No, losing a friend, this friend, would be far worse.
“How are we going to save him?” I could hardly believe I was saying this.
The pirq turned around, looking at me in disbelief.
“Are you serious?”
“It’s just a game,” I shrugged and looked up at the sky for some reason. Probably to avoid seeing Chip’s face. “It’s not real. You are real. You can even be killed in game because you don’t care about it in reality. But if you do truly care about the fate of this NPC, I will do as you want, instead of what some poorly dressed fop tells me to do.”
For a while Chip was silent, poring over what he had heard. Then his paw descended to my shoulder. I turned around and met his eyes.
“I’ll remember this,” he promised gravely.
I nodded and tried to sound carefree:
“Then go back to the Guardian and ask him not to yell at me. All those debuffs make me sick. We will come up with a way to help him.”
Chip grunted, nodded, and disappeared again into the hill. I looked in his wake and for some reason found I had no qualms about the decision I’d taken.
This time around I had to wait for a long while. I even began to doubt that Pasha would be able to persuade the Guardian, but at last my hairy friend popped out of the hole and waved his paw.
“I have explained the concept of espionage and double agents to this relic, but he is still skeptical,” Chip explained in a perfectly normal voice on our way to the Guardian’s dungeon. “But he did promise not to yell at you, so that’s something.”
Almost nothing had changed since I had been here last. The Guardian still looked at me with suspicion but without the earlier hatred. More importantly, he remained silent.
“I tried to step through the fog, but it threw me against the wall and stunned me for a couple of minutes,” Chip shared. “I have no idea what to do next.”
“That’s not the only problem...”
I pulled the sinister Shadow artifact out of my satchel and showed it to Chip.
The Guardian listened to our conversation in silence, but his yellow eyes gleaming in the twilight did not suggest anything good.
“What’s that?” Chip nodded at the artifact with interest.
“That’s the cookie I was talking about—the one you get for joining the dark side, young Jedi. All I have to do is feed the cookie to Master Yoda there and, ding, the Sith’s ready.”
“Well, so throw it away and that’ll be that,” Chip suggested instantly.
“Nah.” I shook my head. “If I don’t stick that thing in the Guardian, it’ll go big-ba-da-boom in less than a day and spatter everything around it with blight. It’s like a blighted bomb or something.”
The Guardian bristled, his mighty body jerked towards me with the obvious intention of reaching through the bars of the cage and crushing me like a handful of dry leaves. Destroy the threat, even at the cost of his own life.
I jumped back from shock and slammed my head against the roots sticking out of the wall as hard as that was even possible. I really need to start taking something for my nerves.
Meanwhile, the jailer shades darted at my assailant. The ancient pirq helplessly floundered in the fog, plastered with shades and then slumped to the ground. His eyes burned with such impotent rage that I couldn’t help feel uneasy. An ancient being, designed to protect this land from any enemies. Even now, captivated and helpless, he still inspired respect and fear.
Chip watched the Guardian with uncommon gravity. And I thought I caught a glimpse of comprehension in my friend’s eyes.
“What do you think we should do with this junk?” he nodded at the artifact in my hands.
“I’ll give it to someone who can figure it out. Like Astilba, for instance. I’m also thinking about telling her that Geranika decided to convert the Guardian while I’m at it. I could also hand it over to someone else from the Council. But they’re pretty far away, and you’ll be the one to take it anyway. They’re not too keen on me back at the Tree.”
“As it happens, this is resolvable,” the pirq declared unexpectedly and, cheering up, grinned as usual. “We will summon Old Eben right this instant.”
Chip began rummaging in one of his belt satchels for which Bogart had christened him ‘Jurgen’ for some reason.
“He’s our boss, so he should know whether there are specialists of the right level here, or not...” the pirq continued, showing me a glowing golden flower bud. “It’s like an emergency beacon. He gave it to me to use in a pinch.”
Chip’s paw crushed the bud, which crumbled into a flash of sparks, emitting a melodious ringing.
“Now we wait,” Pasha announced laconically.
