The Lag (The Game Master: Book #1) (13 page)

They carried on walking, following some truly crazy route. They soon left the ravine and delved into a gloomy area of wind-fallen forest followed by an open woodland, then entered another thicket. Attila had long given up trying to mark their way. Sometimes he got the impression that Wayfarer was leading them round in circles, purposefully confusing them. But at least they couldn't hear the blind wolves howling any more. They had left the stampede far behind.

They were tired. Even Beast stopped bothering them with questions. Yanna ceased to argue with him over every little thing: she just kept plodding along. After killing the Vagabond player, she had grown quieter — more compassionate even.

Oak trees had replaced the pine wood. A hilly open area lay beyond them with gnarly trees growing on top and bulrushes swaying at the bottom. The tree trunks were black, almost scorched. It was getting dark. Shadows lurked in the undergrowth. The trees creaked menacingly. An owl hooted. Wild pigs snorted in the woods.

The horizon over where the Citadel stood was bathed in darkness. A wind rose; it started to rain. The cold raindrops rolling down Attila's neck and shoulder blades felt more than real. He huddled up, envying Wayfarer's cloak with its hood. You could brave any kind of weather with one of those! Beast wasn't doing too badly, either, with his steel helmet. Yanna and himself were the only ones suffering.

He thought about the Eye. Now that they were out in the open, he really should check it. Attila reached for the Book and began fiddling with the knobs. The Eye stirred in his bag. Attila opened it, letting the steel star out.

It clicked its arms open and soared into the sky. So it was working, after all! Attila slammed the goggles on and adjusted the picture: the view of the hills and rare trees from above. There was Beast, staring upwards, and Yanna too, waving her hand at the cheat. Good. She seemed to have thawed out a bit. Only Wayfarer kept marching on, apparently ignoring the Eye.

Attila removed the goggles to wipe them clean. Beast slammed himself on the forehead, "That's where I screwed up! Now I know how you smelled the rat in the tavern! While I was, like, busy with the 'bank transfer'," he flung the air quotes around the word, "you saw our group moving in outside, right?"

Attila cracked a curved smile and put the goggles back on. Wayfarer stopped and raised his head, watching the Eye. Then he turned to Attila. "May I take a look?"

Attila really didn't want to give him the Book. Still, he obeyed. He pulled off the goggles too and passed them over to Wayfarer who looked them over, fiddled with the knobs on the Book and handed everything back to him.

"Good work," he said. "The picture could be better, though. I should change a module or two if I were you."

"Which one?"

"The one that's used to control the device's speed and altitude depending on the viewing angle. It could also solve the calibration problem."

"The calibration problem," Attila rubbed his forehead. "Speed and viewing angle... oh, well. I might try, I suppose."

"Do please."

Actually, nothing prevented him from doing so there and then. Attila opened the Book at a random page and drew the letter Z with his finger. His finger left a trace on the off-white surface. The page blinked, giving him access to the shell script. A virtual keyboard appeared in the lower part of the page.

Attila got working, praying he didn't trip up and drop face down in the mud. Both Beast and Yanna walked next to him, casting curious glances at whatever he was doing.

"Hey," Beast pointed upwards. The Eye hovered in one place as if frozen, trying to jerk itself free.

"I think it suffers from nystagmus," the would-be nurse Yanna diagnosed.

"Which is what?"

"It's involuntary eye movements. As seems to be the case with this creature."

"With this
thing
," Attila corrected her mechanically. "It's only a piece of hardware."

The Eye began losing altitude, very nearly collapsing on top of his head. Attila caught it mid-air and continued fiddling with the code, tweaking it. He looked up and grinned.

"Now I can use the Eye like some super binoculars. I can finally zoom in."

"Tell us what you see, then," Yanna asked.

