by G. Akella
"Rummar's Gullet!" exclaimed the guide, pointing at a large breach in the precipitous mountain. Standing next to it and behind walls of twelve-foot-thick stone were rows of plate-clad soldiers, no less than five hundred of them. Looking at them, I couldn't help but think that the Snow Leopards resembled barbarians no more than my Gloom resembled Vinnie the Pooh. Where were the animal skins, the shaggy and greasy hair, the tooth necklaces? The tumbledown shanties, the drum circles, the spiked clubs? The only visible difference between the Snow Leopards and Alcmehnians was their somewhat darker, almost bronze-like skin color, and the striped patterns on their cloaks. The explanation for this was actually very simple. The people of Earth were much too mollycoddled and sensitive to actually experience any of the things we saw in movies and on television. How many people out of a hundred would consent to live in these mountains, feeding fleas and bathing every other fortnight in passing streams that might also be home to some nasty critters? In this sense, the local highlands were just as tough as the ones back on Earth, so all the villages and mini forts that we'd passed featured inns where you could enjoy a decent meal and a restful night's sleep. Perhaps it wasn't so bad that this world had adjusted some aspects of reality to suit the bulk of its audience...
"Who are those men, and where are there so many of them?" Vaessa pointed at the fortress as she pulled up to the guide. "Are they guarding this pass, or is it some kind of transient camp?"
Having released George on the guide's request a few minutes prior, the necromancer's daughter now burned with curiosity.
"Rummar's Gullet is a great pass into the very heart of our lands," Irrot explained. "And these warriors are the Blue Cats of Unnat, the first general. They will hold any enemy here for a thousand heartbeats—long enough for the passage behind them to seal shut."
"Even a god?" I inquired, wondering to myself just how a gap big enough to fit a dozen locomotives would seal itself in a thousand or even a million heartbeats.
"I don't know about a god," the guide shook his head. "Neither gods nor Elder Demons have ever visited our lands, but I can tell you that not even Ahriman's assault legion would pass here. It pays to be on guard with such dangerous neighbors."
As if father would want anything from these two-legged sheep and their four-legged cousins out on pasture, Jaelitte snorted in my head. He's got idiots in his own kingdom to spare.
I suppose you've never been taught respect for your neighbors, though any scion of a ruler should—
Should nothing, my wife didn't let me finish. Respect must be earned, and these... Do you think the locals didn't know about their neighbor selling out to the Twice Cursed scum? Or maybe you doubt that the Irbis army could annihilate Korg's legion without breaking a sweat? So why did they hole up here in their mountains while my father dealt with the Gray Frontier spawn running amok in your princedom?
Maybe you're right, I sighed, then nodded to the guide and steered Gloom toward the fortification's gate.
Oh, how simple things were in most movies, and even some books. An adventurer goes up to the mountains, finds some hole in the rock, then walks a couple of hundred feet and stumbles upon some abandoned dwarven city. And nobody cares to ask why the city is incredibly vulnerable to attack. Why the dwarves couldn't have built it deeper underground? Yeah, given the time constraints of a feature film, realism takes a backseat. And it's even worse in comic books, which couldn't be bothered retaining even a semblance of it.
Rummar's Gullet cut right through the mountain, stretching for about twenty miles. Just as in the old world, mountains in Arkon were a natural wonder, grand and majestic. And though the tunnel looked almost like a highway, traveling on it wasn't particularly enjoyable. More like the opposite of enjoyment, actually. Hell, I dare anyone to enjoy walking beneath countless millions of tons of rock while breathing air reeking of wet dog fur. How this particular scent had gotten into the tunnel I couldn't begin to guess, nor did I want to, since that knowledge wouldn't filter the air anyway, and twenty miles wasn't so long a stretch that I couldn't power through it. Thankfully, all things must end, and when our party came out to a small plateau closer to evening, I beheld Mycana at long last.
