The Citadel (Mirror World Book #2) (7 page)

"Eh? Scared, ain't ya?" Uncle Vanya grinned.

I nodded. "Sure."

"Normal," he nodded. "In the mist, it's not as scary. It can give you a fright but nothing too bad. First time I got here in a thunderstorm. That was something, I tell you! I'll put it this way: I'm yet to see the sun shining over the Citadel's walls."

"And this isn't even the front line," I said, turning my head this way and that.

Uncle Vanya chuckled, watching me. "Forget it, man. This wall stretches from the Raldian Range in the South all the way to the Misty Mountains in the North. The Citadel blocks the entire Maragar Canyon. It was built with the purpose of protecting the Powers of Light from the hordes of the Dark and the savage monsters of No-Man's Lands."

I gave him a puzzled look. "Yes, yes, I read the location's history on the info portal. It sounds awesome. The battles of Light against Dark... Legendary feats of fallen heroes... And so on and so forth. But it's only a fancy piece of fiction! A figment of hired writers' imagination!"

The gnome smirked. "One can see you're new here," he shook his head disapprovingly. "Want a tip?"

I nodded. "Sure."

"Don't say anything like that around the old-timers. You might find it hard to understand but for many of us this world and this location are more meaningful than real life. Imagine having to spend several months on the walls of the fortress, warding off enemy attacks, unable to log out. Imagine fellow warriors fighting shoulder to shoulder with you — your friends who've covered your back hundreds of times. In these people's heads, the fine line between the virtual and the real worlds grows ever thinner. It changes them. For them it's much more than just a game. It's their life. A real life, free from the old order and its conventions. And what's more, many of them fight for the lives of their friends. Their gaming objectives don't matter any longer. I'm not saying people forget about them, they just have more important things to-"

"Oh."

"So you see. It's not just a fancy piece of fiction."

I shrugged. What could I say? I'm not the one to teach others how to live their lives. And what's more, I hate forcing my opinion on anyone. "Thanks for the tip. Any other advice?"

The gnome kneaded his beard, frowning. "Going there is not a healthy idea for zero levels. But seeing as you have to... My advice would be: keep your head down, don't play the hero but don't shirk the service either."

I nodded. This was exactly how I'd planned to go about it.

"Another thing," he added. "Lots of NPCs there. Warriors mainly. Don't try to buddy up to them. They aren't gonna like it. There's always some smartass trying to cadge a bonus quest out of the local NPCs. I shouldn't envy them. Just forget it. If a Citadel NPC decides to bestow a quest on you, he'll do it anyway. But he'll do it in his own time and at his own discretion."

"I see. Sounds rough."

He chuckled. "It is what it is. No one forced you to come here."

"You could say that."

The wasteland had ended. Kosma pulled us onto a wide cobbled road. A new system message popped up,

We welcome you, O traveler, to the glorious Maragar Citadel!

Would you like to install our free app:
the Maragar Citadel and Its Environments?

It was followed by another message,

Warning! This location can be too dangerous for players of your level!

If you still want to proceed, remember to touch the altar in Central Square in order to make the Maragar Citadel your new resurrection point.

"They're pretty strict here, aren't they?" I chuckled, rereading the message.

"That's game developers covering their butts. They warned you: by touching the altar, you create a new respawn point. To preclude any potential complaints."

"How strange," I said. "As if I might get killed the moment I get there."

"Not you, no," the gnome grinned. "You're a zero level. You might get injured, that's all. But talking about the altar... you did read the contract, didn't you? It says that the caravan undertakes to deliver you directly to the square, right next to the altar. And let me put it this way: a five-minute drive through town is more dangerous than the hour' ride through the Wastelands."

"Oh. Did you say through town?"

"Sure. The Main Citadel is a fortified town. About the size of five Drammens. Further along the wall there're five more fortresses located from south to north. They have their own garrisons. They all make up part of the Maragar Citadel location. It's enormous. Didn't you read the forums?"

He asked me all the right questions. I shrugged.

He stared at me as if I were an idiot. "More free advice," he added grimly. "Set up your bot now, entering whatever places you need to visit in the Citadel into it. Remember this isn't some cute sunlit new location. Try to move through open spaces as fast as you can. Don't stray away at nighttime. And one last thing. Keep an eye on the sky. Seven times out of ten, what kills you will come out of the sky."

It might be a game but the shiver that ran down my spine was perfectly real.

For the last ten minutes, the wagon had been shuddering over the rocky road. But as the shaking increased, I began to realize: this wasn't a bumpy ride but an earthquake.

The closer we came, the gloomier Uncle Vanya grew. He kept peeking out of his cab, shouting at somebody and nervously pulling at the reins. He paid no attention to me now, too busy doing his job. Only when the wagon jumped from an especially large jolt did I hear him cussing under his breath. I didn't dare annoy him by asking what was wrong. I knew how it felt when someone distracts you when you're busy.