Attila closed the Book and began slowly turning one of the crystal knobs. The picture in his goggles shifted. His friends' heads disappeared from view; he caught a glimpse of Wayfarer walking far ahead. The image blurred; the landscape flashed past. He slowed it down. Good. Not so jerky now. He could see a lake, a river... some roofs; a few castles, a fortress followed by some cliffs... the river again... A dark dot far ahead kept growing, getting bigger — bah, that was the Citadel! Getting closer and closer... but what was that?

The Conclave's den, the Citadel was a large edifice built of black granite: a chaotic structure comprised of many towers, arches, cones and cubes piled up on top one another and dotted with little windows. Shadows began swirling over the Citadel's vertiginously high Conclave Tower, twisting into a thick shapeless blob which quivered in the air like a giant medusa, then suddenly pulled itself close, taking the shape of an enormous eye. It wasn't horizontal as a normal eye would be: no, this one was positioned vertically, one corner of it almost touching the Conclave Tower, the other pointing at the sullen skies.

Hovering above the tower chimney, the Wizards' Eye began to rotate slowly, as if someone in the Citadel was watching the Dead Canyon through a gigantic device similar to Attila's hand-made Eye.

Attila lost his stride and stopped. He had a feeling that the Wizard's Eye was staring directly at him, looking deep into his heart, searching his thoughts. His expression must have changed because Yanna supported him by the elbow.

"You're all right?"

He showed her the Book.

"Jesus," the girl gasped. "What kind of sicko is that?"

Beast hovered over them, trying to steal a look. "What's that? What are you looking at? Oh, wow! What's that? Hey, Wayfarer! Come over here, will ya? You gotta see this! Think you can tell us what this is?"

Wayfarer took the Book from Attila and turned it toward himself, looking at the cover. It only lasted a moment. Immediately he handed the Book back to him and kept walking. "It's getting dark. We need to move it. Step it up, everyone."

"That's not fair!" Beast shouted. "What is it hanging there in the air, can you tell us?"

Wayfarer kept walking in silence, thumping the end of his staff on the ground. They had to follow. Attila felt like hitting him on the head with the flat of his sword just to scare him a little, then demand the truth. Both Beast and Yanna must have felt the same — especially Beast who even reached for his mace behind his back.

Without turning to them, Wayfarer spoke. "Behind that tower in the Valley of Death there used to be a stash. Just a hole in the ground covered over with rocks. It concealed a broken hammer that used to belong to Wayland the Smith: the very hammer that Vlas the Cyclops had hurled at Kromik, if you remember. That hammer was much smaller than the one he has now. It's made out of a whole piece of accumulating crystal that you can only find on the Mountain of the Gods."

"So Vlas hurled it at Kromik and knocked his head off?" Attila asked.

"Not only that. You see, in theory you can prevent the soul of a dead creature entering the Magosphere by imprisoning it in a special stone — Soul Stones they're called. But Kromik's soul was too large for a regular stone. It wouldn't fit. So first this divine hammer knocked his head off and then, as it flew across the room toward the window, it sucked his soul in, too. Then it dropped to the ground outside..."

"Leaving that hole behind?" Attila asked.

"Exactly. The hammer's handle broke off. But the hammer itself is still there, containing the great shaman's soul."

"Yes! That's what the top prize is!" Beast exclaimed. Then he frowned. "Wait. Didn't you just say, there
used to be
a stash? Why used to be? What are you driving at?"

Wayfarer didn't answer. The other two looked at Attila. Beast made quizzical faces at him, rolling his eyes. Attila felt sorry for him. He motioned with his eyes at the staff in Wayfarer's hands.

Yanna mumbled something, sounding surprised. Beast pressed one blue hand to his mouth. Yes, yes, Attila had been surprised too when he'd put two and two together a few moments ago. But he hadn't let on. So this swirling little cloud inside Wayfarer's staff was the soul of Kromik, the legendary shaman!

"Listen to me," Attila said in a quiet voice. "I shouldn't ask him any more questions. If he doesn't want to confide in us, it's his business. You never know, we might live to regret it."

