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

by James Hunter

  He paused, letting the accusations linger in the air. “And now?” His voice rose, sharp and angry. “Now the Ak-Hani commit sacrilege. Disgraced Kolle convenes the Conclave and brings this, this”—he waved dismissively at me—“this dàang taao, this Lost One, into our sacred place? No. I reject this. Kolle and the Ak-Hani clan have betrayed us. Betrayed our principles. Our people. Kolle’s face should be lowered—he should be removed from his seat and cast out from among the people. It is only right.” Finally, the man fell silent, absently adjusting his robes.

  Chief Kolle simply waited, arms folded, as a heavy and uncomfortable silence settled over the clearing. After a moment, when no one else spoke, he stood and scanned the faces around him. “If you are done, Chief Sakal,” he said, voice neutral and flat. “Let me start by saying, I understand that many things have changed since this man, Grim Jack”—he glanced over a shoulder at me—“entered our lands and territories. We have indeed accepted him in as one of our own, and many more outsiders besides. We have also allowed the Crimson Alliance to use Yunnam as their faction city. Yes, we have even made a compact with the Spider Queen of the deep bog.”

  He paused for a moment, lips pursed, jaw clenched. “And Yunnam has never been so prosperous,” he finally finished. “Our economy flourishes. Our clansfolk prosper as never before. Our city swells with trade and riches and progress. This is the way forward for the Dokkalfar. The only path in truth. For five hundred years we have hidden in our swamps, leaving the outside world to fend for itself, and we have the Viridian Empire as a result. Perhaps, had we done more then—made hard choices, fought for Eldgard, built more alliances with Outsiders—we wouldn’t be in the situation we are in now.

  “Maybe you, Chief Sakal, wish to remain insular and disconnected from the rest of the world, but me and my people? We do not. Moreover, it is only a matter of time before someone forces the issue. There is a new emperor, a cunning and dangerous man named Robert Osmark, and soon he will come for us. With the Wodes firmly under heel, he will turn his expansionist army on our kith and kin. It is certain. So yes, the Ak-Hani have changed. Improvised. Adapted. But, we have not betrayed our ancestors—and I have proof of this. Evidence that this is indeed the will of the Ancestor Spirits, which is why I’ve called this assembly.”

  “So you say,” Chief Sakal replied, eyes narrowing, chin raised in defiance, “yet I see no proof. Just this filth who defiles this Conclave with his pres—”

  “Enough,” the squat woman, Chief Dao, interjected. “You’ve said your piece, Sakal. Everyone here knows there is no love lost between the Lisu and the Ak-Hani. Your words, your accusations, fall on unsympathetic ears. And do not forget, I am the first of this Conclave and I will hear Chief Kolle out.” Sakal stared daggers at her, a subdued grimace loitering on his face, but then he nodded and sat like an unruly toddler begrudgingly sent to time-out.

  “Now, Honored Kolle,” Chief Dao continued, “I will hear you, but many of the things Honored Sakal has said ring true. You have even admitted so with your own mouth. There have been many, many changes in Yunnam, and yet this Conclave has been consulted precious little in the process, and now you break with tradition completely by bringing this Lost One into our holy place? We are owed some explanation, I think. You say you have proof that this is what the ancestors would want, so I would see it. Let us judge the weight of your claim. What proof do you have?”

  The chief turned toward me and smiled. “Now is the time, Grim Jack. Show them.”

  Hesitantly, I skirted around the chair and moved into the center of the grassy ring, letting the warmth from the violet burning fire wash over me. I shuffled from foot to foot, glancing at each of the faces around me, seeing suspicion or outright hatred in most of their eyes. At last, I cleared my throat, pushed back the hood of my cloak, and pulled the Jade Lord’s crown from my head, holding it up in one hand for everyone to see. For a moment, everything was still—expectant—then the violet light from the fire fell on the helm and the knots of polished jade began to glow with a brilliant, ghostly light.

  A collective round of muted gasps went up from the assembled onlookers.

  “By all the old gods,” Chief Dao gasped. “No. It cannot be … The Crown of the Jade Lord. Found?”

  “A forgery,” Sakal hissed, his eyes bulging, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “It must be. Must. Be. Our Exalted Ancestor, Lord Nangkri, would never bestow one of the sacred artifacts on this Lost One. Impossible.”