He was nervous. And for him this was just another trip after possibly a hundred similar ones. Me, I was just doing my best to keep my wits about me without betraying how scared I really was.

The wall loomed closer with every minute. A giant of a wall; a behemoth monster. A gentle breeze was gradually dispelling the fog. I could make out the dark outlines of the towers.

Finally I could see the stonework. Some of its blocks were the size of Kosma — and they weren't the biggest ones, either. In places, cement had been washed out revealing ugly patches of brown grass.

Wait a sec. What was that? I noticed several human figures hanging on the wall. Their gray cloaks had prevented me from seeing them earlier. They dangled on the wall at about the height of an eight-story building.

'What's that?" I asked.

Uncle Vanya squinted at the scene. "How do I know? Could be masons refreshing the stonework. Or herbalists cleaning it from grass. Could be anyone. NPCs can find work for all and sundry."

I choked. Some fun they were having here! Wonder what kind of task Captain Gard might have for me?
Bring the stone from the highest point of the tallest tower in the Citadel. Reward: 5 Reputation points.
Uh-oh.

The foggy drizzle parted, revealing the gates of the Citadel. Like the jaws of a giant monster, the fortress' raised portcullis grinned with its steely teeth. We rolled along the road into its black mouth until it devoured us.

This wasn't a gate but a tunnel. High overhead I could see gaping arrow slits interspersed with stone grooves used to pour boiling oil over potential attackers. If this was how they protected their rear, I could only imagine what the frontline was like.

A squad of ten lancers met us in the inner yard. I took a better look at them and froze, stupefied. They were all level 300+, wearing Red Armor and enclosed helmets. They were armed with large full-height shields and long spears.

"NPC guards," Uncle Vanya muttered, seeing my excitement. "Whenever the Darkies break through, they hold the fort for the first few minutes. Once the players arrive, they fuck off."

I hadn't understood a word of it. Still, I nodded my gratitude as the awesome warriors' silhouettes disappeared behind us.

As we drove through an unnecessarily ornate miniature arc, the system kicked back in,

Greetings, Olgerd!

Would you like to join the Maragar Citadel's common chat?

Accept: Yes/No

I clicked
Yes
.

The moment I accepted it, I was flooded with messages from all sorts of people: some buying, others selling, yet others calling up raids. There were plenty of stupid messages in the vein of
Howdy all!
or
Where do I go now?
Every now and again, the system showered me with details of current events. One, called the Caltean Raid, looked especially nasty. There was one good thing: I'd counted seven invitations to join a raid to the Misty Mountains. That was good news. It meant that the location Master Adkhur had dispatched me to was quite popular with the local war dogs.

Actually, Uncle Vanya had been right. The fortress was swarming with players who rushed around as if the devil was after them, especially in open areas.

What really stood out was the abundance of scaffolds and building materials. Players, like some gigantic builder ants, were busy repairing the walls, some mixing cement, others lugging up stones. The air was blue with the bashing of hammers, the screaming of saws and an abomination of cussing and swearing. You might think the town had been bombed flat.

Suddenly everything froze. Silence fell. A system message flashed acid-red before my eyes,

Warning! The magic shield will expire in:

05:00 minutes...

04:59...

04:58...

04:57...

Chapter Six

U
ncle Vanya cursed and pulled at the reins. Kosma reacted by swinging his powerful head, darting off. Wow. I didn't expect that kind of speed from this behemoth.

Scaffolds, half-repaired houses and players who dropped whatever they'd been doing flashed past the wagon's window. The town buzzed at the double, as if someone huge and invisible had poked a giant anthill with a twig.

The countdown numbers kept dwindling. Something bad was about to happen.

The first minute had elapsed fast — too fast.

I didn't dare look out the window to check on the other wagons. I shrank to the back of my seat, afraid to move.

Uncle Vanya briefly stopped his cussing and said without turning round, "Remember what I said about your bot settings?"

"Yeah," I wheezed.

"Do it. You have ninety seconds. The moment we stop, you gotta run for it."

"Okay. What happened?"

He cringed. "The magic shield over the Citadel is about to expire."

"What do you mean, expire? And then what?"

The right question to pose would have been
, What is the magic shield?
But for some reason, I'd asked what I'd asked.

Uncle Vanya shrugged. "It won't last long. It's always like this. Some stubborn motherfucker can always hack the shield. That's part of the gameplay. Otherwise what would be the point in the Darkies trying to attack the Citadel walls if they're impervious? It's very possible that our raiders are attacking the Dark Citadel even as we speak. Having said that... no, I would've known."

I tensed. "So is this the Darkies attacking?"