"Yeah," Beast began nodding his head, eyeing the staff with reverence. "Or he might just swat us all with this hammer of his. But what does it mean, then? Is this a great Orcish relic? A divine hammer containing the soul of a great shaman? It might fetch you a few grand."

Wayfarer stopped and raised his hand. Slowly he turned his head, listening intently. Beast wrinkled his fleshy nose, reached for his Book and shook it.

"It sort of started to jump in my pocket," he explained. "I've got a vibration signal on that warns you about any aberrations ahead. Don't look at me like that. The Legionnaires' Books all have it. It can't detect them all but it does spot a few."

"You're right," Wayfarer said. "Lots of them. Ahead of us."

"Lots of what?" Yanna asked. "D'you mean aberrations? Which ones?"

Wayfarer turned sharply and headed right, toward a thick growth of bulrushes. Water glistened amid them. That's exactly where Attila didn't want to go. Still, Wayfarer walked right through without slowing down.

Mud slurped underfoot. At first Attila thought these were already the Marshes but this turned out to be a wide brook. Its clear water warbled merrily through the rocks. Shoals of silvery fish hovered in it in one place, trying to swim upstream.

Attila and the others crossed the stream jumping from rock to rock, then re-entered the woods. The rain had almost stopped; now it resembled a suspended veil of mist. Their clothes were wet and heavy; they were cold. Wayfarer kept walking like he'd been preprogrammed, taking the most unexpected turns.

Twilight fell, thick and sticky.

"How long are we supposed to go on without stopping?" Attila asked. "It's near dark. Should we start looking for a place to spend the night?"

Again Wayfarer ignored him. The woods ended at the edge of a wide unpaved road lined with stone posts. A wheezing Beast overtook Attila and ran ahead of Wayfarer, shoving his mace under his chin.

"Halt!" Beast shouted.

Wayfarer stopped, looking at him without interest. Slowly Yanna pulled the bow off her shoulder.

They can't do anything to him
, Attila thought.
They're bluffing.
We'll just have to put up with his nonsense.

"I'm sick and tired of your riddles. Tell us what you know!" Beast demanded. "You think we can't see that the Canyon has changed? Speak!"

Wayfarer looked at him, then at Yanna. No idea what he'd do now: the man was too unpredictable. He'd probably just turn round and keep going. Attila decided to leave Beast to his own devices.

At that moment, Wayfarer spoke. "The Canyon does change," he said. "Some very powerful aberrations keep moving from its center to the edge. We should hurry. We need to get to Healer's place as soon as possible. It's safer there."

"What's that for an answer!" Yanna demanded, indignant. "What can possibly change it?"

"What or who?" Attila butted in.

His ears rang. He started seeing double. He shook his head but the unpleasant sensations persisted. The back of his head felt leaden.

With a weak shriek, Beast dropped his mace and collapsed to the ground, clutching his head. "Not again!" he groaned. "It hurts!"

Yanna turned pale, squinting and screwing her face up with pain. She placed her feet wide and leant forward, propping her hands on her knees.

Wayfarer was looking past them. Attila followed his stare. A few tiny dark figures were moving along the road. The pain began to subside. Trying not to move his eyeballs for fear of triggering a new bout of agony, Attila reached for his Book and turned the knob. The Eye overhead zoomed in on them.

The Silent Brothers. It looked as if they'd only recently left the forest for the road. They were followed by three goblins, an ogre and a few ghouls. Then the earth itself seemed to be moving as a sea of basilisks flooded the forest, flowing onto the road.

Leaning on his mace, Beast scrambled to his feet. Yanna turned to Attila. "What can you see there?" she asked. "It's too far for me to see anything."

"Mobs and Silent Brothers," he explained. "Lots of them, and more keep coming. It doesn't look like a new stampede, though. They don’t seem to be in a hurry. They sort of look organized. They're following us. They'll be here in ten minutes."

"The Necro Marshes are straight ahead," Wayfarer said, resuming his broad stride along the road. "We must get there before them."

