Sicilian Defense

by Andrey Vasilyev

  “At ease,” I ordered. “I’m getting army flashbacks.”

  “Was it really that bad?” Even the most innocent questions sounded like double entendre when she asked them.

  “Oh, it was fun and exciting,” I quipped. “Actually, the food was terrible, and they hit us a lot at the beginning. I learned how to be a good orderly, too. Anyway, none of that matters.”

  “What does?” Elena had started twirling a lock of hair with her finger, a leg playfully shuffling around the floor.

  “A certain silver Mercedes that is in my parking space for the second day in a row.”

  “That one right there?” Shelestova asked, going over to the window. One arm pointed at the car; the other rested on my shoulder.

  “That’s the one,” I confirmed. “There’s something written on the asphalt right there in clear English. Did you read it?”

  “Oh, it was all there.” Shelestova put her other arm on my shoulder. “‘My spot, I’ll kill anyone who parks here.’ Exactly right.”

  “Bingo,” I said. “But I was the one who wrote that. Did you see Vika running off with her eyes bulging? She’s on the hunt to see who exactly she’s going to kill—I’d just tell you off, but that’s not her. She’s a woman of action.”

  “Yes?” Shelestova thought for a second. “Well, she’ll probably find me, but that’s fine. I’m good at taekwondo, so it’s a toss-up to see who will take out who.”

  “No need for fights here,” I sighed. “Sure, it would be fun, and we could all bet, but I think that would make Soloveva a bit too happy… Anyway, we’re here to do our jobs, not start a civil war, got it? If things with the car get out of hand, I’ll have to get rid of the source of the problem. You’re great, but I’ve known Vika longer. Plus, she’s my assistant, and you…”

  “Understood, my general.” Shelestova tapped out some sort of march on my shoulders and headed toward the door. “She’s your assistant, and I’m…you know, I think I’ll go move my car. No need to put the boss lady on to boil. She isn’t borscht, after all!”

  “Good call,” I replied. “Very constructive of you.”

  Shelestova stopped at the threshold. “What do you drink, field marshal? We’re going to have a small party on Thursday, and we need to know what our dear leader would like.”

  “I drink everything. Well, except windshield wiper fluid and varnish. You can bring moonshine for all I care, and I’ll drink it.”

  “Not too picky,” Shelestova noted. “That’s good. Glad to hear it. I thought you were up there getting used to life with the elites, and here you’re still all simple and democratic.”

  “I’m a simple guy, the people’s guy,” I explained. “That life up there is here today and gone tomorrow, so there’s no sense getting used to it—weaning yourself off it later takes forever.”

  “Yep. Boring, but true.” Shelestova winked at me. “Nobody knows what tomorrow will bring, right?”

  I certainly didn’t know what the next day would bring, but I was too busy focused on the present to worry about that. Logging in, I found myself in the middle of the plain I’d been walking across a few days before. The sun was shining, a breeze played across my face, the grass whispered, and a goblin with a snake’s tail sticking out of his mouth dashed off in shock at my appearance.

  Mocking him as he ran, I pulled out a portal scroll. I had no desire to walk, and didn’t see much point in it either: why spend a few hours and put myself at risk of the worst happening just to save a scroll? I could have, of course, but the valuables in my bag and the fact that I now had more enemies than friends meant that I needed to play it safe. No, I needed a straight shot to the hotel in Fladridge. Also, judging by the blinking icons in front of me, there were messages I needed to read.

  I unloaded back in my room, leaving some things in my bag and dumping the rest in my chest. Then I did a little experimenting with my runes, though I got that psh much more than I would have liked to. Actually, the psh sound was all I got. Five runes aren’t three—you have a much lower chance of coming up with something. Once I’d gotten tired of playing around with five-rune combinations, I had four-rune combinations to try, though I didn’t have much success there either. It was only when I was about to drop down to three runes that the tablet puffed out a golden cloud.

  Notice.

