Steel Wolves of Craedia (Realm of Arkon, Book 3) (26 page)

"You and your master shouldn't have played gods, pup. You got lost in the game," the scathing female voice spoke softly, but managed to drown out the clanging of steel, the plangent howling hanging over the valley, and the monster's pained roaring. "Have you forgotten my warning?"

Another one of Nerghall's tentacles struck me in the chest. Disoriented, I spun my head around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. Vaessa! Some ten yards behind me the necromancer's daughter was standing up in her stirrups, her horse still as a statue, her arms spread wide as she fixed the beast with eyes glowing a menacing blue.
Fancy seeing you here, goddess of death! How about lending a hand...
The bitter thought flashed through my mind as I backed away, trying to evade the grotesque tentacles.

Every blow that landed sent excruciating pain shooting through my body, and cut my health bar by almost half. The razorback was reeling under me—the healers were struggling to keep up the heals as Nerghall's tentacles were lashing at the getare surrounding him, knocking the soldiers out of their saddles periodically. The experience of sharp pain surging and receding was remarkably similar to that time in Lamorna, when I was dying time and time again after getting shoved into the game by a certain scumbag who had deemed himself arbiter of destinies.
Cheney, you rat, I'm coming for you!
Nerghall's mug started to lose its form, shifting, morphing into that reviled, insufferable face. I struggled to think, to breathe... All I could do was hate. There was no room for pain anymore, no room for anything but one simple fact: this beast, this grotesque mutant from the Gray Frontier stood between me and my enemy. The fringes of my consciousness registered James' cries of warning—the tifling had been tasked with watching out for Dark Rain. There was Salta's sonorous voice, and Reena barking abrupt commands... But all that was far, far away. I had lost count of time, but I didn't care—the Soul Devourer was about to die, and nothing was going to save him!

"Dreamer?! Where did you come from, you bastard?!" there were notes of shock in the beast's dying roar. "You will not free HIM! Not you, not your Whore of a mistress!" The gray cloud around the monster's head exploded with a myriad resplendent shards. All six of Nerghall's extremities came down on me and Gloom in a synchronized blow of awesome power, and the boar began toppling over, wheezing in agony. As Reena's desperate cry rang out in my ears, I managed to hop off and roll to the side when the monster's eyes suddenly lit up a bright blue color.

"Die, maggot!" Nerghall bellowed, and a blinding explosion filled my consciousness from end to end.

There was a murmur of water somewhere to my right. The air was thick with blood and decay. The ceiling of the enormous cavern disappeared in the darkness above, and the ground was rent with fissures. A soft greenish light was being radiated from a colony of fungi, casting fanciful patterns on the walls. Here and there the dull white of old bones peeked through the darkness, as the ground shook periodically from the heavy step of someone unseen but apparently quite enormous. Whoever was causing the quaking, I had absolutely zero desire to meet them. Out of all my clothes, I had only those given to me by Treis. Armor, shield, weapon—all of that was gone. Standing barefoot on the warm rocks, I was peering at the corpse of a colossal white dragon lying in a pool of blood some twenty yards away. The giant reptile's wings, tail, neck and torso were perforated by pitch-black stakes, each no smaller than a lamppost—the kind they often put up alongside highways in the world I'd left behind. The monster's glazed-over eyes were looking right at me.

"You have come," sounded a voice in my head, full of unbearable pain. "Come closer."

My whole body hurt terribly, making every step a struggle, like trying to pass through thick and thorny bushes. My head felt empty and apathetic. The battle still raged on somewhere out there, where my trusty Gloom had just died. And what was this? Yet another twist of reality? But why was I the subject in this vision? Something like this happened only once, back when I'd agreed to accept that quest from Hart. Suddenly my mind's eye saw the walls of the Twice Cursed god's vault, the chessboard with its endless zones.
No! Anything but this! I will not survive another round!
My bare feet kept sticking to the disgusting floor—the pool of blood had spread to about five yards of the carcass spread out on the tiles, and there was no way of avoiding it. The dragon's face was dotted with a myriad sharp spikes. His gray scaly sides heaved sharply, like forge bellows, sucking the air in and out through huge yellowed fangs.  His sapphire blue eyes were boring into me, unblinking. The dragon's name and level were hidden from me.
Why am even I coming over to him? And who's making the ground shake?
I thought, though my feet kept moving stubbornly. The immobilized creature before me wasn't aggressive; moreover, something was telling me that the dragon could be a treasure trove of information that I could only tap into by drawing real close to him.

