The Twilight Obelisk

by Alexey Osadchuk

  No point telling him that. I could use the occasion to pick his brains about other things. Like our allies.

  He shrugged. “We told you everything we knew about them.”

  “How about Pike?”

  “Well...” Crym paused, thinking. “We call him Pike of Many Hands. He wields his sword like you can’t imagine. I’ve never seen another swordsman as good as him.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  I meant it: I still couldn’t forget Pike’s glowing sword tricks. “But as far as I can see, he’s not just a great swordsman but also a leader and a wise councilor.”

  Crym grinned. “You’re dead right there. Had it not been for him, Amai would have died in the tunnel like the idiot he is. I swear to you by all the underground gods that it was Pike who must have talked Amai into taking his clan out onto the steppes before the Horde came.”

  That was a surprise. “You think?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Anybody else think so?”

  “Lots of people.”

  “But Laosh-” I began but Crym interrupted me.

  “Laosh!” he sneered. “He can’t see anything beyond his own nose. Had it not been for you, the Red Owls would have long been dead, all of us.”

  “Well, the clan owes its survival to lots of people and not just me-”

  “Aha! You see? Your modesty is a sign of wisdom!”

  “Your words are pleasing to my ear, my friend. But still you’re mistaken. Modesty’s got nothing to do with it. A clan is like a human body which can’t live without its organs. Its heart, liver or kidneys must work in synch like a single mechanism otherwise the body will die. But I agree with what you said about good leadership. A lot of things depend upon it.”

  “Exactly,” Crym said, rising from his place. “Amai would have never plucked up enough courage to take his people onto the steppes.”

  His last words concerning Pike and Amai were the missing piece of the puzzle I’d so desperately tried to put together for the last few days.

  I looked around me, searching for Pike. There he was, standing behind Amai who was sitting on a rock. The old man stood cross-armed, cold and impassive like a block of ice, keeping his eyes peeled for any more blunders from his young leader.

  I watched Crym’s broad back as he left. Then I returned to the business at hand and pressed the backpack’s flashing icon. I probably had some more stat points that required distribution. Or did I have 100% knowledge? I really needed to spend a few moments sorting that out.

  When I saw the reason for the icon’s impatient blinking, I didn’t believe my eyes. I even rubbed them. My heart missed a beat, freezing in my chest like a scared rabbit. My lips stretched in an idiotic smile.

  Finally.

  The icon of the Twilight Castle map was finally active.

  I’d thought it would never happen. I remembered that night in the Footworn Traveler’s Inn when I’d first opened Pierrot’s app which had scared me out of my mind. Then, all those maps, plans and schemes had felt like something way out of my reach. An impossible dream.

  And now I was standing here, right in the middle of a giant mushroom field, a pace away from a new discovery.

  I opened the map with bated breath. A bright red mark glowed at its center.

  The Armory.

  My back erupted in cold sweat. Was it really possible?

  Those of the Calteans busy by the opposite wall began shouting. I looked up. Droy was running toward me. I rushed to meet him.

  Only when I came closer did I see his happy grinning face.

  “We’ve found another door!” he shouted from a distance. “The underground gods seem to like you, Keeper!”

  * * *

  The rock walls of the Armory exuded warmth and calm. The room was dry and even felt cozy in the torchlight. Then again, it could be my Ennan nature: I always felt safe and cozy these days whenever I was down a rock hole.

  The torches cast their orange light on the Calteans’ long faces and dropped jaws. Some of them looked quite funny. Their eyes glowed with the anticipation of more loot. Like impatient youngsters, they waited for me to give them the signal to strip the place bare.

  The door into the Armory looked identical to the grotto’s front door back on the surface overhead.

  I’d already made some calculations. A loaded cart pulled by two buffaloes could easily go through the tunnel. The room itself was big enough for such a cart to turn round. And I was probably seeing only a small part of it within the torchlight’s reach.

  When we’d just opened the door, the familiar smell of steel, wood and oil had hit my nostrils. The room was lined with shelves stacked high with all sorts of boxes and crates.

  I could see large barrels, iron-bound wooden chests and bolts of fabric and leather. A wide table by the door was crowded with all kinds of precious boxes.

  “So what do you think, Keeper?” Droy whispered impatiently into my ear. “You need to make up your mind. Everybody’s waiting.”

  I forced my gaze away from the scene and rubbed my eyes again.

  Then I smiled to everyone. “Should we share the spoils?”

  A shattering “Yaaaaah!” flooded over me.

  * * *

  Seeing as both the grotto and the Armory were now the Red Owls’ rightful property, we decided to leave our loot here.

  Now Droy and I watched the Wolves file out of the grotto, ant-like, loaded with Amai’s share.

  “I still think that a quarter of the loot is too much for them,” Droy grumbled.

  “That’s all right.”

  “These so-called warriors didn’t deserve one-tenth of it. We did all the work.”

  “They lost thirteen dead, you know.”

  “That’s another thing,” he complained. “Why did you have to give anything to the families of the dead? What’s it called now... a cop... conp...”

  “Compensation,” I offered.

  “Exactly. That’s what I meant, dammit. It’s the clan’s leader’s duty to make provision for them.”

