The Mists of Erantia (Realm of Arkon Book 7)

by G. Akella

  Donut whistled in amazement. "Awesome. Do you have some kind of uninheritable nobility, then? Why do you have nothing but a nickname over your head?"

  "The hell you talking about? Your buddy there doesn't have a nick, either." The dwarf smiled at me. "The locals all know anyway, and explaining titles to every newbie you meet gets tiring."

  "Just a couple more questions and we'll get going, Roman," Donut messaged in a private channel.

  "Take your time, Donut. This is actually pretty interesting."

  "So, how are you doing, friend? You know, with... everything?" the rogue asked, a tinge of guilt in his voice.

  "Are you asking how I feel about being locked up in a dwarf's body for life?" Legolas snorted and reached for a few more swigs from his bottle.

  "Well, I—"

  "Whatever. You're not the first, and you won't be the last." He wiped his mustache, looked at the bottle in annoyance, and flung it aside.

  "Feels no different than I imagine you feel, really. The Creator changed us when the patch hit, and now we truly feel that we are dwarves. I mean, I could mate with a human female, but I'm much more partial to my own kind. Too bad there's only one female dwarf player, but the dwarves from this world aren't bad, either. And I like the way things are run in the Mountain Kingdom. Like you said, you left, and there's a lot you don't know. When you were there, did you see all the people planting? If you don't want to grind, you can work, and spend your money just living. Our laws are just, but no one bothers to meddle too much. In the first week, all the players were split up into seven dwarven clans and sent out to grind. I was power-leveled to 190, then grinded alone to 200, and would be at 220 if I hadn’t died back there. But why are we just talking about me? How are things in the Borderlands?"

  "Just like before," I answered in Donut's stead. "Only news is that the demons and undead have abandoned the borders—and soon flocks of elves will be arriving."

  "Damn, you serious?" Legolas smiled widely. "I have a light elf friend, classmate from university. So the demons and undead just... left?"

  I shrugged affirmatively.

  "So what happened here? Why are there so few people around?" Donut inquired.

  "Only an NPC could live in a dump like that," Legolas nodded at the crooked hut with three empty doorways. "After the patch, the locals all moved upstairs, and the king set aside some land for them just beyond the northern wall. Only the lowest of the low still live here. Players looking for grinding hang out by the stream, and my century is in the Dampish Outskirts, near Pelican. This year we Bronzebacks hold the embassy, but only ten of us need to be stationed up there, so the rest are down here. I guess we dwarves are just used to being underground." He shifted his gaze from Donut to me, and nodded to the road leading off to the right. "Do you guys want to come visit? My squad has four players like us. And we've got booze. We'll sit and chat about our old home. After all, the five of us can't keep telling each other the same jokes over and over."

  Donut smiled. "We can't right now, since we've got people waiting for us up above, but we'll stop by later." He pulled a five-liter wicker bottle from his bag and gave it to the dwarf. "Here, this is dark elf ale, from ancient stores. It'll be everywhere soon, but right now it's in short supply. With my regards to the guys."

  Legolas shook his head. "Can't take it. I don't have anything to give you in return, not on my person. But if we head over to the outskirts..."

  "Take it as payment for your story. A fair trade." Donut tossed the bottle so the other was forced to catch it. "We'll come by and visit later, and you can treat us to some grub. But until then, friend, farewell!"

  "Don't you forget to drop by!" Legolas shouted after us as we left. "I've got a keg of dark dwarven ale of the sort you've never tried in your life!"

  Bet it's about as good as a Budweiser. I snorted to myself. I'd better not end up stripping naked and dancing can-cans.

  "You think maybe this friend of yours is gone, too?" I asked Donut as we turned onto yet another unremarkable alley.

  "Doubt it," he answered without turning. "The dwarf said that the scumbags stuck around. No one else went to Khung's place. If he's gone, I'll leave the party and head upstairs, warn the guys, and find him while you chill with the dwarves. The patrols never check Khung's place, you can be sure of that."

