Holy War

by Sugralinov Daniel

  Finally, we finished buying up building materials. Along the way, I even managed to buy a few types of rare spices that I hoped to use in future culinary experiments. Patrick, who had by now emptied his emergency flask of Black Mountain Fire Ale, suddenly stopped sharply and jabbed a demanding finger at a goblin holding a sign that said “First drink on the house!”

  “The Sleepers won’t forgive us if we squander this opportunity!” the first priest declared. “And it’s high time we had a bite to eat, Scyth. Business can wait. There’s an old Russian saying: war is war, but lunch has to be on time. Our corporal used to love saying that, may demons devour him.”

  “Alright, let’s take a break,” I reluctantly agreed.

  Oil splashed in the slate-gray smoke of the anonymous tavern. The walls lit up with red heat and fat dripped from skewers onto the coals, burning with a choking blue flame. People were smoking too, and scantily clad goblin waitresses raced to and fro. A fortune-teller cried his sendees in the far corner.

  With great difficulty, we found a seat at one of the tables. Even more surprisingly, they served us fast and we were out of there within an hour, well-fed, though neither of us were happy. I’d lost time and Patrick would have happily stayed to live there. He quickly found common ground with the suspicious-looking goblins sat at the same table as a minotaur and a werewolf. Worse—he almost agreed to join them on an adventure involving a certain high-ranking noble lady from the League High Council, a chest of family jewels and a love story. Sounded like a quest, but I didn’t even bother.

  Ignoring Patrick’s sighs and disappointed glances, I activated Depths Teleportation to the Auction for Special Sales. There were many watering holes in Kinema’s financial quarter, and Patrick gladly stayed behind in one of them to Test the quality of the food and drink of these cursed little folk again’ while I went to see Grokuszuid.

  The goblin was busy, but, seeing through my disguise and recognizing me, he immediately handed his customer over to his assistant Zamozik, freeing himself up. We exchanged pleasantries and I got down to business, silently placing the Portal Key on the table. Grokuszuid’s eyes were a sight to behold! I tried to memorize the sound of the normally rock-solid goblin’s jaw dropping. It would make one of my favorite memories.

  Recovering from his surprise, the goblin picked up the artifact and spent a long time studying it, feeling it, looking it over, even sniffing it.

  “May I ask where you obtained this?”

  “From the treasury of an ancient mage. Mr. Grokuszuid, I don’t have much time. Can we talk business? I need to sell the portal for the highest possible price, and so I insist that you invite the excommunicated clans of the Alliance to participate.”

  They weren’t the only players with big money, but I doubted the Celestial Warriors that controlled the Perfetto resort city would be itching to explore a new continent.

  “That is impossible,” the auctioneer shook his head.

  “I insist.”

  “I cannot promise anything. A decision of such importance is the purview of the League High Council. But I will raise the issue. Any other wishes, Scyth?”

  “I need the Portal Key to sell for at least a hundred million. And I need it to sell as fast as possible.”

  “Those are mutually exclusive requests. We will have a hard time gathering truly wealthy buyers. The Portal Key is no fallen god’s helmet, for which there are many buyers. We will certainly contact the guild of explorers and cartographers, offer it to the Dangerous Game Hunters, the office of Bastian the First and the family of Emperor Kragosh…” Grokuszuid thought for a moment, then put a scroll on the table and blew into the silver whistle that always hung around his neck. “Zamozik!”

  It was as if the assistant had been listening at the door—his head appeared in the half-open gap the instant Grokus called his name.

  “Yes, master?”

  “Announce an unscheduled gathering of the High Council in my name. Make a list of those with fortunes greater than a hundred million. And… Maintain strict secrecy! Dismissed!”

  Zamozik disappeared, closing the door soundly behind him. Grokuszuid watched him go and clicked his fingers. Suddenly, we were enveloped in a material-looking bubble whose nature I couldn’t grasp.