"Dreamer," the voice boomed in my head, sending shivers down my spine. "I have been waiting for you. Nerghall had been in oblivion too long to realize that you've already traveled the Primordial Paths."

"Who are you?" my voice rang out like a shot, echoing through the cavern. The steps off in the distance paused. 

"I am known in Arkon as the Nameless. We only have a minute before Mahrregidon returns, so be quiet and listen. I am confined to this place by the realm's true creators. They were in need of my blood, so they employed several dark gods to bind me, and I cannot free myself on my own. The stakes impaling my body can only be removed by you, but first you'll need to find a way here. Not even my brother can help—my blood conceals this plane from him, so he cannot see me." 

"How is this my problem?" 

"Like me, you do not really exist. And if you help me, I'll be sure to return the favor. We have common enemies."

"How can you help me?"

The footsteps resumed, and with them the shaking of the cavern's floor and walls.

"You're looking for one of them, aren't you? The one who did this to you? But you will never find him without my help." 

"Wait! Are you talking about Cheney? But how did you—"

"I do not know their true names. They are concealed by my blood, which the power-hungry gods of this realm pass to them. It is thanks to Nerghall's unwitting actions that we're speaking now. His master is one them, the ones who are behind all this. You must find a way here and set me free, for you are one of the few who can survive contact with my blood. But you must hurry—I don't have much time. My death would unleash true darkness upon the realm, and the heavens would weep tears of blood." 

"How in Hart's name am I supposed to find a way here?" I screamed in frustration, my head turned in the direction of the footsteps. They were drawing closer.

"The key, you need the key! My blood will help you find it! You're still weak, dreamer, you haven't yet found your woman. The future is not predestined, but I have faith that you will return." 

"What woman?! What blood? Am I supposed to drink it?"

The darkness parted, and there tumbled out a colossal bulk of a three-headed canine, the sight of which made my hair stand on end. As tall as a three-story building, the beast's eyes shone with blood-red fury, all three of its jaws drooling copious amounts of what looked like molten metal. Mahrregidon, a dark god. Level 750 with twenty five billion HP—numbers like that weren't even funny. The monstrosity saw me, and rushed in my direction with a thunderous roar.

"You will know everything in time," the Nameless convulsed in his trap. The spikes on his face turned the color of blood, grating terribly against the stone, and the bound deity lunged toward me with his head, skewering my ribcage. "Till next time, Krian," the voice sounded in my head as inhuman pain gripped my body.

You've earned a unique achievement,
Nerghall's Slayer
. Nerghall is a unique boss that can only be killed once. You and your allies have been granted a permanent 6% increase to your physical and magic damage.

Your clan has gained a level!

The
Steel Wolves
clan is now level 5.

Now available: clan treasury upgrade to level 5. Clan membership limit increased to 500 sentient beings. New options available in the clan menu.

The morale of your party has risen by +10 points. Your party's current morale is +40 (a 40% increase to your party members' physical and magic damage).

Your reputation has increased. Light elves are now unfriendly to you.

Your reputation has increased. Humans are now unfriendly to you.

Your reputation has increased. Drow are now unfriendly to you.

Your reputation has increased. Dwarves are now unfriendly to you.

Your reputation has increased. Orcs are now unfriendly to you.

Your reputation has increased. Demons are now unfriendly to you (respected in Ashtar, revered in Craedia).

You have gained a level! Current level: 170.

You have 1 talent point to allocate.

Class bonus: +1 to intellect; +1 to spirit.

You have 3 stat points to allocate.

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You have gained a level!

You have gained a level!

You have gained a level! Current level: 175.

You have 6 talent points to allocate.

Class bonus: +1 to intellect; +1 to spirit.

You have 18 stat points to allocate.

"Krian! Wake up, damn you!" Reena's screaming struck at my eardrums. Wave after wave of healing spells washed over me, but the pain wasn't there anymore. A shadow blocked the crimson sky in the slits of my helm, and then a breath blew into my face that stunk so bad my own breath caught in my throat. I broke into a fit of coughing, and sat up sharply. 

"Gloom?!" 

