by Dmitry Bilik
Hunter nodded. “Something like that.”
“And your friend here is Sergei?”
“He’s my student.”
“Is he really?” the man’s voice rang with surprise. He turned to me. “Very well. I’m the Order’s Grand Master. You’ve probably heard about me.”
“I might. I think they said something like that in chess news.”
I immediately felt a strong aversion to him. He was too groomed, too polished; in other words, fake. Strangely enough, although the Magister hadn’t made any effort whatsoever to be likeable, my first impression of him had been very positive. And here, the opposite was true.
“Very well,” the Grand Master gave me a meaningful look, “please take a seat. We need to talk.”
I posed my posterior on the already-familiar chair and fidgeted on its jacquard seat, feeling admittedly out of my depth. Hunter’s impassive presence felt somewhat soothing: he looked just like an English lord contemplating his next cricket match.
“We’ve been attacked,” the Grand Master said. “It happened when Oliverio left to meet me. All of the Seers were slaughtered. What’s more: it was one of the Seers who killed all the others.”
Hunter frowned. “A traitor?” his face turned grim. “Or...”
“Exactly. A Player in possession of the Destroyer God’s Avatar. One capable of controlling any living creature.”
“I thought the Destroyer’s Avatar was lost?”
“So did I. It has been a while. Did you hear what happened the last time a Player had the Destroyer’s Avatar? Did you hear what he did?”
“I sure did. From what I heard, it was a miracle they’d managed to stop Shiva at the last possible moment.”
“According to the Oracle, that’s exactly how it happened.”
“But why would the Destroyer attack your order?”
“I think it’s part of his plan. Everybody knows he’s after one particular Player. This one here,” the Grand Master theatrically raised his hand in the air and pointed his finger at me.
“Is it about his development branch?” Hunter asked.
“The funny thing is, it isn’t. That’s exactly what I thought at first. Given some practice, his ability to rewind time can become a killer weapon. But when I tried to read the past, I caught a glimpse of some of the Darkest One’s thoughts. He’s after the Avatar.”
I very nearly jumped in my seat. “You can read the past! That’s right! That’s what Eternity Weaver means!”
The Magister suppressed a smile.
The Grand Master cringed. “How insightful.”
“But that makes no sense,” Hunter said, ignoring my words. “Why would the Darkest One want the Savior’s Avatar if he’s already the Destructor, anyway? You can’t wear an opposite-karma Avatar, it’s a simple as that.”
“Think, man, think. Who can use both Avatars simultaneously?”
Hunter fell silent, his face strained in thought. He seemed to be trying to solve a math problem which was easy and tricky at the same time, as if the obvious answer evaded him.
“I thought he’d left this world?” he finally said.
“Well, he’s back now. I’m pretty sure it’s about the Avatar. Savior and Destructor are linked together. When this player had found the Avatar, the Other One sensed it straight away.”
“Gods are not almighty,” Hunter said. “You can fight them.”
“You can. And you should. I just wanted to make sure you knew who your student was dealing with. Just think what might happen if He collects both Avatars.”
“Well, in that case I feel sorry for the world where it happens. Or any other world, for that matter. What are you planning on doing?”
“Well,” the Grand Master grinned, “if Artan killed Sergei, that would be an ideal solution. He’s an expert with long-bladed weapons, his magic resistance is decent, and he already has a Warrior’s Avatar affiliated with Light.”
Hunter nodded. “In other words, he’s capable of using Savior’s Avatar.”
I wanted to jump off my seat and scream. WTF was going on? Had they forgotten I was still here? The way they were deciding my fate you’d think they were discussing who to slaughter for the festivities: me, or the fatted calf.
“Artan is a good match for Him,” the Grand Master said.
“He might even win,” Hunter added, “in which case he’ll acquire a third Avatar, making him the most powerful Player in Cesspit.”
“After the Oracle, of course.”
Hunter nodded. “Sure. After the Oracle.”
“But even if we broke our oaths and went against Cesspit laws, defiling the Seers’ reputation in the name of peace-”
“I wouldn’t let you do it. Sergei has his own path.”
“Do you know it?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. In that case, we’ll wash our hands of the whole matter. The Seers are not in danger anymore, anyway. Oliverio has already read his future.”
Hunter turned to the Magister. “What about the Darkest One?”
“He disappeared,” Oliverio replied. “It feels as if he’s left this world but we do know he’s around here somewhere. He’s amongst us. You know very well how it happens.”
“In that case, we have little time.”
“If you ask me, the Darkest One already knows which one of the Players harbors the Avatar. I’m surprised the boy is still alive, to tell you the truth.”
The boy? Did he think he was the big guy?