  “It’s no fake,” another chief—this one an ancient man with a wispy beard—replied, his eyes fixed on the crown. “It burns with the ancestor fire, we can see it plainly with our own eyes. After five hundred years of shame and silence, the Jade Lord reveals himself again.”

  “Where did you find this thing, boy?” Sakal asked, his angry gaze landing on me like a hammer blow.

  “I recovered it from the corpse of a Dark Priest of Serth-Rog in the Plague Tunnels beneath Rowanheath,” I replied slowly, picking up steam with every word. “I was told to bring it here, to the Dark Conclave, and ask about the Downfall.” The chieftains stole sidelong glances at one another, as though they weren’t quite sure how to proceed; meanwhile, the armor-clad Murk Elves behind them shifted and swayed on edgy feet, adjusting weapons or needlessly straightening cloaks and tunics.

  “We shouldn’t speak of such things,” Sakal finally said, “not in this place. It is ill-advised and disgraceful.”

  “And yet he needs to know,” Chief Kolle replied, “if he is to embark on the quest and seek out the remaining artifacts.”

  “The fact that we need to tell him at all,” Sakal said, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, “is proof that he isn’t one of us. That the quest should fall to another.”

  “Even so,” the matronly Chief Dao replied, holding up a hand to halt any further objections, “he is here. And, like it or not, he has the crown, so he deserves to know. Honored Anurak?” She dipped her chin toward the ancient beanpole man, who’d spoken up earlier about the authenticity of the crown. The elderly chieftain, stooped with age, stood and shuffled forward, pulling a small leather pouch from his belt. He moved to the edge of the fire before coming to a herky-jerk stop, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the flames.

  With deliberate and practiced ease, the ancient chieftain opened the pouch, dipped his fingers in, and pulled out a pinch of dull-gray sand, which he promptly tossed into the flames. The powder, whatever it was, went up with a blinding flare, releasing a billowing smoke cloud into the air. Instead of dissipating, however, the smoke began to swirl and move, to twist and take on a new shape, until the hazy image of a man hung above the purple fire. A tall Murk Elf, with broad shoulders, decked out in dark, heavy armor, wearing the same crown that now sat in my hand.

  “Long ago,” Anurak said solemnly, “in days long forgotten to men and faded into the stuff of legends, the six named clans of the Dokkalfar—the Ak-Hani, the La-Hun, the Lisu, the Karem, the Chao-Yao, and the Na-Ang—lived under the banner of the Jade Lord, ruler of the Nangkri Dynasty. The Jade Lord, Nangkri, had six brothers, who ruled over each of the clans.” The smoke shifted, the conjured king breaking apart as six other Murk Elves—each hazy and indistinct—took form. “Those days were the height of our glory, back before the Empire and the Wode incursion. Back when the People of the Marsh ruled half of Eldgard. Everything up to the Tanglewood, near Harrowick.

  “We were united, then: one people, with one heart and one purpose, ruled by the greatest king to ever live.” The stooped chieftain paused, his eyes staring through the smoke and flame as though he were seeing into a different time. A better time. “Then Arzokh the Sky Maiden came. A monstrous Dragon Queen from the Frozen Wastes far to the north.” The six smoky brothers swirled and vanished, reforming and spreading into a monstrous scale-covered body with huge wings and fang-studded jaws larger than a T. rex’s. An eye, big as a dinner plate and reflecting the green firelight below, regarded me coolly.

  “The Sky Maide
n, long dormant, was roused from her slumber by the Svartalfar, then flew south in search of food and plunder. She fell upon our lands to the north. Harrying our farmers and herds …” The inky dragon sailed over a small town, spewing huge columns of flame at the thatch-roofed homes below. “Stealing livestock …” She swooped low, wings stretched wide, before scooping up a sheep in oversized jaws. “Killed our bravest warriors. Until, that is, Nangkri and his brothers rode from the Marshes to meet the creature on the rocky Vasterberg Steppes.”

  Seven swirling warriors surrounded the scale-covered dragon, lashing out with spears and arrows, bolts of shadow magic, and columns of purple flame. “The battle lasted six days and seven nights. The Sky Maiden called great bolts of lightning to rend the earth and huge gouts of flame to scorch the forests and fields. On the seventh night, though, when all hope seemed lost, the Jade Lord finally slew the Sky Maiden. But, as she lay dying, she cursed Honored Nangkri, fueling the foul spell with her life’s breath: ‘Your land will be broken asunder, your kingdom smashed as a pot, and you shall have no rest, no peace, not even in death.’”

