The Cursed Princedom (Realm of Arkon #2)

by G. Akella

  My consciousness was growing hazy, as two more fireballs flew into the building. In the corner of my eye I glimpsed a tifling's ghostly shape in the corner. Cymon? Am I hallucinating? No matter—the figure of the punisher who never retreated infused me with strength.

  The skeletons inside were burning along with me. I gave the fighter a mighty kick in the shield, tossing it aside, then grabbed the mage by the throat with my free hand, pulling the skeleton toward me and furiously hitting at it time and again, alternating skills.

  A red haze rose before my eyes. The shield-bearer counterattacked, its rusty blade thudding into the wall next to my head. I made one last effort to push the undead warrior onto the burning woodwork, and, hearing someone's heavy breath behind me, whispered into the raid channel, choking as I spoke.

  "Salta... the mages... get them first..."

  "Krian! What's happening?" yelled the demoness. "We're nearly there! Answer me!"

  The burning silhouette of the shield-bearer, who had fallen onto the lava-covered floor after tripping over the remains of the mage, rose slowly. Leaning heavily against its sword, the skeleton tried to stand, but then one of its arms broke at the joint, and the creature cracked and crumbled in a heap, to be consumed by the flames. Two mages at once squeezed into the room. Their eyes darted to me right away, and a crimson flame began to form around their clasped hands. Bitches! But how?! I took a step toward them, seeing virtually nothing around me, and realizing I was too late. Something hit me hard in the back, and I toppled to the floor. The darkness enveloping me felt like a godsend...

  I came to my senses with a yank. The room was filled with smoke, and the smell of burning matter was overpowering—even stronger than the stench of bones burning over the embers of the woodwork. The razorback's enormous bulk filled my field of vision—like a dog protecting an unconscious master, he was making short work of a skeleton under its hooves with powerful blows of his tusks. The mages were dead as doornails, but the boar's life bar was already in the yellow. Numerous arrows fired from the other bank bristled from his neck—he was just too big for the wall to cover him completely; besides, he didn't even think of taking cover.

  "Gloom," I had to make an effort to whisper it to him, "get behind the wall." I could barely breathe, and everything was swimming before my eyes. I drank a healing potion, took two deep breaths, and a coughing fit made me double over. With a quarter of my HP left, how can I still think? And where are the others? These thoughts flickered at the edge of my consciousness. Still coughing, I smashed the last healing potion over the boar's hind leg, trying to get up, leaning hard against the charred wall. We had maybe twenty more seconds—and then...

  "Krian, where are you?" This was Ayim. The demon was panting, obviously from running.

  Right—my stand lasted three minutes maximum, so the guys physically couldn't get here any faster. I was about to answer when I heard the demoness' worried voice, accompanied by the sound of heavy footfall over floorboards:

  "Are you alive, dar? Say something!"

  "I am," I grunted, seeing Aritor and Hurd rush into the room, while Reena, who had frozen in the doorway for a moment, instantly assessing the situation, first cast a healing spell on me, and then started to pour healing into Gloom.

  The boar turned around sharply, his bloodshot eyes staring at the newcomers, but, recognizing them as allies and obeying my yell, eased back slowly, freeing the space for the tanks.

  "You smoke too much, dar," Aritor chuckled as he squeezed between the wall and the retreating razorback, using his shield to parry a one-handed axe swung by the skeleton that had appeared in the doorway.

  "Bad habit," my head still spun a little, but I was beginning to see the world in color again. "I need to step out for a second. Tell Ayim they should be looting everything from the corpses without delay, or we'll be stuck dragging all this crap away from here," I nodded toward the remains of the undead scattered across the floor.

  "I told you he was cute," Reena stepped aside, letting Gloom out and gently running a hand over his neck, still bristling with about a dozen arrows. "Does it hurt, my little one?"

