Fayroll [04] Gong and Chalice

by Andrey Vasilyev

  Key of Intellect

  Quest item

  It was green, and it was beautiful.

  You can begin the second part of the quest.

  Task for the second part of the quest: find and bring the Gong of the Goddess, a unique item hidden in the cursed Monkey King Temple, to Idrissa the South.

  Use the keys you obtained to beat the quest.

  Additional task:

  You can have help to complete the second part of the quest, though you can have no more than five players or NPCs with you. If you complete it on your own, you may receive an additional bonus.

  Additional information: if you complete this quest as part of a group, you will be the only one to receive experience from the process.

  Nothing I read really surprised me. Lane and company wouldn’t care about the experience, anyway; they just wanted my gold. I think I’ll head there tomorrow morning. It didn’t look to be any simpler than what I’d been dealing with, though having four fighters at my back (or, even better, two in front and two behind me) would leave me feeling much safer. Screw the bonus.

  ***

  As I walked out of the temple, I realized that I might be visiting the other one the next day alone unless I could find and convince new NPC helpers to go along with me. I didn’t think my friends were going to see the sunset.

  The bold trio was on their knees in the grass, their hands behind their heads. They looked at me darkly as I walked out into the clearing. Behind them stood twenty or so dark, bearded men wearing white jackets, white pants, and red bands around their heads. Another five of them were headed in my direction.

  “Be smart, mercenary,” a voice behind me said, and I felt a slight prick on my neck. Turning, I saw a fairly young man with a kind smile and a sword held at the level of my eyes. He was dressed differently than the bearded murderers who took up positions in front of me with angry eyes, and his sword was special; the blade shimmered in the sun.

  “I told you, Hagen, I had a bad feeling, and you didn’t listen to me,” Lane called over. “They’re going to bury all four of us right here.”

  “Feelings shmeelings,” said another young man who appeared around the other side of the temple. He squinted a little nearsightedly, he had a jaunty, round hat on his head instead of the usual band, and there was a staff in his hand. The rebel leader, I had to assume, was behind me, while that was the mage. What was his name? Vaylerius.

  “He’s right, though,” the leader said in a peculiar way. “We’ll definitely be leaving your bodies here.”

  “Why is that?” Negotiating certainly couldn’t hurt our standing. Of course, I could have just opened a portal and stepped into it, but I wasn’t sure that was the right move. It was smart, but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t even that it would have looked bad, and buffoons around us couldn’t really do anything to me—the game didn’t permit torture, and they probably wouldn’t take my things. I felt bad for my friends, and I still needed them.

  “Give me your sword, go over to your friends, and get down on your knees. Then I’ll tell you why we’re going to kill you,” Danoot (it was definitely him) said benevolently.

  “I’m not giving you my sword,” I responded, making sure to avoid raising my voice. “It’s a family heirloom, and nobody’s going to touch it as long as I’m alive. If you want, go ahead and kill me. Just first explain what my friends and I did to you.”

  The bearded men murmured to each other, clearly ready to tear me apart. Danoot waved a hand to silence them. Just wait a second, he seemed to say. First, we’ll talk, then we’ll strip them into ribbons.

  “Well, for starters, you’re mercenaries,” the rebel leader started off graciously. “You came to our lands and spilled our blood at the pay of those who tore it away from us. Why should we let you keep your dirty, corrupt lives?”

  “Oh, please,” I snorted. “The only blood my friends and I spill is our own, and that’s when we’re fighting to keep monsters and evil spirits away from peaceful villagers.”

  “Ah, how noble,” the mage laughed. “So you’d be fine with me checking to make sure you’re telling the truth?”

  “With powder?” I frowned.

  “Ah-ha!” Danoot’s finger jabbed at me accusingly. “You’re afraid your lies will see the light of day!”

  “Not in the least. I just sneeze when people throw that powder at me,” I explained. “I’m allergic to it.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll use a spell,” Vaylerius said, scratching the bridge of his nose. “Are you allergic to those?”