“As long as I know this, I’ll take care of it. Leave it all to me,” Hunter rose to his feet. “I’m not saying goodbye.”
“Likewise. Have a nice day.”
Seeing Hunter head for the exit, I also jumped to my feet and hurried after him. We didn’t say a word as we walked past Yulo. On an impulse, I nodded to him — and much to my surprise, he nodded back.
“Hunter, wait! Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“That was only a game he was playing. The Darkest One knew you had Savior in your possession. He knew who you were. So he had all those initiated Players slaughtered just to have an excuse to summon the Seers. Then he destroyed their Order just before their Grand Master arrived. Who in turn did his bit of eternity-weaving and saw he’d done it.”
“I don’t really understand. Why would he do that?”
“He wants Savior. That little is obvious. But not only that. Ever since he found out that you and I stick together, he changed his plans. He knows you’re my student now. So he showed us his true power. He wanted us to know there’s only one thing that can defeat him.”
“Which is?”
“Gramr.”
“Grammar? Sounds easy enough!”
“Well, it’s not. Gramr is the name of the sword that used to belong to a great Player who went on to become a God and met a tragic death. I found it by chance and immediately realized the power it possessed. The Darkest One knows about the sword, and it’s the only reason he hasn’t killed you yet.”
“You mean that he’s waiting for you to leave in order to fetch the sword so he could kill you first, and then kill me next?”
“Not necessarily in that order. But that’s what it boils down to, yes. That’s his plan. He’s the most cunning Seeker I’ve ever heard of.”
“In that case, wouldn’t it be a good idea not to do what he expects us to do?”
“Maybe not, but once he realizes we’ve foiled his plan, he’ll just kill you and drop off the radar. Which is why I absolutely need to fetch Gramr.”
“Do you have it here?”
“What an idea! That’s not the kind of thing you keep around you. It’s in a safe place. Too safe, actually.”
“So what do I do in the meantime?”
“Just keep it cool. Stick to your usual schedule. We don’t want Him to smell a rat. I’ll be back in a couple of days,” he slapped my shoulder and trotted toward the Community gates.
Oh, great. Just what I didn’t want to happen.
My
head was heavy. I needed to sit down and give it all a good ponder. But the moment I thought about it, someone gave me another slap on the shoulder.
“There you are, brave warrior,” Jan’s grim face loomed into view. “So you decided to play it safe too, I can see?”
“What do you mean?”
“Apparently, there’s a serial killer on the loose. The one who massacred all the Seers. From what I heard, the Community is the safest place in the city now. Hopefully.”
“Hopefully being the operative word. I don’t really know much about it, but according to the Grand Master, the Darkest One can be anywhere. And there’s nothing you can do to identify him.”
“Can’t say I like all this hoopla,” Jan said. “I think I’m gonna make myself scarce. I might leave in a couple of days, go sit it out in some other city. Or in Purgator even.”
Dammit. That essentially put a lid on my get-rich-quick plans.
“Where’s Litius?” I asked.
“He’s with his buddies over there,” Jan pointed.
He was right. So stupid of me not to have noticed him earlier. Litius was standing in a group of his brethren next to the lane leading toward the sachem’s house. That’s if the word “brethren” could be applied to a lamb-man and a lizard-man. Interestingly, the lamb-man was holding a small spiky creature on a leash.
Like, an animal walking an animal? What kind of racist thoughts were these?
To add to it, Litius was doing just that: standing. The beastmen didn’t seem to be engaged in any form of conversation or whatever. It must have been danger that had forced them to stick together as a group. Which apparently didn’t imply they were to become friends.
“Follow me,” I told Jan. “We need to talk.”
I walked over to our feline companion and his group. “May I steal your friend?” I gave him a confident tug on his sleeve as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
The other beastmen didn’t seem to care. The little spiky thing did growl though, pulling on its leash until it hung in mid-air.
“Need to talk,” I repeated to Litius.
“Where?” Jan asked.
Indeed, we were standing right in the way of a busy human traffic. Not the best place for the kind of conversation I had in mind.
“What if we go to the Syndicate?” I offered.
Jan chuckled. “Where do you think they’re all going?”
“Or to a shop.”
“That’s what everybody’s doing now, buying up weapons and potions.”
He was right, dammit. Having said that... I did know of one other place.
“Let’s go,” I said.
We were already halfway there when Jan perked up and caught up with me. “Pointless going to the Gate,” he said. “It’s absolutely packed there.”
“I’m not going to the Gate. Or rather, I am, but not quite,” I said, confusing him further.
True, the Gatehouse was quite popular today as the most faint-hearted of the Players hurried to leave Cesspit which suddenly wasn’t so safe anymore. Well, whatever turns them on. Personally, I didn’t consider Purgator a very cozy place, either. Not during the Red Moon, anyway. But they were already overtaken by a mass hysteria, lining up to get out.