  “We can’t allow leaks,” the auctioneer explained. “Wars have started over less…”

  * * *

  Great Portal Scrolls were for sale both in the auction houses and at the transport guild. I bought four of them from the latter, and at a good price; my reputation with the goblins and with Gruzelix personally helped.

  I changed my image to that of a harmless engineer at level two hundred, and Patrick and I jumped to Nivelle, the closest settlement to Stone Rib with a portal connection. From there it was around sixty miles to the spot where the sewer troggs lived. On the map, the ridge of the Nameless Mountains turned in a hook there, and the small mining town was at its center. Although actually, Nivelle only seemed small to me after Darant, Shak and Kinema. In general, it was considered a developed and thriving city.

  But something was wrong; the watch were racing through the streets, players were forming raids, spells flashed and shields gleamed all over, covering buildings.

  “Everyone this way! The rift is over there. We’re gathering at the western gates!”

  Shouts came, some of panic and others of flashy heroism. The latter were more likely to be the ’undying.’ A few carts loaded with various goods moved to the east.

  My first thought was: Run. They’ve figure out that there’s a Threat among them! But how…?

  A knight on a powerful battle stallion in full regalia cantered past. The mount’s hooves struck sparks on the pavement, and the rider shook his spear and shouted triumphantly: “Anyone experienced, come with me! Noobs, go elsewiiere!” He paid no attention to me, which meant the reason for the panic was something else.

  “Look, Scyth!” Patrick pointed at a gleaming column of light in the sky, firing down at another part of Nivelle. “That’s how the priests at the Nergal temple summon the high priests. That can only happen when…”

  “A Ravager?”

  “That’s right! Oh, we came here just at the wrong time, my boy, mark my words, just at the wrong time!”

  “Why’s that? We’ll be fine. We’ll fly past or just go around.”

  I’d already dealt with one Ravager, but Patrick didn’t have my abilities. We had to be careful.

  “Why should we fight it, Tukai?” a gnome asked his elvish friend as they walked past. “We’re only going to break our gear! And those debuffs…”

  “Are you an idiot?” the other asked in sincere surprise. “Have you listened to one too many dumb minors? You know they make them up to make people like you believe! It would take you more than a year to earn as much Faith and factional rep as you’ll get now! Try to deal as much damage as possible, and Nergal’s high priest will restore our gear and give it back to us later if we die. They send it by mail! Come on! Quickly, before they banish it!”

  The gnome and elf ran to the western gates. Both of them were level forty and didn’t even have their own mounts. Patrick watched them go and twirled a finger by his temple.

  We avoided the crowds of sentients on our way out of the city. Once outside, I summoned Storm. The dragoness appeared in the form of the mount of the engineer whose disguise I was using; an ordinary gryphon, the cheapest flying mount in the Commonwealth. Climbing up on her, or him depending on what you knew, we took off and saw the cause of the panic in the flesh.

  Harnathea, level???

  Ravager.

  The colossal Ravager shaped like a mix between a spider and crab was slowly walking toward Nivelle. The city watch and players slowed its movement. Not exactly effectively, but the action mechanics forced the Ravager to stop every time it saw a target and waste time destroying it.

  I saw no visible strategy in the players’ actions. Separate groups attacked Harnathea from all sides, with mages flooding it with slow
ing spells and healers healing the wounded, but mostly there was nobody left to heal; the monster killed anyone it turned to in a single shot.

  It didn’t cover the whole area with black slime like Ervigot, but it was clearly no weaker. The gigantic body emitted clouds of smoke and soot. It seemed that ability worked temporarily both as a shield and an attacking aura, dealing passive damage to everyone that approached.

  But the stream of players from Nivelle never ended. It seemed the word-of-mouth notification system for Nether rifts was working as necessary; I started to see clear formations of preventers appearing.

  “Woah!” I said, awestruck.

  “Here come the heroes,” Patrick snorted.

  After the second-tier top players, the big fish began to arrive: Modus, Travelers, Widowmakers, Children of Kratos, Azure Dragons and Excommunicado… It seemed the perks were worth it at this event, if the best players all dropped what they were doing in the desert and headed here.

