The Way of the Clan 3 (World of Valdira)

by Dem Mikhaylov

  -- Oh yes— slowly nodded he, pouring the remnants of the beer from the keg and casually throwing it away— I don’t care about them. Let them go their separate ways. And quickly. And also, Rosgard…

  -- I’m listening?

  -- Do you mind if I no longer call you friend? Hm?

  -- That’s your business— I shrugged— So I will explain the situation to my friends?

  -- Go ahead— Grim snarled, showing a grin with teeth which clearly had increased in size.

  Not sharp fangs, but that still lay ahead.

  Under the corner of my eye I looked at the system clock. Another half an hour until midnight. Grim is still in human form, but it is clearly not Grim… damn! Completely confused!

  -- So— I turned to the astonished group— Remember how I talked about the use of the return crystals? So, guys— now is the time to use them. I heartily recommend to you— go. Right now.

  -- Ha? – forced a startled Bom, his hand fumbling inside his waist pocket for the crystal. Surprise surprise, the “ass” has not forgotten about his safety— and neither about the safety of his found trophies.

  -- Ha-ha— I agreed, holding the purple cloaks out to Bom— Save these for me, please. It’s a shame if all the stuff gets left behind.

  -- You planning to die or something?— said Cray, thoughtfully glancing at me and then at Kaylen— You won’t explain?

  -- Never! – I shook my head— But, in a nutshell…

  -- Tell us the general outline and that’ll be enough— encouraged the gnome, taking out his teleport scroll just in case and pushing closer to the girl. Damn bodyguard…

  -- If you use the return crystals now, you have nothing to lose. If you decide to stay until the end of the movie— tickets to the morgue will be guaranteed for all of you— said I, trying to fit as much information into as few words as possible.

  Grim did not interfere— sitting on an outstanding water boulder, the giant slowly drank beer out of his mug and painfully squinted at the “post” of daylight.

  -- I’m staying— blurted Kaylen, and added, smiling— I love movies!

  -- And me-e — shrugged the bald elf— Its intere-esting here.

  -- Kaylen! – indignantly began the dwarf, but she interrupted him sharply:

  -- I’m staying, Cray!

  -- Then I’m here too— said the dwarf evilly, and quietly grumbled— Hunting to lose experiences! Such nonsense!

  -- That’s not the main thing— Kaylen smiled sweetly— I just love a good movie. Especially horror.

  -- Exactly that kind of film is in the program. With the special visual effects— I reassured her— Bom?

  -- Bom isn’t a tank, Bom is an “ass”— the half-orc threw up his hands and, hesitating, added— Is it going to be a serious brawl?

  -- That’s right. “Asses” usually do not fly, but this time they will with a whistle.

  -- For now I’m here. A whiff of trouble and I fly to the revival port— Bom pushes the crystal and flies outta here.

  -- Doctors stay until the very end— Doc informed me— And watch with interest the agony of the patient. I’m here. As for the flight to the revival port… yeah right, you’ve found someone to frighten— with what?! So many times I’ve flown, that I don’t even remember anymore. So, is that who you’re breaking up with? With Mr. Silent?

  -- It’s him— I nodded quickly— Can’t explain the details. Just a friend was suddenly… Leave, comrades. There’s no use in losing experience and money— nor in running for your own dead bodies dressed in diapers.

  The answer was silence. No one budged, in clear anticipation of the unknown performance.

  If this were the real world, and I told people something like “Guys, there will be a brawl, get outta here” a minute later, I would be in splendid isolation. Here, all were fearless heroes, and no one was afraid of death. A game…

  Well, okay. My job was to warn them, and it’s within their right to refuse.

  -- Sour beer— winced Grim, and straightened his shoulders with a crunch— You know, Rosgard… do you know who you’re talking to right now?

  -- With you— I said cautiously.

  -- Right. With me. For the first time.

  In what sense? We have talked many times, and somehow this is his first?!

  -- I do not understand— I confessed.