  "Someone's still patrolling these slums, then?"

  "Definitely. The locals here have their shit together, more or less. Two checkpoints and six patrol groups—always two on the checkpoints themselves, two on patrol, and two off duty. The patrol groups' routes haven't changed for four years now, and they're unlikely to change anytime soon. Standard patrol group composition, too. Seven people. One commander, one battle mage, one Untainted who plays the role of healer, and four support soldiers. All over level 250. Forty two people in all, if you count the ones off duty. Patrols are the last thing you have to worry about in these parts, though. After all, the reason they're here is to protect the place from anything invading from the wild territories. Things like—well, I already told you. If I remember right, they even asked for help from upstairs twice. And so they have patrols. For as long as they have walls and checkpoints, they'll have patrols."

  Five minutes later, the scenery changed dramatically, the huts replaced by houses and local residents and players appearing on the street. Apparently, where at first Donut was leading us through back alleys and yards, now we had no choice but to walk through the crowds. The merchants here had seen better days. A few trays of dried meat, flies buzzing about them. An old woman in a ditch selling suspicious-looking mushrooms. Two murky men near the open door of some kind of illicit institution, its walls bulging with drunken laughter. No, this wasn't paradise, but at least it was civilization.

  The house we were seeking resided in the back of a small courtyard littered with trash, including a pile of smashed boards, the remnants of two wooden barrels, a bent copper signboard with two dice depicted on it, and two strong-looking level 195 NPCs guarding the entrance. In the midst of this janitor's nightmare, the drooping pink flowers in the square flowerbed in the center of the courtyard looked somehow divine.

  "Roman, I don't know those two at the entrance," Donut said without turning around. "And the flowers are wilted. Bouncer Dave never would have allowed that. What do we do?"

  "Just keep going," I nodded at the doorkeepers. "Maybe he's gone, after all."

  "All right, here we go." Donut watched a rat cross the road, then marched towards the entrance.

  "Who the hell are you?" the one of the right said, frowning and gesturing that we halt.

  The other did not even move. He stood leaning against the doorway, studying our faces.

  Donut's nickname blinked and changed.

  "Are you blind?" he spat at them. "Who the hell are you? Where is Dave? And is Khung here?"

  The one on the right sighed and lowered his gaze. "Forgive us, master. Dave is no more."

  His companion pushed off of the wall to a standing position, and nodded at the door.

  "What shall we say to Khung?"

  "Tell him it's Master Ito, with a companion." Donut spat on the sidewalk, placed his hands on his belt, and rocked back and forth from heel to toe.

  "Interesting," I wondered out loud into the channel. "Where'd you get that nickname?"

  "Did some errands for the Assassins' Guild. Nabbed my first nick from some moron and never intended to play with it."

  The eyes of the bandit on the left darkened for a moment, then he nodded to the other and pulled the door open.

  "Enter, master. Khung is waiting for you."

  "I don't like this, Roman," Donut complained. "Stay sharp."

  "I'm always sharp," I reassured him as I followed him inside.

  The two at the entrance had posed no threat to us. It was a simple matter of math. I could take a dozen of them down within a single Infernal Rage session, as long as they didn't scatter. But we had no idea what awaited us inside the building.

&nbs
p; The space resembled a tavern from some abandoned hamlet. It was a small hall, with a tall bar counter to the left. Glass bottle shards covered the cracked floor, cluttering around the feet of a dozen broad wooden tables. There were five people in the room. One man of unclear age, clad in a baggy gray mantle, was sitting on the only surviving stool, leaning against one of the pillars, coldly examining Donut and me. Right by the entrance stood a level 198 assassin nicknamed Ort—the only other player in the room. He held his arms crossed, a look of profound boredom on his face. In contrast, the two mail-clad soldiers standing on either side of him exhibited wary, even anxious, looks. Another NPC was five feet to the right of me and had invisibility activated. All of the NPCs' levels and names were hidden, and their relationship indicators were yellow.

