Rogue Online_The Devil's Gate

by E K Baxter

  She raised a hand and the space around the edges of the room shimmered for a moment like heat-haze. When it cleared it revealed a whole load of mobs filling the room. Max guessed there were at least twenty orcs, several trolls and three lich mages. The lichs formed a ring around Nightshade who settled back onto her throne, a faint smile on her lips and the purple glow of a spell lighting the air around her. A quick glance revealed the lichs’ stats.

  Class: Lich Mage.

  Level 85. Alignment: Dark. These guys will eat your heart without a second thought!

  Max licked his lips. This is it.

  “You all know what to do!” he shouted to his raid squad. “Death or glory!”

  “Death or glory!” Mandro, Kalrick, Eklon and Darla took up the cry.

  Mianna just rolled her eyes at him.

  Mandro and Kalrick powered forward, their shields held in front of them, deliberately bearing the brunt of the attack to allow the others the time and space to work. The orcs crashed into Mandro and Kalrick with a thump that shook the ground beneath Max’s feet and then weapons were chopping and slicing, the air heavy with the stink of blood and sweat. Mianna took up position on the flank, darting in to finish off those that got through Mandro and Kalrick’s defense whilst Eklon stood with his feet shoulder-width apart just behind their line, unleashing a torrent of arrows into the orc lines.

  “Darla, with me,” Max commanded.

  The priestess nodded and the two of them stepped back, creating a clear space between them and the front line, giving them space to work their spells. Darla’s eyes slid closed and she began chanting in a language Max didn’t recognise. Balls of silver fire formed around her hands and she began firing them into the enemy lines. Some scored a critical hit and orcs fell screaming to the floor.

  Max concentrated on the lichs. If they were to stand a chance against Nightshade, he had to take them out.

  “Darla, I’m going to try something on those lichs. I’ll be vulnerable to counter-attack afterwards. I’ll need you to cover me.”

  Darla nodded and Max readied Grim Storm, a spell he’d been saving for just such an enemy. It used a lot of mana but hell, if he didn’t use it now, when would he?

  Raising his arms, he released the spell and crackling bolts of energy went searing across the room towards the lichs. Two of them threw up a spirit shield to deflect the blow but the other wasn’t quick enough. The bolts crackled into its body, frying it. The stink of burning undead flesh filled the air. Max threw everything he had into the spell, sending pulse after pulse. The lich’s health depleted infuriatingly slowly. Max’s mana, on the other hand, was decreasing rapidly.

  “Darla!” he panted. “A little help here?”

  The priestess frowned but then sent her fireballs at the lich. It weakened, collapsed to the floor, dead, just as Max’s mana suddenly stuttered out and Grim Storm fell out of the air.

  “Shield me!” he shouted at Darla. “Now!”

  The priestess just looked at him.

  Something grabbed Max, picked him up and threw him across the room. He smashed into the wall hard enough to send his vision red. His health dropped by 25%. He scrambled out of the way just as one of the remaining lichs sent another bolt of power winging at him. He rolled to his feet and shot Darla a murderous glance.

  “What the hell was that?”

  She shrugged. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. If the lich takes you out, I have more chance of winning.” Then she slammed a spirit shield in front of Max, deflecting the lich’s next attack.

  Max had to admire Darla’s honesty. They weren’t friends, only comrades working towards a common goal. What was a little betrayal if it meant winning?

  Max’s mana was slowly replenishing but he felt woozy and disorientated from the lich’s attack. He took a potion.

  Lesser potion of Healing. Restores up to 50% health.

  It wouldn’t bring him back to full health but it was the best he could do and he’d need everything he could get if he was to face Nightshade. He couldn’t see her anymore, the fighting was too thick, but he sensed her presence like a dark thundercloud.

  Mandro and Kalrick were fighting fiercely. A line of body parts and pools of sticky black blood lay in an arc in front of them. Their shields were dented and even as Max watched, Mandro’s sword snapped. With a growl he punched his shield into the face of an orc attacker and tried to draw the war hammer strapped across his back but not before the orc punched its sword into Mandro’s shoulder. The dwarf howled and his health dropped to 10%.

