Viridian Gate Online: Books 1 - 3 (Cataclysm, Crimson Alliance, The Jade Lord)

by James Hunter

  The cloud lasted for only a few seconds, but by the time it cleared, Amara was already vaulting through the air, flipping gracefully like an acrobat.

  She came down directly on the Drake’s back, screaming again as she used the momentum of her fall to drive her conjured spear all the way through the creature’s scaly hide. The shaft cut through muscle, bone, and sinew like a hot knife through butter, exploding through the creature’s stomach and continuing downward, driving into the floor, literally pinning the Drake in place. Wow, that was a ridiculously cool move, which had to be some special skill in her Huntress class. Needless to say, I was impressed. The massive Terror responded accordingly, tossing back its head in a thundering bellow of pain and hate. Cutter—weak as he was—seized the brief window of opportunity and managed to shove himself from the creature’s jaws, dropping to the ground.

  He was free, but in bad shape: his HP bar was flashing manically, and blood liberally coated the front of his leather armor and pale skin.

  The Drake, in turn, fought in a frenzy to free itself from Amara’s spear, but nothing did the trick.

  Once more, the Drake was stuck in place. Realizing the futility of its struggle, the creature turned its gaze back on Cutter, who was tirelessly dragging himself out of the monster’s reach. The creature’s jaws flashed out again, but Amara was quicker. As the Drake’s jaws descended, a thin wire appeared in her hands—some sort of extra-long assassin’s garrote, maybe—and she slipped it around the Drake’s snout. With a fierce yank, she pulled the creature up short, reining the beast in like an unruly horse.

  Meanwhile, Cutter continued to slug his way across the passageway, leaving a smear of gore behind him as he cast furtive glances at the death-dealing Void Terror.

  I didn’t know how long Amara would be able to hold the thing at bay, but I was betting it wouldn’t be for long. Thankfully, feeling rushed into my body a heartbeat later—the stupid battle debuffs finally wearing off—leaving me severely weakened, but mobile again. And not a second too soon. The spear, running through the Terror, cracked, groaned, then snapped, pieces of conjured obsidian flying out like shrapnel before the weapon dissolved into a pile of harmless powder. The Void Terror’s many eyes narrowed while its cruel black lips curled back from its fangs.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was grinning.

  It lunged forward, swiping out with one talon-tipped hand, ready to reclaim Cutter and end him for good.

  I was already up and sprinting, but there was no way I’d get there in time—not without access to my Shadow Stride ability—so instead, I unleashed an Umbra Bolt. My impromptu attack splashed against the Drake’s clawed limb, swatting the paw aside, buying Cutter another few seconds of life. I closed the distance in a blink and dropped into a feet-first baseball slide at the last instant, bringing up my warhammer on instinct. My feet connected with Cutter—he screamed out in pain—and the force of my blow pushed him well away from the Drake’s deadly reach.

  At the same time, I turned my body and managed to catch an incoming talon swipe on the shaft of my weapon, barely saving my own neck.

  I looked up from the floor and caught the creature’s many eyes. Like with the wolf Void Terror I’d first encountered upon entering the mine, the Drake’s gaze froze me in place. It trapped me as effectively as any spell could. And, as before, I felt that same twinge of connection, of recognition. The creature’s eyes bored into me, they dissected me into neat pieces ready for examination. This time, though, a prompt appeared in the corner of my vision:

  <<<>>>

  You have initiated a Contest of Wills with a weakened Void Terror. Would you like to cast the conjuration spell Terror Bound in order to complete the Contest and attempt to bind the Void Terror Drake?

  Note: if you successfully capture the Void Terror Drake you will utilize your (1) Void Terror ability slot; if you fail, you will immediately be sent for respawn.

  Accept: Yes/No?

  <<<>>>

  “Yes,” I hollered, making sure to keep eye contact with the creature looming over me.

