The Kartoss Gambit (The Way of the Shaman: Book #2) (2 page)

"I'm Clouter," the lad replied quickly and started to redden from the effort of trying to lift the wheel.

"Quit fibbing, there isn't a name like that. Let me help," I came up to him and put the wheel upright. It really was heavy. "Where will you roll it now?"             

"I'm Clouter," said the little guy insistently, wiping his nose with his sleeve, "I don't like Aftondil. I won't be called that. Everyone has good names, only I've got a stupid one. I always get a beating for it from the Straighters. No need to roll it, just push it that way, it'll get there by itself." Aftondil... no, Clouter pointed towards the village, "with luck it won’t hit anyone on the way."

"And who are these 'Straighters'?"

"They are from the neighbouring Straight street, Al Spottino's gang. Watch out!" Clouter screamed after the rolling wheel and shouted to me: "We’ll meet down the-ere!"             

Clouter tripped up a couple of times, tumbling down the hill, but immediately got up and continued running after the wheel, shouting at the top of his voice. I chuckled at his goofiness and was about to follow him when I was suddenly turned around, lifted off the ground and thrust into the enraged bearded face of the blacksmith:

"Why are you bullying Clouter, you thug?" before I could answer anything, the blacksmith took a good swing and sent me flying again. It's not like I was expecting a royal welcome, but this was too much. These flights were beginning to wear me out with their frequency! I got up from the ground and quickly glanced at my Hit Points. Oh boy! I only had 18% of Life left! A blacksmith's punch hit much harder than the wheel! I saw that I might not survive a second blow and started to summon a Healing Spirit on myself.

"What's with the dancing? You're a warlock!" It was just as well that the Tambourine sped up the Spirit summoning – I managed to completely heal myself only a second before my next flight. This was some blacksmith! Strong as a bear. I tried to get up, but my feet gave way and I slumped to the ground, seeing a semi-transparent message appear:

Dizziness! You lost concentration for 10 seconds.

Skill increase:

+10% Endurance. Total: 60%.

"Stop, Mr. Slate!"

"Leave it, Clouter, stay out of the way. Can't you see that we’ve had a killer-warlock drop on us?"

"He's no killer! He helped me to bring the wheel back to the village and he wanted to see the Headman!"

"The Headman, you say?" Slate loomed over me and then with one hand lifted me off the ground. No-one would believe me if I told them that I got caught between a Slate and a hard place in Barliona! Quite literally. "What did you want from the Head?"

"I'll be living here for three months," I croaked through a half-strangled throat. Well, well! Playing as a Shaman I was beginning to discover Barliona from a completely different angle: I would have never thought that if you press on the throat, the player would start to croak like that. He won't be getting suffocated, but a line would appear stating that he didn't have enough air. But the rasping is not something I noticed before. The blacksmith let go and I fell on the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"Going to live here, eh? Then why are you loitering here, as if you're trying to snoop around? There's no Headman around here," without waiting for my reply the blacksmith turned around and went back to his smithy. By the looks of it, my first encounter with Beatwick residents was far from a success.

"Don't be upset," fired off Clouter. "Mr. Slate is nice, he just probably failed to make something today and that made him all cranky. Let's go together, I've finished rolling the wheel. See where it's crashed into the fence? It can stay there."

By the wooden gates I found the local guards – two red-nosed men with puffy eyes. They were doing their best to stop themselves falling to the ground by propping themselves up against their spears. They clearly weren't doing so because they were tired or spent too long at their posts, but from uninhibited imbibing of spirits. The scent of syrupy homebrew wafted a few dozen meters away from the duo, and several bottles strewn across the ground were clear pointers to what the brave upholders of law and order were really up to. You couldn't say much for their overall appearance either: a short chainmail that reached down to the middle of their beer bellies, sitting on top of a simple tunic, studded thick trousers and worn bast shoes made the guards' appearance so 'terrifying', that even if an enemy decided to invade the village he was doomed to laugh himself to death first.

"Halt! Hic! Who goes there?"

"I'm on my way to the village Headman, I was sent to live here," I gave the simple reply. It looked like the local Headman was someone well-respected, so referring to him might open many doors.

"To the Headman, eh?" the second guard started to mumble in a drunken voice. "Tell him that the gates are in safe hands, we're watching them like hawks. No enemy will get past us!" the guard straightened out, showing what a strong warrior was guarding the village. He was so overwhelmed with emotion that he lost his balance, he took several steps backwards, hit the stockade with his back and slid down, having lost his support from the spear.

"Hold it, Wilkins!" the second guard hurried after him, totally forgetting about the unfairness of things like balance and the force of gravity. I shook my head in resignation at the sight of such guards and headed into the village, but here I caught sight of the opened gates, which had previously been hidden by the plump guardsmen. They were made of common wood, but one side had been scarred by the four-digit claw of some unknown monster. Moreover, this had been done from the side of the village, as if someone wanted to make an opening into the world outside. I wondered whether there was some quest connected to these gates. Was it to find and destroy the monster? I had to offer my services to the Headman.

"What happened to your gates?" I asked Clouter, when we approached a large house located right in the centre of the village.

"Nothing's wrong with our gates."

"But what about the marks that look like they were made by some claws?"

"That's a prank played by the Straighters. Each night they sneak past the dosing guards and cut the gates with knives. Anyone getting caught gets dragged in front of the Headman and anyone who doesn't gets a ton of honour and respect. For example, I've never been caught yet!"

"So how many times did you sneak to the gates?" I asked, disappointed, and just trying to keep the conversation going now. That could have been such a great quest!