  Max shivered. If those orcs broke through...

  “Kalrick!” Max bellowed. “Cover Mandro while he takes a potion!”

  Kalrick glanced at Max and nodded. He began fighting his way to Mandro, swinging his heavy two-handed broadsword like it was a scythe, cutting through swathes of the enemy. But he was too slow. The orcs mobbed Mandro before he could get his war hammer swinging, punching their blades into his body. Mandro bellowed and collapsed onto his knees, blood exploding from this mouth.

  His health drained and he crashed onto his back, sightless eyes staring at the ceiling. There was no respawning at this level so that was it for Mandro. Game over. A skull and crossbones appeared above Mandro’s avatar in Max’s UI.

  Max’s feed went crazy. Money was changing hands all over the place, those that had bets on Mandro handing over their credits—most switching their allegiance to Max. Max glanced at Kalrick who nodded.

  Time to finish this.

  Max stepped forward, casting some of his lower level enchantments. One of them turned the floor beneath the orcs into a sheet of ice. They lost their footing and the raid squad seized their chance, weapons swinging, bows twanging, fireballs thumping into the enemy. A gap opened up in the line and Mianna staggered through it, grinning maniacally.

  A jolt of alarm rushed through Max. She wasn’t supposed to do that.

  “What are you doing?” he shouted at her. “We need to stay in formation.”

  But Mianna wasn’t having any of it. She gave Max a mocking salute. “Thanks for getting me this far but you didn’t think I was going to just let you walk away with all the glory, did you?”

  Before Max could reply she spun on her heel and threw herself at Nightshade, her knives spinning in her hands. Despite being many levels below Nightshade, the chance at glory was too much for the ranger to resist.

  Max growled under his breath. Didn’t she realize that the only chance they had of taking down Nightshade was to work together? Despite his better judgment he cast Quick Strike at the two remaining lichs. A stun blast rocked into them, not enough to cause much damage, but enough to slow them for a second or two.

  Mianna took the opportunity he’d given her. She ducked around the two lichs and vaulted up the steps of the dais towards Nightshade. Two of her knives went whirling through the air in quick succession, aiming straight at Nightshade’s heart but the champion deflected them with a disdainful flick of her wrists and they clattered to the floor.

  Nightshade stood and thrust out an arm. Something grabbed Mianna by the throat and lifted her into the air. She kicked and squirmed, fighting for breath, her hands scrabbling uselessly at the invisible hands that held her.

  Max sent Lightning Strike arcing towards Nightshade but the lichs had recovered now, stepping forward and deflecting his attack with their spirit shields.

  Nightshade’s eyes began to glow purple. “Is this the best you can do?” she hissed. “You really think this ragtag bunch of misfits can stand against the Dark Queen? Shall I show you what I think of your pathetic attack?”

  She clenched her fist. A deep purple haze exploded from Mianna’s body, the shockwave of the spell rippling through the room and momentarily blinding Max. When his sight cleared he saw Mianna hanging limp in front of Nightshade, her health bar at zero. A tiny skull and crossbones floated above Mianna’s avatar in Max’s UI.

  With a disdainful sneer Nightshade tossed Mianna’s body into a corner. A quick glance at
the feed revealed that odds on Nightshade had just shortened again. Dammit. He needed people betting on him. He had to do something.

  He strode forward, halting an arm’s length from his companions. Kalrick and Eklon were fighting savagely against the last remaining orcs. Kalrick had lost his shield and Eklon, pulled into melee fighting to which he was wholly unsuited, was sustaining heavy damage.

  Even as Max watched, Eklon took a stab to the gut. He crashed to one knee and an orc raised a dripping sword high over his head. Max sent a fire bolt arcing into the goblin, gore flying. Eklon nodded his thanks to Max and quickly took a potion. It restored his health to 30% but it was his last one. Eklon wouldn’t last much longer.

  “Darla!” Max snapped. “Come with me. We have to get to Nightshade.”

