The Mists of Erantia (Realm of Arkon Book 7) Read online

  "Phylactery," Vaessa corrected me mechanically.

  "Like I said, whatever you call it," I looked away toward the distant hills. "Look, I'm sorry, too... But we couldn't have stayed behind, you know that as well as I do."

  Vaessa nodded and lowered her head in silence.

  "Be sure to take your own advice, prince," Kan messaged me in a private channel without turning around.

  I looked him in the back, not knowing what to say. Everyone's always a genius when it comes to the affairs of others, but not themselves... We rode for a few minutes in silence. The forest was drawing nearer, with the wind changing directions, and the scent of river now permeating the air.

  "There's one thing keeps bothering me," Reece said. "We're headed to Vaedarr, are we not? The big city with grand balls, nobility... I assume the knight-commander had told us the truth."

  "What's bothering you, exactly?" Kan turned around, the irony in his tone accompanied by an arched eyebrow.

  "Auntie doesn't have a single ball gown," the mage shook his head despondently, casting a look full of sorrow at Vaessa. "How is she expected to do a proper curtsy in those pants? I may not know everything about etiquette, but that just won't do! Imagine the looks of scorn on those noble gentlemanly faces..."

  Without waiting for a reply, the mage prudently halted his horse and let Raena get ahead of him.

  "Up ahead! One and a half centuries of soldiers under Baron Rayne's banners!" one of the scouts reported from atop a hill "All mounted. One wagons carrying prisoners. Moving in the direction of the forest."

  "And the baron himself?" the knight-commander asked.

  "He's with them," there was undisguised joy in the fox's voice. "Though his hair is significantly grayer. Kovul and Laega are with him!"

  "Friendlies," Kan smiled in response to my quizzical glance. "Baron Ulrich An-Rayne is Count d'Arysak's vassal. His father had died on the same day as Elsa... To the hills!" standing up in his stirrups, the knight-commander indicated the change of direction. "Saverus, this way! Prince, my lady! Let's go say hello to an old soldier."

  "Sure," with an annoyed look at the mage who was suddenly lagging behind, Vaessa turned and called to her dragons.

  "By the way, my lady, Vaedarr is teeming with the finest craftsmen. Should you wish it, they can tailor a gown for you within a matter of hours." Kan added innocently, looking over his perked-up troops. "So, you have nothing to worry about."

  With a nod to an approaching Saverus, the knight-commander gave me a wink on the sly, then turned and spurred his lizard toward the hills.

  "Smart guys everywhere... What have I done to deserve so much smartness..."

  Vaessa watched him ride off, then drew a sigh, shook her head... and smiled.

  Who says talk therapy is useless? I found Reece with my eyes, the mage hiding behind the main formation, and gave a slight nod of appreciation. Then, hitting the boar's sides with my heels, I followed after Saverus and Kan.

  Chapter 9

  We were spotted right away. As soon as we rounded the far hill, a gray-haired broad-shoulder man riding in front of a procession of mounted troops gestured toward us. The soldiers began to fall into battle formation without any particular urgency, at the end of which they produced short crossbows out of their saddle bags. At a distance of about a quarter mile, we couldn't make out their faces or levels, but only their armor—a mix of chain and plate. There were three wagons—two stuffed with miscellaneous junk, and one with five players sporting bright, unambiguously red names. PKers, huh? Interesting... Then again, player-killing was no longer the crime it used to be. There were no "player-killers" left, but only killers. Maybe these five stole something valuable? Well, my curiosity would be slaked before long.

  In the meantime, three people—the baron, a red-haired woman and a bald giant bearing a rectangular tri-colored standard—slowly rode out in front, put on their helms, and set to waiting for the uninvited guests.

  "Laega is the baron's wife, and Kovul his cousin," Kan clarified as my boar caught up to his lizard. "Once, the man managed to break out of a besieged castle, then traveled for three days while gravely wounded to Tien Mahar, the count's city residence, where Lars and I were waiting for Altus and his team."

  The knight-commander gave a bitter chuckle, then threw up his fist, and bellowed.

  "Halt! Stay in your saddles unless ordered otherwise!"