  The chieftain deflated as if the words were physically painful to speak.

  “Still, Nangkri paid no mind to her words,” the old man continued after a beat. “Instead, to spite the Sky Maiden, he crafted three artifacts from her bones and empowered them with her departing soul, ensuring she could never move into Kuonela, the eternal resting place of Dragons. His own curse, cast in retaliation. That crown you hold”—he nodded toward the helm—“is one of those items. A sign of the Jade Lord’s triumph. One imbued with the power to unite the six clans under one ruler. Sadly, that was also the beginning of the end for our people. The Downfall. Nangkri grew ill—some say he was poisoned by one of his brothers, others say it was the curse of the Sky Maiden—and died soon after.”

  The smoke danced and twisted once more, forming a funeral pyre with the body of the Jade Lord stretched across the top. “Two of Nangkri’s brothers, Ak-Hani and Lisu”—he faltered for a moment, glancing first at Chief Kolle, then at Chief Sakal—“both laid claim to the throne … A terrible civil war followed.” The ascending smoke from the illusionary pyre morphed into a pitched battle. Murk Elf battling Murk Elf, bodies falling by the score as blood flew through the air. “Comrades in arms, torn apart just as the Sky Maiden foretold. Neither side won, and the artifacts of the Jade Lord were lost in the conflict.”

  The wizened chieftain clapped his dusty gray hands, and in a blink, the smoke dissipated and vanished. He turned, then, and lumbered back to his chair, breathing as hard as if he’d just run a marathon.

  “But I don’t understand,” I said. “Why are these artifacts so important? Why would they be needed to rule over the Storme Marshes? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “They are not merely artifacts, Grim Jack,” Chief Kolle said from behind me. “They are the only means to lift the Arzokh’s curse. You see, the Sky Maiden captured the souls of Nangkri and his kin as they crossed through the Twilight land, preventing them from entering the halls of the honored dead. A fitting punishment, considering this was the very fate Nangkri cursed Arzokh with. These stone arches”—he waved at the crude gray slabs encircling us—“can open a portal to the Twilight lands, where the Jade Lord is being held captive by the restless spirit of the Sky Maiden.

  “Sadly, though, no mortal can hope to defeat the terrible dragon unless they have assembled the three artifacts. Those artifacts—made of her bone and spirit, holding her very essence—have the power to render Arzokh mortal once more. Then, and only then, can her soul be utterly destroyed. Freeing our honored ancestors is an integral part of the Dark Conclave’s mission, but after the Downfall all three artifacts were lost. Lost until now. If you can assemble them, however, and use them to free the Jade Lord, you will earn his Blessing. And Nangkri’s Blessing will bestow the mantle of the Jade Lord on you, Grim Jack. It will give your faction control over all six Keeps within the Storme Marshes.”

  “No.” The word ripped through the tranquil meadow like a bomb blast as Chief Sakal leaped to his feet, his fists curled into tight balls, his forehead furrowed in hate. “I will not allow a Lost One to rule over us—and certainly not a Lost One adopted into the Ak-Hani tribe.” He paused, lips pulled back in a hateful snarl as he eyeballed the assembled chieftains and their honor warriors. “I call for a Trial of Blood and Bone,” he said. “Perhaps our ancestors used this vile Outsider as a tool to bring us the crown, but if he would embark on the quest, let him prove himself to us first.”

  The assembled Murk Elves were quiet and thoughtful in the face of his challenge. I didn’t know exactly what was happening, but back when I’d worked a bus for Medi-Vision, a pair of shift supervisors had gotten into a pissing match over new continuing educations standards … Their little argument had come awfully close to blows, and the end result was everyone had to spend ten extra hours doing redundant CE. What I was seeing here looked a lot like that, and I had a queasy gut feeling it wasn’t going to turn out well. Not for me, at least.

  “Honored Sakal has called for a Trial of Blood and Bone,” Chief Dao said eventually, her jaw tight, her shoulders tense. “Let us take to a vote. All in favor?”

  Sakal shot his hand up in a flash, followed in short succession by the ancient chieftain and a dark-skinned woman with droopy cheeks. Three yes votes. Chief Dao looked on the verge of speaking up when one more chief raised a tentative hand: a gaunt woman with silver hair and a puckered scar marring half her face. Four yes votes. A majority. A collective sigh seemed to trickle through the clearing.

