The Lag (The Game Master: Book #1)

by Alex Bobl

  Clutching them in her hand, she backed out of the open door as quietly as she could. Done. The couple by Artov's couch were flirting away, he holding her elbow, she brushing his hip with her knee.

  Had she really done it? Just like that? After all the innuendo she'd just had in the lobby downstairs? It was too good to be true. Surely there had to be a catch — but no, apparently there wasn't.

  Now. The utility room. What was it Wayfarer had said? Corridor 2B, right of the elevators, turn twice. Did he say two turns or three? Probably two. Or three?

  She crossed the corridor. So Healer — aka Robert Artov — was alive, then. No idea what that was supposed to mean given the circumstances. She thought about Baboon Face and his men. They were on RussoVirt's payroll, no doubt about it. But if, according to Healer aka Artov, Alpha had revolted against the company, disobeying its programmers, then why would the company send its men after her?

  Maybe they wanted her eyewitness account as the only person who'd managed to leave the game alive in the last twenty-four hours? In that case, there had been no need for her to escape them. It made sense, but still Yanna had a bad feeling about this bald-headed Baboon Face, his eyes, his body language and his tattooed fingers. The person was trouble. She just didn't want to have anything to do with him.

  She had been right: there were two turns, after all. The corridor ended in a large floor-to-ceiling square window. Three doors lined the wall next to it. Not glass ones, just normal doors. What had Wayfarer said? She needed the third door, the one to the utility room. What was the difference between a storage room and a utility room? Didn't matter, really, as long as she found it.

  Yanna walked over to the door, already eyeing the keys in her hand for the right one. Then she froze.

  Keys were no good. The door was locked with a magnet lock that you could only open by swiping a card.

  How cruel was that? Yanna pushed the neighboring door open: mops, brushes, a locker. She slid in and closed the door behind her, then felt for the light switch. Her shoulder brushed against a fire extinguisher on the wall.

  She switched the light on, looked around and stomped her foot in anger. Nothing. Nothing at all to try and open the utility room with.

  The laptop was within arm's reach — but how was she supposed to get to it?

  * * *

  The railcart was gaining speed. Attila could still hear the rattling noise in front. It seemed to be louder now. At first, it had seemed so strong because of all the echoes but now it was clear that its source was still very far away. The lamp swayed on the cart's front, casting its light on the tunnel's walls and low ceiling. The rails gleamed. Sleepers flickered below.

  Next to Attila, Wayfarer froze like a switched-off robot. What kind of person was he? All his weird slips of the tongue, his strange behavior and body language... his constant zoning out when nothing could awake him from his trance. Who was he? And what was his connection with Alpha, Gryad Online and RussoVirt itself? Did he have something to do with whatever had happened to the game?

  Attila reached for his Book and checked Skype. The screen flickered with interference.

  The tunnel's monotonous flow was getting to him. Beast behind him didn't speak. Wayfarer was quiet. Only the rattle ahead kept growing stronger like the enormous beating heart of a steel dragon.

  "The bad thing about it is," Attila said, "that we're never quite sure when the game still follows its old rules or when they've been replaced by Alpha's."

  "What do you mean?" Beast asked.

  "What I mean is we really don't know whether this noise ahead is part of the script that kicks in every time someone rides the cart or whether it's Alpha and his men preparing a nasty surprise for us. This rattling can be a standard soundtrack announcing a new Steam Tunnel quest, but it can also be a byproduct of something Alpha's doing right now. We just don't know. Therefore we can't prepare and react properly."

  "It might be a bit of both," Wayfarer said. "Alpha could be adding new properties to old scripts."

  Attila closed his eyelids and gulped. He was feeling worse. He had to quit the game now and get busy salvaging his senseless body sprawled on the couch in his oh so distant Moscow apartment.

  By the time he looked back up to the screen, the interference was gone. He hurried to open Skype. No connection. All the contacts' icons were white. The Book was basically useless. Skype was useless. Everything was flippin' useless!

  "There's a smaller tunnel to our left," Wayfarer said.

  "Three even," Beast echoed.

  The cart sped past a few narrow side tunnels. Two of them were dark; Attila had barely noticed a lone dull light glowing deep in the third one's bowels. As the cart rattled past, he turned to get a better look at it — and noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye.