N
ight fell. A large pale moon appeared in the sky: this was Shaard, Gryad's satellite. It was pocked with a generous pattern of dark patches and gray circles. A small but complex structure glistened upon its surface — or rather, it looked small while in reality it must have been enormous, considering the distance. It didn't look like anything Attila knew.

The dark clouds began to disperse. Stars glittered in the gaps between them. Attila had the funny feeling he could hear the game's intro music playing. When adjusting the suit's settings, he hadn't switched the music option off because Gryad's intro was especially catchy.

They hurried on, trying not to trip up on the mounds of moss. Attila didn't like swamps: what was there to like, being bogged down in a quagmire or wading through mud. Wayfarer moved almost noiselessly, cutting through brambles or taking sharp turns. Beast cussed under his breath as he kept bumping into things or crunching his way through the bulrushes. Yanna didn't speak. You couldn't hear her at all, only see her slim silhouette appear and fade in the dark.

"Are they still behind us?" Beast asked. "I can't see anyone behind. You can't hear the mobs either, can you?"

"They're still there," Attila replied. "They did fall behind a little though."

The Eye hovered about fifty feet overhead, pointing backward. Attila had removed the goggles as watching two images at once had made his head go round. Now he walked casting occasional glances at the Book's screen.

He could barely discern their pursuit. All those brain-dead mobs who were little more than dumb loot containers seemed to suddenly behave in an intelligent way. They had lined up in three small groups, neat like Strategy units, and were now splitting, trying to surround Attila et al — or rather, trying to encircle them from the flanks. They kept silent: no bellowing, no growling; even the ogre's footsteps didn't shatter the ground as if he was moving on tiptoe.

"I think what it is, Styx and his Brothers control the mobs," Attila concluded. "A bit like you'd control a pet... only there're tons of them there."

"May I?" without slowing down, Wayfarer took the Book from him and stared at the screen. "Be careful. There's a quagmire to your left."

Without even looking underfoot, Wayfarer turned and walked in a different direction, skirting puddles of black water overgrown with algae. The others cautiously followed in his steps.

He handed the Book back to Attila and shook his head. "Their ranks are too organized. Styx wouldn't be able to do it alone. It's too complicated."

"Who does it, then?"

"The game does," Wayfarer replied pensively.

"Excuse me?" Yanna said.

They were already used to Wayfarer's manner of ignoring some of their questions. But this time his reaction was totally unpredictable. He broke into a run.

"Where d'you think you're going?" Beast exclaimed.

"We must hurry!" they heard. For the first time, Wayfarer's synthetic voice betrayed emotion. "They will squash us!"

The friends exchanged glances. Indignant, Beast stomped his foot, raising a spray of mud. Yanna made a helpless gesture.

Without saying a word, Attila ran.

They bundled their way past mounds of black dirt, through brambles and piled-up driftwood, tripping up and trying not to collapse into the mud, keeping their eyes on the flapping skirts of the leather cloak far ahead.

Finally they reached the Necro Marshes. Contrary to Attila's expectations, Wayfarer hadn't slowed down. Tufts of thick mist rose through the air, clinging to blackened dead tree trunks. The earth sprang and slurped underfoot. This wasn't earth really, just a layer of dead vegetation and wet mud, ready to part under a reckless traveler's foot. Bulrushes and sedge grass were nowhere to be seen, replaced by prickly dry growth. And the smell in the air, sour and rancid, was so recognizable: the smell of the Necro Marshes. Here lay the remains of the army of Batur Khan that he'd sent to capture Healer. Buried in the deep layer of silt below reposed the bodies of his soldiers: their souls forever trapped by the Marshes, unable to escape the quagmire's clutches for the vast expanse of the Magosphere.

