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

by Akella, G.

  I took my time to my destination, strolling past the trees stripped of their foliage, and pulled on the bronze knob of a familiar door with quite a bit of jitters. A doorbell rang, and I shifted, then settled my feet while waiting for the hostess to open.

  Dara opened the door after about a minute. She hadn't changed at all—still level 180 with shiny copper-red hair—only today she wore a violet outfit that accentuated her expressive green eyes.

  "Hello, Dara," I greeted the demoness.

  The young woman froze at the sight of me, as if hitting an invisible wall. But there wasn't a hint of fear in her eyes—only joy and relief. Hers was the expression of someone who had been waiting for something quite improbable a long, long time, and had already lost hope that it would ever come to fruition, but kept waiting anyway... And now that the long-awaited thing was finally happening, was at a loss. To her credit, Dara's befuddlement didn't last long, as the demoness sighed with relief after only a few moments, and drew closer.

  "You came back after all, Dark One," she said softly, peering into my eyes. Then she bowed her head low and added. "I welcome you to my home, Mistress. I have been waiting, and I am ready."

  Once the words were spoken, she slowly got down on her knees and was still, her eyes still cast to the floor.

  I did just as Jaelitte had taught me, putting both hands on the young woman's head and waiting patiently for this strange ritual to continue. Nothing happened for about a minute, and I was starting to worry I was doing something wrong when suddenly my whole body spasmed, and my hands felt as though they were dipped in molten metal. My HP bar jerked, then began to shrink rapidly.

  Hold on, Dark One, my wife's voice sounded in my head, to which I gritted my teeth, shut my eyes, took a deep breath and held it. The familiar wave of rage partially washed away the inhuman pain. I wasn't mad at Jaelitte for not warning me in advance—in fact, I had expected something like this. No, it was simply that rage had become my defense reaction to any such happenings. "Hart," I spat through clenched teeth, watching my HP bar dwindle to the thirty percent mark.

  At that moment there was a blinding flash as my body was gripped with another seizure, and...

  Your Toughness skill has increased to 62%.

  My consciousness came rushing back to me. Getting up off the floor, I walked up to the decorative fountain murmuring in the middle of the room, and drank from it—the water felt so cold, it almost burned my mouth. Then I splashed some of it on my face, swooped up the passed out woman into my arms, and carried her to a nearby couch.

  On the outside she was still Dara, and only her significantly larger horns, a tail that had appeared out of nowhere, and level 300 testified to the successful completion of the ritual.

  Well, well... I grunted to myself, gazing at the visibly younger demoness, slipped a pipe between my teeth, and lit up. Then I returned to the fountain, cupped a handful of water and splashed it into her face. Nothing happened for at least seconds, and I was about to go back for seconds when the body of the tiflingess convulsed on the couch, her breathing became shallow, and her eyes snapped open. Eyes the color of dark orange, with black vertical pupils.

  Chapter 16

  Gracing me with but a passing glance, she got up off the couch, staggered but kept her balance, and brought her hands slowly to her face. Jaelitte studied her fingers for another ten seconds, then walked quickly to the front door and flung it open. She craned her neck, found the sun hanging over the rooftops, and stood perfectly still, her breathing deep and even.

  "Hey there," I said quietly.

  Jaelitte didn't answer, and I let the silence linger. It was hard to fathom what she was feeling right now. Yes, my wife was endowed with the power of an Elder Demon that could rival the gods; yes, she was the daughter of a mighty ruler... All of that was true, albeit still difficult to comprehend sometimes. But I still couldn't help seeing her for the twenty-year-old girl that she was. A girl that had endured torments that I shuddered to imagine, between all the torture and the three-hundred-year-long captivity fraught with perpetual anticipation of the true death. Just in the past week she had twice found herself on the brink without any chance at all to impact her own fate. And not once had she lost face. This was improbable, impossible even. And yet, the "impossible" was right here in front of me, standing in the doorway and letting her face be caressed by the pale wintry sun. It had been two hundred eighty years since she had seen it, and I didn't intend on distracting her.

