Soulstone_Oblivion Read online

  That was bad enough in Titan Gate, but in Ruul, it was murder.

  “We’ll just move fast through the canyon,” I said. “Try to look threatening or something, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

  “Oh, sure. I’m a scary level 15. Rawr, watch out for me.”

  I couldn’t help laughing a little. After a few seconds, Crash joined me.

  Past the mouth of the canyon where the walls widened, there were a bunch of stone ruins to either side of the path, full of crumbling buildings, fallen columns, random statues that were missing limbs or heads. The place looked like some long-lost civilization that had been abandoned for hundreds of years, and it felt just as hushed and creepy. Worse than that, the ruins gave players plenty of places to hide for an ambush.

  We’d been walking for maybe five minutes and had just passed a huge old building with cracked stone columns in front and half of the roof collapsed, when there was a voice behind us.

  “How nice. Fresh newbie meat.”

  3

  Damn it. They must’ve been hiding in that building with the columns.

  It was four against three—well, against two and a rabbit. A whole pack. That really didn’t seem fair, but I doubted they were all that interested in fairness. Two male, two female, and they were paired off with one male and female in bronze armor, and the other set in white tunics and pants with long blue cloaks. Both names over the armored pair said Player, and the cloaked pair were Xanthia and Pwnd.

  They were all level thirties, and they were grinning.

  “Oh, shit,” Crash whispered, his eyes getting big. “What are we supposed to do here?”

  I held up a hand. What the hell, we were all gamers, right? And human beings. Maybe I could appeal to their better nature.

  “You guys know it’s a dick move to camp for newbs, right?” In the real world, nobody liked these kinds of players. “Especially since if you win, you’re killing people. For real.”

  “Yeah. And?” Pwnd said. It was the same voice that delivered the line about fresh newbie meat, so I guessed he was in charge. “If you can’t take the heat, stay out of Ruul.”

  The other three laughed.

  I wasn’t about to tell this asshole that we didn’t have a choice in the matter. I didn’t know how much info Wynn had on me, but from what I could piece together, there weren’t many drugged brain-in-a-jar players over here. And if they figured out who I was, we were all good as dead.

  The female in bronze drew a two-handed broadsword. That thing looked pretty beast.

  “Less talking, more fighting,” she said, pointing the sword at Crash.

  “I know, right?” said Xanthia. “I want this kid’s pet. Lookit the little fuzz-ball.”

  George bristled. “Who you calling fuzz-ball, Sugar Tits? Touch me and I’ll bite your fingers off.”

  “Ooh, he talks!” Xanthia squealed. “Now I definitely want him.”

  “Hey, come on. We don’t have to do this,” I said, attempting to rally once more for common sense. I mean, even though I’d heard there were players camping the PVP zones, I was still surprised it was true. We were talking actual death here. PVP battles ended in literal murder, and these guys didn’t seem to care. “Did you guys miss basic vocabulary day at school or something? Do you understand what dead means? I’ll give you a hint, it’s the opposite of alive.”

  “Okay, fine.” Bronze Armor Guy spoke for the first time, in a voice like a gravel pit. “You give us all your gear, and we’ll let you stay not dead.”

  I glanced at Crash and could see him actually considering the offer. But now I was pissed off. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was handing a single thing over to them, not even the weak-ass dagger I’d picked up in the newbie town. Not so much as a gauntlet. These guys were nothing but bullies.

  “I have a better idea. How about we keep our gear, and kick your asses?”

  Crash made a sound that could only be described as if we live through this, I’ll kill you.

  “Hell yeah, boss!” George shouted, already launching into a backflip. “Cone of Ice!”

  The attack burst from him, a massive cloud of blue that engulfed Xanthia and Pwnd, painting frost on their robes. Their health bars ticked down a few clicks — not nearly as many as I would’ve liked.

  Well, it was on now.

  “Stun Shock!” I shouted, casting one of the more powerful spells I’d learned from Sabre the traitor at Xanthia. Since it had a 7-second cooldown, I couldn’t stun them both at the same time, so I went after Pwnd with the Sword of the Skeleton King. He was still frosty and hardly even tried to block my attack, and I hit for full damage.

  Which barely ticked his health bar down.

  I heard Crash cry, “Chains of Frost!” and glanced over in time to see spectral blue shackles erupt from the ground, tying down Bronze Girl. He reared back with his new staff, aiming for Bronze Guy. Who was now holding a massive battle axe.

  We might be in a lot more trouble than I thought.

  At that moment, Xanthia broke free of the stun and reached into the air. A wooden staff materialized in her hands, one that looked a lot more polished and substantial than Crash’s. I guessed it must’ve been elf-made.

  She pointed it at me and cried, “Lightning Storm!”

  Bolts of purple-white lightning crackled from the end of her staff and hit my chest, causing a massive wave of pain through my body. The force of it sent me flying to crash down five feet away.

  I watched my health immediately drop to 52 percent. With one attack.

  As I stumbled to my feet, George bounded in front of me and leapt straight up, launching a wave of ice at the two blue-cloaks. “Taste my frost, assholes!” he screamed.