Attila had been here before even though he'd never ventured too far. The place was too dangerous, good only for some hardcore explorers or complex quest lovers. The sensation of being watched had returned. He glanced at the book. Their pursuers' vague outlines moved in the dark amid the swirls of greenish glimmer. Was it what the Marshes looked like from above? Or was it some local elemental magic distorting the picture? At least the Eye obeyed the Book's knobs. For the moment, controlling it presented no problem.

Distracted by the Book, Attila tripped up and fell to his knees in the sticky mud. Beast slowed down. Holding the Book high in the air, Attila scrambled back to his feet, clutching at him. They resumed their pace. Yanna kept close behind Wayfarer's back.

"If it's not Styx, who controls the mobs, then?"

"The game," Wayfarer dropped without stopping. "It has gained an identity."

"What are you talking about?" Beast demanded. His question remained unanswered.

Soon they had to slow down. Here, water formed large pools, streaming between mounds of soft mud and tufts of black moss. Attila kept following Wayfarer. He'd noticed something: as long as Wayfarer moved straight ahead in the Shaard's pale light, everything looked normal. But the moment he swerved, changing direction, the air seemed to thicken as if the space around them shifted, refracting. Wayfarer seemed to be pushing through it, modifying the location to suit his own needs. Then everything would turn back to normal: the moss, the pools of water reflecting the Shaard's pale-blue light and the driftwood protruding from them.

The clouds parted and dissolved. The night grew lighter. Attila slowed down, peering at the Book. He could see their pursuit better now.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed.

"What's excellent?" Beast asked.

Both Beast and Yanna slowed down. Wayfarer took a few more steps, then stopped and turned to look at them.

"They didn't go through the Marshes," Attila explained. "They stayed on the other side. Only the smaller ones, like rats and basilisks, decided to give it a try. But they don't look as if they're enjoying it. They're really slow."

"How about the clerics? Yanna asked.

"I can't see them at all. They either keep going or... dunno. But the mobs are all there, staying put."

The ogre's offended growl echoed through the air, sending shivers up their spines.

"Let's move," Wayfarer said.

How on earth could he manipulate the location? Did he have some kind of a super duper cheat that could do that? Or was he really part of the game, not a human player? Then again, he did behave like a human being. There definitely was something mechanical about the way he moved, his body language, his weird silent attitude. Attila'd have loved to meet the player in the flesh.

"There it is!" Beast announced.

Wayfarer stopped by the plank footbridge that lay across the grassy knolls and dark pools of water. A hut's flimsy roof peeked out behind the bridge.

"The planks are too thin," Wayfarer said. "We'll have to take turns crossing."

The bridge creaked under his feet.

"D'you know Healer's story?" Beast whispered. "There was this Pioneer, an ex-healer from Cryte. Only he was more interested in the Dead Canyon than in collecting artifacts. He wanted to go there and learn all of the Canyon's secrets. Somehow he managed to get as far as the Citadel. But then he suffered from the Conclave's mental attack. The wizards are all still there lying in their crystal coffins, aren't they?"

"Not crystal," Attila corrected. "Crystalline. That's different."

"Whatever. It doesn't really mat-"

"From what I heard, he'd been exposed to the radiation of the Great Portal," Yanna butted in.

"And I heard that he was captured and tortured by the Silent Brothers who guarded the Citadel," Attila added. "Apparently, Healer didn't die but suffered some kind of brain damage which allowed him to detect mobs and even control them."

"All right, if you know it all, you'd better tell it yourselves!" Beast said, offended.

But no one did. Wanderer waved his hand to them from the other side, motioning them to cross.

The plank bridge rocked underfoot, shedding bits of rotten wood into the water that rippled, fragmenting the Shaard's reflection. Attila had already covered half the way when something made him look down. A pale dead face stared at him from the depths, framed with entwined algae. The skin on its forehead had peeled off and was swaying in the water. A mass of living critters swarmed inside the shattered skull. And further away, an emaciated pale arm rocked underwater, a body, and another face, and again...

Don't look!

Staring at the planks underfoot, Attila ran over to the other side toward the awaiting Wanderer. Beast was the next to cross.