  From there, we rode as four, not counting George and Lola who naturally waddled along after their mistress. When no more than five hundred feet separated us from the trio ahead, the woman gestured toward us, turned around and shouted something to the giant. The wind swallowed up the words, but the meaning was clear just the same... Ripping the helm off his head, the baron spurred his horse toward us, settling into a trot. His face... No words could describe it. It was the face of a student who went to a strip club and found his teacher working the pole. And not the hot MILF all his friends were constantly pining for, but the one from his distant childhood, who had also taught his father a generation ago.

  "Kan?! Saverus?! I thought you were dead!" the baron gasped, reining in his horse as he peered into the knight-commander's face. Then he shifted his eyes to me and his jaw fell. Finally, he took a look at Vaessa and her dragons...

  "Mistress! Prince! Forgive me, I didn't recognize you from afar..." he nodded, tracing his hand along the vertical stripe on his right cheekbone mechanically, then turned to his companions behind him, as if for support.

  I wasn't going to hold it against the fellow. How could he have expected to run into his old acquaintances, let alone ones he'd considered dead for three centuries, and in the company of a demon astride a razorback with Celphata's high priestess and a pair of pocket dragons in tow? Besides, any player necromancer worth their salt always traveled with a disguise spell on their lizard mount, and Vaessa's had to be significantly more powerful, so that your average Joe with seventy five percent mental resistance would need to be within fifty yards to spot them, and even then only if he knew what to look for. Otherwise, twenty five yards was the distance where just about anybody could see them, but that was a short distance indeed... This was also why the soldiers in the Dorca square hadn't noticed them right away during the auto-da-fe.

  "Not everyone made it out," Kan frowned, glancing back at the century standing a hundred yards back. "Lars, Monsieur Altus, the twins, Alsa... We've lost more than half of our fighters..."

  "Altus is dead?!" the baron's wife leaned forward, along with her horse, sizing down Saverus with skepticism. "But then... how did you survive?"

  "It's a long story," the mage sighed. "Too long to get into it now."

  The baron ran his hands over his face, ruffling his hair.

  "Wait! Mistress," he turned toward Vaessa. "Prince... I welcome you to my lands, and invite you to visit my castle." He turned and pointed in the forest's direction. "It's about ten more miles down the road."

  "Greetings to you and your people, too, baron," I nodded. "Unfortunately, we must decline your invitation for want of time. Vaedarr is in danger."

  The local hospitality was a dangerous thing, at least according to Kan. You'd pop in for a day, and end up staying a month.

  "The prince's assessment of the situation is rather mild," Kan said in support of my words. "We really are in a hurry, earl."

  "In that case, I propose to pitch camp here," Ulrich said with a shrug. "Let your people rest, and in the evening Kovul will sent you all to the border of the crown lands, to the Aqasana crossing. He was there an hour ago, back when the undead was blocking the border. How do you like that plan, prince?"

  Kan sniffed and gave me a questioning look.

  "As long as you keep that dwarven moonshine away from me and my troops, sure," I smiled. "One more question, earl. Who are those people in the wagon?"

  "Ah, yes. I understand your interest, prince." The baron looked back at the wagon in question, and then back at me. "You are also a—"

  "A two-lived?"

>   "Yes! I've seen hundreds of your compatriots, brother." Ulrich turned to his companions, as if calling them to witness. "Now, granted, neither me nor my people have ever met anyone quite like you. A demon prince ranked captain of the Order and personally marked by our god... Nevertheless, we had visitors. Single visitors, as well as entire centuries. Some helped out here and there, others hunted, others yet killed brigands that have exploded in number in recent years. Once, nearly a thousand two-lived set out to try and fight their way through to the light elves, but barely over a century came back. The rest resurrected in Nahlle, by the gravestones." He pointed toward the hills, then looked back at us. "You do know what happened here a week ago, don't you?"

  "If you're referring to the undead blocking the Erantian border, then yes," Kan nodded. "We even encountered some on the eastern border."

  "When it all began, the count tried his damnedest to reach the Great Forest. I joined him, along with my troops. But it was useless. Three undead legions were blocking the road, led by an arch lich and nearly half a century of cerraths. They just stood there, waiting, as if to show that there was no getting through. So we retreated... I had warned the leader of that cohort of two-lived that they wouldn't make it, but they refused to listen. They were good fighters, and brave, but..."