He waved my suggestion away. "I don't think so. It's probably the Calteans. Just my flippin' luck. Now I'll have to repair the wagon again."

I heaved a sigh. I felt sorry for his wagon but I wouldn't mind staying alive too. Who were these Calteans, dammit? Still, I knew better than to ask him. He had more important things to do.

Uncle Vanya took one glance at me and added, "Keep your hair on. You'll live. They'll bring the shield back up pretty quickly. A Caltean Raid is an ordinary event. Not a patch on the Darkies' attacks."

I rearranged my non-existent glasses. The word "ordinary", that's what scared me the most. What kind of universal agitation would something extraordinary inflict?

The wagon jolted over a particularly steep bend, forcing Uncle Vanya to switch his attention back to driving. A minute later, he mumbled,

"Get set."

I was ready. My bot was set up to search for Captain Gard. He lived somewhere in the barracks, apparently not far from the wall.

The wagon cleared the last bend.

The Citadel's main square met us with hustle and bustle of at least two hundred warriors, levels 100+. My eyes watered with the miscellany of races, weapons and gear. The freshly-respawned players stood out in the crowd. They were especially numerous by the main altar at the center of the square. They wore white-linen starting clothes, their faces distorted with fury. I bet! Had I been killed, I'd have been furious too.

Having barely resurrected, the players were off somewhere — apparently, to collect their gear left where they'd been killed. Some respawned partially clothed, a few wearing a full set of gear. This must have been what they called the non-transferable items.

Just over a minute left till zero hour. The doors of several buildings opened, letting out a flood of people who headed toward the caravan. Most were low-level. I could see a few fellow Grinders.

"That's our passengers going back to Drammen," Uncle Vanya said with a wry smile. "Aren't they in a hurry! Nothing motivates one like a couple of Citadel deaths. The moment we stop, you should make a run for it."

I gave him a quick nod. "Thanks."

He shrugged it off. "You're welcome. Take care, you."

"I will."

The wagon stopped. I had forty seconds left. Uncle Vanya gave me a wink and a slap on the shoulder. I darted out.

I'd set up the bot to No Mercy mode. So! Apparently, I wasn't that bad at short-distance running. At first, my Energy bar plummeted, slowing down at about 80%. Good job I wasn't wearing my Goner's kit. A sprint like this would have bled me dry.

I crossed the central square in one breath. Without looking back, I turned off into a narrow lane. Twenty-two seconds left.

Stone buildings loomed overhead like silent giants. Narrow windows. Closed shutters. Wet cobblestones. Rough curbs. Some place this was!

The gloomy lane ended quickly as the bot brought me out into a wide avenue. Judging by the sheer number of shop signs, this was probably some sort of local high street. All the doors and shutters were already closed. Players were running from a westerly direction. Shit. Ironically, that was exactly where my bot was taking me. The barracks were located in the western part of the fortress.

Fast as I was, the countdown had beat me to it. The system message caught up with me as I ran past some alchemy shop.

Warning! The Citadel's magic shield is down!

The shield will be restored in:

45:00 minutes...

45:59...

45:58...

As I ran past a tiny bakery, I overheard a few phrases,

"Not too bad this time..."

"I don't think it'll reach us..."

Well, if they thought that it wasn't too bad, one could probably live here after all. The players relaxed a little and so did their pace. They were still trotting and galloping about but the spring had left their step.

No, no. I shouldn't even think about it. Relaxing here was asking for trouble. I had to keep going.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who thought so. Some of the players picked up tempo, too. Which was probably why the disjointed choir of panicky voices hadn't caught me unawares.

"Watch out! Take cover!"

I switched off the bot and ducked into a narrow lane between a couple of three-story buildings, too narrow even for two pedestrians to squeeze past each other, let alone a cart to go through.

I wasn't quite sure yet what exactly I had to watch out for and what to take cover from, but I had a funny feeling that staying out in the open wasn't a healthy idea. A few more players ducked into my lane (quite high-level ones, too), convincing me that I was thinking in the right direction.

I dropped to the ground and covered my head with my hands, checking out of the corner of my eye if anyone would laugh at my behavior. No one did. An Alven guy even gave me a nod of approval. Judging by his gear, he was one of the magic classes. With his level 160, he had no need to grovel in the road dust. He was probably going to magic a force shield for himself any time soon.

For a few moments, the street fell quiet. The air rang with silence: not a shouting voice, not a single sound. The proverbial lull before the storm. Nothing was happening, but I had a strong desire to shrink ever deeper into the ground.

A whooshing hiss, unexpectedly loud, ripped through the silence. I could feel every hair on my virtual body stand on end.

The hiss grew closer, transforming into a roar. Now I could hear that the sound was comprised of dozens of similar ones... hundreds maybe, merging into one blood-curdling wail produced by something very scary and undoubtedly lethal.