Looking down from a height of nearly half a mile, the valley inside which the city nestled was like a magical Spring oasis. Surrounding the city on all sides were trees and bushes of every conceivable shape and shade, both decorative and fruit-bearing, blending together into a veritable ocean of lush, variegated greenery. I had never been to a tropical island in my past life, but in terms of opulence of color, I'd bet this valley could rival even the best of them. The city itself was somewhat smaller than Nittal, and generally similar to the game's other cities aside from certain architectural distinctions and an abundance of maroon hues. The biggest difference was the complete lack of fortress walls, which made perfect sense given the city's location behind impregnable mountains that essentially served that same function.
Having already gone through security when entering the tunnel, we were allowed to enter the city unmolested. Upon taking us to the local inn, the guide took off in an unknown direction with an assurance that Alsar would be notified of our arrival at once.
The inn wasn't especially memorable aside from the fact that the job of stabling and feeding Gloom fell squarely on my shoulders after the local groom fell into a literal stupor at the sight of my boar. Our party grabbed a quick bite to eat, at which time I went up to my room and went straight to bed. Tomorrow promised to be a tough day, and I would sooner tackle it freshly rested.
***
"The daressa knows the way?" there were notes of surprise in Alsar's voice.
"The daressa was born by the striped cats' bonfires, and has walked these paths back when your father was the clan's chieftain," Vaessa sniffed, walking in front of him. "And you were nothing but a twinkle in his eyes, if that."
"Forgive me for not seeing it, Elder One," this time the Snow Leopards' centurion's voice was tinged with panic. Or did I head what wasn't really there? And what did the locals even mean by the honorific? Age? Difference in social status? Or both?
"No worries," Vaessa reassured him. "Not even your father would have been able to see it now."
The necromancer's daughter ascended the high marble stairs with ease, then pulled on the knob of doors draped in black-and-white fabric, and walked inside.
In fact, Vaessa was looking a tad too carefree today, only I knew my companion well enough to recognize truly profound longing behind the facade. Alas, there was nothing I could do to ease the childhood memories of coming to this castle as a little girl with her father—happy memories that now lay heavily upon her heart. Reece recognized it as well, judging by his silence the entire way here, and he knew his mother's girlfriend far better than I.
Alsar turned up at the inn the next morning, five minutes after we'd finished breakfasting. Externally he looked much the same, despite being on death's doorstep last I saw him. There were, however, subtle differences in his appearance, and I could only guess how he'd managed to gain a whopping one hundred levels since then. Of course, players and NPCs lived and developed according to different laws, so I really shouldn't be so surprised. For his part, Alsar didn't display any surprise regarding my changed status, extending a genial welcome before stating in a more official tone than Holgrim, chieftain of the allied Snow Leopards clan, looks forward to receiving Krian, Prince of Craedia, his companion Vaessa, High Priestess of Celphata, and the rest of their party, at his palace's small presence chamber in one hour.
In the time it took us to reach the ruler's residence, I found myself in serious jeopardy of going cross-eyed. In a very literal sense. A notion of princely dignity kept me from rotating my head one-hundred-eighty degrees like a freaking tourist inside the Sistine Chapel for the first time, leaving me to walk the whole way with an expressionless face while admiring the many majesties of the barbarian capital out of the corner of my eye. When else would I be back here, if ever? Vaessa still wore her ma
sk of nonchalance, while Kan, Raena and Reece had nothing to do with my problems. But while the first two walked in silence, the mage wouldn't shut up for a second, actively trying to engage others in conversation to varying degrees of success. Whereas the captain of the guard tasked with escorting us shot back curt, monosyllabic replies, the chieftain's son lasted no more than fifteen minutes before shedding his official mask and indulging the inquisitive mage with comprehensive answers to every posed question. Thus we had learned that Mycana's history closely resembled that of Ancient Rome, only the role of a she-wolf was played by a snow leopard. And not by nursing the city's founders, but by bringing the carcass of a deer to Alsar's starving ancestors, and then escorting them through Rummar's Gullet into a valley protected by mountains on all sides. The question of how a century of demons had ended up lost in the mountains in the first place wasn't in the story, or maybe Alsar just hadn't gotten to that part yet—our party reached his father's castle just as the Snow Leopards' ancestors were swearing an oath to their progenitor.