  Darla, busy shooting fireballs into the mob of orcs, gave him a tight nod. Back to back, they waded into the melee. Max used Lightning Strike to blow orcs out of their path whilst Darla used her fireballs to finish off any that survived. They inched across the floor, the stink of sweat and blood strong in the air.

  Seeing them approach Nightshade’s dais, the two remaining lich mages swung into motion. One pulled a fire-whip from its belt, the other began chanting in a voice deep enough to make the floor vibrate. The first lich lashed out with the whip, catching Darla across the chest. She cursed colorfully enough to make a dockworker proud, and her health bar took a dip. In retaliation she shouted something intelligible and a whirling vortex went screaming across the room towards the lichs. It picked up the first one, ripped the whip from its hand, and sent it careening across the room to smash into the far wall. It slowly picked itself up but its health had taken another hit.

  Max gave Darla an appreciative nod then fixed his attention on the lich that was chanting. It reached a crescendo and a crackling bolt of energy shot towards Max and Darla. He cast Woven Shield just in time and the spell wrapped itself around the energy bolt, the two fizzling as they came together. Woven Shield quickly devoured the bolt until it fizzled away into a few sparks that quickly died to nothing.

  Before the lich could cast anything else Max released Banshee’s Wail. Two blades of air appeared in his hands. He flung them at the lich and they spun through the air, letting out an ear-splitting shriek then sliced into the lich’s body, blood spraying. It grunted, stepped back a pace.

  Equipping Spirit Blade, Max imbued it and ran at the lich. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Darla attacking the other lich. Her weapon of choice was a stave, its tip glowing silver. Max impacted with the lich mage, Spirit Blade chopping down into its shoulder. A wave of power erupted from the blade and exploded through the lich’s body. It gave a low moan—more from annoyance than pain Max was sure. He ripped the blade free, ducking just in time to avoid a savage chop from a black-bladed knife. Max spun around, slashing. The imbued sword did little damage to the lich and its health bar barely seemed to move. That was okay. He wasn’t trying to kill it with Spirit Blade but only keep it occupied whilst he prepared a little surprise.

  He sliced and chopped and hacked at the thing for a few heartbeats, waiting for his mana to replenish. Then, when it was back to full strength, he stepped in close and prepared Death Strike.

  This was a seriously dangerous spell because it couldn’t be cast from a distance. In order to work, you had to be in contact with your victim. For a range-fighter like Max with less stamina than most, this was very risky. But if you had the balls to do it, the rewards were big and you could take out opponents of a much higher level.

  The lich’s dead eyes fixed on him and he saw something flash within them—understanding. He knew it wasn’t the lich’s comprehension he saw but Nightshade’s because her mind inhabited the lich’s body. Up on the dais she started to scream a warning, to prepare a spell of her own, but it was too late. Max stepped under a clumsy swing of the lich’s black blade and grabbed the thing around the throat. Its skin felt as hard and cold as stone.

  Max released Death Strike.

  The lich exploded, fragments of decaying flesh raining down around him.

  On the feed, the audience went wild. Nightshade’s odds lengthened and Max’s shortened. Messages began flying back and forth on the forums, wanting to know how they could get Death Strike themselves and what it might be used for. Excellent. More people were starting to bet on Max. The Corporation would be pleased.

  His mana all but gone, Max hurried to where Darla was busy fighting the last remaining lich mage. Its health was low so he laid into it with Spirit Blade and together they battered at it until it finally collapsed onto the ground and lay still.

  Panting with exertion, Max took a second to lean on his knees and look around. On the far side of the room Kalrick shoved his sword through the last of the orcs. Eklon lay in a tangled heap in the corner, a skull and crossbones floating over his avatar on Max’s screen. So. That left the three of them.

  “Darla! Kalrick, form up quickly before she—”

  A concussive explosion shook the tower. Something picked the three of them up and hurled them against the wall so hard Max was sure he felt bones snapping. A hot wave of pain ricocheted through him and the edges of his vision turned red. His health took a serious hit.