  Because you were able to successfully fuse Veird, Dagaz, Eivaz, and Jera, you get an additional bonus:

  +7% damage done to undead

  +4% to equipment durability

  +2% chance of doing cold damage

  As usual, it wasn’t all that much, but I appreciated the freebie. I just wasn’t really in the mood to carry them around, as I wouldn’t get them returned for a second time if I was killed. On the other hand, I couldn’t leave everything I owned in the trunk, so I dropped the runes I’d fused back into my bag. The last two, I decided, could join my rainy-day fund in the trunk.

  I left the hotel and headed toward the mailbox. My plan was to knock out all the little things on my to-do list, and then get to work figuring out how I was going to get to the Sumaki Mountains.

  There was a bit of a surprise waiting for me in the mailbox. I wasn’t sure if it was a good surprise or a bad one, but it was a surprise nonetheless. One letter was from my already former clan letting me know that I was no longer their friend. I hadn’t treated them as a friend, and because of that they’d given up on me and would kill me on sight. Nothing new there.

  The second letter was from Gedron the Elder, who had somehow already gotten word that I’d been killed out. He was only too happy to invite “the venerable Hagen” to join his clan. If I’d been in Elina’s shoes, I’d have had to wonder how news could get into strange hands that quickly. She certainly couldn’t have been putting signs up. Although, that was her problem, and the worse her problems got, the better it was for me. I would have been only too happy to see her and her clan vanish entirely.

  The third message was also an invitation to join a clan, though this time it was from one I’d never heard of: the Crimson Arrows. I scratched my head trying to remember if I might have come across them at some point, but I couldn’t come up with anything. Still, they promised protection and support, easy gameplay, and all the hospitality they could muster. It wasn’t a high-level clan, somewhere close to 200 in the rankings, and it wasn’t anything to take that seriously. I wasn’t a snob; I’d just gotten in with the top clans right off the bat and didn’t plan on changing that habit. Really, I didn’t want to go anywhere right then—not to a top clan, and not to a newly formed one, either.

  I’m a polite person, and so I sent nearly identical replies to each of them. There was something thanking them, letting them know I was flattered and how it was all beyond my wildest dreams, but telling them that, unfortunately, I was going to play on my own for a while. But as soon as I changed my mind, I assured them, they were the clan for me. I wasn’t even lying, funnily enough.

  But the fourth letter…yeah. That one was interesting.

  Hey, Hagen.

  You know, I think everything got a little out of hand. There was no point in us getting into a fight like that, I’ll admit: I wasn’t right to let you be killed, and it was a mistake to take what we took. With that in mind, I’d like to sit down in some tavern and talk everything out. I’m sure two intelligent people like ourselves can work out our differences.

  I can assure you that I have something to tell you and something to offer, and you’ll want to hear both.

  Think about it. Don’t be in a hurry. If you decide you’d like to meet, just let me know when and where. Drinks are on me.

  Your friend, and I say that as more than a platitude,

  Miurat

  Chapter Five

  In which the hero decides to pay off an old debt.

  “Friend.” With friends like him, who needs enemies? Also, I couldn’t quite tell if he wanted a drink with me in the game or in real life. If he meant real life, well, that wasn’t happening—th
e last thing I needed were my game problems spilling over into reality. But in the game? There was no point avoiding a meeting, since cities were safe. He might have something interesting to say, anyway.

  Good afternoon,

  I can’t say our latest meetings have left me with the warmest of memories, so I’ll skip the usual courtesies.

  But if you think there’s something we should discuss, that’s fine. Tomorrow, 9 p.m., crooked Ibrahim’s duhan in Selgar.

  Hagen

  And why not Selgar? I thought I might be able to grab my things at the auction before they disappeared—they weren’t worth much, but there was no sense losing them if I could avoid it. It wasn’t that I was particularly stingy; there was just no point losing things I didn’t have to lose.

  At the last second I decided against sending him the message. Your first impulse is almost always the right one, though it’s still worth taking your time in some instances.

