The Kartoss Gambit (The Way of the Shaman: Book #2) (25 page)

Shining candle-fire springs...

Yeah... Ten seconds — and the world changed. Or rather it was my game interface that changed. Almost a quarter of my field of vision was covered by eight transparent Spirits. They were constantly turning, as if showing themselves off from every side. Four Spirits had a counter under them, probably the rank of the spirit. A rather sheepish-looking 1 was shimmering there right now. My Water Spirits were still weak, very weak. I stopped my summoning to examine the updated interface. Ten seconds went by and the interface with the Spirits vanished.

So that's what the mode for working with the Spirits is like, eh? I selected a dummy, called up the mode once again and then focused on one of the Water Spirits and unleashed it at the target.

Bam! The dummy shook and water sprayed in all directions, clearing the snow in its wake. I repeated the Spirit summons and the dummy played the role of a fountain once again. Did I finally get it? I spent around ten minutes playing around with Spirit summoning, healing myself, the dummy, even Kornik, who, disgruntled, mumbled something like: "so big, but no brains at all." When I stopped the kamlanie, I exited the mode for working with Spirits. On one hand this was convenient — I had the needed Spirits always before me, in plain sight, and their summoning speed increased with this convenient interface. At the same time it looks like the class is unpopular exactly due to this aspect of Shamanistic abilities. In the time it takes you to enter the right mode and summon a Spirit, you can be outmanoeuvred a hundred times and sent off to respawn at a leisurely pace.

"You've earned two questions. Think carefully before asking them," Kornik's voice brought me back to reality.

"My questions are the same. I still want to know what happened on that ill-fated day when Prontho duelled with Shiam and why I take different decisions with my heart and with my head?" and before Kornik could open his mouth I added, "but I have a massive request for you. I would like to get a full answer and not something like: "there was a duel, and you can feel the right way.' I know this anyway. Teacher, if we have so little time, please leave the riddles for later and answer the question directly. After Beatwick I will come to Anhurs, drop by for a visit and we'll play riddles all you like. We really don't have time for that at the moment."

Your reputation with the Shaman Council increased by 10 points. You are 990 points away from the status of Friendly.

"Hehe," the goblin smirked, "I really did intend to give you an answer like that. Word for word. I'll have to think of a different answer now, hehe."

"And how about simply giving a proper full answer?"

"But giving a straight answer just isn't interesting. Not flying to the Dragons and finding the scroll by yourself was your own choice. And don't look at me with such surprise. Do you really think Almis and I weren't watching you when you were running between the honourable ladies? I can give a full answer to one question and a vague answer to the other. Choose which is most important to you."

"Then tell me about Prontho — I'll sort out my own problems, but I mustn't lose the thread of the events of many years ago. This is more important."

"You've made your choice. Then listen, apprentice, about what is happening to you. You are a Shaman. What makes Shamans different is that they can feel certain things within the surrounding world. For example, a Shaman always knows if anyone is staring at him or feels if there's a fight or an ambush nearby. These are only the external manifestations of what the Spirits are able to tell them. But sometimes unusual Shamans appear. These are not only able to feel external phenomena, but internal ones as well. Some call it intuition, others premonition. But the essence of it remains the same — it is the ability to foresee the future. Such sentients exist among Mages, Warriors, Hunters and Shamans. Within each class there can appear a free citizen who doesn't just perceive, but also senses. Why you're able to do this is a question for you. I don't know who you were in your previous life. I hope that you would be able to understand this by yourself."

Kornik paused, giving me a chance to think over his words. It turns out that the ability to feel is not specific to Shamans, but to certain players. Players with the ability to be prescient. People who use their intuition in the real world...

I suddenly recalled the time when I was a 'free artist' in Barliona. I was around twenty when I started studying hacking and information security. What else can a former student of the philological department for ancient languages do? There were no prospects for development and there wasn't much of a career in being an ancient culture enthusiast. So I chose computer security. This was followed by two years of stubborn and monotonous reading of books, attending training courses, sitting tests and meeting up with similarly crazy people as myself, until one day the Corporation announced a contest a contest for hacking Barliona. At the time the game still didn't have that many players, despite active propaganda by the Government. There were plenty of virtual worlds around, some of them of even superior quality. Players had choice. And then the contest was announced: whoever managed to gain possession of another player's account would be given a reward of thirty thousand gold, which at the time already corresponded to real money. The contest lasted two weeks, without any limit placed on the number of winners.

Barliona descended into chaos.

Hackers from around the world got down to business and for about a week Barliona was inaccessible. Servers were down, accounts were hacked and characters deleted. There were howls of rage from players on the forums, thousands of cases were filed with the courts, but the corporation steadily weathered all these woes. A certain policy had been adopted and followed through, whatever the immediate results. The chaos lasted a week and then suddenly stopped. Completely stopped. The injured parties were compensated and given commemorative gifts and everything seemed to settle down until another contest was announced six months later. It had the same purpose as the first: anyone able to break into the game and gain access to another player's information would be given a reward. A much bigger sum this time — a million gold.

Barliona held out for a week, until our three-strong strike force joined the fray. Yes, there were three of us. Me, my friend (the one who developed the security system used by Marina for her Imitator) and our mentor. The one who taught us everything we knew.

"A real hacker doesn't just know his stuff better than anyone," he liked to repeat. "A real hacker has intuition. If you can't sense that you need to click in this particular place right now and then go and launch a script in that particular location, you will never be able to call yourself a hacker. You may be an advanced programmer, a security expert, or even a break-in guru, but you will never be a hacker."

