Steel Wolves of Craedia (Realm of Arkon, Book 3)

by Akella,G.

  "Get back!" Elnar bellowed into the general channel. "Archers and mages, finish off the ones at the gates. No AoE spells or you'll hit our own!"

  I knew then that it was all over. At least on this side of the city walls.

  Hot damn! We had just slaughtered three thousand mobs in less than an hour! Times like these I was glad this was a game, in which I could take farmers and civilians and turn them into hardened warriors simply by recruiting them into the clan and allocating their talents.

  "Casualties?" I turned to Elnar as he was pulling up.

  "No casualties!" James was exultant. "Uncle Elias and Satrap Gorm will be pleased. Too bad we can't just ride into town now. Thanks to those guys over there," he gestured at Xantarra's defenders on the walls, "the ground is littered with rocks. No way we'll get through on horseback without mangling half our mounts."

  You have gained a level! Current level: 195.

  You have 3 talent points to allocate.

  Class bonus: +1 to intellect; +1 to spirit.

  You have 9 stat points to allocate.

  "I reckon the satrap will be fine without us," I said, pulling the helm off my head and taking out the pipe I had prepared beforehand. "Tell the archers and mages to cease fire before they do hit our own. Have them start gathering loot instead."

  "You were right, by the way. The skeletal archers never did fire at us," James shook his head in wonder, then turned his horse around and steered it toward the city gates.

  As he departed, I bent down slightly and patted the boar on the withers. And so we're alone again, Gloom, I thought with a sigh. Hagedia and Reena, my pair of personal healers, had gone off to their men. Reece was off by the gates with his mages. Salta was next to Elnar, and Iam was with his banner. My heart suddenly heavy, I rummaged in my bag for a bottle of moonshine, took three big swigs and followed it up with equally deep drags on my pipe.

  Sure, I realized that these demons were all grown up now, with tons of responsibilities and subordinates of their own. There was no turning back time. And yet, somehow I'd felt a lot less lonely back in that Hart-forsaken Ballan than I did today. I sighed again, remembering the people I'd lost, and my mood dove all the way to rock bottom.

  Stop whining! I rebuffed myself. Everything is bloody fine! Yet another enemy was defeated, demolished even, and I was one step closer to my goal. What was this goal? To smoke that scumbag Cheney? To find my sister? Did she even need me anymore? She had Max. I recalled my last phone conversation with my aunt, and smiled in spite of myself. I was glad it was Max, and not someone else. Max was a good friend whom I trusted completely. Hell, even when we were kids people often mistook us for brothers, though we looked nothing alike.

  No, my main goal was here! All of these lands being ravaged by the undead scourge... This was my home now. And these demons were my family. And there was a shit-ton of work that still needed to be done here. It was settled—after I sorted out the princedom's affairs, I would go up to the upper realm, settle the score with Cheney, and bring Alyona and Max down here. At least then I'd have someone real to talk to, and besides, there was nothing for them up above. I took a few swigs from the flask, and chuckled. Gloom grunted approvingly, sensing the shift in my spirits. Don't worry, bud, hopping out of the saddle, I scratched the boar behind the ear, we'll find you a girl too, several even. Your sows will give birth to lots of piglets, and then all my men will have mounts like you.

  Gloom seemed pretty content with that idea. Shoving his moist snout into my neck area, he closed his eyes and puffed blissfully.

  "Feeling blue, eh?" Vaessa had walked up to us soundlessly.

  The magus was holding her bone horse by the reins; her hounds were resting on the ground a dozen yards away.

  A bone horse, unlike other bone creatures, wasn't exactly a horse skeleton. Vaessa's mount more closely resembled a horse that had been skinned alive, with bony hooves and a head that didn't look like a horse's skull in the literal sense. Rather, it was a collection of bones that vaguely replicated a horse's skull, with eye-sockets that glowed a sinister blue color.

  "What makes you say that?" shoving Gloom's snout aside, I flashed a mocking grin at the magus.

  "Let's not pretend this is Newton's binomial theorem," she smiled. "When the Dark One is cuddling his beast in the middle of the day, it's pretty damn obvious."