  There was a rush of power, like the discharge from pent-up static, followed by a brief flare of violet light. Time crept to a standstill—a sensation I was familiar with, since the same thing happened when I triggered my Shadow Stride ability—and a strange ball of energy, no larger than a softball and wavering from gold to red then back again, formed halfway between us. The orb just floated there, doing absolutely nothing. I didn’t want to break my gaze with the domineering Drake, but the ball was too curious not to look at.

  A quick glance gained me a new popup:

  <<<>>>

  Binding Orb of Will

  The Binding Orb of Will is pure will manifested, summoned from the Outer planes; it is often used to settle Contests of Will, since it responds solely to willpower. Each combatant seeks to direct the Orb toward their opponent through force of will alone, but only the strongest will shall prevail.

  <<<>>>

  I hastily read over the notice and dismissed it with a blink—unfortunately, when I opened my eyes again, the binding orb was a foot closer to me, and it let off the heat of a small personal sun. If that thing touched me, it would melt the skin from my face and leave me supremely dead. I turned all my attention to the orb, focusing on it, refusing to blink while I threw my will to survive against the strange magic. I pressed at the orb with all of my strength and determination. For a long beat, nothing happened, but then … Then, it lurched toward the Drake.

  Maybe only an inch or two, but movement nonetheless.

  The Drake growled in reply, a deep rumbling in its chest.

  I just sniffed, buckled down, and focused ever more intensely on the ball: picturing it inching closer and closer to the creature in my mind’s eye. The Contest of Will felt like a tug-of-war—a constant push-pull—which seemed to drag on forever and a day, even though I knew it’d actually been less than a minute. Perspiration quickly broke out along my forehead and rolled down into my eyes, creating a sharp sting that tried to distract me from the battle at hand. But I refused to lose this fight. Too much was on the line, and more than that, I wanted this Drake as my own.

  Getting a Void Terror Drake as my first minion would be just too cool, and it was possible I’d never get another opportunity like this again. These things probably weren’t all that common.

  So I hunkered down and pretended I was doing chest compressions. CPR is physically exhausting work, and demands an almost trancelike focus. Really, this wasn’t that different. So, I fell back on what I knew. I conjured that trancelike state I was so used to and willed the orb toward the Drake while I hummed the beat of “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees in my head. We stayed locked in combat for another minute, the Drake steady and unwavering. After another minute, however, the creature began to fidget with restless, nervous motion.

  And then the Orb of Will began to slowly and steadily drift its way. An inch. Then two … A quick spurt, and suddenly the ball was only a foot away from the creature’s maw. For the first time, I caught what might have been a look of genuine concern in the beast’s glowing eyes. It thrashed one last time, opening its mouth to roar, and that’s when I knew it was game over. As the Drake’s jaws stretched wide, the orb darted forward like an arrow, disappearing down the creature’s dark gullet. The roar died in the Drake’s throat, only half-formed, as the creature began to quiver, to shake, to crack.

  Bands of golden light, twisted with braids of molten red fire, erupted through the cracks in the Drake’s flesh, and then, in one final display of power, the creature exploded in a shower of brilliant light.

  I flopped onto my back—Stamina drained, breathing labored and painful, weary down to the bone. As time resumed its normal flow, a pair of alerts flashed in front of me:

  <<<>>>

  x1 Level Up!

  You have (35) undistributed stat points! Stat points can be allocated at any time.

  You have (8) unassigned proficiency points! Proficiency
points can be allocated at any time.

  <<<>>>

  Secret Quest Alert: Taming the Void Terror

  By binding your first Void Terror, you have completed a secret Shadowmancer Quest—Taming the Void Terror. In return for your hard work, you have received 12,000 EXP and your overall reputation has increased with both the Dark Conclave and the Shadow Pantheon. You have also unlocked an Achievement: Void Terror Trainer!

  Notice: Congratulations, you have successfully captured a level 29 Void Terror Drake!

  Restriction: You are currently level 24! Because your Void Terror has a higher level than you, it may not be mounted and will likely ignore your orders in battle. It may also attack friendlies when summoned.

  Notice: You have used your only Void Terror ability point.

