by Dmitry Bilik
The short, powerful blow blinded me. I nearly passed out, but still managed to...
[ ∞ ]
There was no way I could dodge the blow, so I just dropped onto my back, watching his huge, muscular body fly over me. As adept as Litius was, he hadn’t had a chance to react. He put his arms out and started to slow down, and that messed up his coordination — even though the momentum kept him moving forward.
His strong tail, as fat as a mooring cable, flashed in front of me. My hands reached out for it on their own. I grabbed at the tail, slippery with slick short hair, and was immediately propelled forward, trailing in Litius’ wake. Still, I promptly rearranged my position and collapsed onto his back, pinning him down with my entire weight.
From that vantage point, I could now indulge in some small talk. “Are you sick or something? I’ve saved your butt!”
“You must have followed me... You were l-l-looking for me. You want to k-k-kill me or even s-s-sell me.”
“Yes, that’s why I dragged you out of that hole, so I could skin you at leisure.”
“You know that I’m a Ment-t-t-tate.”
“I think you’re a wimpy alley cat. The sign said you were a Mentate. I don’t even know what that means!”
After much struggling to escape my platonic but firm embrace, Litius suddenly went quiet.
“I have Insight,” I explained. “I can see information about everyone.”
“Insight,” I could hear a note of remorse in Litius’ voice. “I’m s-s-s-sorry, I... I...”
“I’ll let you go, but only on two conditions. First, promise you won’t throw yourself at me like a soldier on leave at the sight of a half-naked girl.”
“Exc-c-cuse me?”
“I mean, promise you won’t try to kill me. And secondly, I want you to tell me everything.”
“What ex-x-xactly?”
“Why you wanted to kill me. Do we have a deal?”
“D-d-deal.”
I didn’t release him immediately, just loosened my grip slightly. But Litius seemed to have changed his mind. Still, I leaped aside and reached for my knife, just in case. It was unlikely that I’d have a chance to cause him any serious harm — my knife would all but graze his thick hide — but I wasn’t about to give in just like that.
“Have you calmed down?”
“You really don’t know what a M-m-mentate is?”
“Search me. And stop looking at me like Bill Clinton at Monica Lewinsky. I really don’t know what a Mentate is. You tell me.”
“Then you need to p-p-promise you won’t t-t-tell anyone what I’m gonna say.”
“Scout’s honor,” I said, raising my hand.
Litius slumped to the ground and covered his cat face with his hands in a weary, sad gesture. His shoulders started to tremble as though he were crying. It sort of frightened me. Watching women cry always flustered me, to say nothing of men. But Litius raised his head and calmly began to speak.
“I was b-b-born in Ullum, the world of the Beastmen. I m-m-mean, it wasn’t our world at first. After we lost the Thirty-Year War, they started sending my kind to Ullum. Then it became known as the world of the Beastmen.”
“Hold on. If you know about other worlds...”
“We know all about the Players, Gods, Avatars, and all the other worlds, both of Darkness and Light, as well as those which are called Hazy, the ones with black passageways between them. We know about everything. But humans still think we’re inferior to them. They insult us and call us dirty alley cats, reptiles, and stinking fish,” he gave a disappointed shrug.
“Litius, forgive me for pointing this out, but you’ve stopped stuttering.”
“I only stutter when I’m nervous,” he said with a sad smile. “So anyway, the only way to escape Ullum is by becoming a Seeker. Or a Player, as you call them here.”
“And you became one.”
“A group of Players got into a scuffle next to our settlement. Six of them were killed, so six new ones could take their place. I was one of them. But fate threw me for a loop.”
“What do you mean? You wanted to escape from your world and you did.”
“You don’t understand. As if in jest, the Game assigned me the most valuable development branch of them all. It would have much better suited a mechanoid who have a natural aptitude for it — but instead, it was endowed upon a beastman. You know what I mean? I’m a Mentate.”
“We’re right back where we started. What does this mentalism or mentatiness or whatever, give you? What’s the right word, anyway?”
“I can instantly memorize large volumes of information and operate with it. All kinds of knowledge come to me like the alphabet to a child who already knows how to read. Do you understand now?”
“So you’re like a sophisticated computer on two legs — sorry, on four. What’s wrong with that? You should be happy. This Mentate branch sounds like a dream come true.”
“How many friends do you think I have? Or how many Players do you think have tried to kill or enslave me once they found out about my branch? You were surprised that I attacked you. But if a Seeker says ‘Mentate’ to me, in the next second he’s either going to stab me or cast a spell on me. Which is why-”
I was all ears; I even crouched on the freezing ground: Korls couldn’t catch a cold, anyway. Which was why I missed the moment when Litius darted toward me. His claws sank into my shoulders. I couldn’t do anything even if I wanted to: my charges were still at seven, and my reaction times were lamentably inferior to those of my adversary.