  -- I – am Grim! Grim the Silver Hammer! – growled the giant— A warrior! A warrior who has been through many battles! I’m the real Grim! And the one with whom you’ve conversed before— just my pathetic shadow! The echo! Then in the final battle... … when the bloody Myrta died in my hands, when my heart was in such great pain… it was then that something happened within me. I was ripped in half! In two unequal parts! I was too weak and dazed to resist, as he came out from the battle victorious, my soul in shreds. HE! Weak willed wimp! The pitiful insignificance!

  Grim’s paws shot out and immediately grabbed the Proteus who was unfortunate enough to swim too close to him. His fingers slowly tightened, squeezing life out of the tiny being.

  Looking at the twitching Proteus, Grim was sullenly silent for a few seconds— and then he abruptly closed his fist, crushing the helpless creature.

  I shuddered, witnessing this spectacle. Not just me— the rest of the group fell silent.

  At my feet resounded a thin, but threatening growl. Tyrant. Sitting at my feet, the cub’s hair stood on end and he fiercely bared his little fangs, his eyes on Grim.

  -- A notable increase in your wolf— approvingly nodded Grim, again going for the nearly empty mug— But maybe he won’t grow up at all.

  -- You’re not here to decide— I smiled coldly.

  -- Maybe so – the giant shrugged, looking at me through tangled strands of hair— Maybe so…

  -- You wanted to talk— I reminded him, glancing at the system clock— There is still time. Why not talk? Why waste time killing small creatures?

  -- True— grumbled Grim, and looked back at me. This time his gaze was distinctly melancholy— You know… because of him, I cannot die. Damn coward, shamefully escaping the battlefield as soon as he smells danger… Coward! Damn you! – furiously roared the werewolf.

  The echo of the mad scream resounded through the dark cave passages. Barely a minute later, a few Kobolds decided to peer at our light.

  We did not even have time to jump or grab for a weapon. Grim decided everything for us.

  A short whistle cut through the air, and the Kobold warrior received a stone to his forehead. The impact threw him back at the wall, which the poor creature did not feel— he died in flight.

  -- I! Am! Speaking! Here! Get! Lost! – sternly, clearly and distinctly hissed Grim; looking at the remaining Kobolds, his eyes filled with red light— So you don’t want to? Well! I warned you!

  The Kobolds could not decide so quickly, but no one asked them. Four rocks whistled through the air and not one Kobold remained. Only a few piles in the burbling water. Judging by the sounds of hurried flip-flopping in the water, another had escaped the tirade.

  -- Cowardly creature— croaked Grim— I hate cowards! You’re … you’re not. You didn’t run away, then… Oh… oh… Myrta-a-a… ! – howled the melancholy werewolf, and his hands began to grow a thick snow-white hair. His face contorted, the lower jaw leaning forward with a crunch.

  On the account of the party members was heard a muffled chorus of shouts and curses.

  -- Grim! Stop! Stop! – I shouted— Wait! We are here to talk! Do you remember?!

  -- Yes… I remember— Grim said dully, with obvious difficulty moving his changed face— Talk… talk…

  -- Tell your story, Grim! The real one, not the one glorified in legends and false books— I said, at the same time turning on the recording mode, which I was not going to turn off until the end— About Myrta, about this curse, how it happened… what happened.

  -- Why not— gasped Grim in someone else’s voice, falling onto the stone— They took everything. Even the body. All I have now is
memories. That was long ago… I was reading books, sitting in dark restaurants and listening to songs of bards about Myrtle and I. All lies—only I know the truth. You know, before I met Myrta, I was just a hired gunman. To get involved in war, explore unknown lands, destroy monsters… I understood everything, and was generously paid in kind. In one of the fights, it happened— I was chewed by a werewolf, for whose head there had been issued a huge reward. I still killed him, but he turned me into a monster— an evil monster attacking all indiscriminately and tearing all to pieces!

  -- God— Doc was fascinated, and swallowed hard.

  Not paying attention to him, Grim continued:

  -- It is terrible! Every day, looking up at the night sky and hoping that the moon isn’t full, afraid to feel the body change and the thirst for blood awaken! The eyes veil with purple, and there’s nothing you can do about it! I hid my curse, I fought with it— in days of the full moon I went into deaf uninhabited areas and tied myself with chains and chewing stones, filling the neighborhood with wild howling… But not always… not always able to keep the animal down. And then I killed again! The curse was stronger than me…

  -- And what happened next? – I hastened to interrupt the arisen pause.