  The silence lasted about five minutes. The fountain kept murmuring its song as strange demons looked down on the proceedings from the wall-mounted paintings. Finally, Jaelitte turned around and walked back into the house. She then fixed me with an appraising look, the way a trader might look at a batch of horses being sold at the market.

  "The pocket of reality sometimes alters appearance beyond recognition," she said with a dash of irony. "But that doesn't apply to you, Dark One, and I'm quite pleased by that fact."

  "Was that... a compliment?" I chuckled, getting up from the couch.

  "The transfer has drained me of my strength," she said, ignoring my words completely. "I am unable to alter my appearance, so you will have to settle for this."

  "I have no problem with this appearance," I shrugged.

  "In that case..." Jaelitte glanced at the door leading to the next room. "I'm sure there are plenty of beds here. And I'm not in the habit of breaking promises."

  "You also promised to obey me," following her gaze, I shook my head. "We'll get to that after I've rescued you for good. I have other plans for today." I took the girl by the hand and led her toward the open door.

  The way she looked at me then could only be described as "strange." And no wonder, what with men doing everything possible to get into her pants all her life—no doubt, I was shattering stereotypes. Though my gut was telling me I might come to regret it one day, I quickly dismissed the notion.

  "Where are we going?" the demoness inquired without looking in my direction.

  She had taken her hand out of mine, and was simply walking alongside me now, looking around herself with curiosity.

  "You'll know when we get there," I smiled. Following her eyes, I added: "Nittal is a beautiful city. You've never been, right?"

  Jaelitte didn't answer, and we walked in silence another five minutes until I glimpsed flowers on a signpost over a small shop.

  "Wait here," I asked my wife, and walked through the open door.

  Grimacing from the heavy flowery fragrance, I asked the elderly demoness manning the shop for seventeen large tulips from a large bucket with water to the right of the counter.

  In case this wasn't clear already, seventeen was my lucky number. It was the number of the patch that had given me everything I had—a genuine fairy tale.

  I had no illusions that my path going forward would be any easier than it had been to this point. Or that I might eventually become a monster that not even my own mother—or, in my case, my own sister—would recognize. And yet, I wouldn't trade this reality for any other. I watched the elderly demoness count off the right amount of bright red flowers. Tulips... Tulips were always my top choice, both in Russia and in America, with field flowers a distant second. All the other popular types—roses, carnations, lilies or daisies—always felt plastic to me. Only tulips were truly full of life. My lips curled into a sad smile at the memory of International Women's Day at the end of a cold Moscow winter, brightened by the pleasant snap of freshly cut stems and the subtle flowery aroma. Taking the bouquet from the demoness, I waved away her outstretched hand with the change from the gold coin I'd paid, and exited to the street.

  Flowers in the Realm of Arkon were a common alchemical and culinary reagent, and were also used as a decorative element. The locals didn't even suspect that flowers could be gifted, and all the game's flower shops had been implemented exclusively for the players. Though gardens and flowerbeds were a part of virtually every city, and the two elven races had a particularly special r
elationship with flowers, they nonetheless hadn't been used for gifting. A part of me was even a little surprised that there were still flower shops operating in the game after the patch. In a plane with only one living player, no less. Even if I had stopped feeling like a player long ago.

  "What do you need those for?" my spouse inquired, standing in the exact same spot I had left her.

  "These aren't for me," I smiled. "They're for you."

  "For me?" Jaelitte stared at me blankly. "Why would I want grass?"

  "These are flowers," I clarified. "They're lovely. And where I come from, it's a custom to give them to women."

  "Very well," she shrugged, accepting the bouquet from me. "If it's a custom..."