"There're dead people in the water," Attila told him. "Nothing to be scared of, really."

Beast flung up his hands in dismay, stepping back.

"Don't be such a chicken," Yanna pushed him aside and stepped onto the bridge. "It's only part of the game design. They're supposed to be spooky, not dangerous. Watch!"

She walked down the bridge, swaying her hips like a model at a fashion show. The others watched her in silence. Beast kept grunting, shifting from one foot to the other. Did he have some kind of phobia for dead people?

Yanna reached the middle of the bridge and flashed them a smile. A pale hand reached out of the mud and grabbed her shin. The girl screamed.

The scream was good: loud and shill with yodel-like trills. Admittedly, had Attila been in her place he might have managed something similar. The ghostly hand must have pulled her foot because the girl collapsed onto the bridge, trying to yank her leg free.

A fireball wooshed from the other side and landed on the dead hand, exploding in a firework of sparks and flames. The air stank of scorched flesh. The hand disappeared under the hissing water.

They heard a sound like an enormous bottle of wine popping open. The grass that formed the surrounding archipelago of islets rustled ominously. A water bubble flared up over a large pool of stagnant water by the bridge, rippling the disturbed surface.

Yanna was already running. Beast's zeal overcame his fear; he bounded across in large leaps, casting a succession of fireballs that pointlessly showered the marsh, leaving behind clouds of hissing steam over the seething, bubbling water.

Thin algae began to rise to the surface. It immediately became clear that these were no algae but the hair of the corpses rising from the bottom. A dead head bobbed on the surface; then another. The third zombie resurfaced right next to Attila. This ex-soldier of Batur Chan's looked just as bad as the rest of them with his peeling skin, bared temple bones and leeches swarming in his empty eye sockets.

The deadman stood up, waist deep in the water, and grinned. A chunk of rotten meat fell off his face and hung under his chin.

Attila bared his sword and took a swing. Fear directed his hand: he overdid the blow so badly that his shoulder hurt. The sword sliced through the zombie's neck, sending his head spinning through the air until it plopped into the mud far away.

Armed with rusty scimitars, other zombies were already heading toward them across the mud and the grass. Black water streamed down their bodies, their rotting corpses gaping with holes that crawled with maggots and other nasty critters. Yanna's arrow went right through one of them, dropping on the ground behind him, and still he kept going. Another arrow pierced a zombie's face and stayed there stuck in his eye socket without slowing him one bit. Beast's fireballs dealt the most damage but even they had failed to stop a single zombie. The Marshes filled with hissing and bubbling. Stinking gray smoke filled the air.

"Quickly, we need to get to the hut," Wayfarer said. He turned around and headed away from the bridge.

A short trail lead to Healer's dilapidated dwelling built on one of the bigger islands. The light was on inside. Zombies slopped behind them, gradually catching up.

Wayfarer sped up. He was the first to reach the hut, leaving the rest of them far behind. The door opened, revealing a man's silhouette in the brightly lit doorway. Wayfarer stepped aside, giving way to the man. He held an oil lamp and two giant blind wolves on a leash. Healer was taller than Wayfarer and wore a similar cloak. His face was obscured by the hood; his eyes glistened in the lamplight.

Healer threw his hand in the air. An invisible wave hit Attila. He staggered; Yanna ouched. Beast cussed. The wave seemed to have blown the zombies off the shoreline: collapsing on their backs, they wriggled on the ground, trying to turn around, then crawled back underwater like a bunch of punished dogs.

Both Yanna and Beast had already reached the hut. Attila heaved a sigh of relief and opened the Book, adjusting the knob. The Eye closed its arms and glided down toward him. Attila caught it in mid-air and prepared to shove it down his bag.

A sudden sharp pain pierced his side and ran up his ribs toward his armpits, reaching his heart. His legs gave way under him. The Book still in his hands, Attila collapsed on the ground, unconscious.