  I locked his gaze with mine. “You’re right, my friend. A clan leader is obliged to take care of his warriors and their families.”

  Frowning, he gave me a long look. Gradually his face cleared as he began to realize what I’d meant. “Do you mean to say that the Wolves-”

  “Why not? I can’t see what’s stopping it.”

  My confidence in our future merger had been born the moment I’d received the little green medal certifying my reputation with the Northern Wolves.

  Let them help themselves to as much loot as they can carry. Sooner or later they were going to join our ranks, anyway. And as for the loot, most of the items we’d found in the Armory were “blue”, anyway. All the materials, all the leather, wood, metals and stones were marked as Rare and came with Craftsmanship restrictions. Neither the Red Owls nor the Wolves could use any of it yet. By the time the Wolves would be able to craft something out of the steel they were now so excitedly carrying toward the grotto exit, we’d have already become a united clan.

  In fact, I could have offered Amai to have left their share in the grotto. In our safekeeping, so to say. That would have saved them a lot of time. Still, on second thoughts I’d decided against it. They might have thought we were trying to rob them of their share. Until the last moment, they’d believed we weren’t going to give them anything.

  Interestingly, once I’d failed to live up to those expectations by sharing the loot with them, my relationship with Pike had grown to Trust. Not bad.

  Strangely enough, everybody had ignored all the precious chests and boxes sitting on the table. It was as if NPCs simply couldn’t see them. Apparently, this was what the system considered my personal share.

  And they were actually quite interesting. A few of the boxes contained all kinds of Reputation stones. Three of the chests were absolutely packed with all sorts of potions and elixirs. Plus five more chests which contained three thousand gold each.

 
; I must have been dreaming.

  Let me be completely honest with you. As I watched the Calteans fuss around collecting the loot, all sorts of funny thoughts entered my head. Like, that I could appropriate everything without having to share it with anyone. I’d even made a quick estimation of what it might fetch me at auction. The answer was, a lot.

  Still, my other self — the one which was normally kind, honest and level-headed — had ultimately gained the upper hand. According to its reasoning, it was nowhere near enough to pay off my loan. So I wouldn’t be gaining that much, really.

  But I’d be losing quite a lot. I’d lose the Calteans’ trust — and without them, I’d never be able to keep the Ennan city.

  But that wasn’t all. Everything I’d just mentioned, all the materials, Reputation stones and even gold, paled into insignificance compared to what we’d discovered in the far corner of the Armory.

  We’d found several dismantled Ennan war machines.

  And their blueprints.

  Chapter Fifteen

  AMAI’S NERVOUSNESS APART, our farewell from the Wolves was cordial. Logical, really, considering they were our comrades in arms. We’d fought side by side. We’d eaten together by the fire. We’d defended each other. We’d shared the loot. We’d become brothers. Which was worth a lot to all of us.

  Amai was decidedly ill at ease watching this. He must have sensed the affinity his elite warriors felt to me. His own authority was plummeting. Pike was the one who still kept his clan together.

  As I watched the Wolves ride into the sunset, I had a funny feeling they’d become part of us one day, just as I’d predicted.

  Still, I had no time to indulge in musings. We had work to do. Lots of it.

  We counted ten long massive crates packed with machine parts. Plus seven glaive throwers and three stone mortars. At least that’s what the blueprints located in one of the boxes said. There were quite a few scrolls there, even though I’d only managed to read two of them. The rest were, for now, out of my competence.

  The news of the Ennan machines soon spread around the camp. Everybody came running to take a look at the wondrous things: warriors and craftsmen, women and old men, and naturally, the omnipresent kids.

  Master Pritus, our expert gunner, was especially excited. Thanks to him, we managed to find enough carts to transport our precious cargo. Admittedly, lots of people had come to take part in the action.

  Without even discussing it, we unanimously started by putting a stone mortar together. Why? No idea. Probably because all the numerous parts made it appear much more powerful than a glaive thrower. We must have subconsciously wished for something big and powerful enough to assure us of our security.

  According to the blueprints, in order to install the mortars — referred to as Brocks — we first needed to build a 30-degree ramp. A group of diggers were already busy shoveling.

  While the others opened the crates and laid all the parts on the ground, I read the lengthy blueprint. As it turned out, the Brock’s inventor was none other than my very own Master Grilby, my first mentor who’d died in my arms.

  What’s more, it looked like this invention had been the reason why the Ennan race had been destroyed and all the Black Grisons exterminated.

  My heart clenched when I thought of the old man. Of course he was only an NPC, a lifeless piece of program code, but the memories of our meetings were still more than alive.

  Pritus stood next to me, staring blankly but reverentially at the blueprint. To him, of course, this was all gobbledygook. Shame. I’d have loved to delegate to him all the dirty work assembling it. No such luck, apparently. I’d have to do it myself.

  As my doctor used to say, a good beginning is half the battle.

  The voice of one of Pritus’ assistants distracted us from the blueprints, “It’s all done. The ramp is compacted.”

  I looked at the small clearing littered with all sorts of machine parts: all those levers, pulleys and cog wheels. It was about thirty feet away from the wall. Should be enough for a backswing. If it wasn’t, we could always make another ramp.

