The Long Road to Karn (Realm of Arkon, Book 5)

by Akella, G.

  And now, let's see what the local gods had sent in terms of loot from the two bosses put to rest by yours truly. I opened the inventory, and proceeded to examine the dropped items for quite a while... Off the mark, as usual. No, "as usual" really isn't fair to say anymore, I thought, looking at my sword. The loot was pretty damn good, only nothing that suited me, aside from some alchemical potions... I looked around for another bottle of sparkling apple wine, found it, screwed off the cap and took several big swigs. Then I slipped my trusty pipe between my teeth, feeling like some Sherlock Holmes wannabe, and refocused my attention on the inventory. Eighteen thousand gold. I should really tip the girls for their suffering last night, I thought to myself. This much gold was worth a fortune in my former world—even in this one it was no small change. And yet, I wasn't all that impressed by such hauls anymore. Besides a scalable axe, Yllial dropped a scalable full adamantine set of armor: eight pieces the color of resplendent lilac, with the full set bearing the name "Lord's Armor of Fury." I laid out all this magnificence on the table, one piece at a time. The helm had a conical shape with an inner lining of fur and plates to protect the back of the neck, and a visor with two triangular slits for eyes. The breastplate and backplate were linked via straps of chainmail and leather. Then there were the gauntlets, the fauld that went below the knees, boots with pointed heels, and spiked tapered bracers. The set bonus for wearing all the pieces was +10 to all maximum resistances and a 10% boost to all stats, which was beyond awesome! Except... Not only was this wonder of design restricted to the demon race, its minimum level was a whopping 500. So, yeah, not much luck. My sole consolation was that my scalable belt would surely yield better stats than the fauld—the set's waist-slot piece—at the same level. And besides, I was no stranger to such disappointments. That was it for the lord's gear—the rest was potions, scrolls and reagents that I would sort out later. It was a little strange that a boss of this caliber hadn't dropped a truckload of rare quality pieces, but perhaps the character wasn't really a boss in the strict sense of the word. I zeroed in on the scalable axe.

  Frost Fury.

  Axe: two-handed. Restricted to the demon race.

  Bind on equip.

  Durability: 3479/4000.

  Epic scalable.

  No minimum level.

  At level 10: 36-81 damage, +20 to strength, +10 to constitution, +0.3% to the chance to freeze the target when dealing physical damage, +0.3% to the chance to summon three phantom frost axes, each dealing 80% of the weapon's base damage, when landing an attack.

  Weight: 10 lbs.

  Crafted by the dark smith Aeverim.

  A fine little axe. The stats would grow with the owner, increasing the chance to freeze the target and proc the three phantom axes to 3%. Too bad it was restricted to the demon race—I wouldn't be able to sell it in the upper plane, and none of my troops were built for two-handed weapons. It's all right, I thought with a smile. I think I know whom to give it to.

  Saethdien Roa had an identical adamantine set of armor, except scalable from level 230. No need to see any fortune-tellers here—Gloom and I were finishing off the chief searcher of Rualt after the effect of Shaartakh's Venom had worn off. The same adamantine, the same predatory lines of the helm, only the set bonus was 90% water and fire resistances plus 20% to spellpower to spells from those schools of magic. I'd slip into the armor in a heartbeat if I were a proper mage, but as it was I had absolutely no use for all that intellect and spirit.

  I smoked some more, then washed it down with the local version of Irish lemonade, and shifted my gaze to the youth depicted on the painting. His light brown fair was tied with a cloth string, his expression peaceful, with the square harp-like instrument lying across his knees.

  Who is this Aleon? I asked my suddenly and suspiciously silent spouse.

  The god of marital bliss, Jaelitte didn't hesitate with her answer. Some of the locals like hanging his image in their homes. They believe he keeps the marital bond strong, adds strength and vigor to men, and makes their wives prettier.

  Is that irony I hear in your voice?

  Aleon is no warrior. And I find it strange that intelligent races like humans, elves, dwarves and the like can be indiscriminate in their worship, even when you have powerful gods worthy of your esteem. On the other hand, every one of the Seven is a warrior from birth, which is why your actions yesterday really pleased me.