I pressed my hands to my ears, my eardrums about to explode with the roar. I didn't look at the other players. They must have felt the same.

The spine-chilling wail stopped.

Once again the air rang with silence.

Then it collapsed on top of me in a torrent — no, a tsunami of dreadful noise. The cracking of wood and the crunching of stone, the tinkling of exploding glass, the clanking of metal and the screaming of human voices.

A God-awful earth tremor resonated through my body.

And another one.

And yet again.

The walls of surrounding houses swayed. Somewhere behind me the stonework must have collapsed, bringing part of a building down. Dust choked the lane.

A muffled voice came from within the gray haze,

"The Calteans have moved in their trebuchets. These houses make it a perfect trap. One direct hit, and we'll be buried alive."

Obeying the words of the invisible player, I scrambled to my feet and took a peek round the corner. I could barely recognize the street enveloped in dust and smoke.

I peered through the suspended gray haze at one of our unwelcome "guests". A huge chunk of rock the size of my country cottage had ploughed through the street, leaving a long ragged trench in its wake. It now hung dangerously over the bakery where only a few minutes ago I'd witnessed the players' hopeful voices. Another one had landed about fifty feet away like a misshapen bowling ball, knocking several buildings over in its traject.

Screams for help came from within the clouds of dust. Somewhere close, stonework continued to collapse, judging by the sounds of falling masonry, woodwork and glass.

A shove on my shoulder threw me aside. My comrades in misery surged out of their shelter. Thanks a lot, guys, for not trampling over me. I checked my clothes. The push had been strong — but luckily, it hadn't affected my gear's Durability. Big sigh of relief.

I cast a quick look around me. I was about to use this momentary hiatus and make a dash for the barracks when a hand lay on my shoulder.

"Don't rush."

The voice was calm and confident. I turned around. The Alven wizard stood at my side, peering into the dust cloud.

"This is only the beginning," he nodded at the ravaged street. "It's true what the experts say: you should never take cover from bombs in a built-up area. Still, this is probably the safest place to sit out what is about to happen."

I wanted to ask him what he meant when more shouts came from the ruins,

"Watch out!"

"Get down!"

"Hedgehogs coming in!"

The wizard gave a shrug as in,
I told you so
. "There it comes. I strongly advise you to step back and resume your position on the ground."

Silently I obeyed. If I were so lucky to have run into an experienced player, I'd better use the opportunity.

The wizard peeked out, then stepped back and crouched next to me, leaning against his fancily carved staff.

"If I understood you correctly, we're about to be assaulted by some hedgehogs?" I used the brief pause to pick his brains.

He chuckled. "Not just any old hedgehogs. These are Rock Erezes. They're mobs. Other guys may call them hedgehogs but they're anything but cute. All they might have in common is sharp venomous quills on their backs. So I don't think it's a good simile."

"Can they fly?"

"Oh, no. The Calteans trap them in the mountains, then hurl the traps over here with trebuchets. The traps deactivate on impact, releasing these furious spiky monsters."

"And the Calteans, who are they? Are they some Dark clan?"

The wizard grinned. "Some players could use a bit of catching up! The Darkies are players just like ourselves. The Calteans are a race inhabiting No-Man's Lands."

"Does that mean they're mobs?"

"Not really. They're NPCs. Mirror Souls, if you want, only that they're hostile to both Light and Dark. No-Man's Lands are very densely populated and none of their inhabitants stay neutral. And I don't think it's going to change in any foreseeable future."

With every new piece of information offered, I felt less enthusiastic about my potential trip to retrieve the Ennan treasure. That's provided it even existed and that the whole story wasn't some demented programmer's cruel joke.

More warning shouts came. The earth shuddered again, its impact on my body much weaker this time. But considering the fact that these were the echoes of "hedgehogs" landing, I dreaded to contemplate their size.

"That was close," the wizard said, relieved.

He was about to add something else when a lump the size of an elephant landed directly in front of our temporary shelter. The impact sent me trampolining through the air.

The lump rolled on. I glimpsed a coarse-meshed net left at the site of its landing. It wasn't made of nylon or thread but of thick steel links.

A few heartbeats later, I heard the monster's furious roar followed by screams for help.

'That's it. Suppose I spoke too soon," the wizard chuckled and stood up to his full height.

His staff and his armor turned sky-blue. He downed two vials of something or other and stepped forward. As he was about to walk out of our lane into the open, he turned back to me.

"You'd better get out of here," he said.

I nodded. "Thanks for your help. I owe you."

"You do," he said, then darted toward the sounds of the melee.

I took a deep breath. For the umpteenth time, I peeked around the corner. No one seemed to be lying in wait for me. The dust had settled enough for me to get a good eyeful of this "hedgehog".