  Notice: Would you like to name your new creature? Named creatures are far more likely to form strong bounds with their owners; oftentimes this special link confers limited telepathy with the summoned familiar.

  Accept: Yes/No?

  <<<>>>

  I read over the first notice again, frowning at the restriction. What good was it to have a familiar I couldn’t use? From the sound of things, if I let my new monster out, it would probably attack me instead of the bad guys.

  After a long pause, I simply shrugged, too tired to care. It was annoying, but that restriction wouldn’t last forever—I’d survived the transition, so eventually I’d surpass the Drake’s level and then I’d have a powerful ally in my corner. A little patience would set things right. I focused on the last part of the notification: a name. Since there was an obvious benefit to naming my new familiar, it only made sense to do so. Not to mention I didn’t relish the idea of calling him Void Terror Drake for the rest of my life.

  I only thought about it for a second, then smiled to myself. “Devil,” I said, thinking of the pudgy, dour face of the bulldog I’d had growing up. Devil had been a stout, muscular dog with a mean bark and a worse bite—unless, of course, you were family. If you were family, then he was the sweetest slobber monster on the planet. My dad hated pets on general principle, but as a former Marine, he’d had a certain soft spot for bulldogs, which he’d never quite been able to shake.

  “Congratulations, you may now summon Devil utilizing your Void Terror ability,” said a pert voice—polite, vaguely British, and female. Sophia. I knew the voice in my ear wasn’t the V.G.O. goddess of order I’d met briefly a few days back, but it still set me on edge.

  “What did you do, Shadowmancer?” Amara asked, her masked face popping up above me, knocking away my uncomfortable thoughts of the powerful Overmind. Before I could answer her first question, though, she added another: “Are you well?”

  “I’m fine,” I wheezed, waving one hand dismissively through the air. “Take care of Cutter—I just need a breather and maybe something to eat. I’ll explain what happened later. Just get Cutter.”

  EIGHT: Good News

  We sat around a makeshift campfire in the disheveled library, munching on slabs of spicy, roasted spider meat, everyone taking a few minutes to breathe and recuperate from our bout with the Void Terror Drake. Cutter was recovering well now, almost back to his usual self, but it’d been touch and go for a little while. By the time Amara had gotten to him, he’d practically had one foot in the grave: his HP bar had been strobing violently at less than 10%, and he’d boasted a myriad of debuffs—Broken Ribs, Punctured Lung, Internal Bleeding, Blunt Trauma—all incrementally sapping his life away.

  Bad, bad shape. A couple Health Regen potions and a hearty meal set him mostly right, but it had been an awfully close call.

  I watched the thief as I ate.

  I’d only known him for a week, and already I’d seen him suffer more punishment than any IRL person could ever endure. He took another bite, then winced and clutched at his ribs as if even eating was a terribly painful experience. Cutter wasn’t a nice person exactly, but I still felt bad for him; poor guy really couldn’t seem to catch a break. I shoved the thought away as I took another bite, savoring the smoky flavor and the hot grease, before uttering a muted burp.

  Cutter arched an eyebrow, then promptly issued his own eye-watering belch in retaliation, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “Now that’s a proper belch,” he said, before taking a long pull of bottled mead. Amara gave us both sidelong glances, then shook her head and snorted in what almost sounded like amusement, which was new and unexpected. I’d spent more time with the Murk Elf Huntress than I’d strictly wanted, and so far, she’d proven to be humorless and extremely rough around the edges. She was like Oscar the Grouch, if Oscar had military training and a penchant for stabbing things.

  It was nice to see a chip in her otherwise frigid exterior. Maybe there was a real person in there after all.

  Something pinged in my ear, a new personal message. Quickly, I pulled up my user interface and scrolled over to my inbox—a grin immediately broke out across my face. A new message from Abby. Finally. I took one last bite of meat, then flicked a piece of chitinous shell aside as I brushed greasy fingers on my pants and pulled open the message.