We stopped just short of the panicking queue. I walked over to the second house on the right and knocked.
“Go screw yourself, shit for brains!” a voice came from behind the door.
He wasn’t in a hurry to open up, was he? I knocked again.
“I’m gonna kick your head right in so that your ass will stare at Elhvell!”
Judging by his tone, Elhvell wasn’t a particularly nice place, either. I heard the clinking of bottles, followed by heavy footsteps. The door swung open.
The sight of the half-naked Traug was sufficiently scary for me to shrink back, as did the nearest part of the waiting line which hurried to arch away. My friends, too, took a few steps back.
“Ah, it’s you,” Traug’s voice softened. “Haisa, man.”
“Haisa to you too. You said I could speak to you if ever I needed help.”
“Well...”
“Didn’t you say that Korls should stick together?”
“So they should,” he heaved a sigh, enveloping me in stale alcohol fumes. “Come on in, then.”
“Er... I’m not alone,” I stepped aside, allowing him to take in the figures of Jan and Litius.
Traug’s studying gaze slid over the beastman, then lingered on the magus. Finally, he nodded. “Get in, all of you.”
He stepped aside to let us pass. “If any fucker knocks on this door again, I’ll smear his brains on my toast!” he barked to the waiting line.
The last thing I saw was the sufficiently motivated queue hurrying to move to the opposite side of the street.
“Take a seat,” Traug snapped at us.
I looked around. Where did he want us to squat, actually? Whatever free space there was, was taken up by all sorts of junk: old glass, crushed boxes, scraps of parchment and bits of broken pottery. Interestingly, Traug wasn't that squeamish, judging by the empty bottles of local booze sitting next to the finer wares served up by the Syndicate.
“What’s all this?” I asked. “Was it your birthday yesterday?”
“As if,” Traug wheezed. “There’s nothing to do here, is there? It helps me to kill time. Finding proper work here is real hard. I have to keep myself busy somehow. There’s nothing worse for a man than doing nothing.”
His scarred but powerful chest heaved as he sighed. There was so much strength pent up in this compatriot of mine! And most importantly, this strength was waiting to out.
“Now,” I began. “I think I’ve come up with a way to raise a lot of dust quickly. It’s not the safest of ways, I have to admit, but it can be done. We already have a team: a mage healer, a beastman scout and a Korl warrior. All we need now is a wizard.”
Chapter 22
HAVING A GOOD balanced team is half the battle. Robert Oppenheimer used to have his Engineer District which was later called the Manhattan Project. Thomas Edison had Menlo Park; Katy Perry has her Christian music label. Although I wasn’t as lucky as this undoubtedly most talented singer of our time, I wasn’t doing so badly, either.
I was sitting at Traug’s, drinking Buds and contemplating the meaning of life while Jan and Litius were outside keeping an eye on the Community gate. Traug and I were supposed to replace them after half an hour.
I glanced at my phone. If the Player we needed hadn’t turned up within the next hour, I’d have to split. I still had the date with Julia to make.
Still, it looked like Traug wasn’t meant to venture outside today. With a short knock, Litius stormed into the house. “He’s there!”
“Where is he?”
“At the enchanter’s.”
“And Jan?”
“He’s following him.”
“I see. Now, get on over to the Syndicate and try to grab a table, by hook or by crook. I’m gonna get him. Hopefully.”
I ran outside, wrapping my trench coat around me. Okay, let’s think. The enchanter lived in the fourth house from the other end of the street. I’d never been inside but I’d been past it a few times, so I knew more or less where it was.
The sight of Jan hanging about the front door was confirmation enough.
“Is he inside?” I asked.
Jan nodded. “He is.”
I psyched myself up and walked in.
The enchanter’s house was just an old Russian-style log hut like many more in our town — but unlike them, it was still in one piece. In fact, it appeared to have been recently built.
I lingered in the dark hallway for a while, then went through to the living room. It was hung with swords and staffs, lined with scrolls and absolutely packed with Players crowding around the enchanter: a rather short man of undetermined age.
I located Harph straight away. He stood humbly with all the others, not trying to talk over them, and patiently waited his t
urn. A few Seekers were just hanging aimlessly about the house, just like I was. Interestingly, no one even tried to touch any of the items, let alone steal them. Either their respect for the enchanter was so great, or they were simply scared of his retribution. Whatever the reason, the crime rate in this particular part of the Community was 0.0%.
The Seekers’ needs were all different. One asked for his staff to be recharged, another wanted some protection to be cast on his armor. Yet another one wanted his sword to spew fire. You could say that the Darkest One had our peaceful backwater quaking, that’s for sure.