Kingdom of the Dead

by Pavel Kornev

  “You don’t mean it!” I muttered as I forced open a creaky window.

  The room filled with the noise of the city night. Obeying my order, the undead Phoenix jumped onto the windowsill, emitted another shrill squawk and soared into the air.

  Strangely enough, I felt as if I was being pulled into the air after him. The city roofs and the snaking ribbons of the canals flashed through my mental view. My head spun. Exhausted, I collapsed to my knees.

  “Uncle John! Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Perfectly fine. I’m all right.”

  I managed to stop myself vomiting. It wasn’t that difficult: after all, my stomach had been empty for quite a long time. I dumped myself on the bed and leaned my back against the wall. My first attempt at controlling a flying undead mount had proven not to be too pleasant.

  In the meantime, Scarecrow had landed onto a neighboring chimney and had begun sharpening his beak on the blackened firebricks, casting sarcastic glances at me. For some reason, I was absolutely sure I’d be able to bring this cantankerous bird back under my mental control the moment it was necessary. Which in turn opened some very interesting avenues...

  “Uncle John? I’m hungry!” the boy said.

  I looked first at him, then at the door. Reluctantly I scrambled back to my feet. “Come on, then.”

  I wasn’t sure whether I should take the flamberge with me. In the end, I left it in the room because it would have been little use in the narrow corridors of the inn anyway. In case of an attack, I’d be far better off brandishing my bone hook, Soul Killer.

  The door key hung on a nail hammered into the doorframe. I took it and walked out first. Neo followed. I locked the door and took the creaky stairs to the bottom floor.

  When we’d reached the spacious dining room, empty and badly lit, I was in for another surprise. The innkeeper — a short stocky middle-aged guy who stood there toweling beer mugs — turned out to be a player.

  My world was blown apart. Why would anyone pay good money to access virtual reality only to work in a bar, and in such an ungainly body at that?

  “Hi,” I managed, suppressing my surprise.

  “Good evening,” the innkeeper replied. He noticed Neo and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  “A quest,” I explained curtly, as was quickly becoming a habit. “Can you give him something to eat?”

  “Not a problem,” he chuckled, opening his guest book. “And your names are...”

  “We’re with Isabella,” I offered. “The Dark Elfa.”

  “That’s right. It’s full board. Take a seat, please.”

  I motioned Neo toward one of the tables and stayed by the bar. I was curious to see if my newly-acquired Almost Alive ability could conceal my undead nature.

  “Only the boy’s eating!” I shouted after him as he disappeared into the kitchen. “I don’t need anything!”

  He peered out of the kitchen, balancing a loaded tray. “Beer?”

  “No, thanks,” I replied. “I still have a business meeting to attend.”

  He gave me a wink. “A business meeting. In the game?”

  “Well, it’s not as if you’re slaying dragons either.”

  The innkeeper laughed. He set the tray down on the bar and proffered his hand. “Mark.”

  “John,” I replied, prudently keeping my profile closed.

  He smiled. “Nice to meet you, John. Get stuck in, boy!”

  Neo didn’t have to be told twice. He grabbed the tray and carried it to his table.

  “I can see you’re curious,” Mark smiled. “You’re probably asking yourself what’s in it for me, right?”

  I looked over the spacious room with its paneled walls, carved furniture and the cartwheels which served as chandeliers. “Well, it’s a nice cozy place.”

  Mark produced a dusty bottle and filled a shot glass with some acid-green liquid. “Nice joke!” he laughed, then downed the weird drink. He exhaled noisily and added without a trace of merriment, “You’re not so far from the truth, you know that? This place is indeed cozy. Not everybody’s into raids and stuff. Some of us would rather have a nice meal and a glass of wine without having to suffer from hangovers and high blood pressure afterward. Not to even mention the fact that a night of virtual passion won’t end up with a visit to the doctors as it sometimes does in the real world. And even if someone slits your throat, well... it’s only a game, ain’t it?”