  Huh, he knows what that word means. The leader clearly didn’t know what an allergy was, but the mage did.

  “I’m not sure,” I replied, raising my arms. “Go for it and let’s see.”

  Vaylerius aimed his staff at me and whispered something. Blue clouds of smoke billowed around me, and I sneezed a few times.

  “He really isn’t lying,” the mage said, his arms spread in surprise.

  “What?” The leader couldn’t believe it. “But he’s a mercenary!”

  “We’ve never touched your rebel brothers either,” Lane said. “We fight evil and the undead, and the only people we kill are the ones who’ve sold themselves to evil. Your mage is welcome to check us as well.”

  Danoot sighed.

  “Vaylerius, why did you have to get started with this? We could have just slit their throats and been done with it, but no, you had to go looking for the truth.”

  “Danoot, all of us—you, me, Xantria, Yasmuga—we’re all here to fight for truth and justice. We gave our word. That’s where our strength is, brother,” explained the mage. “If we just go around killing everyone without getting to the bottom of things, how are we better than the enemy?

  Oh, God. The whole thing made sense. He was the most terrifying opponent you can have: a young idealist. And he didn’t sound like any watered-down version either.

  Young idealists are the worst. Okay, so all idealists are scary. They’re the kind of crazy people who believe in the triumph of the mind, in selflessness, and in the final victory of good over evil, both in their space and around the world. And it’s impossible to argue with them since they’ll just call you an old man and say that times have changed. Of course, they’ll never be anything like you. They also know for sure what the right way to do things is, and they don’t listen to anyone who doesn’t agree with them.

  “So, are you convinced?” I looked inquisitively at Danoot. “I’m in the clear as far as you and your people are concerned, and so are my friends. The mage is right; you would be wrong to kill us.”

  “And who will guarantee that you don’t have dark deeds in your future?” he replied, coming at the problem from another angle in an attempt to keep us from leaving with our lives.

  What are you, a maniac?

  “Who will guarantee the same for you?” Lane asked, taking the words right out of my mouth.

  Danoot grunted. “Well, it really does look like you’re different from the people we’re fighting. They can’t put two words together.”

  He signaled to his troops, who let the mercenaries get up from their knees. None of their weapons, however, were returned.

  “But what were you doing in the forest? And why did you need to visit the temple?” Vaylerius jabbed his staff in that direction. “This used to be a place of power, but that was a long time ago. Now, it’s just ruins.”

  “We’re on an ethnographic expedition,” I said, rehearsing an old excuse. “The mercenaries only came because we’re trying to visit as many places as possible. I collect ancient stories, legends, and tales. We heard about this place, and I asked these gentlemen to join me. It would have been tricky on my own. They were curious, as well, so here we are…”

  Danoot and Vaylerius exchanged glances, though they didn’t respond.

  “So what am I supposed to do with you?” Danoot rocked back on his heels before coming up with a surprising offer. “Why don’t you join us? We’re fighting for a holy cause: to f
ree all those who labor in the South for the cursed Bright Prince. What do you think?”

  “Oh, no, no, no,” I said, spreading my arms. “We’re apolitical…”

  “What did you say?” Danoot’s eyes flashed unpleasantly.

  “He means they aren’t involved in politics,” Vaylerius said, scratching the bridge of his nose again. “They don’t take sides.”

  “Plus, we serve different governments,” I continued in an attempt to press my luck. “We can’t jump into quarrels happening in foreign countries.”

  “But you do jump in, don’t you? Your Wild Brigade does, and with both feet,” Danoot replied stubbornly.

  “That’s their business,” I replied. “We aren’t part of the Wild Brigade; we’re in the Free Companies.”

  Danoot opened his mouth and was probably about to note that there wasn’t much of a difference between the Brigade and the Companies, though he was interrupted by Ping and Pong’s cries.

