Patch 17 (Realm of Arkon) (31 page)

There were squelching sounds from the staircase, as the Agent of Death himself crawled into the hallway. The quaggy, sponge-like mass and the trail of brown-green slime underneath now blocked nearly the entire space. A set of unblinking yellow eyes bored into now-still Cymon.
What the hell is happening with Kert?
The tifling noticed the monster start to shake and, remembering what usually followed, covered the twenty-yard distance between him and the Agent of Death with a single leap. Cymon kicked with his metallic boot, interrupting the monster's cast, then drove both of his heirloom blades into the beast's unblinking eyes.

The floor beneath him gave way. Paying no mind to the bloodcurdling wail of the wounded monster, Cymon gazed into the mouth of the volcano bearing down on them. Smiling, as if to an old friend...

***

"Can you hear me? What's wrong with you?" Master Prant kept asking me in distress.

I was standing, gripping the tabletop, my breath short and shallow. It took me several seconds to realize the vision was over. No more plague carriers, no more Agents of Death.
What have I done to deserve this...
I sighed mentally, then said to Prant:

"I'm all right, master. Just got dizzy for a bit, is all."

"You need a medic, young man," the demon shook his head. "You were standing there with your eyes closed for a good five minutes. I didn't know what to do with you."

"At least it wasn't a few hours," I chuckled. "I will definitely take your advice. But for now, I must take my leave." I nodded goodbye to him. Then, lurching slightly, I left the premises.

I was sitting in the shade of a small tree by the pond, next to the library, gazing at the calm water and gradually recovering my senses. The clock was showing close to noon; there was a ton of time till dinner at Ylsan's, so I wasn't in any hurry. In essence, I already knew what needed to be done, but I didn't want to change my plans. New information certainly wouldn't hurt, nor a chat with the healer's father.

So, what did I find out? That Krajde was a barbarian princedom spanning two provinces, and that it was cursed by Ahriman. Some answers, but a boatload more questions as well.

First of all, barbarians weren't supposed to have princedoms; they lived in clans or tribes. That much I knew, and I didn't feel like looking up barbarian culture on wiki. Could Prant have been wrong? No, NPCs couldn't err—if he didn't know the answer, he would have simply kept quiet. Fine, let's just accept it as a given that barbarians had decided to found a princedom—what the hell did I care?

Secondly, why would Ahriman bother cursing a fairly large territory like that? I had no doubt that he was capable of it—after all, he was on par with gods here—but what was the point? He'd already driven out the light army, so why curse the land? Even if he had somehow learned that the light forces were hiding somewhere, it still didn't make sense since the curse wouldn't affect them. Maybe the reason had to do with the actions of the local lord whom the Foxes and Altus' mages had put to rest? There was something about the renounced and cursed gods... The second version seemed more probable, but it didn't really matter—I wouldn't know anything anyway until I got to the archives. Unless Ylsan's father had something to say on the matter.

Thirdly, I now knew the cause of the explosion and fire in the west wing, and the journey through those two floors was shaping up to be rather interesting. I wasn't worried about encountering anything truly scary—according to Prant, the area had already been cleared by mages when extracting the equipment. I was close to the ruined section of the palace, and had the time to at least walk over and sneak a peek.

It took me about ten minutes to get there. I'd passed a small lovely park with a fountain and several sculptural formations, rounded the barracks and ended up in the desired place. There wasn't anyone around save for a few gardeners a hundred yards away cutting the lawns. I didn't see any desolation around me, but only a long one-story extension with a solitary door. Even to the untrained eye it was obvious that this structure used to be at least several stories higher—it was simply too much of an eye sore amid the general architectural style.

I stopped near a large metal door leading to a level 80-85 instance, and sighed mentally—getting answers in the near future wasn't in the cards. Maybe there were games out there where a character could solo a dungeon ten levels above their level, but I sure as hell didn't know any. Considering that mobs in instances were roughly twice stronger than regular ones and usually came in packs of three to five, I'd need to be at least 100 before attempting this venture, and even that was optimistic. What was it Gerid had said? Small stuff: mice, rats, pups and the like... Maybe he didn't need to worry, but me... I shivered at the mental image of a level 85 mouse, then shrugged and, with a sigh of disappointment, set out to look for the healer's house.

In order to find the residence of my demon acquaintance, I had to skirt the entire territory of the Temple of All Gods. Passing by those white brick walls I realized it wouldn't hurt to have a peek inside the actual temple. In a world where gods were a real force, visiting a place in which you could address such a force directly could certainly prove useful. Besides, I'd already managed to gain the favor of one goddess. It was settled, then—after visiting Ylsan I would return to the temple and donate some money to Setara. What if something might come my way eventually as a result?

Once past the temple enclosure, I was finally on the right street. The large three-story house of the healer's family stood deep in the garden, barely visible from the main street. I pushed the creaking gate and proceeded along a narrow gravel road. Everything around me spoke of a woman's touch: the neatly pruned lilac bushes, the beds of daffodils and tulips set elegantly atop decorative stone, the small pool on the lawn, and the marble statue of a woman with a pitcher peeking through the fruit trees.

An elderly demoness in a white apron opened the door.

"You must be Krian. Young master said you were coming," she squinted at me nearsightedly. When I nodded affirmatively, she stood aside to let me through. "I'm going to call him. Please wait here," she gestured at the leather sofa just past the front door.

I thanked the woman, took a seat and waited, examining the fantastical potted plants.

"You're Krian?" a young girl stood on the steps of the staircase to the second floor, holding the rail. She wore a dress of pale pink, with a matching ribbon adorning the tip of her tail.

"I am, my lady," I rose from the couch and bowed my head slightly in a greeting.