  By killing Yllial and his crony?

  No, by proving that my husband is likewise a warrior. As for male vigor, Jaelitte gave a soft laugh, it is in my mother's power to make all of Iskhart—or Vaedarr, the human capital—to do nothing but copulate for a week straight, forgetting food and sleep... Of course, that would lead to many deaths, which is why neither my father nor your gods would allow it. But it would be a fun time, no?

  Your mother can go to the higher plane? To Karn? I asked her, surprised.

  The seals are long gone, Jaelitte sniffed. Any one of the Seven can take an excursion around Karn any time they like. There are already so many demons up there that both planes are bursting at the seams. Nobody intends to mess with your gods, but if you abide by certain laws...

  Can she take me up there, by any chance? I asked with a sliver of hope.

  Don't give me cause to suspect I've married an idiot, my wife sighed. My mother told you plainly enough that you have own your path, and you alone can walk it...

  Got it, thanks for the reminder, I sighed, shifting my gaze back to the armor laid out on the table.

  Anytime, dear, Jaelitte giggled. But try not to bother me with trifles if you can help it.

  Indeed, nothing changes in this world. I took a few more swigs from the bottle and got to thinking. Things really weren't so bad. Saethdien Roa's set was restricted to the demon race, but it would make a perfect present for a certain someone who was going to follow his auntie and me to the higher plane. The chief searcher had also dropped the same exact shield as mine—both the name and the stats were identical. Finally, there was another interesting ring...

  Band of Rkshasad's Last Chance.

  Accessory; ring, restricted to those of the true blood [Elder Demons].

  Bind on equip.

  Durability: 8067/9000.

  Epic, scalable.

  No minimum level.

  +245 to intellect.

  +245 to spirit.

  +245 to constitution.

  +4.9% to critical heal chance.

  49% to critical effect with healing spells.

  Blocks any killing blow, dispels any poison or curse that results in death. Cooldown: 30 days.

  Weight: .06 lbs.

  Hmm, I exhaled the smoke through my teeth, shaking my head in contemplation. Rather a curious accessory this was.

  A useless bauble, Jaelitte offered her two coppers without delay. Didn't do much to help the bastard who had it. The way you were hacking away at him, even if the ring were to block one death blow, it wouldn't change the outcome of the fight. I mean, sure, you could have waited thirty days before reengaging him, but from what I remember of your contorted face, I doubt you'd do any such thing.

  Sell it in Iskhart?

  It wouldn't fetch much—few among Elders bother with healing. Best to keep it for yourself, and equip it if the need arises. The shield of that feathery goddess of yours might not always be handy. And seeing as how you're married to this prophecy, I suspect neither this nor any other unique item you get your hands on is accidental, the demoness sighed. So you'd better listen to your woman.

  Aye aye, sweetness, I snorted, nearly choking on the smoke. You take such good care of me... Such good care that all the local succubi are ready to soil themselves at the sight of me. And you give the best counsel.

  Call me 'sweetness' when you get me out of this hole, Jaelitte shot back. Somehow I doubt it'll be smooth sailing like it's been thus far.

  Smooth sailing? this time I choked on the wine, and proceeded to cough for a solid half-minute. You think it's been smooth sailing?
Getting jumped by a bloody lord and his right-hand man? Smooth sailing?!

  So far the only one actively opposing you has been the white-haired god and his lapdogs, Jaelitte sighed. Well, and that Chane or whatever his name is, but he's locked away in the Azure Valley. That's from Syrat's own mouth, right? Now, what do you think will happen if he escapes? And did you forget about the beast guarding the White Dragon? You're not so naive to think there aren't others like it—or worse. These entities won't step foot here, no—my father is still a formidable foe, and Primordial Chaos that has broken through all the seals would weaken them far too much in these lands. But next to what you'll face once we've escaped to the higher plane, Yllial and his crony will seem like child's play...