  I chuckled. It had never occurred to me before that someone might go virtual simply to continue with their boring little lives.

  “You’d be surprised how many people come here just to check out our brothels and bars. They’re not interested in dragons in the slightest.”

  “How strange,” I murmured. “But still, for you it must be more than just entertainment?”

  He nodded and rubbed his nose which was quickly turning red from the drink. “Here, I could finally fulfill my lifelong dream of opening a small drinking establishment. I’ve invested half of my pension fund into it and I don’t regret it one bit. I’ve already recuperated about 40% of it, so returns are quite decent.”

  As we spoke, a respectable-looking gentleman in a black cloak and a wide-brimmed hat appeared at the top of the stairs. A long rapier hung from his belt: not a serious weapon really but rather a status item unsuitable for any serious killing.

  Mark saluted him. The man nodded, crossed the room and walked outside.

  “The place is excellent,” the innkeeper told me. “Lots of traffic. These days, you just can’t buy something like this for a reasonable price.”

  I allowed myself a quiet chuckle. “It doesn’t look as if you have to fend new guests off with a stick.”

  “Why should I?” he sounded genuinely surprised. “This isn’t real life. Money works differently here. Whoever needs a suitable login point for their needs has to rent a room. I pay for the server’s capacity and put the difference into my own pocket. It’s not my thing to offer strip shows to the public. Don’t get me wrong, they do pay very well. But you can go bust in no time, too. The locals have seen everything. Competition is stiff. Each and every one of the local girls is a player. Nobody wants NPCs anymore.”

  “You don’t mean it.”

  He nodded. “Oh yes I do. So why would I need all the hassle? Everyone should do their own thing.”

  “Does that mean that all the local establishments have been bought up by players?”

  “In large city centers, yes, almost all of them,” he assured me. “There’re certain quotas, of course. Some places aren’t even put up for sale. But that’s on the Dark side. The Lighties don’t approve of private enterprise.”

  “Why not?”

  “There, they concentrate on players’ interaction with each other. Things like quests, raids and events. Killing ten orcs, finding fifty golden lotuses, delivering a hundred messages... I’m exaggerating a bit, of course, but I personally find it a bit of a rat race. No opium dens or women of easy virtue for you there. They could lower the age limit to 14 right now if they wanted to and they wouldn’t even have to change a thing!”

  I flashed him a polite smile, realizing that Mark’s unfulfilled real-world dream had also included a grateful listener at the bar. In the course of our conversation, at least ten people had descended into the room and left straight away without saying a word to their innkeeper.

  “You want a drink?” he offered again.

  “No, thanks. I’ll pass.”

  He refilled his glass and shook his head. “You know, John, these days I’d be too scared to invest so much money into the game.”

  “Why is that?” I offered the cue he was apparently waiting for.

  He downed his drink and sighed. “Before, I could see how the strategy of this world was working. And I agreed with it. But now something weird is going on. You tell me: how could they have axed the Intuit Project? Eh?”

  I’d never heard about it before. I told him as much.

  “All these little icons and
logos flickering before your eyes,” he explained. “I find them so annoying. They only distract you. At some point, they were going to completely abandon them and make the special-ability control entirely intuitive. But somebody in their infinite wisdom must have deemed it too complicated for the average player. They said it would take too long to implement and that the contrast with the competition would be too drastic.”

  I nodded pensively. He had a point. I hadn’t seen any icons in my field of vision for quite a while. How had I managed to activate my special abilities, then? For me, my inventory was just a bag like any other. Had I spent too much time in the game? Possible.

  Oblivious of my absent-mindedness, Mark continued to share his reservations with me,

  “Sometimes I think that all this confrontation between the powers of Light and Dark in the game is only a reflection of the confrontation within its board of directors,” he reached for the bottle and reluctantly put it away under the counter.

