: +325 [5 518/6 220]

  The level is increased!

  That’ll teach him! I stepped away from the lifeless body and warily touched my own side. The wound had already closed — either due to the Amulet of the Black Phoenix, or thanks to the healing potion itself.

  It didn’t matter. I had to rush. The fight below was still on. Two of the Nagas were already lying dead in their own blood, but Goar was having a hard time of it. Although his attackers’ scimitars couldn’t damage his powerful armor, the archers kept on hitting its most vulnerable spots.

  I stealthed up and hurried on, looking for the next archer. My victory had made me overly confident, and I very nearly paid for it. I attacked the next archer straight away but only managed to deal him a couple of blows when the snakeman’s powerful tail straightened, sending me flying through the air. It was a good job it hadn’t broken my legs.

  The Naga swung round, flung his bow aside and reached for the scimitar dangling from his belt. Luckily, the wounds he’d already received affected his Agility, allowing me to duck under the whooshing blade of his sword. The blade hit a column with a clatter while I stole behind the snakeman’s back, stabbed him between his shoulder blades, then buried my dagger in his neck.

  Finished!

  Still, I could hear more clanging coming from the courtyard below. I stealthed up again and ran off in search for the last archer.

  The problem was, he found me first. He must have smelled a rat and decided to go and investigate. As
soon as I cleared the next column, I saw this scaly thing slithering toward me. My stealth skill didn’t fool him: as soon as I’d darted off, an arrow flew past, missing my shoulder by mere inches.

  This one was a Nagini, a female snake, judging by her generously exposed breasts. Still, I knew better than to underestimate her, so I didn’t attack her head on. Instead, I waited for her to bare her scimitar and jumped onto the gallery’s parapet. I ran toward the nearest column which was only a couple of paces away, grabbed at it with my left hand and allowed momentum to swing me around it, landing behind the Nagini’s back.

  She physically didn’t get the time to turn round, so she didn’t try. She simply thrust her scimitar behind herself. I practically impaled myself on its broad double-edged blade.

  The pain from an arrow is a pinprick compared to what you feel when a sword rips through your abs, severs your guts and screeches against your spine. The only reason I didn’t collapse was because she was holding on to her weapon. I slumped onto it, sensing it dig deeper and deeper into my flesh.

  I couldn’t step back; I couldn’t even breathe. I was finished!

  Time seemed to have stopped, as if scorched by the unimaginable pain. Then the monster yanked her sword out. I collapsed on the floor.

  Damage taken: 87 [18/143]

  Bleeding damage: 5 per min

  She raised the scimitar again. I was so weak I couldn’t even move, let alone try to crawl aside. I just lay there in a pool of my own blood, waiting for the coup de grace.

  Still, this time it wasn’t meant to happen.

  Goar’s black outline loomed out of the darkness behind the Nagini’s back. His sword flashed diagonally through the air, dissecting the snake into two. Sticky green substance gushed to the floor — but I was still unable to move on the cold marble, clutching my spilling guts with both hands. Not that it helped, but at least it slowed the blood loss somewhat.

  “Whatcha doin’ layin’ there?” Goar asked as he removed his helmet and started pulling out the arrows stuck in his armor.

  “Dyin’,” I said.

  I meant it. My life was dwindling with every drop of blood I lost. The pain didn’t abate for one moment, preventing me from both moving and thinking clearly, rendering me unable to do anything for my own survival.

  The pain! I’d never experienced anything like it in my undead days — and when I’d only just joined the game, none of my wounds had hurt so badly.

  Could it be the result of extended immersion? Did that mean that my brain had adapted to the virtual reality around, believing it to be real life and therefore adjusting all my sensations to match real-world ones? That might sound good for foodies and adventurers but most players were unlikely to appreciate such a consequence of an inexpertly parried blow. This could make you lose your mind very quickly.

  Goar thrust his hand toward me and spat out a short spell. A wave а warmth flooded over me, washing away the pain and healing my wounds.

  Gosh it felt good.

  You’ve been healed!

  Health: +125 [143/143]

  I breathed a sigh of relief and climbed to my haunches. “What about Equilibrium? I thought my body would now be covered in purulent ulcers?”

  “Which ulcers?” he asked, uncomprehending. Then he must have realized what I meant because he spat blood on the floor. “Ah, I see. I know what you mean. I absorbed the negative effects. So please try not to stick your neck out next time.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I said, getting to my feet.