  "Do you even know what Newton's binomial theorem is?" I snorted.

  "No," the magus admitted readily, "but you keep talking about it! And these references of yours are infectious. I imagine it's something sumer-smart and well above my pay grade."

  "Truth be told, I don't know what it is, either," I turned around and looked out on the ground carpeted with bones. "I admit, I was in the dumps a few minutes ago."

  "Don't worry, dar. You'll pop into a brother tonight, and all will be well," Vaessa chuckled sadly, and looked way. "But not me..."

  "Wait, what's wrong with you?"

  "You think men are champing at the bit to jump into bed with a necromancer?"

  "What does that have to do with anything?" I frowned. "The way you look... I wouldn't hesitate for a second if it weren't for, you know..."

  "You are you," the magus smiled, and gazed wistfully at the sun hanging over the valley. "There was this one barbarian, one of the Snow Leopards... but it didn't work out. I wasn't exactly popular before, and now that I'm a head priestess, it's hopeless," Vaessa waved in frustration. "Oh, it's not important, dar. Think nothing of it."

  "Don't you go sour on me now," grabbing the woman by the shoulders, I peered into her eyes. "You're with me now, aren't you? Celphata commanded you to follow me everywhere, right? Once we're done here, I'll take you to the higher realm where there are millions of men like me, and no one will give a damn if you're a priestess or a cook. You'll need a retinue of bone dragons just to keep suitors at bay!"

  "There are no men like you," Vaessa smiled. "Listen, once you're done letting off steam, come see me in the tower. At least we can get drunk like before. And, by the way, you know you can take some of them with you. Not to my tower, I mean, but in the field. They won't refuse you."

  "No," I said with a sigh. "It's not the same. Used to be I could only dream of such an arrangement, but now... There was Dara back in Nittal. A succubus. We had a good time, but here..." I smiled back at her. "I'll be fine on my own."

  "Well, you men have it easier," Vaessa laughed. "Anyway, we're on for tonight, yes? Just as soon as you're done. A woman mustn't be left all alone in a big city. It's scary out there."

  "I can't begin to imagine anything that might scare you," I grinned. At that moment we heard triumphant cries coming from the direction of the city.

  The morale of your party has risen by +10 points. Your party's current morale is +41 (a 41% increase to your party members' physical and magic damage).

  And with that, the threat to Xantarra was eliminated. With a wink to Vaessa, I turned toward the gates. The welcoming committee was already out and heading our way.

  Clad in mithril armor and with his helm off, the Xantarrian army's commander looked nothing like the good-natured fellow James and I had shared drinks with in his tent not that long ago. His high forehead furrowed with lines, brows knitted into a stern fold, and lips a thin line of grim resolve, the demon riding toward Vaessa and me was a seasoned warrior accustomed to high command. Stalking alongside him was Zach, the same kid who had escorted us to the satrap's castle the last time around. The young demon was doing his darnedest to maintain the solemnity of the moment, looking straight ahead with a somber expression.

  Err, will I need to do some ceremonious bowing and whatnot? I was starting to panic a little bit, but quickly dismissed all worries. Let them have their spectacle, it didn't bother me none. I'd risen from rags to dars only recently, so they would just have to forgive me.

  But even Homer sometimes nods. Having gotten within twenty yards, the legate took a look at Vaessa at my side, and stumbled. The demon's brows crawled upward while his jaw
dropped. As for the kid, he stood perfectly still like a pillar of salt, batting his eyes in awe at the enormous bonehounds, whom he must've initially mistaken for piles of bones. To his credit, the legate's dithering lasted mere moments. Recovering quickly, the old soldier rode another ten yards and stopped, bowing his head deeply. After a few seconds he squared his shoulders, and spoke, loudly and sincerely:

  "Xantarra and her governor welcome you, Dark One! From this day on, our city owes a debt to you that can never be fully repaid. Satrap Gorm is wounded and thus wasn't able to come out and greet you. But he's expecting you!"

  Then, without giving me the chance to respond, the legate dropped to one knee, bowed his head before Vaessa, and continued with equal measure of solemnity.