  Awesome, I grumbled, feeling a dark wave of rage coming up from deep within. Rage against everything that was happening, against my being some kind of a pawn, a card in the hand of Providence, with no real freedom or ability to control my own fate... I slipped the ring into my inventory, finished off the bottle, and hurled it hard against the wall. As the glass shattered into many tiny pieces, I dropped my head on my hands, breathing heavily.

  You knew what you were signing up for, prince, Jaelitte said flatly. You haven't let anyone kill you yet, and you won't henceforth! Walk your path to the end, and Providence shall duly reward you.

  And besides, dear—you have me now, she followed at once, this time in a soft, suggestive whisper.

  The rage was gone as quickly as it had appeared. When your woman believes in you, what else do you need in life?

  I'm not going anywhere, I sniffed. Once I liberate you, we'll paint the upper plane red.

  There, I like you much better this way, Jaelitte laughed softly. Shall I summon the girls? I promise there won't be any casualties...

  To Hart with women—there are other ways to relax.

  I got up and swept all the items on the table into my bag—the potions and the scrolls would wait till later. But for now...

  "Arimma!" I bellowed.

  "Yes, master?" the succubus' panicked face appeared in the doorway, flinching at the sight of the remains of the bottle scattered all over the floor.

  "More wine! Or better yet, get me cognac, and lots of it! And call what's his name... Keral! We're celebrating!" Seeing those eyes open wide with fear, I added. "Just the cognac and Keral will do—no girls are needed tonight. Just bring us cognac, wine and something to munch on—and you're free to go. Mixing booze with broads is a lousy idea. Go on now, on the double!"

  I doubted she knew what "on the double" meant, but she carried out the assigned task with all due alacrity. The girls brought a whole lot of food and drink, literally shoved Ar-Iraz's bemused secretary into the room, and vanished at once. Whether out of my quarters or out of the castle entirely, I couldn't know. But I didn't mind—mixing booze with broads would be a rookie mistake indeed.

  Booze and broads a lousy idea, you say? my better half inquired sarcastically. I'll remember that one day...

  Let her remember all she wants, I thought while pouring a smiling Keral a full glass of the fragrant fluid. I just hope to survive till that "one day" of hers!

  Chapter 12

  "Prince! Krian! Are you all right?"

  A familiar voice broke through. My head was killing me, and the taste in my mouth... I imagined this was what cat piss tasted like. And I had a hellish kind of thirst, but the last thing I wanted to do was open my eyes. Hart! How hammered did you have to get to get this kind of a hangover in Arkon, where it was practically impossible?!

  "I assure you, Your Highness, he's most definitely in there. Our men took their stareh and followed the prince, the stables are empty now, and I put Master Krian's boar in there. The prince also said that he's gentle... I'm talking about the boar now. Well, the gentle boar completely demolished two of my hay cages."

  "And?" said the familiar voice with amusement.

  "Well, master prince decided to celebrate with his fellow order members, that is, with us. There are about a dozen others left that worship the lightning god—and you don't argue with the order's captain... Only they kicked the girls out for some reason. Or maybe they ran away on their own—that part wasn't clear."

  "Kross! Speak plainly! Quit dithering like some commoner!"

  "How else can I put it? We drank with Master Krian. Not a whole lot at first, but he just wouldn't stop, grumbling about some problems, and about his wife: 'A righteous babe, but also a Grade A bitch.' Now, I don't know what either of those things mean, but we must've drank to her at least ten times. Then we drank to the boar, and to find a sow for him."

  "Not a whole lot, eh?" the interlocutor's voice was on the verge of breaking with glee. "Then what happened?"

  "I don't quite remember, dar," Kross sighed. "Master prince kept itching to go get the boar and bathe him in his bathtub, but by then none of us were on our feet... so we didn't go. The only reason I even remember this is that he kept shaking me awake..." the head groom continued his snitching. "He also said that his valiant steed—meaning the boar, again—could easily leap through the open window if someone were to bring him apricots from a magic grove of some kind. I don't know anything about the grove other than that master prince had met some beautiful woman there who had loaded him up with apricots. So we drank to that a few more times. Not to the apricots, but to the beautiful woman... Although we might have drunk to the apricots once or twice, too..."