  The boar growled, greeting the priestess by nuzzling her side with his snout. I used both my hands to shove him outside, and finally managed to follow him out for some air, letting Hagedia and Ayim into the room. I'm alive! Everything was under control here—my archers' arrows sliced through the air with fiery and icy streaks every second as they fired at the dam. Reece, a little pale in the face, was hurling his Ice Spears at the undead. Osk, whose mission was to take care of the archers, looked bored out of his wits. The opposite bank was black with the horde of the undead filling it—I couldn't even begin to estimate their numbers. It looked like we were in for a real hot night!

  "Why didn't you tell us the plan?" hissed Salta when she saw me. "You... I... I was really worried for you," the archeress' voice quivered. I thought she might be crying, but I couldn't see the tears behind the visor, and her shooting seemed quite unaffected.

  "I really had no idea they'd get here so quickly," I shrugged and drew a heavy sigh. "But look how many there are on the other bank..."

  "Please don't do that again, dar," the girl interrupted me. "We entrusted ourselves to you, didn't we? So why don't you trust us?"

  The demoness' question baffled me. Really, why couldn't I have taken someone like Osk along, at the very least? Was I just that much accustomed to being alone? But I had all of them now, and they were anything but mere lines of code—after all, code doesn't cry when it discovers its leader to be a real jackass. I sighed heavily, then raised my eyes to meet hers.

  "I'll try, Salta. I really promise I'll try..."

  Chapter 14

  Dusk was falling, the setting sun painting the treetops bright orange. I took off my helmet, pushing the hair, which had grown rather long, away from my forehead as I produced my flask and took a few gulps. I had a clan now—the money was paid and accepted by the administration, or whoever served as such at the present. Never mind that—the main thing is that I had succeeded. All we needed to do now was vanquish a few thousand skeletons that had gathered from all across the zone—a trifle, really. Then we could start some serious planning for the future.

  "Here, help yourself," I passed the flask to Reece, who looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders as he kept throwing one Ice Spear after another at the undead, occasionally looking about himself, apparently looking for something to comment on.

  "Thank you, dar," the mage reached for the vessel and took a few swigs. The taut lines in his face smoothed out a little, and he said musingly. "I respect that! We all went to fight like idiots, but you somehow even managed to pop into the inn en route..."

  That must have done it. The fury that rose from the depth of my soul took complete hold of me for a moment. I squeezed the demon's shoulder tight and spun him around to face me.

  "Listen up, demon," I hissed into his face, my voice resonant with rage. "You are forgetting yourself! Your jokes cross the line more often than not. If I hear just another careless word about myself, I'll start by ripping off your ears, got it?!" Giving the mage's shoulder another hard squeeze, I pushed him away and folded my arms.

  "Sorry, dar," Reece lowered his eyes and stood there, staring at his feet. With a heavy sigh, he added, "It sometimes happens spontaneously. I'll try to hold my tongue in the future. Here's your flask back," he handed me the vessel. "Whenever I have a few, I start to run off at the mouth, and given everything that has transpired, I believe I'll find a good use for my ears yet."

  You have gained a level! Current level: 147.

  You have 1 talent point to allocate.

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

  You have 3 stat points to allocate.

  You've earned an achievement, Field Commander.

  The party under your command has defeated ten times its number of enemies whose levels were equal to (or higher than) the maximum level of your warriors, in a singl
e battle. From now on, your party's morale cannot be negative, while you and the fighters under your command located within 1 mile of you receive the following:

  2% to critical hit chance with a physical or magic attack,

  10% to critical hit damage with physical or magic attacks,

  2% to critical effect chance with healing spells,

  10% to critical effect with healing spells,

  2% to damage and movement speed of siege engines,

  2% to durability and movement speed of siege engines.

  I'll be damned! I've never heard of such an achievement in this game. Not that I ever paid much attention... Instantly forgetting all about the offending mage, I plopped down under the nearest apple tree, produced a calculator from my menu, lit up a cigarette, and got to counting. The demons could do without my help so far—there was no space for anyone but one melee fighter next to the tanks inside the watermill, leaving me enough time to calculate everything thoroughly.