  Now he was completely over the top. Unwilling to listen to any more conspiracy theories, I rose from my stool. “I don’t think it’s possible.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “It may sound crazy if you don’t know the shareholders list. Half of the shares belong to the game developers and the other half is owned by a company that holds the patent for players' brain data processing algorithms. They may well disagree on the game’s future.”

  I shrugged. “Possibly.”

  The innkeeper was about to add something else when the front door swung open, letting in Isabella.

  “Good evening, Ms. Ash-Rizt!” the innkeeper piped up.

  She gave him a nonchalant nod. “Kitten?” she motioned me toward the stairs. “Need to talk.”

  “Neo,” I turned to the boy. “Finish your food and go back up to your room.”

  “I’ve already finished!” he replied, running after us.

  I caught up with Isabella on the stairway. “And?”

  “We’ll talk upstairs,” she snapped.

  Once we’d got inside and locked the door, she couldn’t help but reproach me, “I thought I told you not to leave the room?”

  “Oh, give it a break,” I waved her concern away as I deactivated both Incognito and Almost Alive.

  My illusionary face fell away, revealing the taut skin stretched over my skull. She recoiled.

  “What the hell is th-?” she gasped, stopping midword. “A Lich?”

  “A Junior Lich.”

  “But how did you-”

  “I keep leveling.”

  “You’re full of surprises, Kitten,” she drawled in amazement. “A Lich, of all things!”

  I shrugged. “So what? A dead necromancer, big deal!”

  She shook her head. “Oh no. This is totally different. Don’t even try to compare death magic and the magic of the undead.”

  A long-suffering sigh escaped my chest. The magic of the undead! I couldn’t even dream of ever learning it. Still, I decided against sharing my own problems with her. “So, what about the meeting?”

  She beamed, pleased as Punch. “Relax, Kitten. We’re expected.”

  “When?”

  “Right now,” she flashed me a mysterious smile. “But first we need to get ready.”

  She removed her shapeless cloak. I couldn’t help letting out a low whistle of surprise.

  Her armor was trimmed with black patent leather which made her appear extremely sexy. She’d always looked a bit frivolous, playful even — at least until she transformed into a furious harpy — but now she reminded me of one of those women of easy virtue mentioned earlier by Mark.

  “Is Kitten into hardcore?” she squinted at me, playing with her cat o’ nine tails. “I’d make a good dominatrix, trust me!”

  “What kind of sick masquerade is this?”

  “That’s only part of it,” she licked carnivorously her brightly painted lips as she threw me a collar and chain. “Try this on.”

  “What the hell?”

  “Come on, Kitten, don’t drag it out! We don’t have all day!”

  “But-”

  “Just put it on!”

  3

  I WAS LED TO the negotiations on a chain.

  Isabella walked in front, seductively swinging her hips. Either she was trying to warm to her role or her impossibly high stilettoes prevented her from walking normally. They definitely weren’t made for trotting on cobblestones. Not that I gave a damn. She could break her neck for all I cared. She’d had the audacity to make me wear that collar! The fact that I wasn’t wearing the mask worried me much more as, even though my Incognito prevented other players from seeing my status, they could all see the morbid face of a deadman.

  Yes, I was supposed to be a zombie on a leash. I wouldn’t call it a great career choice. Still, it was for a good cause.

  I cussed under my breath and increased my pace to slacken off the tautness of the chain. I wasn’t very good at keeping up with her while having to impersonate a lethargic zombie at the same time.

  “Don’t rush!” Isabella hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

  I obediently eased up.

  The Tower of Darkness was enveloped in thick gloom. Torches and magic lanterns struggled to illuminate the narrow lanes around it. Crowds of tipsy players surrounded the houses of ill repute; the silent shadows of city guards stole along the streets; ladies of the night were beckoning new clients: this was an ordinary city living an ordinary nightlife of clubbing, alcohol and whores.

  Although I attracted unfriendly stares, no one had attempted to attack me. Nobody wanted to be sued for damaging somebody else’s property. As long as I was on a chain, I was out of harm’s way. Humiliating but safe.