  He stood up in his seat. A harpy! He hadn't recognized it at first because instead of wings, the creature had some ragged stumps wriggling over her shoulders. The harpy ran out of a side tunnel and hurried after the cart, limping. A miserable-looking creature, scruffy and one-eyed.

  Beast swung round, raising his arms. Little flames flickered between his hands.

  "Don't," Attila said. "She can't catch up with us."

  The harpy croaked something, then shouted, her only eye gleaming in the dark, "Shadows! Shadows are coming! Light is gone! Somebody, help us!"

  Since when are harpies sentient? Attila thought. Normally, they had an IQ of a crow.

  "Some of them can imitate human voices," Wayfarer answered his unasked question.

  "Oh really?" Beast spoke. "I never heard about it. Never heard them speak. What is it she's saying?"

  "She just repeats what she heard somewhere."

  The harpy kept chasing after them in long bounds, stumbling over the sleepers and drooling from her gaping mouth.

  Beast flinched. "You mean she heard it here in the tunnels? Why would they need a harpy down here anyway? It looks as if they tried to rip her wings off... were they experimenting on her or something? This has to be a quest! Let's stop and talk to her. She can probably clue us in. Come on, let's do it! I understand we're in a hurry but..."

  "Help," the harpy repeated mechanically, her voice devoid of thought or emotion — and still it betrayed panic and agony. "Shadows! Shadows everywhere! Please help! They're coming! Save us!"

  She began to lag behind. Finally, she tripped and collapsed between the tracks. The stumps behind her back twitched like a baby chick's little wings. She scrambled back to her feet, wailing, her only eye gleaming desperately after their cart.

  Attila made out the dark mouth of a second tunnel ahead of them. There, the tracks forked. He could see a primitive junction that looked like something from an ancient black and white movie. A dark lantern hung on a striped points switch. As the cart approached, the lantern lit up by itself, shining brighter and brighter. The cart's lamp blinked once; the lantern answered with a double blink.

  "Just look at this Dwarven magic," Beast enthused. "Railroad wizardry!"

  The cart swayed over the points and sped on toward the tunnel to their right.

  "Why are we going there?" Beast just wouldn't leave it alone. "Wayfarer, are you sure? How do you know this is the right way? What if it's taking us away from Deadville? My map's not working so I can't check."

  Wayfarer pulled at the brakes. Beast promptly shut up.

  "This tunnel isn't long," Wayfarer said. "I can already see the other end."

  The cart stopped. The lamp began to fade, its weak light giving way to Wayfarer's staff's scarlet glow. In its light Attila could see a mauled steel door in the wall. The rails in front of it were warped and bent like two rampant snakes. Rotting sleepers were heaped everywhere.

  Wayfarer jumped off and headed for the door, squeezing himself between the deformed rails. The gaping hole resembled an open lily. He stepped into it.

  "I think this is already the Engineers' settlement," Attila heard his voice. "So Deadville is right above us."

  B
east hurried after him through the hole. Attila followed.

  He found himself in a large cave that looked like a railroad depot. Mouths of a good dozen tunnels gaped in the walls. Hundreds of trolleys sat on the tracks meeting at the cave's center. Some of the trolleys were loaded with coal, others with ore. One was heaped with some weird stuff that emitted a purple glow. The air over it rippled.

  Attila felt pressure coming from it, pulling him toward the trolley. Beast stumbled: he must have sensed it, too.

  "Stay away," Wayfarer ordered as he walked around a small fat-bellied steam engine with a short chimney and a strange system of gear wheels at the back.

  "What is it?" Beast demanded. Having received no reply, he went on, "Listen, we don't even know what we're looking for! What kind of weapons? Where are they? It's not as if Healer told us a lot."

  Further on, the cave narrowed. There, its walls were studded with doors, some of them ajar. Attila pushed one open. They looked inside. A small cave was lined with what looked like primitive drilling presses mounted on steel workbenches. A complex belt transmission connected them to a huge machine in the corner, gleaming with metal. The top part of the machine disappeared into a hole cut in the cave's ceiling.