Roaring his joy in response, the boar gave me an emotional prod in the chest with his snout, and snorted, spraying me generously with more slobber and stench.

"You're alive!" I threw off my helm, paying no mind to my gathered clanmates, and grabbed the boar's muzzle with both hands. 

"See, why would he need a girlfriend when he's got his boar?" Reece's voice came through over cries of joy and relief, setting off a wave of laughter. "Now if only I could get one of those..."

"What in Hart's name happened here?" I asked, noticing the Lord of Darkness' colossal lifeless bulk while getting up on my feet.

"You and Nerghall played a staring game for a few seconds, and he lost," Reece snorted, then added in a serious tone. "Dar! Your eyes!"

"What's wrong with them?" 

"They're blue!" 

"I don't care," I waved dismissively, and looked around for Elnar. "James! Report casualties!"

"No casualties!" the tifling was clearly struggling to maintain a serious demeanor. "Not counting Reena's voice, which she had lost screaming out things I couldn't bring myself to repeat with a knife at my throat," Elnar gave a meaningful wink to the blushing priestess. "Something was up with Vaessa as well, but she seems fine now. She's sleeping."

"Excellent!" I felt a tremendous load fall off my shoulders. All the tension and anxiety of the past week dissipated. I could hardly believe it, but... Nerghall was dead! And though his death had unleashed a flood of new questions, I didn't want to think about that now. All I wanted was to scream with joy, but even that would have to wait for later. "Listen up! Start looting the bodies, but don't touch Kharsa or Nerghall!" I shouted, then shouldered my way through the euphoric demons toward a figure standing off in the distance, wrapped in a cloak woven of darkness.

Chapter 11

She was just as beautiful now as she was then, in the square by Suonu's gates. The same enormous brown eyes, the same flawless figure that no layers of garb could hide. The goddess threw back her hood as I approached, letting her thick raven-black hair cascade down her shoulders. 

"What do you want for your work, elder?" the goddess of death asked quietly, her chin thrust slightly forward.

Time appeared to halt, and no eyes were looking in our direction. Even the birds circling overhead seemed to still. Only the wind kept moving, caressing the hair of the Great Essence standing before me.

"I don't want to lose any more of my people," I replied, looking the goddess square in the eyes. 

"I did not create the laws of this world, and I cannot make your companions two-lived like you," she shook her head. "But there is something I can do," the young woman drew close to me imperceptibly, stood up on her tiptoes, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. My skin felt the cold wave of death...

Attention! You have garnered the attention of a higher being. Celphata, the Goddess of Death and Rebirth, is friendly to you.

You've earned an achievement:
Marked by Death.

Your reputation has increased. All non-player characters who worship Celphata the Goddess of Death relate to you with respect.

You've completed the quest: Celphata's Will.

You have gained a level! Current level: 176.

You have 7 talent points to allocate.

Class bonus: +1 to intellect; +1 to spirit.

You have 21 stat points to allocate.

You've learned a unique skill:
Pact with the Great Darkness.

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You have gained a level!

You have gained a level!

You have gained a level! Current level: 181.

You have 12 talent points to allocate.

Class bonus: +1 to intellect; +1 to spirit.

You have 36 stat points to allocate.

Pact with the Great Darkness.
All non-player characters in your clan, regardless of the clan's level, are granted an additional chance to resurrect in the event of death, equal to 50% of the difference between their base chance and 100%. Presently the non-player characters in your clan have a 50% chance to resurrect in the event of death.

Due to the continental event taking place in the Cursed Princedom, all non-player characters bound in the Cursed Princedom who are affected by
Pact with the Great Darkness
will resurrect only after the conclusion of the continental event at the Craedia Fortress graveyard.

Well, that was something! I'd made the request instinctively, without really thinking about it, but the goddess had met me halfway. And now all my troops had a fifty percent chance of resurrecting at the graveyard of the princedom's main fortress after the continental event concluded. And if my clan were level six, the chance to resurrect would be not twenty percent but sixty. Too bad I couldn't bring back the people lost at Farot!

"Thank you, Celphata."

"Here, this is for the girl," nodding toward Vaessa, lying motionless on the ground, the goddess handed me a signet ring that sparkled in the sunlight. "She's earned it." 

Set in a gold band, the large black stone seemed to absorb the surrounding light.

