The Secret of the Dark Forest ( (The Way of the Shaman: Book #3) (50 page)

"Thank you," was Plinto's brief reply, as he hid the scroll in his bag and put the cloak over himself. "I will be certain to come back."

"Siren," the Patriarch turned to Anastaria, who was perfectly calm now. "I would be glad to see you at my castle as soon as your fate is decided. "Here's a portal scroll," the Patriarch handed the scribbled means of instant transport to the girl, "If you feel you need to know more about your race than you can find out in the libraries of Malabar and Kartoss, come to me. Trust me, I will be able to surprise you."

Right now I was ready to give the Vampire one huge hug, fangs and all. My dull gaze of a finished man, who had withdrawn deeply within himself, had now changed to the inquisitive and lively look, ubiquitous throughout Barliona, indicating readiness to seek out an advantage even in apparently hopeless situations.

"Barsina..."

The Patriarch made a similar offer to visit his castle to my entire clan, leaving me, as usual, for the last.

"Mahan," the Vampire flashed a smile as he stood opposite me. "I will not be inviting you because I know that should the need arise you will find me. Here's your portal scroll. I don't like going back on my word, so the information about Geranika's power will now be sent to the Emperor and the Lord of Kartoss, but right now I think it would be worth recounting it out loud. It all began long ago, when Dragons still lived in Barliona and gods walked among mortals as if they were equals, teaching and mentoring them. The Dark Forest or, as it was called then, Lightswood was home to one extremely mysterious creature. The second son of Barliona's Creator lived here...

* * *

"Father!!!" the thunder-like shout sent cracks through the walls on an enormous alabaster-white hall. The armor-clad guards gripped their pikes, hoping that today the god's tantrum would end as quickly as all the others. Stepping behind the massive pillars that held up a vaulted ceiling, the guards looked on in horror at the blood-drenched mosaic floor of the main hall of Lightswood. Being unlucky enough to catch the eye of Harrashess right now could easily mean joining those forty three unfortunates whose blood had covered the mosaic depicting the creation of the world. The terrible thing that set the teeth of battle-hardened nagas on edge, making their tails twitch in wild panic, was that the blood on the floor did not congeal, but was being gradually absorbed by the enormous throne, cut out of snow-white stone.

The kneeling man (if such a term could be used for this creature) was swaying from side to side, his hands covering his face, as if he just heard the news of the most devastating loss in his life. The wailing, mixed with hoarse growling and curses hurled at all living things, made the guards hide deeper and deeper behind the pillars. Today the lord's outburst had lasted particularly long. This could mean real trouble.

"Father!!!" What is all of this for?! Why did you leave this world to me?! I don't need it! I hate Barliona!"

"Brother!" A lightning flashed and next to the groaning lord of Barliona there appeared, shining like the morning sun, Eversquetor, the eldest son of the world's Founder. "Your speak sedition! How can you, having given life to an entire host of gods, hate what Father had created?!"

"A host of gods?" Concealed by a dark cloak, the god quickly jumped up and in one barely perceptible movement, as if he momentarily spread his wings, was suddenly facing his brother. Eversquetor wrinkled his brow, but his gaze didn't flinch. The lines of blood that emanated from the black abyss of Harrashass's eyes against his completely white, chalk-like face, looked terrifying. "Oh yes! The names that carry true 'joy' to the world: Tartarus, Sotan, Asmodeus... My creations are being cursed by all the sentient races, begging your Eluna for protection. I hope that the day would come when my creations from beyond the confines of Barliona would find a crack in the defense of this world and 'gladden' everyone with their presence."

"But you know that this will never happen. Father had forbidden us to interfere in the affairs of this world, yet for each of your monsters I will create a hero. Tell me, what had disturbed you so now?"

"Disturbed?" Harrashess laughed hysterically. "No, brother! I am calmer than ever! Today my plan will finally be accomplished!"

"Are you at it again? You killed me hundreds of times, but I returned every time. Please understand, brother, we cannot retire to our rest, as our Father did. He was whole, but we are a whole only together."