  "And how did he get into the stables?"

  "Well, after seeing our incapacitated state, he scoffed and called us lightweights, then grabbed a two-gallon barrel of cognac and a fruit platter, and left to keep celebrating with his 'second friend.' He'd mentioned something about his first friend as well, but that whole story seemed a bit too out there. Supposedly master prince promised this friend to 'polish his mug' for marrying his sister, but he needs to find them first."

  Hart! Did all that really happen?! Ugh, I was so unbelievably thirsty... In my state, crawling to a fridge for a brewsky wouldn't be any easier than schlepping to a liquor store. I forced open my eyes. Filtering through the slits, the morning sun was illuminating rather an amusing scene. At least it would have been amusing if it weren't for my wretched condition. Lying next to me on a heap of hay was Gloom, though he wasn't sleeping as per his usual state, but watching with a trace of rebuke as he waited for me to wake. Bite me, boar! Like you're some pillar of sobriety and model behavior! The adjacent hay cage was indeed broken, the wooden debris on the ground mixed with the remains of an oaken barrel and the shards of a broken dish, so massive it was more like a wash basin. So I had delivered the treats to my "second friend," after all. The friend, in the meantime, was grunting merrily and licking my face with his tongue that was rough as cheap sandpaper. Cut it out, Gloom! I feel lousy enough even without your shit! Shoving away the boar's jovial mug and struggling to keep from barfing, I struggled up to my feet and wobbled over to the open gates of the stables.

  "When we woke up," Dar Kross continued his story, "we went looking for the missing prince right away. It was still dark out, but if anything were to happen to Master Krian, our prince would have all our heads. When we got to the stables, an enormous black monster appeared in the gateway, spread its wings and started roaring something fierce. It's night, the moon is shining, and there it is, shrouded in dark mist with bloodshot eyes... Now, we're no cowards, but you must admit, that kind of sight is unnerving. Is it the gentle boar the prince spoke of? Or maybe the prince himself turned into a boar? There are all sorts of rumors swirling around him, especially after he'd put down Lord Yllial and his chief parasite Roa all by himself. The girls also said they saw black wings sprout from his back, and heard that he'd crawled out of the Netherworld to exact revenge on some poor soul. Anyway, we decided not to mess with the beast, but wait till morning."

  "Krian! Prince! Are you alive?"

  "Yes, I'm bloody alive. I think," I sounded off, stumbling out of the stables.

  Shielding my eyes from the blinding
morning sun, I took a look around... and froze with disbelief.

  "Yep, you sure know how to party," Kert Annat cackled before pulling me in for a hard embrace. Prince Kert Annat!!!

  "But... but you..." I mumbled.

  "I was sent here by Lord Astarot on Master Ritter's insistence. It would seem that I know you better than most, so..."

  "But you're a prince now! How did that happen?" though thoughts moved with great difficulty in my head, too vivid were my memories of dar Annat—formerly a humble punisher, now a full-fledged prince...

  "I'd say you don't much look like the novice who had entered Nittal a few short months ago, either," Kert gave a hearty laugh. "Vallan has been vanquished, and Alcatta has been restored its rightful heir. I am now the prince of Zorn, and in no small part thanks to you, Krian. Our lord knows the meaning of gratitude, and after that tale of yours... Ar-Iraz will be back in a few days, but you and I have an urgent matter to discuss."

  "Come with me to my quarters, Kert. If they're still there, that is. But know that if we don't find two-three bottles of bubbly in there, your friend will likely draw his last breath in your arms."

  "Master!" I was addressed by dar Kross, who was looking at me with a mix of horror and trepidation. "Was that you at night? You know, at the gates... Keral admitted to seeing black wings, and the rest of us... We thought we had imagined it in our drunken stupor, but... but boars can't fly, can they?" he concluded with a faint sense of hope.

  "They can," I replied with total solemnity, biting down on my lower lip to keep from bursting. "They don't get much altitude, mind you, but their speed would surprise you. Now don't you forget to feed my flying boar, got it? He likes fruits—the bigger and sweeter, the better."