  “Let’s do it,” I told Pritus, crouching next to the array of steel junk.

  With an impatient nod, he squatted next to me.

  “Now,” I said, studying the parts gleaming in the winter sun. “I’d like to ask you, Master, to note these symbols which cover each element.”

  “These are runes, if I’m not mistaken,” Pritus replied.

  “Exactly,” I said. “Have you seen them before?”

  He moved undecidedly closer and spent some time peering at the fancy swirling symbols. His eyes opened wider. Beads of perspiration covered his forehead.

  I couldn’t take my eyes away from the runes, either. They intertwined like the branches on a grape vine, creating a design which was both beautiful and cryptic. The unknown master had wound it all around the steel parts; now the ornamental chain of symbols was silently speaking to us, whispering its secrets to our hearts. Amazing.

  With a deep sigh, Pritus forced his gaze away from the array.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I’ve never seen this language before. The ancient rune makers guarded their secrets closely,” he shook his head with regret. “I can’t read them.”

  Never mind. We still had to do it. But first, we had to do one other thing.

  “The blueprint says that each piece is numbered,” I told Pritus. “Apparently, the numbers denote the assembly order.”

  He immediately knew what I meant. “In which case, we need to lay them out in numerical order. That might make the assembly much easier.

  We spent a few more minutes sorting the pieces out by number. Finally, I could start the assembly process.

  I lay my hand on a small block of steel marked with a tiny number 1 in its top right corner.

  Warning! You’re about to activate Brock Part #1!

  Energy required: 1,000 pt.

  Accept: Yes/No

  How very interesting. Under Pritus’ surprised stare, I reached into my pocket for an elixir and activated a “purple” Stamina stone. Now we could do it.

  I pressed Accept.

  For a while, nothing happened. The runes remained gray and lifeless.

  Then my right hand sensed a pulsating warmth coming from the runes, as if something was trying to break free from its invisible fetters. The small gray pattern began to fill with a dull blue glow that grew brighter with every moment like a ripening piece of fruit.

  It was going nicely. Unhurriedly, the ancient artifact continued to syphon my energy. Devoured by the glowing light, the runic patterns turned an intense blue. I couldn’t take my eyes away from the wondrous spectacle.

  I cast a sideways glance at Pritus. He too seemed transfixed, admiring the process. The other Calteans crowded around us in silence, taking in the beautiful performance.

  Congratulations! You’ve activated Brock Part #1!

  I turned away from our bewitched audience, looking for the next piece. Ever-watchful, Pritus snapped a quick order. His assistants brought us the next part.

  I smiled to him. Let’s do it!

  Warning! You’re about to activate Brock Part #2!

  Energy required: 1,000 pt.

  Accept: Yes/No

  Yes, absolutely.

  The crowd gasped as the second piece glowed with blue light.

  Congratulations! You’ve activated Brock Parts ##1 and 2!

  You can now assemble Brock Parts ##1 and 2!

  Energy required: 200 pt.

  Accept: Yes/No

  This didn’t look so exhausting, after all. Yes, why not?

  And now Part #3... and #4... and so on and so forth. Levers, pulleys and cog wheels followed one after the other.

  Despite all the Stamina stones and elixirs, I soon felt paralyzed with exhaustion. My temples were throbbing; both my neck and the small of my back were in agony. I felt like a hundred-year-old who’d never once taken rest in his lifetime.

  But t
he insatiable runes kept demanding more and more energy.

  When you’re busy doing some boring monotonous task, your mind starts looking for distractions. Usually, music helps — as does focusing on the end result, providing the energy necessary for one final push. For me, the actual assembly process offered the necessary distraction. It required less energy and allowed me a quick break to catch my breath and take a look at the emerging machine.

  Each part had its own unique design contributing to all the others like puzzle pieces contribute to the resulting picture. But even as the runic patterns linked in perfect harmony, with every part added to the emerging device it looked more and more clumsy and misshapen.

  Gradually, the curious crowd of onlookers got bored and disappointed. They began cracking jokes and offering sarcastic advice. I couldn’t blame them.

  Finally, I added the last piece to the runic puzzle, then slumped to the ground feeling completely drained.

  Congratulations! You’ve built a Brock, an Ennan Siege machine!

  Reward: +350 to your Craftsmanship.

  I wiped my sleeve across my forehead, mopping up the sweat, then checked my life stats. I seemed to be okay. What a job. I still had nine more machines to build. The good news was that glaive throwers had fewer parts.

  “Couldn’t you make it uglier?”

  I turned to the sound and saw Droy’s boots standing next to me. “That’s the best I could do.”

  The shapeless steel monstrosity towered on the ramp, its runic nodes pulsating with a sapphire glow.

  “How does it work?” Dory’s voice rang with doubt.

  Grunting like an old man, I scrambled to my feet and stepped toward the weird contraption.

  Warning! The Brock is in sleep mode!

  Would you like to load it: Yes/No.

  Yes, I would.

  The machine began to vibrate. The runic script glowed brighter. The Brock actually appeared happy to see me.