“Just don’t tell him about our illegals,” I said.
“Don’t teach a cat to lick himself,” the pirq winked at me and pushed me lightly: “Worry not, my young Padawan, the old Jedi will not let you fail.”
“I expect your summons is truly important. Some outsiders have penetrated the Arras and I am very busy,” I heard Eben’s voice, accompanied by a faint flash and the smell of a spring meadow. The spymaster came out of the portal and was about to say something else, when his gaze swept across the foggy dungeon. “The Guardian!”
Eben stared in shock at the imprisoned forest custodian.
“Seventh,” the black pirq rumbled in a dull voice and pointed a clawed finger at us with Chip. “Kill these traitors and remove the source of the bight!”
“But I’m willing to hand it over without any killing,” I said instantly, to Eben’s complete confusion. “Geranika told me that when the protective layer around the artifact deteriorates, Shadow will break forth. And according to his words, this will happen a little less than a day from now.”
The spymaster’s eyes narrowed and he carefully took the artifact from my hands.
“KILL THE TRRAITORS OF OUR RRACE NOW!” the Guardian roared so loudly that had I not been sitting down, I would’ve dropped instantly. The clamor filled my head, but this time it was not so overwhelming. Perhaps the Guardian did not want to hurt his allies at the same time.
“Will you listen to that...a voice from the depths of the centuries,” Chip responded.
If it were not for his flattened ears and clenched fists, I would have thought that the voice of the Guardian had had no effect on him whatsoever. It seems that the ancient creature’s desire to unscrew our heads had finally jarred Chip back to his customary rakish manner.
“Allow me to inquire, Comrade Gigantopithecus, when did you part with your memory? Only a few minutes ago, I was diligently explaining to you about our joint operation to enable our special agents to infiltrate the enemy camp! And now? You are again being disrespectful and unfriendly towards Lorelei, who has sacrificed,” moving, patriotic notes sounded in the pirq’s voice, “her very essence for the sake of saving our peoples! You should be ashamed of yourself, comrade! At your advanced age, with your life experience, it’s high time you learned what deserves praise and what roaring! And instead, you just want to kill and punish...Tsk-tsk-tsk, a bad look...” he smiled ruefully, looking at the prisoner with reproach. “And you call yourself a Guardian...”
I watched in fascination as Chip, who had just saved the Guardian from me, now fervently defended me in front of the Guardian and the Seventh.
“Ahem,” Eben cleared his throat, glaring at Chip indignantly. “Do not heed this young man’s babble, oh Ancient One. “He is at times overly-talkative and disrespectful. Often he is completely incomprehensible...”
At these words from Eben, Chip raised his hat and bowed foolishly to the Seventh, grumbling: “Why thank you for the kind word and endorsement...”
There was some doubt in Eben’s voice, but he continued: “Yet he is no traitor and neither is Lorelei. She joined our brothers who disagreed with the Council’s decision, and gave Chip valuable information about Astilba’s plans. The Sixth has decided to disrupt the alliance with Kartoss and contacted Geranika for the purpos
e.”
At this point, I decided to enter the conversation:
“The Sixth commanded them not to harm the Guardian. It was Geranika, in secret from her, who ordered me to use this artifact to profane this mighty creature. If Astilba learns of this, their alliance shall end.”
Eben’s face took on a thoughtful expression and in the meantime Chip drew closer to the cage and with curiosity poked a finger among the bars.
“I wonder...” he scratched his head and returned to us. “Shouldn’t the Guardian be like a powerful being, right?”
Chip turned to Eben as the most authoritative source of information in this matter.
“The power of the Guardian in his territory is immense indeed,” the Seventh nodded.
“Then could you explain to a stupid old boot like me what it would take to capture the Guardian and then lock him up so that he can’t get out?”
“THAT GERRANIKA,” boomed the Guardian in reply. “HE WIELDS A POWER I HAVE NEVER ENCOUNTERED BEFORE. I STILL FAIL TO UNDERSTAND HOW MY PRRISON WAS CONSTRRUCTED.”