  My mail taken care of, I looked around and was about to head over to the instructor for a couple of abilities I’d earned when I caught sight of the downcast and shabby figure of a dwarf. He was dejectedly ambling his way toward the tavern. Once I recognized him, I remembered how I was still in his debt. It wasn’t much—just deep respect and my life.

  “Dorn, is that you?” I called to him. “Hey, there! Why the long face?”

  The dwarf looked up, saw me, and didn’t recognize me at first. Then it clicked, and he waved.

  “What happened?” I really did want to know how such a fun, confident dwarf could have been knocked down to those depths. I remembered how he and his friend Rone had saved my hide from being shredded by a nasty orc by the name of Euiikh. Ah, those were the days. Now Euiikhs are like those gremlins you’re so afraid of as a kid but laugh at when you grow up.

  “Oh, you know, Hagen,” Dorn said. “The game isn’t what it used to be.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, my ears perking up.

  Hearing all about the changes happening in the game was like music to my ears. All breaks with past patterns, and anything out of the ordinary could have represented anything from useless fun-facts to an informational atom bomb.

  “People are different these days. The clans are different. Nothing’s the same. Players are busy doing everything besides playing the game.” Dorn ruffled his beard and sat down on a bench next to the mailbox. “We used to have a clan, maybe not the best in the game, but a solid one: well within the top fifty. Our leader was a tough woman, but she had a good head on her shoulders, she was an excellent strategist, and she was just a nice person. And how did it all end?”

  “How?” I asked politely.

  As if I don’t know.

  “She went off the deep end,” Dorn said, spitting for emphasis. “All her clan problems, her percentages, her off-the-wall intrigues…they all went to her head. I left, Rone left, Zorg left, and so did another thirty of the veterans. And that was fine, it happens. We wanted to join another clan, and they told us they wanted a security deposit up front as guarantee that we wouldn’t just leave them, too. Tell me, my young friend, would you say that security deposits are normal for games?”

  “Honestly, no,” I replied with surprise. It sounded pretty crazy to me, too.

  “That’s what I’m saying.” Dorn spat again. “But Rone says it’s fine, and he handed over the gold. I wasn’t about to join him, though I certainly had the gold to spare. And I still do. But I don’t think that’s right. So they said Rone can stay, and they showed me the door. What would you have done?”

  “I’m not sure, but I probably would have told them to screw themselves,” I replied with a shrug. “What else can you say?”

  “Exactly.” Dorn’s face darkened still further. “But Rone disagreed, and he stayed. We’d played the game for two years side by side. We even studied together, out in real life—we’ve been through so much together.”

  I felt bad for the guy and understood why he was so sad. And the dwarf was right: people were changing… The whole world was changing.

  “Well, I gave him a few choice words, turned around, and left. Then I got a quest near Trottir for some blind worms, and got a pickup group of kids together. We went off to kill them, but there was no teamwork to speak of, they herded in without listening to me, three died, and the other three ran off. I didn’t see that right away, since I was busy fighting, and the worms all ganged up on me. So I told them we should go back to get our things. But no, it’s too dark and scary for them—they’d rather just go buy new things at the auction. What’s going on in Fayroll? It’s easier to buy things than it is to win them in battle! Where’s the game going?”

  It was an unfortunate story. Although Dorn did kind of get what was coming to him: he’d run off underground with a group of random, inexperienced, and unpredictable players. Actually, he’d gotten off lightly.

  “And so all my things are below ground in the Neilozh Mines close to Trottir. But here I am.”

  “Where are the Neilozh Mines?” I asked. “Are they far?”

  “A good forty or fifty leagues toward the head of the Crisna,” the dwarf replied, gesturing toward the west.

  Well, that direction certainly worked for me. Fifty leagues? I’ll take it.

  “So what do you need here if your things are there?” I squinted my left eye.

  The dwarf looked back at me, chewed on his beard, and sighed.