"So far zero times, but I didn't get caught either, right?" the kid gave me a toothless smile and pointed towards a brightly-painted house. "We're here now. The Headman's sitting inside, as usual." He then took off so fast that all I saw were his flashing heels. "And don't forget," Clouter shouted after running a good distance and turning around, "Not a word to mum about the wheel!"

"So you've been sent to live with us?" the Headman asked me, as he carefully rolled up the paper and hid it in a draw of his table. As soon as I set my eyes on him it was clear — this was someone who liked order, a pedant and, at the same time, an NPC who was very sure of himself. I couldn't say why, but his appearance really put me in mind of one of the advisers of the Malabar Emperor. He had the same commanding face, framed by a short goatee, and penetrating watchful eyes that took note of every detail; in general, he was a complete picture of one of Barliona's good officials. He was the complete opposite of the Govertoad and it was no surprise that such a leader had the respect of the people in the village.

"Yes, for almost three months."

"No need to stand, take a seat. We have to decide what you'll be doing here," the Headman gestured me to an armchair and then leant against the back of his own, looking at the ceiling, as if trying to think of how I could be of use to his village.

I sat in a soft and rather comfortable armchair, which was clearly not of a local make. It was strange that the house of an ordinary NPC should have such furniture, Headman or no. Reluctant to interrupt his thinking I began to examine the village leader’s 'office'. It was a separate room in a residential house. An enormous wooden table, like that of the Pryke Mine governor, stood in the middle of the office and was a prime example of a well-ordered work space: everything was in folders and neat piles, with nothing out of place. He really was a pedant. A few modest-sized glass cabinets with books and scrolls, a fireplace and a luxurious thick carpet were the other furnishings of the local leader's office. I was about to shift my gaze back to my host, when it was caught by a relatively small painting: there was the Headman, two grown men, an attractive young woman and a smudge of paint that covered the fifth person in the picture.

"We have no inns, so we'll have to assign you to lodge with someone. I think Elizabeth wouldn't mind, her house has been on the empty side for two years now," the Headman began to fill out a paper, which he then handed to me, "here, please relay my request to her. Furthermore, before I decide what type of work to appoint for you, I need to know what you can do and the level of your skills. I need exact numbers."

I opened my stats and began to read out my professions and their levels. It's just as well that he didn't demand that I should tell him all my stats — I was reluctant to reveal that I had Crafting even to an NPC.

"A Jeweller, a Miner and a Cook," said the Headman thoughtfully. "Totally useless professions in our parts. We have no Precious Stones, you'd have to buy them in town, which is two days' travel away on a cart. Mining might have been useful, but we have only one vein, by the smithy, and it's worked by our blacksmith Slate every day. You're not advanced enough to work an Iron Vein in any case. You could, of course, travel to the Free Lands. That's not far from here. You can get Tin and Marble veins there, but our forest is a dangerous one. Few would go there without decent protection. The Cook profession doesn't even bear mentioning: our Mrs. Potts can teach any cooks — even one of the Governor's — a thing or two. So that's that."

Free Lands nearby? Where the heck did I end up? Is this place really in the middle of nowhere?

"You don't happen to have a map of the Empire? It would be good to know where I was sent to serve my free settlement time," I asked the Headman. He squinted, giving me a long piercing look, and then replied,

"There is a map." He cleared the table, took a scroll out of one of the drawers and unfolded it. It was an enormous map of the Empire, about a meter by meter and a half. Where did he get such a wonder?! Such a map costs around ten thousand gold! "We're here," the Headman pointed his finger at the very edge of the border with the Free Lands. I bent over the map and quietly swore under my breath. 'Middle of nowhere' would be putting it mildly.

After the unification of all the countries took place and one language was adopted, the real world was split into five large regions, along the continents: Eurasia, Africa, Australia and the two Americas. In parallel with reality, five great continents were formed in Barliona, with each being divided roughly into three zones. For example, on our continent there was the Malabar Empire, Kartoss and the Free Lands. Malabar was where the players lived. It contained the main resources, quests, factions, cities, including the capital, and also some yet unexplored lands. Thus the area where I now found myself had not been completely mapped yet — even on the Headman's map it was sketched out very roughly. Kartoss, the Dark Empire, headed by the Nameless Dark Lord, was about five times smaller than Malabar in territory, but still caused a great deal of trouble with its constant incursions and raids. But you had to give this Empire its due: it abounded in unique objects and resources, which were often sought out by high-level players. It is interesting to note that both a raid group of a hundred players and a loner that secretly snuck into Kartoss had equal chance of getting loot. It was impossible to play on the side of the Dark Empire, although many times the players signed petitions and held demonstrations, asking to be permitted to play for the dark side of Barliona. The Corporation kept promising to develop this feature, but, as far as I knew, nothing was ever done in this direction — Kartoss remained the realm of the Imitators. And, finally, the third zone on every continent, which took up almost sixty percent of all the areas accessible for play: the Free Lands. Rare independent towns with their own reputation rating, villages made up of two-three dozen houses, great forests, endless steppes, impassable bogs and mountains that rose up to the sky. In the fifteen years of Barliona's existence only thirty percent of the Free Lands territory had been mapped, with the rest remaining a veiled mystery. Naturally, there were some enthusiasts who dropped everything and dedicated themselves to exploration and travel, but they either failed to produce maps of the explored areas or chose not to share them with the rest. Or, which is most likely, they sold the maps for crazy money to the leading clans. For the majority of players the territories of the Free Lands remained uncharted. One could only guess what quests and achievements they contained, although the Corporation representatives have repeatedly encouraged the players to stop battling Kartoss and explore the Free Lands, saying that these held the 'best bonuses' in the Game. The developers even placed all the new Dungeons, opened every half a year, inside the still unexplored parts of the Free Lands, to give players an incentive to spend their time on making their way there. But I digress, a lot...