  "Xantarra is delighted to welcome the head priestess of Celphata, the Goddess of Death and Rebirth. All our doors are open before you, mistress. Satrap Gorm would be honored to receive you as his guest."

  I grunted with amusement. If this kept up my necromancer friend was bound to get a big head! Then again, she wasn't that kind of demoness.

  I looked over to Vaessa... and literally lost the gift of speech. Standing to my side was the Snow Queen herself, right out of the classic tale by Hans Christian Andersen. Flawlessly upright, with lips pressed into a thin line, and the breeze playing with her cloak, black and embroidered with silver. Everything about her screamed royalty. The magus even seemed to have grown taller. No, I wasn't filled with holy trepidation beholding my friend, but her transformation was nonetheless quite stunning. Not knowing what to do next, I looked to her to respond to the kneeling legate.

  "I am pleased that the citizens of Xantarra honor my Mistress," she spoke in a soft, soulful voice. "I will visit your city, but, to my great sorrow, I will not be able to see the governor before the troops set out for Suonu. He and I will have to speak later. Should the satrap have any questions, he can seek answers from my commander..."

  "But—"

  Elias raised his eyes at the woman, but she had apparently decided to dispense with the formalities, and kept on speaking through his objection, now in a normal tone.

  "...my commander, who is the master of my soul. I wish he were the master of my flesh as well, but certain circumstances are presently standing in the way of that..."

  With a wink to yours truly, the magus spun around on her heels, grabbed her horse by the reins and headed off to her hounds with a spring in her step.

  What a sly, sly fox!

  "How's the satrap doing?" I asked the commander, who was apparently still dazed from the exchange and didn't seem to be in a hurry to get up off his knee.

  It must have taken ten seconds or so for my question to register. Elias rose slowly, his eyes still fixed on the distancing Vaessa, and replied.

  "The undead broke through one of the barricades. We lost twenty soldiers before Gorm intervened and singlehandedly halted their advancement. He held them at bay for a good ten minutes while the soldiers mended the barricade."

  Yeah, that made sense. In the local hierarchy Gorm was akin to a raid boss, so what were a few dozen lowly skeletons?

  "I trust he's better now?" I asked.

  "Aye, he's recovering in the castle. And he's expecting you," Elias said. Seemingly back to his senses, he nodded in the direction of the magus.

  "About the head priestess..."

  "The Derelict Temple belongs to Celphata now, and Vaessa is her trusted servant. But she's been commanded by her mistress to be at my side."

  "That's wonderful news, if a bit unexpected," the legate turned back to Zach and shook a fist at him. "I'll have you flogged for this, boy. Did you forget the etiquette?!"

  "But... it's just that the lady... ugh! I mean the head priestess, and I... and then those dogs..." the poor kid stammered.

  It was up to Elnar, who had walked over to us just in time, to salvage the situation.

  "It's good to see you, uncle," James gave the legate a heartfelt hug, then turned to the young tifling and inquired innocently. "How's it going, Zach?"

  "A colonel?" Elias exhaled, then lowered his eyes and said sorrowfully. "And at your age... Your father would have been proud."

  "James!" the youth shouted joyfully. "Uncle Elias promised to take me with you to Suonu! Hey! How did you kill that monster? And what about—"

  "Patience, patience," Elnar stemmed the unending stream of questions with a smile. Then, turning to me and standing at attention, he reported, loudly and all soldier-like. "The loot has been gathered, dar. We can move into the city."

  "Join me for a visit to the satrap?"

  "I need to see about accommodations for our troops first. There's quite a bit more of us this time around."

  "As you say," I nodded. "Go then, do your duty."

  "I'll make arrangements for a meeting later," declared the legate. Then, with a glance at Zach, who was literally jumping, or rather hopping from foot to foot, he snorted with exasperation, spun around and started back toward the gates in solitude.

  Fifteen minutes later, when the debris outside the gates was finally cleared, I led my half-legion into the city on a white steed. Metaphorically speaking, at least. The creature I was riding was hardly a steed and anything but white, but I wouldn't trade my black-furred companion for a whole herd of thoroughbreds.