  “Oh, no! Undead! The undead are coming!”

  I followed their gaze and saw, swaying their way out of the forest, figures that resembled the ones we’d seen on our way to the first temple. They didn’t have a commander with a bloody bandage, but other than that they were identical. They perked up, at least, as much as they could, when they saw us, and picked up their pace.

  “Valyerius!” yelled Danoot, taking up a defensive position and holding his sword out in front of him. “To the ready!”

  “Give us our weapons!” roared Lane, who grabbed one of the bearded men.

  Ping and Pong leaped up from the grass and dashed over to me, apparently in an attempt to hide behind my back.

  Vaylerius barked a spell, and a bundle of sparks shot out of his staff, shrieked across the field, and buried itself in the chest of the lead undead. The young mage probably expected the accursed walker to go up in flames or collapse in pieces but, unfortunately, it shook it off without feeling heat or cold and continued marching toward us.

  “Did you see that?” Vaylerius said sadly as he scratched the bridge of his nose. “That didn’t work either! When am I going to find something that works on them?”

  As soon as the bearded men saw that, they took to their heels and dashed headlong into the forest, abandoning their leaders. Real devotion right there.

  Danoot ground his teeth as he watched them run off.

  “You didn’t listen to me,” Lane said to me as we stood back to back. He’d found his sword somewhere. “I told you today isn’t our day.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” I said, brushing him off. “These guys won’t cut us up, and they certainly won’t eat us. I don’t think.”

  “Everyone, come with me,” Vaylerius called as he jumped into the temple and waved his hand for us to follow. “I just remembered that the undead can’t get into places left by the Departed Gods. I’m pretty sure this temple dates back to them.”

  It was just a good thing that it was that temple and not the one with the snake. It wouldn’t have killed me but it would have shredded the rest of the group—and it could definitely get in.

  We dove in after him, dashed through the vestibule, and clustered in the center of the hall, swords at the ready.

  A couple minutes later, we heard something rustling at the entrance, though nothing came in. Danoot, obviously braver than the rest of us, made his way over to it, glanced into the vestibule, and reported back.

  “You were right, Vaylerius. They’re out buzzing around the entrance, but they can’t get in here. How did you know about that?”

  “My mom told me,” Vaylerius responded shyly.

  Danoot nodded, satisfied with the answer, though I was anything but. Who is his mom, and how does she know about the Departed Gods? I jumped in with a question of my own.

  “Is your mom a mage, too?”

  “No, of course not.” Vaylerius rubbed the yellow sphere at the tip of his staff. “She just took a course once at the Academy of Wisdom and came home with lots of odd facts. Then she told me.”

  I wasn’t sure how important the Academy of Wisdom was, but I’d heard of it back when I was dealing with a certain dirty little pixie. He’d mentioned it reverently, and that spoke volumes. It didn’t sound like the kind of place that would accept just anyone, at least. They made my potions, too. So who is his mom?

  “At the Academy of Wisdom itself? It can’t be that easy to get in, can it?”

  “You think they were going to keep my mom out?” Vaylerius looked at me with a smile on his face. “She could do anything back then, or at least almost anything.”

  “Who is your mom?” I had to ask.

  Why is it such a secret?

  “Princess Anna,” Vaylerius replied.

  Chapter Fourteen

  In which the hero tries to avoid being cornered.

  “Oh, wow,” Lane said from behind me, even following that up with a whistle.

  The name didn’t mean anything to me. Although there was something… Maybe I’d heard it at some point… Wait a second. The signet ring. I’d gotten a ring with a quest for that same Princess Anna. Could there be more than one Princess Anna in Fayroll?

  “So what, my friend?” Lane walked over to Vaylerius and looked him over appraisingly. “You could lay a claim to the throne in the West, yes?”