  The baron turned, waving a hand in the wagons' direction.

  "These are the disavowed, brother. They had managed to strike some kind of deal with the undead, and made a den in Wolce's ruined sanctuary. A Myrt priest from Nahlle soon disappeared, followed by two of my soldiers... And nobody bothered to keep count of all the missing farmers. One girl managed to escape after getting waylaid on the road. It wasn't hard to find them—the bastards love defiling the sanctuaries of others. So, as soon as the undead left, we paid them a visit." Ulrich sighed, then gave me a hard stare. "I trust I need not tell you what we've found in the ransacked sanctuary?"

  "You're not afraid of them escaping?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

  "No," Ulrich shook his head. "Adamantine chains reinforced with truesilver runes will hold tougher bastards than that. We killed every single one of them a dozen times right at their bind point, and confiscated their gear. They're no longer of danger to anyone, prince, though they remain persons of interest. For me personally and for my executioner. I hope that your curiosity is satisfied now, brother? If so... Mistress, prince, Kan, Saverus... I shall wait for you in my tent in exactly one hour."

  With a nod, Ulrich turned his horse around and rode toward the road.

  Well, sure. The folks who were formerly NPCs aren't idiots, and are capable of putting two and two together, I thought, looking at his broad back. A former player couldn't change his bind point if killed by a native denizen of this realm. This was our weakest spot, and you shouldn't go around sharing where you would resurrect in the event of death. As for those two-legged monsters... If a dozen deaths weren't enough to cleanse their sins, as evidenced by the unchanged color of their names, their sins must be long and grave indeed. But why was it that, in addition to rage, I also felt a kind of shame?! Did I still associate myself with them? But there were so many others! Like the cohort he'd mentioned earlier! And those who wouldn't think twice about following me into the tomb of a forgotten god... Bonbon, Donut, Alex, Luffy... We were all from the same planet.

  "Give the order, Kan," I addressed the knight-commander, gesturing at the century behind us, and then at the road. "These people ought to hear about the demise of those they called friends..."

  ***

  I had always detested fish sticks. Throughout my entire adult life, I associated fish sticks with misery. My mom never cooked them at home, but every summer camp I remembered served this abomination of a food nearly every damn day. Now, I never was a mama's boy, but when you're consistently the second or third shortest kid in camp—far enough on the food chain that no girl even looks your way—and a wise ass to boot, which is hardly ever popular with the boys, especially if bite-sized, all in all, that makes for an explosive combination. After kicking a few asses—and getting my ass kicked a few times in return—I had earned myself a spot under the sun. Others left me alone, and I was content with that. I played sports and read books on my tablet during the day, and picked at those revolting fish sticks in the evening... And now, would anyone care to hazard a guess as to the signature dish served in this camp? Funny how life makes circles around us sometimes...

  I pushed away my plate, took a few sips from the potbellied clay tankard, then leaned back against the wall and took a contemplative look around.

  This tavern looked very much like any other. A T-shaped wooden structure unevenly boarded up, with three stories, a bar, and a corner for playing dice. There wasn't a single empty table, despite it being ten in the morning, with the free mine having opened three hours ago. A dozen or so chickens were being roasted on multiple spits. The patrons were mostly players, many of them sneaking glances our way that were surprisingly lacking in surprise. But then, I had activated the disguise feature on my ring back at the crossing, leaving only my character's name and hiding everything else, including titles, achievements, and level. But if the players were deceived without much effort, the bartender—a seasoned soldier by the looks of him—wasn't so easily duped. Earlier that day, when our squad stopped by his establishment and the foxes were stocking up on supplies, he was watching us bid each other goodbye...

  "So, did you think of a plan, pri... Krian?" Teetotaler coughed, grimacing his annoyance at himself.

  "Call me Roman," I chuckled. "Seeing as you can't remember my character's name, anyway. Though it really doesn't matter what my friends call me."

  "Oh, I know Roman quite well," the mage smiled. "And Bonbon's quip about your facial expressions serving as a laxative is apropos here... What's on your mind?"