  The figures looked good. Going by base values alone, the damage output of the party increased by almost five percent—nothing to sneeze at. Still, every raid leader from one of the top clans probably had an achievement of this sort to boast of. Not that I cared. It was nice to have one just the same, and if this achievement wasn't the last—I glanced at the opposite bank, still black with the milling throngs of the undead—I might be in for more pleasant surprises. The most important thing now was to avoid screwing up and to make sure we did everything right. Indeed, the fun was only just beginning...

  "Krian, dar! These seem to be the last ones," the magically enhanced voice of the head archeress interrupted my monotonous pastime.

  "Change shift!" A few hours ago I'd commanded that the guys take turns sleeping, and Ayim was due to replace me now.

  I parried another swordsman's attack with my shield, countered with a Tongue of Flame, and nodded to Aritor waiting behind me. The big guy drew the mob's attention with Provoke and turned it sideways a little. I finished off the freak, striking it in the exposed side that didn't have much protection, and fell back, to be instantly replaced by Ayim, woken up by Reena moments prior. The black-haired demon was still squinting from sleep, but that hardly prevented him from jumping right into this seemingly endless battle that had already lasted over twenty four hours. I sidestepped the yawning priestess, made a loud bang as I hit the doorframe with my head, and crawled outside, lacking the strength to do so much as curse. I eyed the boar, sleeping peacefully in the shade, with great envy, then took off my helmet and washed my face.

  The next evening came, and it seemed like the slaughter would never end. So many undead warriors had been vanquished that in some places fragments of the creatures' armor stuck out of the river where multitudes of skeletons had been shot off the dam. It had been an incredibly taxing ordeal for the whole party.

  "Take a look, dar—there can't be more than a hundred left over there," the archeress pointed at the opposite bank. The ranks of the undead did look a whole lot thinner.

  Did we really make it? We were incredibly lucky that the village storage vault had so many arrows inside—I could only guess how long this strategy would have taken us otherwise. I nodded to the girl and announced the good news to the whole party; their response, however, wasn't particularly enthusiastic. The demons were so tired they could barely stand up straight.

  I took a few deep breaths, washed my face with the ice-cold water once again, lit a pipe, and sat down under the apple tree I favored. The vantage point gave a good view of the other bank.

  Our efforts had been by no means futile. Twenty four hours of ceaseless fighting had translated into some serious leveling-up for the whole party. I had a few XP points to go before reaching 149, and the weakest of my warriors was already level 151. My clanmates will have their combat forms soon, I thought with a pang of envy. But I had no reason to grumble, either—the Field Commander achievement had become replaced by Seasoned War Chief, and even though the bonuses for those didn't stack, a five percent increase to critical hit chance with a twenty five percent increase to critical hit damage were every bit as good as any combat form. In my past life, I probably would have been inundated with invitations from top clans, I thought to myself, and my mood soured all of a sudden.

  Alyona... I wondered how she was doing. I knew her too well to think she would hide behind city walls. I sighed heavily and closed my eyes, leaning my head wearily on the rough bark. What was happening to all those people up there, whose lives had changed so suddenly, so drastically? There were thirty million of them! Were they panicking? Or were they happy to have become immortal? And why didn't Aunt Tanya answer her phone? Was she that reluctant to speak to the deceased? Was there anybody else I could call? But we had no acquaintances in common with Alyona and Max... I mused on this for a second, bringing up the telephone menu, and dialed the number for the umpteenth time, without counting on much...

  Attention! A geographical location's name has changed. Thessa River [Demon Grounds, Krajde Princedom, Xantarra Satrapy, Feator and Environs] has been renamed Bone River.

  You've earn an achievement, Legendary Warlord.

  The party under your command has defeated one hundred times its number of enemies whose levels were equal to (or higher than) the maximum level of your warriors, winning the battle without suffering any casualties.