  -- I met Myrta— the werewolf said— One day, I woke up early in the morning among dozens of broken bodies. Broken by me. Covered in blood, I crawled to the road and ended up at the wide-open gates of the temple. And that’s where I met my Myrta… she stood at the gate and saw me and smiled sweetly.

  -- She served in the temple?

  -- Yes. Myrta was the warrior priestess of the temple— Grim nodded— I confessed to her. I told her without reserve, bursting into tears and cursing at the sky. I poured out my soul. And she did not reject me! I did not run away in horror, I was not driven out of the temple! No! She, too, began to cry… and looking into her eyes, I felt my soul begin to heal! Myrta saved me, pulled me out of the darkness… and I swore to never leave her side! Always to be there to protect her from dangers! Since then, we have always fought together. Fighting only creatures of darkness. Destroying monsters only. And certainly never participating in any tournaments! Never!

  -- I see— I nodded— And this is a lie. I understand Grim. Please, continue.

  -- A year after my meeting with Myrta, for my deeds for the benefit of the light god Gravitala in whose temple I had served with Myrta, I received a blessing. The blessing of the god himself! And the reward… armor, forged by a blacksmith master of the temple, and then laid on the altar of Gravitala and endowed with a part of his divine power.

  -- You deserve this honor. Not everyone can be blessed by this deity— I noticed, listening spellbound to the legend coming out of the werewolf’s mouth. That’s where the silver legend came from. The master blacksmith of the temple.

  The speech of Grim astonished me, and had the same effect on my local entourage.

  -- Blessings! Armour! For faithful service! Lies! All lies! – the walls trembled from the thunderous roar of Grim— No! Never! You can never trust the gods!

  Breathing hoarsely, Grim brought his trembling fingers to his face and looked for a few agonizing seconds at his nails, which were becoming monstrous claws.

  Fortunately, he coped with the approaching transformation. But there were only thirteen minutes to midnight.

  -- Do not trust the gods! – repeated Grim— the Gravitala blessing locked the werewolf into my core, not allowing him to escape. Now, even in the days of the full moon, I wouldn’t have to be afraid of the curse. I didn’t have to be locked in dark cellars any longer, praying that the door would not come unhinged. Now I could always be next to Myrta! And the suit of armor was neither without benefits. My power had increased dramatically, and there was no escape from the blows of my hammer. That was when I got this name— Grim the Silver Hammer. Gravitala’s armour was not only given to me, but also to his beloved priestess Myrta. Together we were indestructible. We were always together. Me and Myrta. Just the two of us… Do not believe the gods Rosgard! Never!

  -- But why? They granted you a blessing! And the armour! – I could not stand it— You no longer had to be afraid of yourself!

  -- Just as I thought— bellowed Grim— I thought the same thing! Whom to believe if not the gods? I believed it! And it was the worst mistake of my life! Because god’s blessing exists only as long as there is a god! God will fall— fall, and his temples disappear, as well as his blessings and curses! Priests and ministers lose their power! Prayers no longer work! All will disappear! And so it happened— the Gravitala god fell! He was thrown down into the darkness of Tantarial! And it happened not long before dawn, in the light of the full moon! During a battle with creatures of darkness! And I, unable to cope with the curse, turned into a mad werewolf and attacked Myrta from the back! I attacked her! I killed my love! I ripped her to pieces! You know what that’s like, Rosgard? Huh?! To see your own paws tearing apart your beloved? Seeing her eyes fill with horror and incomprehension?! Huh?!

  -- G-god— Doc stammered again.

  Leaning on the shoulder of Cray the woman, stunned, wiped away tears.

  Bom was shaking his head and, sniffing and repeating mournfully, “that bastard…” “that bastard!” … , quietly hiding the discarded, empty keg of beer into his bag.

  -- Never trust the gods! Don’t trust them! – repeated Grim, swaying from side to side— They have no faith! O-oo-oh!— If only Gravital had fallen a little later! At least an hour, when the moon was no longer out… Oh-h… But this did not happen. I came to a cliff-top and found her lying on the blood-stained stones, and she emitted her last breath. She died in my arms! In the hands of her murderer! And without saying a word! But her eyes, her eyes looked up at me… Aa-aa-aa-ah-aah! – The thunderous roar of Grim was deafening— Damn you, Gravital! Why was it necessary to give me hope?! Burn in Tantariel! Argh! Argh!