  We made it to the Candle in fifteen minutes. We didn't talk along the way. Jaelitte carried the bouquet upside down, the buds nearly brushing the ground. I wasn't sweating it, though. Were someone to gift an Amazonian native a jar of pickles or a clothes hangar—and this was exactly how she perceived my gift—they wouldn't know up from down, either. It was only me who saw the flowers as part of a courting ritual. Though I had never bothered much when courting ordinary women, my wife was anything but ordinary. Those were my thoughts as we approached the familiar inn.

  "Yes, that's exactly what you suspect it is," I said, noticing the interest with which the demoness was studying the extension rising from the the roof of the inn. Without delving into more details, I pulled on the doorknob.

  Once inside the inn, I was subjected to a culture shock of sorts when I saw Gerid over by the bar, looking very serious with his arms folded, wearing a black tailcoat, a white shirt and a bow-tie. I'll repeat: Gerid, in a black tailcoat, a white shirt and a bow-tie! Not that the outfit looked bad on the centurion, but still. In my note I had described my request in detail, and it mentioned nothing of these particular elements. I would never have imagined that this rugged soldier would even have this kind of outfit in his wardrobe! In all other respects, the scene was exactly as I'd requested it. The inn was empty, the table by the window was set with a snow-white tablecloth and fine utensils, two bottles alongside two glasses, and a vase filled with water for the flowers that I had already bought. The only thing missing from this idyllic picture of a romantic dinner were the candles, but this was only early afternoon, and candles would look silly in a sunny inn. So, we would do without them.

  "Good day to you," the former innkeeper greeted us, gesturing toward the set table. "Please have a seat. The main course will be ready in ten minutes."

  On that note, he gave another nod and slipped into the kitchen. Still a little shaken, I took Jaelitte's hand as she looked around the place with curiosity, and led her to the table. Pulling out the chair for the lady, I waited for her to sit, then took the bouquet from her and put it in the vase. This was part gallantry, part caution—what if my lovely wife were to stick them into the vase upside down? I allowed myself a mental chuckle at the comical image, and took a seat across from my date.

  "Wine? Brandy?" I inquired, my head slightly cocked.

  The young woman took one of the bottles, gazed at the letters burned into the dark glass and... smiled. For the first time today.

  "Erantian. Dry red. And Lakian brandy," she set the bottle back on the table, shaking her head. "You've got a good memory, Dark One."

  "I've no complaints," I smiled, pouring the wine into our glasses.

  Grape or grain, but never the twain, went the saying from my past life. And though this wisdom wasn't all that applicable to Arkon, I'd decided not to betray old habits. Having poured the wine, I took my glass and looked at the demoness sitting across from me.

  "I won't claim to know what it's like for you where you are... but I promise to do everything in my power to get you out of there," I said softly, touching my glass to hers and letting the melodious clink certify the veracity of my vow. Jaelitte didn't say anything, only nodding in response, then took a sip from her glass and closed her eyes, as if remembering a taste long forgotten. Silence enveloped the table once more, broken only by the crackling wood in the fireplace, and the distant cries of a child out on the street. Now, I wasn't exactly the chatty type, but even I was starting to feel a little ill at ease. Imagine taking a beautiful date to a restaurant and sitting in silence all evening... On the other hand, how was I to know what she was feeling? What it was like to feel alive for the first time in three centuries? Were words even necessary? Wouldn't they just ruin the moment? In the end, it was Gerid who broke the silence. Setting the table elegantly with two plates of steaming meat, several mini bowls with sauce, and a large plate of veggies, he said:

  "Suckling yak marinated in Erantian wine," he proclaimed. "In the absence of instructions on side dishes, I took the risk to serve vegetables. Enjoy."

  On that note, the demon gave me a wink on the sly and withdrew, telling us to call if we needed anything.

  I watched him go, then looked back to my wife and caught her studying me with an intent gaze. It was the same scrutinizing look she had given me when I led her out of the Violet. Still boring me with those dark orange eyes, she sliced off a small piece of meat, sent it in her mouth and began to chew, slowly.