  He scrambled out of the way just as a bolt of crackling energy slapped into the floor where he’d been lying. The stone vaporized, leaving a huge gouge in the floor. He and Kalrick had been lucky, they’d managed to evade Nightshade’s blow. Darla had not been so lucky. She lay on her back, eyes staring, a skull and crossbones hovering over her avatar.

  Kalrick staggered to his knees, swaying slightly, dazed by the blow. “Go on,” he slurred. “You know what you have to do.”

  Max nodded. “I know.”

  Kalrick pointed a finger at him. His eyes were a little unfocused but he still managed to make his voice sound menacing. “Make it last long enough to get your odds shortened. They’ll be watching.”

  Of course they will, Max thought sourly. The ones that hold my leash. How the hell did I ever get tangled up in this?

  A quick glance at the feed showed that his odds had shortened again, many of those that had backed Darla and the others transferring over to him. There was little difference between him and Nightshade now. Just a little more work and he would become the favorite.

  “What’s the matter?” Nightshade called from the dais. “Are you lost without your little friends? Afraid to face me now you can’t hide behind them?”

  “Afraid?” Max replied, lifting his chin and glaring at her. “Of you? Of a cruel despot who treats her subjects like chattel? I stopped being afraid of you a long time ago. Now I’m only angry. That will end when I kill you.” Max glanced at his mana bar. He had to keep Nightshade talking long enough for it to replenish after his use of Death Strike.

  “Is that right?” Nightshade smirked. “Do you know how many puny little upstarts have come into this very room and claimed the same thing? Too many to count. They have all been destroyed. What makes you think you’ll be any different?”

  It was a good question. There had been plenty of high-level players who’d faced Nightshade and lost. But they weren’t Max. They hadn’t spent their adolescence on the streets, living by their wits, learning how to lie and cheat to stay alive. That was what made him different. That was how, at the age of fourteen he’d begged enough money to enter his first tournament and won it, slowly working his way up, making enough money first to just get by, then, bit by bit to get himself something resembling a life. It was how over the years he’d become such a top-level gamer and won so many tournaments. That’s why the Corporation had approached him with their proposition.

  “Enough talking, Nightshade,” he said, just as his mana reached full strength again. “Time to fight.”

  He cast Lightning Strike. It caught Nightshade in the chest, rocking her back a step but hardly decreasing her health at all. With a growl, she threw out an arm and a clawed hand made of smoke came hurtling at him. Max threw himself to the side and th
e shadow-claw caught Kalrick instead, raking across the man’s chest, leaving two deep red gouges that decreased his health to 25%. With a snarl, he hefted a spear and threw it at Nightshade. It pierced her through the shoulder but she barely seemed to flinch.

  Taking advantage of Nightshade’s few seconds of distraction, Max cast Mortal Illusion. Ten other Max’s flickered into existence in a circle around Nightshade. Max ducked into the circle, mingling with the others. They were exact replicas, down to the smallest detail.

  Nightshade grinned. “Hiding? Really? You think I won’t be able to find you?”

  That’s what I’m banking on, Max thought.

  He raised his hands and the copies did the same. His arms were trembling. His mana was depleting even more quickly than when using Death Strike. The spell was dangerous, leaving him open to counter attack whilst he held it but he had to take the risk and hope that Nightshade didn’t pick him out from amongst the copies. If she did, he was dead.

  With a cry of exasperation Nightshade sent a bolt of energy hurtling outwards. It hit one of the copies who disappeared in a puff of smoke. Another copy immediately took its place.

  Max cried a word of power and all ten of him released Lightning Strike at the same time. It ricocheted into Nightshade’s body. She flung up her hands, weaving a shield but even she couldn’t stop ten attacks at once. She staggered as she was hit, her health bar dropping to 50%.

  A thrill went through Max. His feed showed that he was now the favorite.

  “That’s not possible!” Nightshade screamed. “Illusions cannot cast spells!”

  They can if you put your points into the right skills, Max thought to himself. Due to his increased magical level he now had the ability to cast more than one spell at a time and combine them if he chose.

  “Surrender, Nightshade!” he cried. “I will grant you a merciful death.”

  The audience loved that. His approval rating jumped a point.

  “Never!” Nightshade screamed.