  Pwnd waved a staff he must’ve grabbed while I was looking at Crash. “Wind Shield!”

  A massive gust of wind blew over us, shattering the ice wave and gusting George’s fur. Then Pwnd pointed the staff at the rabbit. “Wind Blast.”

  George flew back and crashed hard into my chest, then slid limply toward the ground.

  “George!” I cried. “You son of a bitch,” I snarled at Pwnd.

  I heard the gravel voice shout, “Fire Forge,” and cut my eyes to the left in time to see him raise his now glowing-red axe and charge at Crash, who tried to block the blow with his staff. But the axe swung around the top of Bronze Guy’s head and smashed into the ground at Crash’s feet, engulfing the priest in flames. He started screaming, and his health bar drained rapidly.

  Okay, change of strategy. Time to run.

  I scooped up George, who was starting to come around, and grabbed Crash’s arm. The flames had gone out, and he was standing in place, gasping. “Come on, this way!” I shouted.

  Crash shook himself. His eyes narrowed in determination, and he thrust the staff at Bronze Guy. “Star Scream!”

  I was shocked. That was one of the mad powerful skills Sabre had shown us before we knew she was evil, all of which he’d refused to learn. Bronze Guy’s flaming axe attack must’ve pissed him off enough to temporarily forget about all that optimum build crap he was so focused on.

  Multicolor streams of light burst from Crash’s staff and struck Bronze Guy. His health bar dropped.

  By about ten percent.

  “Okay, you got him. Now move it!” I yelled, practically yanking his arm off as I pulled him away. The four-man pack still wasn’t making any great efforts to wipe us out. In fact, at least two of them were browsing their inventories. They figured we didn’t have a chance.

  I did too. That’s why we were getting the hell out of here.

  “Fire Wall,” I shouted, making a wide gesture across the canyon. A wall of flames ten feet high blazed across the ground between us and them, surprising me until I remembered the Virtuous Protector buff. That was why it was so big.

  I gave Crash a little shove. “Go! We’re running!”

  At least he didn’t need me to tell him twice. He pivoted and sprinted from the fire wall, matching my pace. “Where are we go
ing?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  George moaned, and then started struggling in my arms. I loosened my grip and he jumped to the ground, bounding along beside us. “Do we have a plan?”

  “Not exactly — wait. Maybe.” One of the many huge stone columns that littered the canyon stood about fifteen feet ahead of us on the right. “We can use that, make a barricade,” I said, pointing to the column. “And then run like hell.”

  “That thing probably weighs like ten tons,” Crash said. “What are you going to do, chop it down with your sword?”

  I shook my head. “You’re going to chop it down. With Killing Tempest.”

  “Are you nuts? You want me to attack a stone column?” he half-shouted. “Besides, that spell takes me down to almost nothing! They’ll be able to kill me with a sneeze.”

  “Use Mana Drain on George, then Heal yourself,” I said.

  “Hey! Don’t volunteer my mana to the squishy priest!”

  “Look, we’ve got to hold them off long enough to get some distance,” I said frantically. The pack was already coming. We’d have to slow them down first, and then slow them down some more. “George. Freeze the ground, will you?”

  “Why am I doing all the heavy lifting?” George grumbled. “I’m only a rabbit.”

  But he popped up and sent an icy blast at the ground, freezing everything in the canyon wall-to-wall for about ten feet.

  “Okay, now what?” George called as he caught up.

  “Now we block them off,” I said. “If I summon something for them to fight, then we get this column down and shore up the barricade, we can make it.”

  “Dude, what are you going to summon? This is a PVP zone!” Crash burst out as we were passing the column. “No dead monsters equals no undead and no golems. You know necromancers suck at PVP.”

  “I don’t need monsters. I’ve got Chaotic River.”

  Crash’s head swiveled toward me. “Shit, I totally forgot about that,” he breathed. “You … really think this’ll work?”

  “It has to.”

  “All right, I guess.” He didn’t look too convinced.

  We stopped on the other side of the column. The pack was picking their way across the ice field, and both Bronze Girl and Pwnd had slipped and fallen on their asses. As I watched, Pwnd managed to get a foot on the ground just as Xanthia went down. They were maybe fifty or sixty feet back, still out of range for most attacks, I hoped, but the icy ground wouldn’t slow them for long.

  “Okay, ready? We’ll cast at the same time,” I said. “On my mark.”

  Chaotic River summoned a certain number of skeletons that would fight for me for twenty seconds, at a number of my Intelligence minus one. All my stats were maxed out at twenty, so that meant nineteen skeletons, but I got a bonus of +1 summoned monsters from the Crown of Zombie King, giving me the full twenty. That should give us a few minutes, at least.

  “Now!” I shouted.

  Beside me, Crash flung a hand out toward the base of the column and cried, “Killing Tempest!” Thick ropes of black, viscous-looking stuff that glowed purple shot from his hand and drove into the column, shattering away huge chunks of stone. There was an enormous crackling sound as the break penetrated the stone structure, and it started to topple.