  I hurried to distribute the available points I’d received with my last level up. This time I didn’t add anything to Agility, concentrating on Perception alone. I needed to be able to detect our enemies’ vulnerable spots, otherwise my toy dagger wouldn’t be up to any serious opponents.

  I failed to bring Stealth up to 16 because that required taking some kind of training course. So I invested into Dodge instead. I bagged the Nagini’s bow and scimitar, as well as a couple of rings and a handful of gold coins.

  “Let’s go,” Goar said. “My game time is almost out.”

  “But what about…”

  “You can always pick up the loot on your way back,” he snapped, once again confirming my suspicions that he knew the exact place where he was taking me.

  How very interesting. Very.

  Above all, I didn’t want to get into any more trouble. I adjusted the amulet hanging around my neck. If push came to shove, I could always summon Neo. He could get angry at me all he wanted, but if he’d dispatched Scarecrow to deliver me this trinket, he must have had his reasons. He might help me out of the shit, if only in memory of an old friendship.

  07 hrs 25 min…

  WE DIDN’T WALK very far, about another half-hour at the most. We climbed down the hill into some kind of ravine and plodded along in the surrounding fog. Nobody tried to attack us; the area was remarkably deserted: nothing but grim bare trees, withered grass, rocks and black soil. A muddy stream flowed past, spreading the pungent rotten-egg odor of hydrogen sulfide.

  At first, I could feel something slurping and snapping within me; then it all stopped. Had it not been for a light aching, I would have forgotten all about my wounds. My bitten hand had healed too, leaving no trace of the infection behind. What a shame rogues couldn’t choose the profession of a healer. Perfect for patching oneself up. Better than having to drag a priestess everywhere with you.

  The thought of Isabella stirred something in my heart that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Last time, things hadn’t worked out between us, but this time I was alive…

  No. No, no, no.

  I really needed this wild lady like a pain in the butt. Not only would that make Prince Julian jealous but most of all, the woman was worse than useless! She was a Fury, wasn’t she? Which meant that she didn’t have access to healing skills, anyway. I really should stay away from her. Safer that way.

  Gradually I discerned a trail snaking between the trees which led us to yet another cave.

  A row of poles lined the entrance, each topped with a madly grinning skull. Humans, Elves, orcs, dwarves… all sorts. I even saw a bear’s skull and a couple with fancy twisted horns. They could have been mountain sheep. Then again, they might not.

  “Here we are,” Goar said, drawing his sword from behind his back.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, anxious. “What’s this place? You sure no one’s gonna kill us?”

  The orc smirked. “Keep your hair on. You wanted to be rushed, and that’s exactly what you’re gonna get. Just don’t act out of turn. Go ahead, stealth up!”

  Unwilling to argue, I did as I was told, but I was too curious to keep quiet. “Who’s in there, anyway?”

  Without replying, he entered the cave. I had nothing left to do but follow.

  The air inside was close and reeking of feces and rancid meat. I remembered what they’d said about bears who apparently leave their game to sit for a few days until it’s cured to their liking, but I doubted that this cave could be home to an animal. The skull-topped poles were proof enough. I just hoped this wasn’t an orcish shrine. I dreaded to think what it might feel like to take the full brunt of a fireball. Oh no, thank you very much.

  We didn’t see anyone by the entrance to the cave. Apart from a large heap of bones, that is. Goar kept moving toward the back of the cave where the roof rose slightly. There, a small bonfire glowed behind a makeshift curtain of animal pelts.

  Goar pulled the curtain open. An odious shape, massive and morbidly obese, flitted through the gloom. Goar exhaled sharply and thrust his two-handed sword in front of himself, burying the blade right between the ogress’ fat floppy breasts. The sword’s bloodied tip exited her humped back.

  That’s when everything went apeshit. Goar had made the mistake of stabbing her instead of slashing. The wounded monster jumped at her chance; she grabbed at the sword’s guard, not letting Goar pull it out. In the meantime, another ogre appeared from the back. He wasn’t so massive — in fact, he w
as downright skinny. He was also pale-skinned with a mop of white dreadlocks and the red eyes of an albino.

  Having arrived at the scene, the albino gave Goar’s helmet an almighty whack with a thigh bone, producing the sound of a tolling bell. Goar staggered, losing the initiative for a mere split second. Immediately he recovered and let go of his sword while blocking the second swing of the thigh bone — but by then, the old female had already reached out for him. Her terrible claws screeched across his armor.