“The forest is poisoned with something similar,” Eben added. “And our druids have only just begun to understand the essence of this blight thanks to the seeds that Chip procured.”
“Actually,” said the pirq, “it was Lori who procured them. I was just the messenger. Or, err, the delivery boy. I merely brought them to the druids,” he explained in response to Eben’s puzzled look.
Eben turned and scrutinized me with a suspicious look.
“I will have the druids brought here under escort,” the Seventh finally decided. “They must understand what is holding the Guardian.”
“The shades,” I said. “It is the shades that restrain him.”
Three pairs of surprised eyes fixed on me.
“Explain,” Eben demanded, “what these shades are and how you know this.”
“As far as I understand, the shades are manifestations of the power that Geranika wields. I can see them surrounding the Guardian. There they are,” I alternately poked my fingers at the jailer shades floating in the fog.
Eben looked carefully in the directions indicated by me, took out a strange flower and waved it in front of him. The flower dissolved into purple pollen that began to float in the air, but the Seventh’s face did not clear up.
“I cannot see them,” he said in a broken voice. “Can you destroy them, or drive them away, Lorelei?”
I shook my head.
“No. But, I believe I know those who can.”
“The renegades?” The spymaster tensed.
“Not exactly,” I glanced at Chip, but he only shrugged, leaving the decision up to me. “Those outsiders that crossed the Arras. They are free citizens and they have surely encountered Geranika’s shades before.”
I spoke without any certainty. After the continental scenario in the Dark Forest, when Mahan refused to become a disciple of Geranika, five classes were given the opportunity to destroy the shadows. I think I remember reading that the priests had devised a way to fight against the forces of Shadow. But I had no idea whether the raiders from the Day of Wrath had these powers. Who knew—maybe they weren’t unlocked automatically and required some long quest chain to obtain...In any case, the Seventh knew about the invasion and was clearly going to take action, so it wouldn’t do any harm.
Meanwhile, Eben’s AI had crunched through the elephant in the room.
“You?!” His face twisted with rage. “Was it you who ushered them through the Arras? So this is why the druids could not determine which of us opened our border! Shadow veils you from their gaze.”
“Yes, it was me.” There was no sense in denying the obvious. “For obvious reasons, I did not have the opportunity to ask for permission. There was no one around to come to my aid and they did. These outsiders are not enemies to our forest.”
“Not enemies?” The spymaster looked at me so fiercely that I involuntarily shivered. “They have already felled five Forest Sentries! Another dozen have gone missing—the druids no longer sense them. And you say that they are not enemies? You will pay for this, Lorelei!” he promised ominously.
“The sentries attacked them and the outsiders defended themselves,” I said, without much confidence in my own argument. “As for the dozen missing sentries—that is Geranika’s doing. He captured and blighted some of the sentries.”
The Guardian growled mournfully, once again causing me to feel dizzy, but did not interfere in the conversation further.
“Fire and ice!” Judging by his tone, this was Eben’s way of cursing. “What else do I not know?”
“Has Chip already informed you about Astilba’s intention to ambush and destroy the embassy?”
“Yes.” The Seventh began to measure the cavern with his steps.
“Then I have one last piece of news left. I’m going to help Astilba summon Portulac from the Gray Lands.”
It was as if Eben had run into a wall. He froze, turned and stared at me in disbelief.
“You...you have mastered Cypro’s spell?”
“I deciphered the songbook he left and learned the spell. And it seems that Astilba has found a way to embody the soul of a sentient.”
“Impossible...” whispered the Seventh. “Inconceivable...”
“THE DEAD BELONG IN THE GRRAY LANDS!” the Guardian’s roar plastered me against the wall. “NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO VIOLATE THE ORRDER AS CONCEIVED BY THE CRREATOR! SOULS MAY VISIT THE LIVING FOR BUT A SHORRT TIME. THEY MAY NOT RETURRN TO LIFE IN A NEW BODY!”
Now I had to agree with Astilba’s decision to isolate this overly orthodox pirq. He is clearly capable of not only foiling the ambush of the embassy, but also interfering in the forthcoming summoning.