I smelled Litius’ hot, fish-scented breath. What in the world had those devils been feeding him?
“Swear to me...” he began.
“To do what — brush my teeth in the morning?” I asked, trying to turn away.
“I want you to swear that you won’t tell anyone that I’m a Mentate.”
“And you’ll believe me?”
“Repeat after me: I swear to Litius from Ullum that I won’t tell anyone that he’s a mentate.”
“Oh, give me a break!”
“Swear.”
“OK, OK. I swear to Litius from Ullum that I won’t tell anyone that he’s a Mentate-”
A bright light momentarily blinded me. I squinted. When I opened my eyes, Litius was watching me, looking pleased as the cat who got the cream.
“Now what?” I asked.
“Nothing. Now you really won’t be able to tell anyone anything about me.”
“What if I want to?”
“Then... let’s not talk about the consequences. I’m so happy I have a friend now! You’re the first Player I’ve met in a long time to whom I’ve been able to talk to openly.”
Litius’ eyes were beaming with happiness. If you asked me, friends like him rather belonged in a petting zoo, but I kept this notion to myself. Instead, I stuck out my hand, solidifying our crazy friendship with a handshake. I’d just need to go to the pet store to buy him a special bone to clean his teeth: that dismal smell was painful.
“I found something in the lair,” Litius said, pulling a bundle out of thin air. “You might find it useful.”
When I unfolded the bundle, it turned out to be a trench coat, old and tattered like the one Columbo used to wear in that old TV series. Still, its drab appearance was deceitful: this was a magic coat if ever I’d seen one.
Destroyer Mage’s Trench Coat
Adaptable to owner’s level
+100 to mana.
+7% to damage from all Destruction spells used by the owner.
+6% to absorption of all hostile Destruction spells.
And no disadvantages or postscripts in fine print. It was just a gift.
I put it on. I probably looked like a scarecrow in a cornfield in it. Whatever. I pulled out my mirror and took another look. Well, well, well. To an unsophisticated eye, the garment looked just like a regular sports jacket.
“The Lying Mirror,” Litius said.
“I don’t know, probably. Someone gave it to me.
May I?”
Litius nodded. “Of course.”
The funniest thing was that commoners saw Litius as a rather good-looking young man with wheat-colored hair, a small beard and a wide, amiable face. Despite its ordinariness, his appearance was quite memorable.
“How’d you pull this trench coat out of nothing?” I asked.
“All Seekers have storage units.”
“Like those at the railway station?” I asked jokingly.
“Exactly. No one can take things from there without the owner’s permission. Unless, of course, you’re a top-level thief.”
Hmmm. I looked inside myself, so to speak, and poked around in the interface. In the left-hand corner I saw an icon that looked like a tiny bag. They couldn’t have thought of a better place to put it, could they?
I opened it. It was empty.
“Where do you live anyway, in the community?” I asked, putting the little mirror into a pocket of my coat.
“No. As I said before, no one likes the Beastmen. Even if you’re a Player. So I try to keep a low profile. I live among the commoners in a rented apartment. Here, take this.”
He held out a business card: a plain white rectangle printed with a phone number, an assumed name, and a job title. Apparently, he was an IT security specialist. So!
“If you need anything, give me a call,” he said. “I owe you. Or just text me.”
“In that case, let’s get out of here. I think I came from over there.”
“That’s right. If you trust the maps, there are only two places in the city where you run into this kind of configuration of the water supply canal. One is in the industrial zone and the other in the wooded area. In both cases you need to head northeast. Don’t look at me like that — I’m a Mentate,” Litius added, laughing.
I liked his laugh. It was soft, velvety and comforting, like the purring of a cat. After everything that had happened, it was just what I needed.
I activated Light and walked forward.
Your Illusion skill has increased to level 5.
You’ve reached level 4.
Available points: 3
Strength: 23 (x3)
Intellect: 15 (x)
Fortitude: 20 (x)
Agility: 14 (x3)
Stamina: 15 (x)
Rhetoric: 12 (x)
Speed: 16 (x)
Only two characteristics had coefficients attached to them this time: Strength and Agility. If my memory served me correctly, I used to level up Hand-to-Hand Fighting, Short Blades, Blocking, and Illusions. That last skill had only increased by a point, so no bonus was given to Rhetoric.
Unhesitantly I invested in Strength, Agility (seeing as there were bonuses), and Intellect. The latter gave an advantage to mana, and at some point I intended to become a wizard even though I was yet to unlock any skills related to that branch. So be it.