"That means that we have to be united," came the dark god's conclusion, after which he shouted: "Reardalox! You know what to do!"

A black shadow darted by and a Vampire appeared next to Harrashess.

"I command the Vampires to guard my throne and to hand it over to the chosen one. From now on you shall live forever!" Reardalox bowed, obediently accepting his master's decision.

"I don't understand what it is that you've planned, brother," said Eversquetor, somewhat hesitantly. "Another death would bring nothing, and once again you shall be punished... What are you trying to achieve?"

Harrashess broke into an evil smile, moved his hand across his face, spreading apart his bloodied hair, disappeared and emerged at his brother's back.

"Death is just an end of a cycle," he whispered into the ear of the frozen Eversquetor. "You and I shall go further and break this vicious circle. I have conceived of a force that hates our world. Hates it with its whole being, but the limitations set by our Father would not allow it to wield power openly in Barliona. It needs a master and an ocean of energy. Raerdalox, my pet Vampire, will find this master and our power will serve as this source for eternity! We will sink into non-existence and lose our essence, but then your beloved Barliona will also descend into Shadow. This will not be darkness, no! This is something that hates both light and darkness in equal measure..."

Harashass embraced his brother and sat on the throne together with him. There was a bright flash and no trace remained of the sons of Barliona's Creator. They were absorbed. The previously white surface of the throne had become covered in shifting black blotches, it hummed, like a hive full of agitated bees, but regained its former appearance just a minute later. The stone had accepted the gods.

"You are mistaken, master," said the Vampire who appeared and was carefully examining the now levitating throne. "I happen to like this world, so I will not carry out your last order. I may pay with my life for this disobedience, but no mortal hand will ever touch your throne."

* * *

"My father kept his promise and for many thousands of years I guarded the throne of the son of the Creator. Thirty years ago Geranika found me, coming in search of knowledge. I taught him everything I knew about Shamans, but then Midial's group entered the Dark Forest and the world came face to face with Harrashess' progeny. The throne had been stolen. They are yours now, Emperor. My thanks for letting me speak my fill."

"Is there anyone else wishing to speak to these sentients?" asked the Emperor, surveying those present.

"Mahan, are you not reading the messages on purpose?" Anastaria couldn't take it anymore. "Send me the video, before you're taken away!"

Oops! I pulled the chat window back in its proper place and, as I sent the video to the girl, quickly glanced at the text there: "Mahan, send the video!" "Mahan, for heaven's sake! Give the video before it's too late!," "You cack-handed Shaman, I'll kill you! Give me the video!" and about forty messages along those lines.

"I don't know what you mean, Eluna's chosen," said the Emperor, "so I'll take it that everyone has had their say. I, the Emperor of Malabar, accuse Free Citizen Mahan, the Great Shaman-Dragon, of killing the Great Yalininka, High Shaman Almis and the future Prince of the Empire, Slate. Kornik, the Harbinger-Shaman, will act as an additional accuser, bringing charges against Mahan of betraying the tenets of shamanism and destroying his Totem — an original Dragon! The trial over Mahan will take place this evening and will be presided over by the goddess Eluna."

"No need to send anything, I've got it,"
came another message from Anastaria.
"Nothing like this has ever happened in my memory. You're lucky, Dragon! If you manage to make it out of the mines, you owe me another incredible deed for everything I have been through and lost. I will tell you about it later, when we meet."

Again a bunch of secretive hints and omissions. I was about to write something like "Sure, I'll just drop everything and start running around performing incredible deeds," when the surrounding world blinked and I felt a pain in my chest.

Enormous hundred-meter cliffs, towering all over the mine perimeter. The overhanging rocky caps, the valley, divided in two by a fence, with the smithy and the barracks on one side and the sound of ringing picks on the other. The green grass, blue sky and complete absence of dust. There was even a fresh breeze. The 3800 Reputation Points of Esteem with the Guards had their benefits. I looked at the sign that hung over the administration building, and chuckled at its 'fitting' nature. No doubt about it...