  Donut made a quick remark into the channel. "The one in the gray coat is the most dangerous. He's a master mentalist, level 280, with 800,000 HP. He can take you under his control. When it begins, take him out first. I'll take the rogue, and you can hit the rest with your Aura. But let's find out what they want first."

  "There's another one here, five feet to the right. Invisible." I frowned at the smell of rats that hit my nose just then, and tried not to glance towards the hiding character. "Why would I be the one he takes under control?"

  "I have a talent that can counter mental control, and Firo knows that."

  Donut looked in scorn at the thugs surrounding us. Stopping at the mage, he asked:

  "What's this circus you've got going on here? Where's Khung?"

  The doors slammed shut behind us, but the two stationed outside were not in the room.

  "You'd best watch your mouth," the bandit said, puffing. "Or..."

  "Or what?"

  "Falk requires the emerald," the mage explained without emotion as he slowly rose from his seat. "In return, he is willing to forget some... uncomfortable moments from your past relations. And you and this friend of yours may leave here alive."

  "Oh, and your lovely sisters won't have to suffer any unpleasantness," grinned Ort. "Think quickly. It's getting hard for me to hold my soldiers back." He looked at me, then back to Donut. "Well?"

  Donut smiled, but not with his eyes. "You have ten seconds to get out of here, or you're dead."

  "Well, well," the mage shook his head and tightened his lips. "Falk was right."

  A curved knife suddenly appeared in his grasp. The man lunged at me, then recoiled, leaning against the table behind him.

  "Kill them!" Ort shrieked.

  Combat form! The bandits' nicknames had gone red, and the figures of both Donut and the rogue opposite him had become translucent silhouettes. The one who had been invisible from the start took a step towards me.

  Infernal Rage, Aura of Horror, and Silence took the mage's life down by one third.

  "Take that, bitches! Didn't expect to see an Elder Demon today, did you?"

  Ruination severed the head and part of the shoulder of the assassin that charged me. Red drops flew past my visor as my nostrils filled up with the scent off blood. The aura drew screams of terror from the two outside the door. A sweeping strike from Donut knocked back the now-visible Ort. The two warriors removed the fear effect and turned slowly towards me. Three steps forward, and my black blade cut the mage in the collarbone. Crit! I shield-blocked a short-blade strike from a bandit, and hit the mage with Ice Blade. A dull crunching sound emerged from his torso, accompanied by the tune of the twain-cracked tabletop. Taking a step to the side while blocking two more blows with my shield, I hit the warrior on the right with a Tongue of Flame. He tried to block the attack, but two short swords make for poor defense. Ruination tore into his chest, sending the limp corpse into a pillar and then slowly down to the floor. A sixty level difference was tantamount to a death sentence. The last warrior looked like a cornered rat now, glancing around sharply, his swords crossed as he retreated towards the exit. The door behind him swung open, and one of the bouncers appeared, but immediately withdrew after a moment's look at the scene.

  "Run!"

  Donut's camouflage had worn off by now, and he had Ort by the hair. The bandit's eyes rolled back, blood flowing from his mouth. Less than ten percent HP left. My rogue friend, meanwhile, had apparently suffered no harm.

  "In the name of the king, get down on the ground! Now!"

  Steel-studded boots pounded in from the streets. The sound of a solid blow and a collapsing body followed.

  "Damn it!"

  Donut gave the thug a precise dagger-jab in the neck, pushed him away, and looked around at the bodies.

  "Should we just say we found them like this?" He sounded optimistic.

  I smirked humorlessly, looking at my bloodstained armor. "Sure. We just got a few details of the burial ritual wrong. By the way, I thought somebody here claimed to know all the patrol routes?"

  "They shouldn't be here. Something's wrong!"

  I was angry—at myself, at that bastard Ulrich, whose fault it was that I was now in these bloody catacombs, and at these dead assholes. There was no way we could handle the patrol in a peaceful manner. It was a peacekeeping unit, and our reputation with it didn't depend on the leader, but rather on each member of the group.