  “Formally, yes. Well, my family could in general, not me in particular,” Vaylerius replied easily, without putting on any airs. “But really, who would give it to us? We’re one of the first families, sure, but the family’s artifacts were all lost or stolen a long time ago. All we have left are a few letters of credence. In other words, the family doesn’t have anything to back up its claim to the throne. I personally couldn’t care less.”

  “Why not?” It’s not every day that you hear someone refuse the throne.

  “I live the life that suits me,” the mage said with a shrug. “I have friends; I have a cause to serve; nobody gets on me about behaving how an heir to the throne should behave; nobody makes me do anything I don’t want to do. I’m completely happy out here in the jungle—more than happy.”

  “Does the princess think the same way?” Lane asked.

  “My mom is the only one who knows what she thinks,” Vaylerius shot back. “I imagine she’d be only too happy to take the crown—she loves power. There are no two ways around that. The chances of it being offered to her, on the other hand, are a bit low seeing as how she’s in exile. I already mentioned that.”

  “The princess is a strong woman—and a very smart one, too,” Lane said thoughtfully.

  How did a tracker from a family of trackers come to know so much about the upper echelons of the West?

  “The walkers aren’t leaving,” Pong announced sadly. “They’re still out walking around by the entrance.”

  “Walking around like aspens in a swamp,” confirmed Ping.

  “They could keep us in here for a while.” Danoot was starting to get worried. “And we have a protest planned tonight. There’s a fat cat we have to teach a lesson to, and a little something else we need to light on fire.”

  “You have nothing better to do?” I couldn’t help myself—radicals and extremists like that drive me crazy. “All you’re doing is ruining and destroying things. You could just kill that guy and be done with it. What do you need the fire for?”

  “It looks better,” the mage replied with complete sincerity. “Fire is incredibly symbolic.”

  I sighed and waved my hands, giving up on the whole thing. Then I pulled out a portal scroll.

  “If this works, you can thank your lucky stars. If not…well, then we’ll have to think of something else.”

  “What about us?” Danoot jumped in. “You’re going to just leave us here? Yup, that’s what you get when you associate with henchmen of the global capital…”

  “Oh, please,” I replied. “Do you really want to go to Maykong? That’s where we were on our way to next.”

  “No, Maykong doesn’t work for us,” Danoot said nervously. �
��We can’t get in.”

  “They have a warrant out for us,” the mage explained with restrained pride. “Because of our beliefs and what we’ve done.”

  “I think it’s more for what you’ve done rather than your beliefs. They couldn’t care less about what you believe in Maykong, and that’s always been the case,” Lane replied with a note of conviction in his voice. “Ah, if you would only listen to people who’ve been around a while longer, you’d stop playing these games. They won’t end well, though they very well could end with prison and a long rope.”

  Danoot and Vaylerius glanced at each other and exchanged smiles, the kind you see on the faces of adults as they listen to kids thinking out loud.

  “Okay, Hagen, give me the scroll.” Lane held out his hand.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked as I gave it to him. “Where are we going?”

  “The Second Company’s base. It’s a fifteen-mile walk back for you,” Lane said, looking darkly at the pair of people’s avengers. “Maybe that will burn off some of the crazy.”

  I was deeply convinced that the executioner’s axe was the only thing that could “burn off the crazy,” though I didn’t say that out loud.

  “And where will we go from there?” There was a point to my question. Spending scrolls on potentially useful mercenaries and my own needs was one thing; spending them on some kids I didn’t know, especially ones that extreme and that wanted, was something very different.

  “They have their own stationary portal. We can’t use it to get to Maykong, but it’ll send us to our base. Then we can head to Maykong,” explained Lane.

  “We don’t have any papers with us,” Ping said worriedly. “How will we get a pass?”

  “We had no idea,” Pong added.

  “Calm down,” Lane said sharply. “I know someone there, and he’ll take good care of us.”

  “First, try to open the portal,” I said. “We may be arguing about nothing.”

  The blue film flashed, and we all sighed in relief.