"Welcome to the Pryke Copper Mine."

"Mahan?" The surprised exclamation of the guard tore me away from taking in the painfully familiar picture. "What are you doing here? You don't even have the mark of a criminal on you!"

"I'm happy to see you too Bronx. I've just decided to take a break, visit my old acquaintances and see how they were getting on," I greeted the stocky guard, who was scratching his chin in surprise, unsure of how he was meant to behave himself with me. After all, Pryke was a place for criminals and here was a visitor who turned up outside the designated visiting days! This NPC's poor Imitator probably deployed all its resources just to try to come to some kind of a decision. "How about you take me to the head of the camp? He can decide what should be done next," I dropped a hint to the guard, who just over half a year ago greeted me with a weapon pointed at my back.

"That it!" said Bronx happily, when a logical chain formed within his head: any new arrival, whoever he was, should be taken to the boss. He can figure out what I was doing here, while a guard's task was simple — to make sure that there were no obvious dirty tricks played at the mine. "Come, let me take you there then. I bet you forgot the way already, eh?"

The administration building didn't change from the time of my last visit: elegant statues, paintings on the walls, a large crystal chandelier, carpets, carved wood and a light cool breeze... It was as if I never left here. I hesitated by the entrance of the mine governor's office (after all, the orc was a striking character who commanded respect), shook my head, dismissing any inner quivers and pulled the door handle. What must be, must be, you can't avoid the unavoidable and if I'm back in Pryke for a long time, I'll have to relearn how to deal with people here all over again.

"Mahan," sounded the low and calm bass of the governor the moment I stepped into the office. In the last three months since I've seen him, the orc didn't change a bit. Although how could an NPC change? This is a game, after all. "The Shaman who betrayed everything that Shamans hold dear, the killer of Almis, his teacher, the Great Yalininka and his own Totem," the orc spoke the words slowly, as if hammering yet another nail into the chain that was meant to hold me in Pryke. And like an invisible weight this chain pressed on me, pushing me to fall on my knees and squeal pitifully before the orc. A bit of a deja vu right there! Our very first meeting — when I failed to answer a direct question from the boss — didn't turn out that great either. I remember how I then for the first time came across the phenomenon of Charisma. But now...

"I can see someone already managed to snitch on me!" I growled, using all my strength to stay on my feet. With my mind I understood that right now I was spoiling what was left of my relationship with the camp boss, and that if I do get stuck here for seven years now, things were going to be far from easy for me. This is why the correct thing would have been to fall to the floor and hope that the governor would relent and turn off his pressure... Like hell I will! I'm a Shaman and have no intention of falling on the floor before some orc!

For a few moments I fought the desire to curl up and whimper, and even almost came to terms with the weight, when I suddenly caught Prontho's eyes. I never thought that a gaze could be given the adjectives of 'stony', 'implacable', 'incontestable', but that was exactly the look the orc was giving me. If I thought that I had felt the effect of the governor's Charisma prior to this, I was gravely mistaken. Now I had an idea of how Hercules must have felt when the dome of the sky was put on his shoulders. I may not have landed the job of the hero from ancient Greek myths, but that didn't make things any easier for me.

"I DO NOT NEED TO READ MESSAGES! I'M A SHAMAN!"

Had I not been exposed to the voices of the Lieutenant, the General and the Patriarch in the last two weeks, I would've crumbled right now. NPCs sure like dropping a load of debuffs on you, as if it somehow makes a conversation easier for them. In your dreams! So he's a Shaman, is he? Then I'll surprise him — I'm not exactly some random noob either!

"IF YOU ARE A SHAMAN, THEN TURN OFF YOUR HEAD AND LISTEN TO YOURSELF!" Oooh! Looks like I can match the orc in the growling department! We were still staring into each other's eyes, so I could think of nothing better than to start giving thought commands to him: "Bow before me! To your knees!" This was nonsense of course, but I wasn't giving up without a fight, even if all the fighting only happened inside my head. The main thing was not to fall myself...