  The barricades had already been mostly dismantled by then. In the real world it would have taken the citizens days to clear out the carts and put away the logs, but we weren't in the real world—here an ordinary female could easily carry a load ten times her weight. As a result, the biggest obstacle in the way of our raid was the sea of bones of would-be invaders cracking and crunching under the horses' hooves.

  Our reception was a warm one. There were no parades or myriad hats being tossed in the air, but the citizens waved to us energetically, and invited the troops to their homes to celebrate the glorious victory. Which all made sense. There were no visors here, no stadiums, so every momentous event was celebrated as a community. And in a world where women were on par with men in every way, every celebration became a veritable Brazilian Carnival.

  Vaessa hadn't followed us into the city. Having gathered her team of alchemists, she set out to the site of our battle with General Korg to extract some choice morsels from the bodies of the fallen mini bosses. Midway through the city Elnar and the troops turned and made for the Callehzian district, leaving just me and Elias, who'd actually managed to avail himself of a white steed somewhere along the way, to continue to the castle.

  Gorm hadn't changed one bit since last I saw him. He had the same pitch-black hair and piercing green eyes, the same neatly trimmed beard... Only the wrinkles on his face seemed less apparent, and he looked fresher somehow despite his injuries. Of course, by now those injuries had been healed.

  The satrap rose and extended a friendly greeting, then motioned for the legate and me to sit in the familiar armchairs by the fireplace. A servant appeared at once with a bottle of wine, and filled our glasses.

  Honoring the satrap's request, I relayed the short version of our adventures through the princedom, which took a little over an hour. Thankfully, he was already aware of many details. The satrap wasn't particularly interested in the strategy employed in slaying Nerghall, Ulrich and Korg, but the very fact of their killing elevated my status in his eyes to incredible heights.

  We sat in silence after I was done, staring into the fire. At last, Gorm put his glass on the table, leaned back in his chair, and asked:

  "Tell me about the world you've come from, Dark One."

  The question caught me by surprise. I didn't quite spill my wine or anything—in fact, I had been expecting him to ask difficult questions—but not this... Removing my pipe from my mouth, I proceeded to tell Gorm the information that every NPC in the higher realm probably already knew. I told him about the game, about talents, stats, quests and pain. About others like me, of which there were over thirty million up above. About the sad truth that the people who had come into the game wer
e yet to accomplish anything of value, one county and a dozen baronies notwithstanding. I told him about Ahriman, about the knights of the Order of the Red Flame locked away at the Craedia Citadel, and that I had less than two weeks left to rescue them.

  Once finished with the story, I set to studying the swords hanging on the walls. And then I added:

  "My arriving here was accidental, but there's no going back. This is my world now..."

  There was a minute-long silence in the office of Xantarra's ruler.

  "Nothing happens by accident under the sun," the satrap shook his head. "I remember my entire life, down to the smallest detail. I remember the siege of Xantarra, and the dark ages. I remember Vaessa's father, Master Diarten. He was a fan of the pipe, just as you are. The night we were sitting here, in this very office, and planning the assault on the mission of the disavowed, Vaessa was sleeping right there on that oaken cot." Gorm gestured in the corner of the office. "She was just a little girl then. And the next morning he left southeast, as part of a squad headed up by Dar Krual. Ask Vaessa if she remembers that night." Gorm chuckled, and took a sip from his glass. "You say this is all some kind of game. But what if this is real, and the world you've come from is a game?"

  "Perhaps," I shrugged. "But how did you know I was from another world?"

  "It's that same bloody prophecy. Elias," the satrap looked at the legate, sitting still in his armchair. "Tell him what you remember from that book."

  "A Black Demon shall come into the princedom from another world," the legate quoted, still as ever. "The great Lord of Darkness shall fall by his hand, and Death herself shall plant a gentle kiss on him, and lead him to the key to Cathella, the Spectral City. The plague shall yield before him, and the Twice Cursed god shall guide his way."

  "Seriously, you guys? You couldn't tell me any of this before??" I grimaced.

  "You didn't ask," the satrap shrugged. "Not to mention, all these prophecies about the Lord of Darkness, the kiss of Death and the Twice Cursed god would have sounded rather far-fetched, don't you think?"