  “Very well,” Chief Dao said with a resigned nod. “This Lost One, Grim Jack, shall compete in a Trial of Blood and Bone for the right to complete the Quest of the Jade Lord. Honored Sakal, who will serve as your champion in this challenge?”

  Sakal hooked a thumb toward a towering Murk Elf in heavy, black-coated plate mail, bearing a heavy mace. “My son, Chakan.”

  “It shall be so,” Chief Dao replied gravely. “Grim Jack of the Ak-Hani shall compete against Chakan of the Lisu.” She paused, folded her hands, and faced me. “Deep within the heart of this cavern lies the Horn of the Ancients, wielded by Isra Spiritcaller, one of the greatest chieftains of the Maa-Tál to ever live. It is the key to open the gateway between the worlds. The first to retrieve the horn and bring it back here will be declared victorious. Once you step out of this clearing there are no rules. You can fight. You can steal. You can kill. But you must win at any cost.

  “Should you fail, Grim Jack Shadowstrider,” she continued, “the Crown of the Jade Lord will be taken from you and given to Chakan, son of Honored Chief Sakal.” She paused as though there was more to say, but she couldn’t quite force the words from her mouth. “Furthermore, because Honored Chief Kolle brought you, an Outsider, to this gathering, should you fail, he will be stripped of his title as chieftain and exiled from our people—forced to walk the land as a blood-traitor to the ancestors. Will you accept the challenge, knowing what is at stake? Will you face the Trial of Blood and Bone against Chakan?”

  Nervous sweat broke out across my brow as a quest update popped up:

  <<<>>>

  Quest Update: The Jade Lord

  Congratulations! You’ve successfully brought the Ancient Crown of the Jade Lord to the headquarters of the Dark Conclave, deep in the heart of the Storme Marshes. You have learned that the Crown of the Jade Lord is one of three sacred artifacts, which, if collected, will allow you to unite the Storme Marshes and rule over the Dark Conclave as the Jade Lord. Chief Sakal of the Lisu has challenged your claim, however, and you must defeat his son, Chakan, to prove yourself worthy.

  Quest Class: Ultra-Rare, Secret

  Quest Difficulty: ?

  Success: Retrieve the Horn of Isra Spiritcaller and return it to the sacred meadow before your opponent, Chakan of the Lisu.

  Failure: Die or fail to return the Horn of Isra Spiritcaller to the sacred glade before your opponent, Chakan of the L
isu.

  Reward: The Crown of the Jade Lord; New Quest: Path of the Jade Lord; 32,000 EXP. If you fail, the Crown of the Jade Lord will be taken from you and Chief Kolle will be forced into exile!

  Accept: Yes/No?

  <<<>>>

  I gulped, a wave of sickness and uncertainty clawing its way up from my stomach, and glanced at Chief Kolle, looking for his approval. After a second, the leathery chieftain shot me a curt nod—do it—his lips pressed into a tight, worried line. “Yes,” I finally said, my voice soft and unsure.

  SEVEN: Blood and Bone

  “Grim Jack,” Chief Kolle whispered, one hand clenched tight over my shoulder, his fingers digging into my skin, “I believe you can do this, but you will be at a great disadvantage. Chakan is a powerful Shadow Knight and a ruthless fighter. Smart. Cunning. Strong. He cannot manipulate the Umbra in the way you can, but he will be resistant to some of your magics.” I stole a sidelong look at my opponent: he stood with his head bowed, nodding absently as Chief Sakal prattled on and on. I couldn’t hear what Sakal was saying, but I saw him glance my way more than a few times, death and destruction written into every line of his face.

  “Is your champion prepared, Honored Kolle?” Chief Dao barked, her face placid, though the tension in her beef-slab shoulders gave her anxiousness away.

  “One moment, Highest,” Kolle replied, holding up a finger. “And Jack, one other thing. Beware the Watchers. They dwell in the dark and nest in the Shadowverse. Some teach they are the disgraced dead, those among our kind who have failed to pass on into the world beyond. Others say they are revered guardian spirits. Whatever the truth, know this: they are dangerous. Remain vigilant.” He offered me a half-hearted smile and squeezed my shoulder once more before scooting back a few paces and nodding yes to Chief Dao. The matronly chieftain turned her steely gaze on me, then moved on to Chakan, who was easily a foot taller than me with muscles that looked like they belonged on a pro football player.