The girl ran down the stairs and walked right up to me. She curtsied, then blatantly sized me down. She couldn't have been older than fourteen years of age, and her eyes burned with curiosity.

"I'm Velda, Raey's sister. And what's a 'lady'? Is that how you address women where you come from? Will you tell me what life is like up there?""

"Raey?" I echoed.

"Yes, Raey Dar Ylsan, my brother. Thank you for saving him, by the way."

"Got it," I smiled. "You're right, 'my lady' is the proper way to address a woman. And life up there is pretty similar to here, actually."

"Don't embarrass our guest, Velda," came a soft voice that belonged to a demoness around forty, wearing a house dress of dyed linen. Ylsan was standing right behind her, smiling.

"Daressa Ylsan," she introduced herself, extending her hand. "As you've probably realized, I am the mother of this young man, and I am very grateful to you for his safe return."

"Don't mention it, really," I was feeling awkward.

"Do you have children, Krian?"

"No," I said, and thought somberly that I probably would never have them. Then again, who knew with RP-17? Perhaps it had or would eventually manage to implement even this function...

"When you get them, you'll understand," she smiled. "My husband will be here in time for dinner. The table will be set in half an hour, so don't be late. Children, won't you show our guest the garden?" She gave her daughter a stern look for some reason, nodded at me and took her leave.

"Come," the mage beckoned me. He wore a pair of black silk pants and an orange tunic untucked.

"So, your name is Raey?" I asked him when we stepped outside.

"Uh huh," he grunted. "But out in the field I've gotten used to being called by my surname. If this grass here doesn't interest you," he motioned toward the flowerbeds, "let's go straight to the gazebo instead."

"I'll tell mom you called her flowers 'grass,'" Velda wagged her finger menacingly at her brother.

"I'm not scared," said the mage, then added, pointing at his sister. "Velda is on vacation, and she's working hard to help mother cultivate a wide variety of the local flora. Naturally, I'm using the words 'working hard' rather loosely, but mother is of the opinion that cultivating flowers is a suitable hobby for a young woman."

"Please, like you've never planted flowers yourself!" Velda countered sardonically, sticking her tongue out at her brother.

"There was a time," Raey didn't argue.

"Krian, what is a skhiarta like?" asked the tiflingess as soon as we sat down on the benches inside a gazebo amid a small grove of fruit trees.

"Yes, tell us," her brother echoed. "I only saw what was left of it after the fact."

"A young woman in dark clothes," I confided. "She floated in the air with her arms spread wide. I thought it was all a dream at first."

"The corpse didn't look very much like a woman," the mage frowned.

"It became that way after several of its larvae had died."

"Fascinating," the girl whispered in awe. "A monster from the Gray Frontier..."

"Her brother was nearly eaten alive, and she's fascinated," the tifling snorted.

"But he wasn't," his sister parried, matching his tone.

"Listen, Raey, where can you buy a suit of armor around here? I'm due to outgrow this one soon."

"At least you removed the helm," he smiled, remembering the comical sight of me trying to equip his gift earring. "For armor, your best bet is Krayon. You must order in advance, but you won't find a better master in the entire city," said the mage. "He also doesn't accept orders from just anyone, but it doesn't hurt to try. Give me your map, I'll mark down his shop. I'd go with you," the tifling sighed, marking the right location, "but I've got important business out of town. I'm leaving tonight, for a week."

"Important business by the name Itala," Velda outed her brother, then winked at me. "Business with pretty brown eyes and long chestnut hair."

"You traitor!" exclaimed the indignant mage, glowering at his sister as she blinked her innocence.

I couldn't hold back and burst out laughing, and was joined by the brother and sister moments later.

Kyle Dar Ylsan looked nothing like the obsessed alchemist I had pictured before meeting him. Broad-shouldered and long of hair, the tifling wore an austere dark blue camisole and shoes with golden buckles, reminding me of Captain Blood—the legendary pirate from a popular book written way back in the XX century.

We dined in silence in a hall with large folding windows on the house's second floor. Two young demonesses served us, doing their job quickly and without drawing any attention. After dinner, the master of the house invited Raey and myself into his office for a talk. Seeing his daughter's imploring stare, he sighed and granted her permission to be present for it. The girl was clearly daddy's little girl, and, as is often the case in such circumstances, he was putty in her hands. I thanked my hosts for the delicious dinner and followed everyone upstairs.

Located on the third floor of the house, Raey's father's office was rather large and tastefully furnished. Filled bookcases stood along the walls; a large oval mirror hung over the marble fireplace; the wooden floor, darkened with age, was covered with ornate rugs. At the heart of the office was a massive writing desk standing by the window that opened into the garden. In the corner was a small table with a bunch of different tubes and vials—a mobile lab by the look of it. Dar invited us to sit in armchairs around an oval wooden table. Noticing my glance at the sword and shield hanging on the wall, he clarified:

"I had to serve in my youth, like everyone else from our clan," as he spoke, the tifling produced from a wall drawer an oddly shaped bottle and three glasses. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but Raey has three brothers. The oldest is done with his service and now manages our country estate. The other two are currently serving in the First Legion."

The pleasant aroma of aged wine filled the air of the office. I took a sip from my glass—it reminded me of Chablis, but there was something special about the flavor.

"From our own vineyard," Raey commented.

"Wonderful flavor," I praised the wine, which I genuinely liked.

"Venerable Kyle Dar Ylsan, I wanted to—"

"Come now, Krian, we're all friends here," the master of the house smiled warmly. "Let's forget the formalities, shall we? Call me Kyle."

I nodded my consent. Then I took out the remaining vials with skhiarta eye fragments and laid them out on the table.

"I want you to have these. Raey said they are sought-after alchemical ingredients."