“We’ll soon find out if it’s possible or not.” I rubbed my aching head. “I understand that I did a lot of things without asking permission, but you also received invaluable information. And that’s not to mention the artifact that is now in your hands. I ask little as a reward: Allow the outsiders to try and free the Guardian and let me help Astilba bring Portulac back. After that, you can judge me, exile me, or kill me—it does not matter to me.”
“YOU DARRE STAMMER OF A REWARRD?” barked the Guardian.
For his part, Eben scratched his chin thoughtfully. I could almost feel his ingrained distrust of the outsiders grapple with his desire to solve the problem. Either way, the imminent alliance would mean having to work with other races, so the current opportunity of a trial run was quite timely. It’d be a shame to miss this opportunity.
“As you see, you’re out of options, you Onion Knight,” Chip said, seeing the biota’s vacillation. “All energy flows according to the whims of the Gitche Manitou. It’s time to bury the hatchet between the Algonquin and the Iroquois.”
The face of the Seventh grew pensive and he turned to me with genuine puzzlement:
“Tell me, Lorelei, are these free citizens as strange as he is?” The spymaster’s dark finger pointed at Chip.
“No, the overwhelming majority of them are much more comprehensible and generally calmer,” I reassured him.
“Oh don’t you worry, you brambling rose,” chuckled the subject of our discussion. “I’m crazy, but I’m not violent!”
Eben looked dubiously at Chip, his crossed eyes and bulging chest, and sighed heavily:
“Very well. The time has come to learn to communicate with the free citizens and the races of the outside world. I will give them a chance to prove their good intentions. As for your request...”
A weighty pause ensued as I held my breath.
“Portulac has always been reasonable and constant,” Eben continued. “Perhaps his return will help Astilba regain her clarity of thought. I would not like to fight our brothers and sisters. Summon his spirit, Lorelei, and tell him of all the madness that has swept over the Hidden Forest.”
I exhaled in relief as Chip quipped:
“The voice of progress in the realm of obscurantism. Drill a buttonhole for that me
dal, Siguranța. And another question,” he tossed his head in the direction of the prisoner, now without any of his former sympathy in his eyes. It seems that the thought of the Guardian’s coming salvation had torn the invisible thread that had connected the NPC with something important to him out in reality. “What’s to guarantee that this yeti doesn’t bite off our heads in celebration of his release?”
In essence, the question was an excellent one, but its phrasing left much to be desired. I wonder what Chip’s Attractiveness is with Eben? And whether Attractiveness can dip in the negatives?
“My word is your guarantee,” the Guardian threatened. “If you manage to release me, you will in fact prove that you are working for the Seventh and the benefit of the forest. I will spare you and those outsiders who have trespassed across the Arras.”
“Can you teach us your brand of negotiating as well?” Chip inquired, twiddling his whiskers. “I’ve always envied people like you: It’s like you’re up to your ears in it, yet somehow you insist that everyone dances to your tune and so confidently that there’s no room to object.”
“I DO NOT NEGOTIATE,” growled the Guardian loud enough to shake the entire hill. “I COMMAND!”
“Why that’s exactly what I’m talking about!” The pirq spread his arms. “There, do you see?” He turned to us, as if we were witnesses. “And there’s nothing to object to...It’s just like I’m back in boot camp, only this time it’s scarier. So will you teach me?”
For a few seconds the Guardian silently drilled Chip with his eyes, and then, unexpectedly, burst into laughter and grinned with his entire impressive mouth:
“I shall teach you as soon as I am free,” he said in an ordinary pirq voice.
Eben and I stared in amazement at the ancient pirq, while Chip cautiously clarified:
“Do I have your word?”
“You have my word,” the Guardian nodded, still grinning.
“It’s agreed then,” Chip nodded in satisfaction, and turning to me, said with a touch of bitterness in his voice: “That’s what our world’s lacking these days, Lori. The fidelity to keep one’s word.”
A Song of Shadow (The Bard from Barliona Book #2) LitRPG series Page 27