  "This is the steam engine that drove the drilling presses," Attila concluded. "They were something, these Engineers Under the Mountain, eh? I've never seen such a complex technology in the Canyon before."

  "Well, in the Kingdom of Warp they didn't have it bad, either," Beast added.

  They checked a few more caves. They too turned out to be workshops — apart from one which resembled a foreman's office. His desk and chair were cut into the rock. A small cast-iron door concealed a niche in the wall, piled high with parchment scrolls and ancient manuscripts. Wayfarer picked up one of them: a small leather-bound book with a hole in the middle.

  A bullet hole?

  Wayfarer turned a few pages. "It looks like a journal or a chronicle. The fifth day of the month of Servan from the birthday of the Great Steam Engine," he began reading. "The expedition led by Grone the Rockgrinder discovered in the lower mine..." he fell silent, reading.

  Attila felt sick. His head went round. His legs gave way under him; he leaned against the wall, gesturing to the anxious Beast that he was okay. He had a bitter taste in his mouth. He'd been thirsty for a while but drinking virtual water didn't do anything.

  "Wayfarer, mind giving us some idea what we're looking for?" he croaked, stumbling out of the "foreman's office" and grabbing at the wall again.

  Wayfarer walked right past him, reading the book he'd found. Then he looked back at him. "Once we find it, I'm pretty sure we'll know it. This book is interesting. The Engineers Under the Mountain drilled a new shaft," Wayfarer closed the book and tapped his staff against the cave's floor. "They were looking for mithrinol."

  "Looking for what?" Beast said. "Do you mean mithril? It's this stupid fantasy stuff they make super armor with. It's also called true silver."

  "No. I mean mithrinol. Did you see that glowing ore in the trolley? That's what it looks like."

  "Does it have magic properties?" Attila asked.

  "Enormously so. Mithrinol belongs to the oldest elemental magic. Which was what must have changed the dwarves, I think."

  "Listen," Beast said anxiously, "mind giving us the password to the bank? I'd rather we get our money now, before some elemental dwarf jumps us from around the corner and hacks your head right off with his battle-axe. You can't tell us no password without a head attached, can you?"

  "You'll get the password. Once we're done here. I'm not lying to you."

  A small passage in the rock ended in a small steel gate. Wayfarer pulled the handle. The rusty hinges creaked.

  The moment they stepped through the door, Attila heard a familiar thumping sound. He couldn't remember now at which particular moment they'd stopped hearing it. Probably, with the arrival of the harpy that screamed in a human voice. Yes, that's right. The harpy had distracted everyone. It wasn't every day you saw a talking harpy.

  Now the thumping noise sounded quite close although all the echo prevented Attila from telling exactly where it was coming from. It might still be far ahead — then again, it might not. The sounds seemed to come from everywhere at once.

  Behind the gate another tunnel crossed their tracks. It was quite short, about fifty feet in total, wide and square. One of its walls was lined with shelves carved in the rock with a door cut next to them. Four very narrow gauges ran its length — much narrower than even the one the railcart was running on.

  Wayfarer raised his staff higher, dispelling the dark. The far end of the tunnel had long collapsed, blocked by a rockfall. He walked along the shelved wall and stopped by a tall steel booth and a gate barrier.

  "What the hell is this place?" Beast mumbled in between the thumping noises that had become thunderous here.

  While Wayfarer was busy with the gate, Attila leaned against a shelf and licked his parched lips, "My question is, why are the gauges so narrow? This isn't good for anything, if..." he snapped his fingers. "I know! This tunnel is a shooting range."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Look. These tracks are used to take the targets to the wall. Dwarves would shoot at them, then they would roll back."

  Hinges creaked. Wayfarer opened the gate and entered the booth, taking his staff with him. The place grew dark.

  Beast leaned over the rails, studying them. Attila walked along the shelves. Was that a gun butt peeking from under an old rag on one of them? Firearms in Gryad?

  Attila pulled the cloth aside and picked up the weapon. What an interesting item indeed. It looked like one of those bulky old rifles with a lever on the breech and some sort of ribbed sphere on top. The butt of the gun was made of carved wood. The barrel was wound with a metallic tube. Attila had no idea what purpose that would serve. The gun hung on a wide strap made of tough leather.