  Seeing that he was now ignored, the final bandit rushed towards the door—and was hurled ten feet back inside a second later. The massive frame of a level 320 warrior appeared. After a brief glance at the boy wheezing on the floor, he surveyed the scene, noticed me, and yelled back without turning.

  "There's a demon in here!"

  "Nice to see you, too!" I nodded at him, grabbed Donut around the torso, and used Step through Darkness to take us through the wall.

  We ended up in a small square which gave birth to two narrow roads heading different ways. I managed to keep my footing as we "landed," but Donut tripped on the cobblestone and had to pull off an awkward somersault to keep any of his dignity. Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to release my hold on his clothing as he did so.

  "And the Clumsiest Mage award goes to..." he pointed to the right. "That way, come on!"

  Commands barked in the building echoed through the streets. Someone overturned a table, the front door slammed, and the racket of steel boots resumed.

  Donut tossed a gray bead on the ground, scattered two handfuls of brightly-colored confetti into the air, and followed me down the street to the right. Two muted claps behind us enveloped the courtyard and part of our street in a thick gray fog.

  "In the name of the king, make way!" he cried, knocking down two players who were present for God only knew what reason. He charged to the side, towards a blue three-floor building visible in the distance.

  "Did you see that?"

  "The elf?"

  "Screw the elf, no! The demon following him!"

  I laughed to myself. The rumors would fly after today. If only Donut would shift into cat form now, that would seal the deal. Conspiracy theories would run wild! At least there weren't any more game forums anymore. I shifted back into regular form, all the while trying to keep up with my friend and simultaneously figure out where we were actually going.

  "Can you do that again? And what's your range on that?"

  "Every thirty seconds. Forty five yards. Where are we running to?"

  "Excellent." Donut tossed another sphere behind him, turned sharply, and squeezed into the narrow space between a pair of two-story houses. "I doubt Shroud will stop them. Hear them yelling? They'll catch us unless we... you know..."

  "Unless we what?" I shouted as I squeezed between the walls like a chimney sweep's brush.

  Why the hell do so many people leave their sentences unfinished like that?

  "Unless we get over the wall! We just have to reach the wall! Pick a road now. Right or left?"

  "Left." At last, we were back onto the streets.

  "Of course." Donut snorted, half in laughter and half from the wall dust, and our parkour session continued.

  Five minutes of backyards, crooked streets, and rooms in rams
hackle houses followed. A couple of leaps across rotten roofs, too. Yet even though the rogue kept throwing those magic balls behind us, our pursuers kept pace. Donut was quite the player. Escaping a group of NPCs with levels a full one hundred above yours, and with a slow sidekick—if not for my company, he would have left them in the dust by now.

  With the noise we had raised, doubtless every soul in the catacombs knew a chase was underway by this point. And whenever anyone saw us, they quickly cleared a path. We caught glimpse of our pursuers a couple of times, yet still we managed to tear ourselves away, and I felt increasingly certain that they were driving us into a trap. In the end, my suspicions proved exactly right. We were less than five hundred feet from the wall when we discovered over a dozen guards waiting for us in a space surrounded by two-story houses. Our pursuers, just over a hundred feet behind us, drew their weapons and charged. To the right of the houses sat a solid wall. We could try going left, of course, but something told me we would be expected there, too.

  "I'm getting really fed up with all of this." I kicked Donut from the party, drew my sword, and slowly walked towards the fighters blocking the road. "You explain everything to those guys. Find Khung. Meet me at that tavern in Shanama later."

  Infernal Rage was off cooldown again. I could take at least one or two of them, for sure. And if any of them used an AoE, I would take all of them down with me!

  "Wait!" the rogue shouted. "There's a... Damn!"

  At that instant, a small multicolored ball rolled up to my feet. A revolting chuckle rippled through the air, changing everything as it did. My body was overtaken by an inexplicable lightness. I could see the patrols before and behind, as if through semi-liquid glass. Donut's jaw was nearly on the floor, and I saw a vaguely familiar man in a narrow cul-de-sac to our right.