  As we turned into a deserted lane, I caught up with her again.

  “Mind telling me what’s with the masquerade?” I whispered furiously.

  She swung round and sized me up unkindly. “Firstly, our potential partners can see that you’re dead, anyway. And secondly, you’re my trump card. Now do me a favor and shut up!”

  We turned onto a busy crossroads where a lanky Elf attempted to give her a slap on her backside. Without even changing step, Isabella gave him a tick with her cat o’ nine tails as she walked past. I snapped my jaws and bulged my eyes.

  The Elf guffawed. At least he had a sense of humor.

  “Where are we going?” I asked her once again.

  Isabella winced. “You’ll see in a moment.”

  The clanking of cold steel reached us through the darkness. I shouldn’t have listened to Isabella. Leaving the flamberge back at the inn maybe hadn’t been such a good idea.

  We turned a corner and saw two warriors who were fighting desperately right in the middle of the street, surrounded by a thick noisy crowd. None of the onlookers attempted to interfere though.

  I peered at the scene. A prompt popped up,

  A Duel!

  Someone shrieked. A voice thundered, “Stop thief!”

  A young lad lithely sneaked past me and disappeared into the swirls of darkness. A translucent lasso flew after him, unstealthing him, but the thief had already sneaked into a dark side alley. No one dared chase after him any further. His victim's angry shouting continued to trail behind us for a long time.

  The street turned toward a narrow and deserted canal embankment. There, I caught up with Isabella again and strode alongside her, doing my best not to step on the chain which clinked over the cobblestones.

  “Is there a way of protecting oneself against pickpockets?”

  Isabella shrugged. “Everything’s possible. Depends on how much you’re prepared to pay.”

  “Could you be a little clearer?”

  Seeing as there was no one near, she deigned to reply,

  “If you grease the palm of the Lord of the local Tower, he can safeguard your inventory for a while. It’s not cheap. Also, his protection is disabled the moment you leave town.”

  “Aha. And what if you need permanent protection for a particular item, regardless
of the owner’s location?”

  She stopped and heaved a sigh. “What do you need that for? What else don’t I know about you?”

  “Well,” I faltered. “The necro I have the vendetta with wants to take a certain artifact from me...”

  “That’s your problem,” ignoring my explanation, she walked on.

  I grabbed at the chain and forced her to stop. “I don’t think so! This artifact is indispensable for my rebirth. And if it gets stolen-”

  I didn’t need to explain any further.

  “Show me,” Isabella said, acceding to my request.

  I pulled out the charmed skull and laid it reluctantly in her hand.

  She studied it for a while, then looked up at me. “If you’re screwing me around-”

  “I’m not!”

  “I’m gonna wring your balls,” she promised. “In order to protect this crappy rock, I had to waste some of my Goddess’ Benevolence! Have you any idea what it cost me to get it in the first place?”

  “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  She chuckled and covered the artifact with her hand. When she removed it, the skull’s empty sockets glowed with a crimson flame. “Take it.”

  I hurried to put it back into my inventory. “So how does it work, then?”

  “A thief will lose his fingers.”

  “Excellent!” I exclaimed.

  Suddenly something put me on my guard. “Wait a sec.”

  We were just approaching yet another bridge when my undead phoenix — who for reasons known only to himself had tagged along with us — began circling the water. I mentally reached out to him, trying to peer into the darkness that reigned over the city from the advantage of the bird's eye view. Nothing aroused my suspicions. Still, something was wrong.

  “Can we give this bridge a miss?” I asked Isabella.

  “There’s no time,” she snapped. Then she added, pointing at a couple who’d just walked out of a side street and were headed for the bridge. “Look, everybody else is crossing.”

  Only they didn’t. As soon as the two revelers reached the bridge, they were encircled by shadows. The next moment both seemed to be resting peacefully on the ground. Not asleep though — but bleeding to death.