  "You're a strange demon, prince. Rather than have sex—that is what you humans call coition, I believe—you bring me here," she said musingly. "And you're not quite human, either. You have as much if not more true blood in you than most natives of the lower plane. Yet you still behave like a human. I may be virtually powerless right now, but that doesn't mean anything. I can see that you want this, and yet... Why are we here?"

  "About the sex, that's still up in the air, isn't it?" I shrugged.

  "What's up in the air?" Jaelitte gave an incredulous expression.

  "It's a saying where I come from when you can't predict the result in advance," I explained. "And besides, you haven't yet experienced coition, as you call it. You may not like your first time as much as you think. But good meat and good wine you will like for sure, especially your favorite kind. So think of it as me wanting to show you a good time."

  "Fair enough," the demoness nodded. "But then why are you so quiet? Or is it another custom in your world not to entertain the women in your company with conversation?"

  "Well..." I hesitated. "It seemed to me like I shouldn't distract you from your thoughts. After all the years you've been without all this," I added, making a broad gesture at the surroundings.

  "So?" Jaelitte took a sip of wine, arching her brow over the glass. "You're going to get me out, right? You promised. So that's no reason to sit in silence."

  Well, then! Here I was, trying to be sensitive to her fragile state, but as it turned out... Even in a game world, women remained a mystery.

  "You keep mentioning your world, but you haven't told me much about it," continued the demoness. "About those strange buildings and metal boxes flying pointlessly through the air."

  "Why pointlessly?" I smiled while thinking to myself: Right, I haven't said much. As if you've been dying to listen...

  "Why fly through the air when it's so much faster and easier to use a portal?" she countered logically.

  "They're not only used to transport passengers, but also..." I started to explain, but then, noticing the mockery in her eyes, gave a dismissive wave. "All right, listen..."

  I told her as I ate. Speaking of the meal, the food—and especially the meat—really was exquisite. To be sure, it was bad manners to talk while eating, but I could hardly afford to neglect the opportunity to converse with my own wife, especially after she herself had expressed such a desire. My story lasted about an hour and a half, and this time my wife wasn't silent, but asked quite a lot of questions on topics that piqued her curiosity. I didn't hold anything back, even telling her that this world used to be a game for me and others like me. I told her about my sister and Max, and about the prophecy. I'd mentioned the prophecy in previous conversations as well, but she hadn't seemed to be paying much attention to me then.

  "And how do you intend t
o get to my father?" she asked at the conclusion of the story.

  "Well, uh... I haven't really thought about that. Things have been somewhat erratic lately, and I've been playing it by ear," I shrugged while reaching for my pipe. "I don't want anyone to find out about you, but I'm sure there must be lawful ways to—"

  "The decree regarding barbarian princes issued by my father roughly three hundred years before my birth. To my knowledge, Lakia had suffered a great deal from the raids perpetrated by allied barbarian clans." Jaelitte nodded at the bottle on the table, then continued. "All that could have been avoided, but... Anyway, the point is, today any barbarian prince can go to the chancellery and demand an audience with the Overlord, and his request must be satisfied within two weeks."

  "There you go!" I exclaimed with a smile.

  "In your case, an audience with my father would take place on the following day, as rumors of your slaying the Lord of Rualt have undoubtedly reached his ears. It's not every day a lord gets killed, not even every century. He must be curious to at least have a look at you."

  "What is the title of the decree?" I asked, wondering to myself as to the quickest and surest way of explaining to Alcmehn's Overlord the cause and circumstances of his subject's demise, lest he squash me like a bug for finding the explanation less than satisfactory. I wouldn't put it past him...

  "You think I remember the title of every decree my father issued?" the demoness smirked. "Trust me, there are bodies of knowledge far more interesting than the history of the state. I'm surprised I even remembered this decree, to be honest with you. But don't worry, the staff at the chancellery will know exactly what to do when you mention it."