  For me personally, this didn’t bode well. All the same, I wondered where the Ravager would run off to and whether I could finish it off. And I kind of wanted to see Nergal’s High Priest banish it, to see how it was done.

  I pointed Storm off to the side and landed behind a hill, out of the way of the chaos.

  “What?” Patrick asked. “You wanna join the damn battle?”

  “Right. Just in case something goes wrong… Take this money, buy yourself a gryphon in town and head to Stone Rib. And…”

  I took the Great Portal Scrolls out of my inventory along with a worn leather triangle with an imprint of a bear’s face and gave them to O’Grady.

  “I understand the scrolls. But this… Oh, it’s the troggs’ charm!” Patrick nodded. “Got it, kid. Consider it done.”

  “I’ll try to catch you up, but if I don’t make it, convert the troggs to the Sleeping Gods and convince them to move to Kharinza. As first priest, you have the right to appoint servants of the cult, so choose one of the most authoritative troggs. And… Don’t let me down, Patrick.”

  “Don’t worry, Scvth,” he said more seriously. “I may be an old drunk, but I know what’s at stake and who I owe. Anyway, HE promised to help me figure it out.”

  “Behemoth? Figure what out?”

  “The mess in my skull. The Sleeping God said I have two characters from different worlds in my head, and one of them isn’t me. He can help of stale whiskey, quietly said:

  “Be careful, kid.”

  I watched O’Grady go, then took off into the air again and hovered above the Ravager at the maximum possible height where I could still make out details, but remain unnoticed from below. Thanks to my high Perception, I could see distant objects as if through binoculars.

  The High Priest of Nergal the Radiant had already arrived. First he blessed the ranks of the city defenders, then he covered them with a protective dome.

  After that, the priest rose into the air above them all and spread his arms, shouting prayers. His voice carried across the valley, echoing off the mountain range.

  “In the name of the light and all things living, Nergal the Radiant, I entreat you! A fowl creature of the Nether threatens all life, and only with your help, our savior, can these courageous heroes, without regard for their own life…”

  The priest spent a few more minutes justifying his request to Nergal, then finished and got his answer. The skies darkened, then flashed with a blinding light that outshone even the sun. The god’s voice answered somewhat differently than the crowd expected.

  “You are looking in the wrong direction, fools!”

  Lightning suddenly lanced down from the cloudless darkened sky. The eyes of all the players, the preventers, the city watch and the high priest moved to where it landed.

  To me.

  The high priest pointed a finger at me and shouted triumphantly: “Descend, heathen!”

  With a plaintive roar beneath me, Storm disappeared and I began to fall—right toward the monstrous Ravager.

  Chapter 5. The Nether

  WITH JUST a second more, I could have teleported through the depths out of the yawning oven. If I hadn’t dropped like a stone, I would have successfully escaped to Kharinza. Now I was peppered with thousands of spells and arrows, including lightning bolts and a few small meteorites summoned from the skies. The air cracked from the abundance of magic. It seemed space itself was losing its structure and warping.

  My cast stopped, but my fall continued.

  Amid the chaos forming below, I could clearly see the high priest drawing light into his staff. The world was immersed in darkness. The lights of spells shone particularly brightly, showing the disciplined preventers surrounding the Ravager—and the spot where I would crash down. I could only hope that Destroying Plague Immortality or Diamond Skin of Justice could save me from death, but I couldn’t discount the possibility that a Nergal priest could neutralize the former ability.

  Concentrate! I told myself, snuffing out a spark of panic. I’d been so stupid! Curiosity has killed many a cat. Why didn’t I just fly around the battlefield and head to Stone Rib? But beating myself up for it was not only pointless, it was irrational.