  <<<>>>

  Personal Message:

  Hey Jack, it’s me. Hope everything’s okay—I know I’ve been out of reach longer than we’d planned on. Things got messy at the Grand Archive in Alaunhylles. I thought going dark would make me harder to find, but Carrera and his people somehow managed to track me down anyway. Otto and I barely got out of there with our heads intact, and we still didn’t turn up anything on that Faction Seal. Hopefully, things have been better for you. Hopefully, you transitioned okay. Anyway, Carrera’s thugs are still looking for us and we could use a safe place to hole up. Assuming you’re alive and getting this *fingers crossed*, where are you?

  —Abby

  <<<>>>

  I read and reread the message, lips pursed as I thought.

  If Carrera had already managed to track her down, we didn’t have much time left. Even if she managed to get out of Alaunhylles without further complications, it wouldn’t take long for Carrera to figure out my connection to Abby, and then? Well, then, he’d come hunting for me too. We needed to use the Faction Seal before that happened, and we also needed a game plan if we wanted to keep our heads above water.

  Still, even with all of the baggage Abby brought, it was a relief to know she was okay. I didn’t have many friends here in Eldgard, and it would be nice to have someone from the real world that I could trust and commiserate with. Plus, she was smart, savvy, and a way better strategist than me, and that was exactly the kind of person I needed in my corner. Not to mention, she was cute.

  “Everything okay, Jack?” Cutter asked.

  I held up one finger, just a second, and wrote a hasty reply:

  <<<>>>

  Personal Message:

  Abby,

  Wow, it’s good to hear from you … I was really starting to worry. I transitioned a few days ago—very, very, very unpleasant—but I’m alive! I also managed to get an official class, Dark Templar with a kit specialization. I’m currently down in the Storme Marshes, in a Murk city called Yunnam. I’ve got some info on the Faction Seal you’re definitely going to want to hear, but I’d prefer to share it with you in person. Meet me in Yunnam as soon as you can—someone from The Mystica Ordo should be able to port you to the edge of the Ak-Hani-controlled territory. Just watch out for the spiders! See you soon.

  —Jack

  <<<>>>

  “Jack, you alright, mate?” Cutter asked again, a mixture of impatience and concern coating the words.

  I dismissed the PM and glanced up to find the thief eyeing me askew, his brow furrowed in something that might’ve been worry. “Yeah,” I replied with a nod. “Finally got a message from Abby. She had some complications in Alaunhylles. Aleixo Carrera, the shady dirtbag we ripped off, he found Abby and came after her. She didn’t give me a lot of details, but apparently she and Otto got away more or less intact and now she’s looking for a safe place to hide while
we get things straightened out. She should be on the way, so let’s finish this quest up and get back to town ASAP.”

  “Yes,” Amara said with a firm nod. “We’ll need to dispatch the scouts—otherwise your friend may well end up dead, impaled at the bottom of a pit.” My face reddened slightly at the remark, which was clearly a jab at Cutter and me. After breaking free from the [Spider Queen] and her brood, Cutter and I had ineptly stumbled headlong into a spiked pit, which had almost killed us both. Not one of our proudest, most competent moments.

  “All right,” I said, gaining my feet with a tired groan. “I’ve still got a few pounds of ore left to gather, so why don’t you guys take it easy, maybe pick through a few of these books, then we’ll go.”

  Cutter screwed his face up in distaste. “I’m not sure if you heard my list of job qualifications earlier, but librarian isn’t in my skill set either. I’m not really a book person,” he replied, then paused for a long beat. “But, you’re the boss, I suppose. Also…” He trailed off and looked away, refusing to meet my eye. “Also, before we get caught back up in the swing of things, I just wanted to say thank you for saving my arse back there. You and Amara, both.”

  He shot a look at the Huntress and gave her a tight-lipped smile, which she tentatively returned. “Generally,” he continued, “I’m not great with this kinda thing, but you two risked a lot for me. Put your lives on the line. There’s not a lot of folk in the Thieves’ Guild that would do something like that for anyone—especially a royal pain in the arse like me—so it means a lot.” He grunted, cleared his throat, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Now, how’s about we get working before we all start blubbering like a bunch of wee girls, eh?”