  "Nothing, forget it," I shook my head. "We proceed as planned: you and Myrrha go to your people, Masyanya and Bonbon wait at the Wheel, while Donut and I peek into the sewers."

  "I wouldn't really call them sewers," the assassin smiled. "It's more like... rotting food and animal carcasses, and rats around level 27..."

  "They can be level 150 for all I care," I shrugged, then turned to Bonbon, who had been strangely taciturn all this time.

  "Unless you changed your mind? Maybe go see your wife first?"

  "No..." he shook his head sheepishly. "I'm with you, like we planned." Folding his hands in front of him on the table, he put his head down, and added. "I feel... scared for some odd reason. Who would have thought..."

  "As you say," I nodded. "Then let's finish eating and go. I want to be done by sundown, and who knows how long we'll be prowling those catacombs."

  It had taken us three days to reach Shanama. After a conversation with the baron and his people that lasted nearly seven hours but yielded almost zero new information, we took a portal to Gharot, a city on the border of the crown lands. The crossing took probably five hours, whereupon we camped for the night right there, on the bank of the Great River, and set course to Vaedarr the following morning. Aqasana was a river that deserved a special mention. Next to its size and grandness, Ithele that ran through my princedom looked like a harmless forest creek. Springing from the orcish steppe in the northeast, the river ran all the way to Erantia, crossing five out of eight great princedoms in the process, and flowed into the Great Ocean in the west. At the place of our crossing it was over one and a half miles wide, and seeing as this realm still wasn't yet capable of engineering feats like the Golden Gate Bridge, we had no choice but make the crossing on huge square rafts.

  Even at a distance of some two hundred miles from the capital, I began to experience the so-called culture shock. It wasn't that there were many players—there was a ridiculous amount of players. Picture a pygmy who had been transplanted and dropped in the middle of Manhattan... Then again, the pygmy example probably applied more to Max and his forest-dwelling crew, whereas I was more of an Eskimo... Castles, villages, towns—players were everywhere
. If you rode across my entire kingdom—all two hundred twenty miles of it, without stopping at settlements—you'd be lucky to encounter a hundred demons on the road, but here... The passers-by stared at the elves like at monkeys escaped from the zoo—pointing, waiving their hands, and pestering us with questions... But only until they saw Reece and Vaessa with her dragons. Long story short, by the morning of the third day we had to disguise everyone, and release George and Lola—the alternative would be straight up killing all those overly curious types. The illusion simply turned everyone human; facial features, level, class and specialization all remained the same. As for Gloom, he was made to look like a black horse-cart. And all thanks to Saverus, who had supplied me with several dozen disguise scrolls, each one lasting a natural day. The zones here in the crown lands topped out at level 60, meaning the folks we encountered had low mental magic resistance, so the trick was working so far. The journey almost inspired gratitude for the artists responsible for drawing these roads, else it would have taken considerably longer. But now we had almost made it—from the entrance to the noob copper mine one block over, Vaedarr was no more than five miles away.

  A little over an hour ago, Kan, Vaessa, Reece, Raena and the rest of them headed off to Calterra, to the residence of the Order of the Red Flame. Leaving me here to twiddle my thumbs and dwell on my sudden solitude. I was realizing that I'd gotten used to having them all near me: Saverus, the mages, even the reticent knights. And not because they made me feel like a pig in clover, but rather... Oh, hell if I knew. I sighed, then took a few more sips from the tankard, and lit my pipe. I was under no illusion that our paths weren't going to diverge someday, but that didn't make me feel any better. And then there was Vaessa being obstinate as a mule—it had taken me half of yesterday to explain why I could only take the rogue with me down to the catacombs. No, I wasn't going to kill anyone, but simply make it to Myrt's temple and show the crisscrossed amulet to that Sebastian fellow. And if we were to take our entire crew down there, our chances of running into a standard city patrol would increase tenfold. Which, in turn, would almost guarantee a messy situation as my loyal companions weren't likely to stand by and watch their valiant leader get attacked. In the end, my arguments proved convincing, and I expected them back in a week's time. Kan and Kan both had business to attend to, and Reece and Vaessa went along for company. A double date of sorts—or a triple date, counting the dragons.