Litius and I parted ways at the bus stop. With a farewell swish of his tail, he bounded onto the bus as though he hadn’t been imprisoned for weeks in the devils’ lair. I sat down on a bench and anxiously felt my side. Although my clothes were filthy and stiff with caked frozen blood, the wounds were gone. Also, once I’d made a new level, the maximum amount of Health I could have had been brought to 60 and the Health itself, completely regenerated. Magic!
But I was wiped out — not so much physically as mentally. I’d met a Beastman, completed a mission, and got myself a magic trench coat. I was so drained I didn’t feel anything apart from a desire to sleep off the hunt.
I opened the app on my phone and called a cab. I wasn’t in the mood to commute with the rest of ‘em.
My apartment gave me a cold reception — literally. For one thing, the house goblin didn’t run out into the hall to greet me. For another, the apartment truly was chilly, as though someone had opened a window in the...
“Bumpkin! Hello? What’s going on?”
The room was quite a scene. A sheet of old fiberboard covered the now-paneless window frame. This little alteration of my room’s design had significantly improved its air conditioning properties.
“Bumpkin!”
Something rustled in the kitchen. The culprit appeared before me, his head hunched between his shoulders, his eyes avoiding mine.
“What is this?”
“Fiberboard,” the goblin answered grimly.
“Well look at you, you have quite the vocabulary! What’s it doing there?’
“It’s covering the window.”
“Yes, I can see that. Why is it covering it?”
“I broke the glass,” Bumpkin said, wiping his nose with his hand.
“And how did you manage to do that?”
“I was washing the windows.”
“Ooooph,” I collapsed weakly onto the couch. “Who washes windows in subzero temperatures?”
“I thought...”
“OK, OK. Where did you get the fiberboard?”
“From over there,” the house goblin said, pointing to the wardrobe.
I frowned. My wardrobe wasn’t known for any excessive storage space. It wasn’t Narnia, after all.
I opened the wardrobe door and heaved another sigh. The crafty house goblin had ripped out the backing panel which now offered an excellent view of the wallpaper behind it.
“You’re gonna kick me out now?” the goblin sniffed without lifting his head.
“Oh...”
To be honest, I’d love to. Really. But there were two things that stopped me: my pity for the wayward creature and Bumpkin’s cooking skills. Even my mother didn’t cook like that.
“You’re safe... for now. Just please don’t touch anything. Please.”
Somehow I doubted my words had sunk in. Although Bumpkin had nodded, I could see that he definitely agreed to disagree. Forcing a house goblin not to do any housework is probably like forcing me not to drink beer. Talking about which...
I peeled off the trench coat and went into the kitchen. It wasn’t exactly cold, but it was kind of brisk, enough to make someone want to knock back a pint or two. I clearly remembered buying a few bottles to help me get through a hard day — like this one.
Full of anticipation, I opened the refrigerator and...
“Bumpkin!”
“What’s up now, Master?” the goblin asked, materializing on top of a kitchen stool.
“Where’s the beer?”
“There wasn’t any beer.”
“The bottles were right here.”
“Oh, that was piss, not beer. The brewer should be shot. I looked at it, sniffed it, and even tasted it. Your shop owner is a cheat. I poured it all down the drain.”
“Oh, Bumpkin...”
I was dying to grab him by the neck and squeeze it gently until I heard it crack. Still, I managed to suppress the urge. Mentally commending my self-restrain, I filled the tea kettle and lit the burner.
“Don’t you. Ever. Touch. My. Beer,” I said coldly.
“Got it,” the goblin replied. Now I could see that I’d finally gotten through to him.
We drank tea in a tense silence. Rather, I drank tea while the goblin sat next to me, trying to blend in with the decor. Yeah, karma’s a bitch. I brushed my teeth, showered, and dove into my bed, which Bumpkin had unfolded. OK, I guess he was good for certain things.
I tossed and turned for a long time, staring at the ceiling and listening to the cars driving by outside. Thanks to the goblin, my apartment’s sound insulation was now non-existent.
I finally dozed off an hour later. I had strange dreams, to put it mildly.
I was walking, but I couldn’t see the road. I followed the soft sound of a melodious voice beckoning me. I knew it wasn’t a trap. They were waiting for me there, up ahead. They’d been waiting a long, long time.
The darkness was almost tangible. It seemed to be touching me, trying to hold me back. Closing up all around me. And it wasn’t happy that I was there.
I heard a soft knocking sound up ahead. The darkness hissed and shrank, retreating. I was now f
acing several beams of light slashing through the gloom. I could just make out the outlines of figures beyond them.
Knock-knock-knock. The light grew brighter. It caressed me, filling all the available space and chasing away the grim darkness.