  -- Grim! Grim! – I yelled, looking at the bulging shirt of the giant— Complete the story!

  -- Complete!? – the bloodshot eyes seemed to stare right through me— Why would you want this knowledge, if it will die with you?! But, I suppose… I do not speak too often… Listen! Myrta died in my arms and melted away, disappearing without a trace! I have not even her body to bury, no grave towards which to vent my grief or forgiveness! They took everything! In a rage, I tore off the useless armour and threw it into the river from the top of mount Alirna. I left only the amulet, given to me by Myrta herself. It only later became part of the armour. I wanted to jump after it, believe me! I wanted to die! And then it happened— I lost control of this body and fell to my knees. And I listened with horror as I whispered in obedience: “It is not me! It was the enemy! I did not have time to save her! The enemies killed my love! And I could not defend her! And I did not have time! I didn’t do it!” I was trapped in my own soul! And the man on the other side rose to his feet, picked up the parts of the armor not fallen into the river and, still muttering nonsense to himself, walked away! And I could not help it! Thus was born the one with the name you know, the dribbling weakling, Grim the Inconsolable! A simpleton wandering around the taverns and flooding his fictitious sadness with wine. A weakling and a coward, not accepting his guilt nor redeeming himself!

  An absolutely mad werewolf with a split personality.

  That’s it. We’ve arrived. The ending station.

  -- This wimp— Grim continued with contempt, spitting his words out of his deforming mouth with difficulty— This weakling, who can only complain about his loss and of his great grief, begging for sympathy from drunken partygoers! And organizing tournaments for wimps, rewarding them for it, with gold and objects! Gold, which he takes from my hiding place, gold which I had set aside for Myrta and I! And this coward sometimes gives a bracer to every next loser like you, Rosgard, saying that you surpassed him and could not do what he did! Nonsense! All lies! What makes you think you’re more worthy than me Rosgard? Why do you think so?!

  -- I did not say that— I reminded— And I did
n’t ask you for anything!

  -- Right. You didn’t— agreed the werewolf— But you picked it up! And with this you acknowledged that you consider yourself more worthy than me!

  -- What a load of nonsense! – I grumbled— and I’m not a loser! If he didn’t want to give— he shouldn’t have given it then! I did not ask, Grim.

  -- Listen! I am gaining strength and can gain my body back only during this hour before the full moon— snarled Grim— Before that, I have no power over it. I have less than an hour! And when it comes to midnight, I turn into a werewolf and again lose power over it! And the worst thing— as soon as my life is in danger, the weakling Grim wakes up again, takes power over the body and runs away again! Using the force of Myrta’s medallion! It’s so unworthy! If he was not a coward, I would have long ago fallen in battle! I would have been pleased to receive a valiant death by the sword of the enemy! But the thirst for life in this coward is so strong that it overpowers the bloodthirsty werewolf! But that’s him! And I never back down! Neither as a human nor an animal in disguise! I always fight to the end, I fight to the death! Until the last breath, be it mine or my enemy’s!

  All right. No way to avoid a battle. Before midnight there were only four minutes.

  Turning to the party members, I made several expressive gestures and clenched my fist several times, indicating that now was the time to break out the crystals and fly outta there.

  Grim did not notice my gestures and grimaces. His body was slowly being deformed and overgrown with snow-white hair. Down his chin rolled a trickle of saliva, and I could see a pair of canines in his mouth.

  -- But… -- snarled Grim— Maybe you’re worthy, maybe you are stronger than me. Maybe luck is on your side… Then I can take back my words. If so, then, the bracers are your right. Then keep them for yourself. But first, you must give me a small gift, Rosgard.

  -- Gift?

  -- Yes. Very small. Give me death! And then the score will be settled. I’m so tired… I have long been ready to die. After all, that’s why I pursue valiant heroes like you— in the hopes of death. But not one has yet been able to withstand my power.