  From now on, your party's morale cannot dip below 10, while you and the fighters under your command located within 2 miles of you receive the following:

  10% to critical hit chance with a physical or magic attack,

  50% to critical hit damage with physical or magic attacks,

  10% to critical effect chance with healing spells,

  50% to critical effect with healing spells,

  10% to damage and movement speed of siege engines,

  10% to durability and movement speed of siege engines.

  Attention! This achievement cancels the bonuses received from the Seasoned War Chief achievement.

  The morale of your party has risen by 5 points. Your party's current morale is +25 (a 25% increase to your party members' physical and magic damage).

  Sweet! Now I don't even need a combat form, I pushed off the tree, rose, and inspected my valiant army. All the archers fell down right where they had stood, with the exception of Salta who was heading my way with a weary smile on her face. Ayim was the first to emerge from the ruins of the watermill. His eyes found me, and he saluted with his raised sword. Victory! I returned the salute, amplified my voice with magic, and announced.

  "I cannot even begin to describe what a great feat you have accomplished. Thank you, everyone!" Seeing wan smiles on the faces of my exhausted subordinates, I added, "We will spend the night here—I'm afraid that reaching the village might be problematic in our condition. Reece, place traps along the perimeter. We'll spend tomorrow resting and doing what needs to be done about the captured village."

  "Resting sounds good," Aritor looked at the numerous pieces of rusty armor jutting out of the water, scratched the back of his head, and looked at me. "I hope we don't intend to leave all the loot here?"

  "You can knock yourself out diving tomorrow," I chuckled and went back to sit underneath the apple tree.

  The satisfied giant nodded, found the petite Zara with his eyes, smiled warmly and wobbled toward her. I smiled in turn, noting that it seemed as though we had another couple-to-be among our ranks, watching the enormous demon take a blanket out of his inventory and gently cover his girlfriend.

  How long have I been here already? Two months? It already felt like half my life was spent here. Would I want to go back to cars, Internet, and skyscrapers? Definitely not. This world was a lot more honest than that one. Besides... I looked at the beautiful archeress approaching me... I was really beginning to like it here.

  Salta gave me a strange look, then sat down next to me, close enough for me to hear her breath. She asked quietly, looking right in front of her.

  "Krian, do you have a woma
n up there? You don't have to answer, but—"

  "It's all right, I can answer," I smiled, gazing into her enormous brown eyes. "But it's going to be a very long story."

  "So tell me," Salta adjusted her hair with a light touch, and gave an uncertain smile in return. "I have enough time, and I'd really like to hear it."

  "Well, then," I shrugged. "This is how it is. I don't have a woman I could call mine. I do have a sister and a friend. They're up there, and I really need to find them." I looked at the crimson sun setting over the treetops and sighed heavily. "This world is alien to me—I'm not from here, and I'm not even from Karn. Do you at least know what Karn is?"

  I looked at the girl and smiled. Salta was sound asleep, her head resting peacefully on my shoulder...

  Chapter 15

  Some time ago, somewhere in the Great Forest...

  "They sure are living the high life here," Luffy looked around. His eyes fell on a fountain complex framed by six tall wooden statues of elves holding drawn bows and facing outward. Inside the fountain basin, no less than forty-five feet across, there were figures of twelve elven maidens frozen in a variety of dancing postures, looking incredibly alluring to a male eye. The entire composition effervesced with jets of water of different colors, pulsing to the rhythm of a melody of some sort, so it really felt as though the wooden statues in the fountain were actually flesh-and-blood girls who had decided to jump into the water to dance their dance, half erotica and half martial art.

  "It does look pretty," said Max in support of his friend, "but it definitely required magic. You can't make something that beautiful in real life."

  "Have you forgotten where we are?" snickered the mage. "You should forget about all that 'real world' business already. To us, real life is here and now. Incidentally, I happen to like it a lot more."