  Attila studied it some more, then walked back and showed it to Beast.

  He froze, open-mouthed. "These dwarves are something else, really!"

  Attila could barely hear him over the noise.

  "Aren't they fed up with all this rattling?" Beast shouted. "D'you hear? The sound seems to be coming from inside this tunnel. From behind these rocks."

  Attila raised the gun, resting the butt against his left shoulder, and aimed it at the rockfall. It felt comfortable but way too heavy. The barrel was too short... actually, perfect for a burly dwarf. Gingerly he pulled the lever to one side.

  Something inside the gun whirred, rotating. With a humming noise, a blinding purple light poured through the gossamer cracks covering the tube that snaked around the barrel. It worked! Should he maybe try and pull the trigger?

  Attila squeezed it ever so slightly. Immediately he sensed the same pull of magic as earlier by the trolley. It was weaker, but still it was attracting him to the sphere mounted on the gun. The skin on his cheekbone grew taut; his left eye twitched.

  The booth rattled. A large machine rolled out enveloped by steam, its four tall thick-spoked wheels clattering along. Wayfarer sat in the cab, clutching a small control column.

  Attila mentally called the vehicle a power cart. The name suited it somehow. Behind the cab was an open platform with bulging sides and a tall turret mounted on it. A fat metal tube snaked around the turret's barrel: a larger version of the gun Attila was holding in his hands. The barrel was fixed in its mountings, pointing in front of the vehicle.

  Attila still stood aiming at the rocks blocking the tunnel. When he turned his head to see the arrival of the cart, his finger mechanically squeezed the trigger. Something screeched inside the ribbed sphere. The gun jerked. Attila staggered. A blinding bolt of purple lightning whooshed from out of the barrel.

  Its light was unnaturally bright and piercing. The lightning cut through the tunnel and disappeared. With a shattering sound, the pile of rocks sank to the floor in an avalanche of crushed stone. Larger fragments showered the walls and the ceil
ing.

  "Oh!" Beast crouched. "What d'you think you're doing?"

  "I," Attila began, then fell silent staring at the power cart that had braked to a halt not far from him. "I know. They're mithrinol weapons."

  "The ones Healer meant? Is that what we've come here for?"

  "I think so. We've completed the intermediate quest."

  Wayfarer spoke matter-of-factly atop his seat, "Concentrated mithrinol can syphon human souls. It's Gryad's analog of crude oil. The only difference being, crude oil is made of ancient organic matter and animal waste while mithrinol is the accumulated waste of ancient souls."

  "Whose souls exactly?" Attila asked cautiously.

  "The souls of creatures who used to populate Gryad in its mythical antiquity."

  "Weapon made out of souls!" Beast whispered reverentially, his stare caressing the gun and the turret. "A mythical gun — a mythogun! That's how I'm going to call it. Oh yeah, guys. This is something you can't buy in a game shop."

  "What's that?" Attila asked.

  Something was moving by the disturbed rockfall. Without killing the cart's engine, Wayfarer raised his staff. The stones which had before formed an almost vertical wall had now crumbled all over the place. The mithrinol lightning had left a large gaping hole at their center. Squat figures were pouring out of it.

  It took Attila some time to realize who they were.

  "Dwarves!" Beast gasped.

  The first of them was a true giant armed with a huge sledge hammer. He bared his teeth, growling, teeth gleaming above his shaggy beard. Smaller ones followed him, looking equally wild and feral like a pack of angry monkeys. Zombies, maybe? No. They all looked alive... at least as alive as a binary code can be. Dwarves devoid of souls? Just empty shells filled with rage?

  "What's wrong with them?" Beast wheezed.

  "I think they intend to satiate their hunger for souls... at our expense," Wayfarer replied. "Jump in, quick! We're off."

  The dwarves' giant leader was already running toward them, the sledge hammer held high in his raised hand. His movements were jerky like those of a broken toy. As he ran, he threw his straight legs far in front of him; his head swayed from side to side, his eyes burning with predatorial fire. Some kind of mutant dwarf, really. Why was he so big? The others were much smaller... actually no, not everyone. There was another one there, also way too big for a dwarf and with the same kind of jerky gait.