Hatrig's Band of Death.

Accessory; ring.

Durability: 4500/4500.

Epic scalable.

Bind on equip.

No minimum level.

+181 to intellect.

+181 to spirit.

+90 to constitution.

+9% to all magic actions when using spells from the School of Darkness.

Allows interrogation of the dead whose souls have not yet departed the Gray Frontier.

The owner of this ring can safely behold and speak to Celphata the goddess of death.

Weight: .02 lbs.

Forged by the great drow master Elssen.

Barely managing to tear my eyes from the stone, I gripped the ring in my hand and looked up at the goddess.

"How am I able to speak to you, then?"

"You're an exception. Dreamers haven't a need for such crutches."

"I see," I nodded, then looked at the magus as well. "What happened to her father, Celphata?"

"He's fine," a soft smile touched the edges of the goddess' lips. "You'll see him yourself someday, but that's not what's important now. The Twice Cursed are gathering strength," the woman peered into my eyes. "And I see that this isn't the first time you've foiled their plans." 

"Sure," I shrugged. "You can hardly do anything nowadays without raining on somebody else's parade." 

The conversation had taken a sharp downturn. It was obvious the goddess wanted something from me, and I wasn't in the position to refuse her. At the same time, considering her last quest, the prospect of doing anything else for her was hardly enticing. All I wanted was to sit on the ground, sip leisurely from my flask, rest my head and enjoy the silence. Alas, those actions, while pleasant, were unlikely to win the favor of Great Essences. I allowed myself a sigh, then fished out my pipe, lit it and looked up at the deity. "What can I do for you, Celphata?" I asked, exhaling the smoke.

"Not just for me," not a muscle had moved on the goddess' noble face. "But for all these lands. Your path lies to the Derelict Temple, where Syrat's followers have made their nest. Do you want the god of hatred's adepts to reappear in the temple after you've cleared it out? Why keep a nest of the transformed on the territory that's supposed to be yours?"

"What? I don't—"

"You're not going to march your army on Craedia?" the goddess arched her brow mockingly.

"I don't have an army to march anywhere." 

"That's precisely my point." Celphata walked around me, her step light on the grass. "If you turn the main temple altar over to me, Gilthoreans will be cured of their illness at once. And you will leave in your wake the shrine of a grateful goddess who will repay you with a gift, as well as with general support in your war against the Twice Cursed scum." 

You've accessed the quest: Celphata's Will II.

Quest type: epic, unique.

Turn over the control of the main altar in the Derelict Temple to Celphata, the Goddess of Death and Rebirth.

Reward: experience, unknown, instant recovery of all residents stricken by the altar's magic, increased reputation with Celphata, the Goddess of Death and Rebirth, increased reputation with the Craedia Princedom, increased reputation with Gilthor Province.

"What exactly am I supposed to do with the altar?"

"She will take care of that," Celphata motioned toward the necromancer's daughter. "The girl is ready to serve as her goddess' priestess."

I accepted the quest. Simply put, I couldn't afford to disregard such powerful allies. And besides, I didn't doubt her intentions since Celphata, unlike Vill, had no need for human sacrifices. Finally, having a priestess to a goddess in my clan would be legendary. As a rule, it was priests that typically became the gods' companions.

"Can you tell me about the Nameless?"

"Why do you want to know?" the goddess gave me an intent look, then sighed. "He found you, didn't he? The prophecy is coming true?" 

Hart, but I was getting sick of all these riddles! Prophecies, some woman who's supposed to be mine, Cheney hiding in some rotten hole, Great Essences circling me like vultures, white dragons shackled in dark caverns on some Primordial Paths... If only I could take a break and lay low for a while on some farm while all this madness got sorted out. Alas, that wasn't an option—I had no choice but to continue this frantic race!

"Please understand me, Celphata, I really didn't want to draw all this attention. I've only heard of this prophecy recently—I don't even know what it says! And I can't even read it after your visit to the Xantarrian library." 

"It wasn't I who took the prophecy from the library," the goddess fixed a stray lock of hair in an age-old womanly gesture. "But, as you can see, you cannot escape it." 

"So what is the prophecy? And who is the Nameless?"

"A demiurge, one of the few capable of transforming reality. The Great White Dragon, one of the hypostases of the Great Void. Now I can see his mark on you."