  “I’m not about to head back into the mines with a pickup group—they’re useless. But it’s impossible without a group of some kind. Here in Fladridge there’s a solo quest you can get, a series of seven quests, and the finale is a one-man raid into the mines right around where my things are. It’s a long series, and it’s no fun, but still…”

  “By the time you finish the series, somebody will have long since grabbed your cocoon,” I snorted. “If they haven’t already.”

  “Oh, I know,” the dwarf replied with a wave. “But I’m just tired of everything, and I want to have some fun. What’s going on, huh? It was a great game—that’s why I started playing.”

  “What are you whining like an old maid for?” I barked. “You just got unlucky, it happens. I’ve seen worse coincidences, believe me. One guy I knew had three lovers, and they all told him on the same day that they were pregnant.”

  “And what happened?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I grinned. “He left the city—there wasn’t anything left for him there. One of the three was Azeri, and she had five brothers who would have loved to chop off a certain body part.”

  “Brutal.” Dorn yanked on his beard. “What a nightmare!”

  “Yup,” I said reproachfully. “Your little problems don’t seem so bad anymore, do they?”

  “Little?” the dwarf sniffed, a bit offended. “I had one set item, two elite items, and an axe with two gems set in it. All the result of good, hard work.”

  “Oh, come on, why are you snuffling like some kind of hedgehog?” I clapped Dorn on the shoulder. “We’ll get your stuff back, so long as nobody else has gotten there first.”

  “We can’t do it with just the two of us,” Dorn glowered. “There’s no way. We need at least another three if they’re experienced, four if they’re not.”

  Yes, that’s the issue. A pickup group was out of the question, and I didn’t want to go knocking on the Hounds’ door, although, to be fair, the Gray Witch would have been only too happy to send me a group that would sweep right through the Neilozh Mines. NPCs? I had Lane, though all our friends were lying dead in the jungles and temples. He was a good mercenary, but there was no one besides him. The knights of the order were also an option, although they were a last resort: I couldn’t keep going back to that well, especially since my last adventure had cost them the lives of twenty young knights and an experienced officer. Sure, I’d had Brother Yur’s blessing, but I was still the driver.

  “You’re having a hard time thinking of someone, too,” Dorn said as he scratched his head. “Why is life this way now? Befo
re, everything was the way it’s supposed to be: quests, raids, enemies, friends…”

  Wait a second—enemies, friends…what about Miurat? Seriously, why not? That move would certainly be an unexpected one. He wanted to talk, and we’d have the chance to while we battled away. At the end of the day, if he wanted to kill me, he’d find a way to kill me. But if he really wanted to talk, I didn’t have a problem letting him think I owed him one. I’m a simple guy: you always owe someone something, and you can always forgive people for their past crimes. Giving him pause to think wasn’t a bad idea: I could create the illusion that I was out just doing your normal, everyday quests. I’d wrapped up that big quest, and I was back to the life of an ordinary player. I could help the dwarf in the process, too—I owed him one already.

  “Hey, is Trottir far from the Sumaki Mountains?” I asked Dorn.

  “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s that close, though it isn’t too far either.” Dorn blew his nose in some grass. “It’s maybe a ten-day journey from there to the mountains, at least if you walk. If you take the underground streams, it’s much faster.”

  “Underground streams?” I hadn’t heard of them, not even on the forums.

  “Yeah. What do you think the Neilozh Mines are?” he asked, looking at me searchingly. “Three old works abandoned by dwarves, not too deep—right up against the surface, actually. But you can go deeper, and that’s where the dwarves lived. The remains of what used to be a big NPC clan called the Hammers of the West are still down there. They’re called the Neirus Mines. You can find a few quests, some of them really good ones, and players venture down there. Not too many, of course, since there’s a ton of ground you have to cover. For every quest you do down there, you could do five above ground. Some people get claustrophobic, too—it’s dark, empty, creepy, and sunless. But there’s also an underground river that you can take right to the Sumaki Mountains. There’s a steamboat that goes up and down it.”

  “A steamboat?” I had a hard time believing that.