We spent three days trying to break into Barliona. The updated Imitator completely blocked all our attempts to get through the defence. Two days before the end of the contest, we gathered as usual at my friend's place and planned our next move. Everyone was out of ideas and we were close to giving up. That's when it all happened.

I stared vacantly at the stream of data coming from my capsule and, comparing it with an analogous data stream of another player, I began to randomly change the parameters of the intercepting device that we inserted between the capsule and the game server. Even now, seven years later, I would not be able to explain what it was that I did. I was typing something in, making some changes... At that moment it felt like the right thing to do. My friend wanted to speak to me, but my teacher stopped him, saying that I shouldn't be distracted.

Twenty hours later, tired and hungry, I slumped down on the floor and fell asleep. I did it. I managed to program a model of another player's data in my own capsule. The result was far from ideal, since replicating this action required a precisely configured capsule table of the target player, but it didn't matter. What did was that I managed to enter Barliona as another player's character. When I woke up only my friend remained in the flat. Our teacher left us in a hurry, having volunteered to inform the world that the desired result had been reached. It turned out that he left us for good.

When the Corporation examined my method, which our (now former) mentor claimed as a brain child of his own, it immediately offered him a job. The promised prize was paid out and the contest ended. Gaming capsules were upgraded within a month, with the Corporation providing a free replacement, so the break-in couldn't be replicated. And a couple of months later we got a letter from our mentor in which he noted with regret that in his entire life he had never had such inept students. He regretted that he ever took us on and was hanging on to the prize as compensation for the time he wasted on us. If we weren't happy with this we could always take up our grievances with him in the game.

My friend deleted his character that very day and, as far as I know, doesn't set foot in the game as a matter of principle. He says that he's happy enough in the real world. I kept away for three years, after turning into a 'free artist'. I did all I could to make trouble for Barliona from outside. I never found any major holes, but it was enough to make a living. I always ended up finding undocumented quirks of the game thanks to a feeling that there was something wrong in a particular function. Then one day, after a breakup with a girlfriend, I rolled up a character and then it was too late to stop...

It looks like in some way the game allows you — if not to develop then to enhance — intuition that we have in reality. And not just for me, but for other players too. Those who cannot really explain why you shouldn't take that flight or board that train. They simply know this deep down and that's that.

"If you are done meditating, I shall continue," Kornik didn't go anywhere while I was on my jog down the memory lane. "You wanted to know what happened between Prontho and Shiam. Then listen."

I had a great difficulty concentrating on what the goblin was saying. Memories are a great thing, but you have to live in the present.

"Twelve years ago Almis's apprentice lost his mind and crossed over to the Kartoss side. Geranika asked the Dark Lord to make him his protégé, losing forever any chance of coming back to Malabar. To prove the extent of his resolve Geranika sacrificed the Spirits of forty Shamans — ranging from Great to High in rank — to the Dark Lord. In return the Lord of Kartoss granted him such power that even I was unable to get the better of him and was forced to flee in shame. Right now Geranika is almost equal in strength to the Emperor or the Dark Lord. But there was still a chance to strip him of his might. Until the Supreme Spirits confirm a Shaman's power, he could be deprived of this power. And the Supreme ones are very unhasty entities... We had a whole month. Prontho proposed to set up a Shaman Circle. Shiam was against it. He couldn't believe that his brother defected to the dark side and didn't want to destroy him with his own hands. A conflict arose between him and Prontho, following which the orc issued a challenge to the head of the council. This went against all our rules and laws. The actual combat between the High Shamans was brief and rapid. But something didn't seem right to me. I felt the presence of an alien Spirit on the battlefield. Not a Spirit, even... I cannot say exactly what it was, but it definitely couldn't have been summoned by either Prontho or Shiam. The head of the Council was strong, but he couldn't push Prontho out of the circle. I trained that green die-hard myself, so I know his strength very well. Prontho was stronger, but he lost. The orc refused to answer my questions, only repeating that since he lost such was his fate. Bloody fatalist. Perhaps you will have better luck in getting something out of this blockhead, who knows..."

Update of the 'Restoration of Justice' quest. The Deputy Head of the Shaman Council, Kornik, is convinced that a foreign entity was present at the duel, but doesn't have any proof. You must find out the whole truth about Prontho's duel.

"And where is Geranika now?" I uttered involuntary.

"That would be a third question, but I will answer it. Right now he is hunting me, without ever setting foot outside the Dark Lord's castle. He may have formally remained a High Shaman, but in strength he greatly surpasses a Harbinger. And not just a Harbinger — even an Advisor would not come out victorious from a duel with him. And now, apprentice, it is time for you to go back. You must not do anything foolish. You can go back to your beloved mine after it's all finished."

"What is finished?"

"The question limit is reached, even exceeded. You'll find out everything yourself soon enough. We will meet next when the Supreme Spirit of the Higher World deems you ready for the trial of initiation into the rank of a Great Shaman. And also," Kornik looked up into my eyes, "when the time comes to choose, make the choice with your heart and not your head. Here is your altar."

Item acquired: Altar for sacrificing to the Spirits. Does not take up inventory bag space.

The world blinked and I found myself in front of the Beatwick gates. The snoring of the guards, whose breath was a clear sign of their fervent devotion to Vlast, the pounding of the hammer in the smithy and the three Neanderthal-like haymakers became so familiar in the past few weeks that I really began to feel this was home. I winked at a kid running past me and headed off to Elizabeth's house. I had no idea what Kornik meant by 'make the choice', so I decided not to burden my brains with such things. If he thinks that I'd find everything out soon enough, then so be it.