The small presence chamber we'd been taken to was indeed small, meaning its size didn't exceed that of my high school gym. In all other respects, it looked perfectly standard: a large fireplace wrought with metal in fanciful patterns, a dozen paintings, a couple of plants rising from bedpan-like tubs. And hunting trophies... So many trophies that I wondered initially if I'd walked into a zoological museum. Then again, many of the mugs scowling down at me from the walls had little to do with zoology—apparently, in addition to notable hunting kills, Holgrim liked to display the heads of his slain enemies. Perhaps this was an example of why these people were deemed "barbarians"? On the other hand, I would probably think twice before refusing such a collection. If nothing else, I didn't think I could ever tire of contemplating Vill's and Cheney's decapitated mugs mounted on a wall. Let others have their burning flame or flowing water—this would be my Zen for all eternity.
Besides Holgrim himself—a stately broad-shouldered tifling with twin blades at his waist and the face of a stone-cold killer—there were two others in the room, a man and a woman. Their names were Ertan and Krina, Alsar's big brother and sister—he'd told us about them on the way here.
Both were black of hair, with twin blades at the waist, just like their father, and similar facial features, which wasn't uncommon for two people born to a mother on the same day. Alsar, in contrast, didn't look like his siblings at all. Nor like his father, for that matter...
"I welcome you and your companions at my bonfire, prince! And I thank you for saving my second son!" Holgrim growled, casting a passing glance at the flames blazing in the fireplace.
"And greetings to you and your family, chieftain," I nodded, watching Alsar give his father a round berth, then take his spot behind him, in between his older siblings. "I apologize for not giving you advance notice of my visit. Circumstances have forced me not to tarry..."
"Krina and her panthers will take your party to the Pass of Forty Springs, prince," Holgrim nodded sideways at his daughter, who was examining us calmly, appraisingly. "You'll be able to take a portal to the Effervescent Peaks from there. However..." the chieftain paused, then met my eyes with a steely gaze. "Don't you think that heading to the Wicked City with a party of five is presumptuous, prince? Even when said party comprises a high priestess of the Goddess of Oblivion and two knights of the Lightning God?"
"You know about the Spectral City, chieftain?"
"'A Black Demon shall enter the gates of Cathella, and peace shall come to the land of the Irbis,'" Holgrim quoted with his eyes half-closed. "I'm not one to believe ancient legends, yet..." he drew a heavy sigh. "We all used to think that the Black Demon in question was Erisjat, so... No, let's not rehash the past," the chieftain locked back at me. "I doubt that you've come to Mycana on a courtesy call, Dark One. No one goes to the Effervescent Peaks without a reason, and one needn't be a seer to realize why you're headed there."
"Why? What's the deal with these Effervescent Peaks?" I asked Holgrim, shifting from foot to foot.
I found it odd to be standing during such a conversation, but barbarians were probably used to it. Was that why there wasn't a single chair or sofa in the small presence chamber? Did these people just sit on the floor?
"The trolls and spirits inhabiting the mountains never used to attack sentients without a reason," Holgrim placed his hand on the hilt of one of his swords, gazing away at the blazing fireplace. "Three centuries ago the Pass of Forty Springs grew enveloped in grayish haze. It isn't mist—mist doesn't smell of death. Within a month this haze spread over great distances, transforming the essence of creatures dwelling there. Six of our settlements were destroyed by the transformed beasts, leading to Orhuel taking the people out of the Effervescent Peaks. I suspect that the illness that would ultimately send him to the celestial bonfires had afflicted him exactly then."
"Orhuel is the name of the Snow Leopards' chieftain that preceded him," Vaessa explained in the party channel, looking perfectly composed on the outside. "Erisjat was his little brother."
This must be why the barbarians never invaded Craedia, I addressed my spouse mentally. Going to war against your brother is a tough cause to justify. Or maybe they thought Erisjat would rid them of the blight spilling out of the pass.