  Covering my face with my Sharkon’s Mane shield, I tried to make out what awaited me below through the flashes. The Ravager had moved toward the city defenders, but I was still falling within its smoke aura’s area of effect. That might save me—I doubted players would go in there to try to expel a Threat in the ten seconds before their bodies evaporated. As long as the High Priest didn’t have any holy tricks up his sleeve…

  My health was melting away rapidly. Even my ludicrous Resilience didn’t help. The players, strengthened by divine buffs, were lit up like Christmas trees. Not all of them were looking at me—many continued to pour toward the Ravager, earning Faith points. After Nergal’s blessing, their attacks had become far stronger. The Nether-spawn’s health fell slowly, but still noticeably.

  The instant before I hit the smoky and soot-covered ground, I instinctively braced myself. Diamond Skin took the force of the strike, which meant I was back to my feet the next instant and casting Depths Teleportation. I figured if I couldn’t see anything, then nobody could see me either…

  I figured wrong. The High Priest’s staff finally finished charging. It released a massive pillar of light, covering both me and the Ravager. My cast interrupted again. The damage from the divine magic was overwhelming, crushing. The smoke from the monster’s aura dispersed as if it had never been. My Diamond Skin broke with the ringing of smashed glass. Harnathea’s chitinous shell cracked, and the Ravager lost almost all its health in an instant. A deafening scream of victory rose up from the players.

  I should have died. I’m sure the priest’s attack would have broken through Immortality. But Diamond Skin took the hit. Immortality activated right afterwards and prevented me from dying to the Ravager’s aura and the players’ attacks.

  The light faded, spots danced in my blind eyes. Something careered by me. The enraged shouts of the High Priest echoed like peals of thunder. He had survived the strike from Reflection, but was astounded that all his divine shields had broken.

  With only the vaguest sense of direction, I jumped three times and found myself next to one of the Ravager’s legs and grabbed one of the numerous growths on it. Against my fears, the players didn’t rush ahead. It seemed they all knew what was to come after the priest’s attack.

  Harnathea was enraged. It emitted three bursts of flame, spreading waves of mist for hundreds of yards around, leaving absolute darkness and death behind it. I survived, but I felt the Ravager’s ability; strips of flesh sloughed from my body, baring bones, and dripped to the ground in smoking goo. Not for the first time, my character transformed into a skeleton without a single ounce of flesh. Fortunately, a lack of eyes didn’t prevent me from seeing, although my ision worked differently, showing a pale and colorless world of shadows come to life. The largest shadow, which I was still holding onto, turned sharply and ran toward the mountai
ns.

  Occasional beams of light shot after us, and with each hit, Harnathea got smaller. I had a death grip on a leg that had started as thick as a tree trunk and ended up a branch. Fearing it might break, I grabbed the thorny leg and climbed upwards, onto the Ravager’s back. No matter how this adventure ended, my risk was rewarded: Resilience was leveling up even faster than with Ervigot. Maybe because right now I was sitting on the enraged Harnathea, right at the heart of its deadly aura.

  Nobody rushed to chase us. The Ravager was banished, and it couldn’t be killed—or so I thought. Harnathea continued to move, and I kept sitting in clouds of soot and smoke, so I didn’t see right away that something strange was happening…

  And then it was too late. Destroying Plague Immortality stopped working for some reason. I died.

  You are dead.

  Remaining time to respawn 9… 8… 7…

  I felt rising panic, my thoughts raced. NergaVs priest canceled out my protection from the Destroying Plague and the Ravager aura killed me. Any moment now, the preventers will arrive and…

  But I respawned and sighed in relief. I looked around, recognized Kharinza. A quick glance showed me that I’d lost nothing on death except experience; all my equipment and the contents of my bag were still there. I’d lost my engineer disguise and Cloak Essence buff.

  Familiar jungle surrounded me, but… Behemoth’s temple was gone! Not a trace remained of Gyula’s structure, just the ruins of the Departed in the same state I once found them in when I swam here from the shore near Tristad.

  I needed to figure out where the temple had gone. I walked around the ruins and my jaw dropped further. No signs of the fort; no buildings, no street.

  I decided to take off and look around. My ability to summon the dead Storm had cooled down when I revived, but I couldn’t find her in my list of mounts. The mechostrich was gone too.