Does it matter what they thought or believed in? Jaelitte snapped back. Why do you keep making excuses for them? Keep this up, and I'll start to have serious doubts about my choice.
Are you saying it was you who have chosen me?
Isn't it obvious? she snorted. Now, granted, it's not like I had many options. So, I grabbed the first option that I came across.
Now wasn't that nice to hear from your life partner! And it wasn't like I could argue that point...
"Half a century ago my scouts scoured the pass through and through, but found nothing that would explain the blight," Holgrim continued. "They did find, however, that the transformed become especially dangerous when the moon is full. For this reason, it's best that you and your party set out on the morning of the second day. Alsar will show you to your quarters. And prince..." he gave me another intent look. "I don't know what you hope to find in Cathella, but I cannot recommend going there. The very legends I'd referenced say that the Black Demon never comes out of that gods-forsaken city..."
"Que sera, sera," I shrugged, thinking to myself that I had no intention of actually physically coming out of Cathella. Instead, I would use the scroll to take a portal right to Karn, along with the knights and mages. We'd lost enough time as it was.
"Thank you, chieftain!" I nodded to Holgrim, and was about to head for the exit, then paused as Reece suddenly stepped out in front. It wasn't that the youth broke some sort of etiquette, but I didn't expect any of my companions to ask follow-up questions.
"My lord," the mage began in a tone as serious as I'd ever seen from him. "I wanted to ask which of your clansmen visited Xantarra in the year of Assor's eruption?"
"Why do you ask me this, mage?" Holgrim couldn't hide his surprise.
"My father... he might have been from the Snow Leopards," the youth said, faltering on the word. "My mother Luitha... she died without ever telling me about him..."
"Give me your hand!" In the blink of an eye Holgrim was beside Reece, seemingly defying physics considering his bulk. Taking the mage's proffered hand, he made a cut on the wrist, passed his own hand over the bleeding wound, then brought it up to his mouth, and froze...
This is why I love this world—for these sorts of incredible twists that can only happen here, the thought flashed through my head as Holgrim raised his eyes to the stunned mage—slowly, as if fearing what might come next.
"Ertan, Krina, Alsar," the chieftain spoke in a hoarse voice. "Come. Let me introduce you to your brother..."
You've completed the quest: Father's Legacy II.
And scene...
Chapter 3
"Here's what's bothering me," Reece drew a sigh, watching Saverus' mages hastily dismantling debris of
earth elementals into many different components. "In every fairy tale I remember from childhood, the youngest son was always the idiot."
"Why are you remembering fairy tales all of a sudden?" I grunted. "Or do you mean that if you were smart, you would have stayed behind in Mycana with your family?"
"I gave you my word, dar, and I don't intend on breaking it."
"I released you of your vow days ago!"
"That's true, and I appreciate the thought, Krian, but I am the only one who can truly release myself of an oath I willingly gave," Reece turned to me, grinning broadly, and shook his head. "I'm happy to have found family, but after a few days in Mycana I'm going to start climbing the walls. You've changed all our lives, dar, and I don't want to go back to my old life. Not even my father or siblings can give me what you've given me..."
"What is it that I've given you?"
"You know the answer to that perfectly as well. Every one of us following you is dying to know what will happen to us next!" He nodded at the ugly statue on a giant throne growing out of the rock, and his lips curled into another joyous grin. "In what other life could I have visited the mythical Spectral City? And after this, Karn! Humans, elves, orcs..." He lashed at his bootleg with his tail, spread his arms, and gave me a sidelong look, as if suggesting I was the crazy one for questioning his life choices. "Do you honestly think that even one tenth of all this could be traded for a quiet, peaceful life? What about Vaessa? Kan? Even the Snow Queen... Why do you think she volunteered to come with us? I'll tell you something else—such impulses ought to be encouraged!"
"Raena!" he called to the sorceress, who was presently bent over an earth elemental's remains. "So, are you marrying me or what? Tick-tock!"