  Crash screamed with effort as the spell sent pain through him and his life bar dropped to almost nothing. It was my turn now.

  As the column was falling, I swept a gesture beneath it. “Chaotic River!”

  I had time to see the ground crack open about ten feet in front of the oncoming players, and a jumble of black skeletal arms shoot from the crack as the skeletons hauled themselves up to fight. But the column was close to impact, and we had to get further away.

  “Come on, George!” I said, grabbing the weakened priest and half-dragging him back from the falling stone mass. I’d gained us maybe twenty feet when it hit the ground with a sound like thunder. The ground rumbled beneath our feet, and clouds of dust billowed in the air.

  I had one more spell to cast before we took off. “Hey, George! I need the biggest ice blast you can give me. You’ll know when, okay?”

  He shot me a confused look.

  “Trust me,” I said, and shouted, “Water Wall!” as loud as I could.

  A tidal wave erupted from the ground, rising above the fallen stone column, and George grinned as he jumped into a flip. “Cone of Ice!”

  The blue explosion from the bunny was the biggest I’d seen yet. His attack coated the wave I’d created, and the squeaky, crackling sound of rapidly freezing water echoed through the canyon as the wall of water crystallized, rising halfway up the cliffs.

  “There. That oughta keep ’em busy,” I panted. My mana was down to less than half, and my health had dropped to forty percent.

  Crash held an arm out toward George. “Mana Drain.”

  “Hey, wait—” the rabbit squeaked, just before the spell hit him.

  I cringed as George cried out in pain. Mana Drain really did hurt, and he’d probably be too weak to run, but I could carry him. I couldn’t carry Crash.

  As I scooped up the shivering bunny, Crash cast Heal on himself with his replenished mana. His life bar lurched up to around 25 percent.

  Neither of us needed a verbal reminder that we hadn’t bought much time. We ran.

  4

  We’d managed to lose the pack in Combat Canyon. I don’t know if we actually outran them, or if they decided we were more trouble than we’d be worth to keep coming after. If they really made a habit of picking off newbs, they probably didn’t expect much fight out of their prey. Or a bunch of skeletons. After all, Crash was right. Necromancers were supposed to suck at PVP.

  “Are we there yet, boss?” George said for about the billionth time. “Cause this place kind of sucks.”

  “You’re just annoyed that the grass is taller than you?” I said, trying to reassure him because unfortunately, the Plains of Solitude turned out to be pretty well named.

  We’d been walking through an unchanging sea of tall, blue-green grass for what seemed like hours and hadn’t run into anyone or anything. If I didn’t have a map, we’d probably get lost out here. But I did have one, and the Caves of Despair were finally in sight on the near horizon.

  “Almost,” I told him as I pointed at the map. “Just a bit farther.”

  Crash surveyed the landscape with a reluctant expression. “That looks pretty depressing."

  I was inclined to agree. Even the sky above the Caves of Despair looked ominous. It was still blue with wisps of clouds over the Plains of Solitude, but it shaded quickly to dark gray and stormy-looking with a weird purplish-red tint outlining the clouds.

  Ahead of us, the grass thinned into clumps and patches of weeds. A hard-packed dirt path led down a slight slope and vanished in the mists that boiled around a network of rocky, uneven ground dotted with caves. The rocky structures were obsidian black with plenty of jagged edges and wicked points, and slick with moisture. Patches of moss appeared on the ground, around the cave entrances, and on loose boulders scattered around like a giant’s forgotten marbles.

  But the biggest pile of rocks in the center of it all was actually a super-Gothic black stone castle with tons of multi-level towers and pointed spires reaching for the sky. It kind of reminded me of Dracula’s castle in Castlevania.

  “Well, I’m guessing the dungeon would be under the castle,” I said.

  Crash sighed. “Right. That would be the Dungeon of Oblivion.”

  “We won’t get lost.”

  I hoped.

  We headed down the path and entered the mists. The air was damp with almost-rain, and the temperature dropped a good fifteen degrees as we passed into Caves of Despair territory. There was a big difference in sound here, too. It’d been quiet on the plains, just the grass rustling gently in a light breeze. Here, the wind whistled and howled around rocks and across cave entrances, and there was an occasional distant, ominous drawn-out cracking that could have b
een thunder. Or rockslides.

  After a while, George shook himself and let out a sneeze. “Ugh, I’m soaked.”

  I hadn’t even noticed, but I was pretty damp myself. The constant misty rain made everything cold and miserable. “We’ll dry out once we get to the dungeon. I should be able to build a fire or something.”

  Crash swiped at his sleeves and scowled. “Good, because I’m with the bunny for once. This sucks.”

  I was about to agree, when I noticed there was something different about the gloomy cave entrance situated on a rise about ten feet off the left of the path. Specifically, it came with a pair of glowing red eyes.

  A split-second later, whatever was attached to those eyes growled.

  “Watch out!” I shouted, drawing the Sword of the Skeleton King. I knew better than to hope the thing would stay inside the cave while we walked past.

  “What’s — oh, damn,” Crash said. “I was just getting used to the whole solitude thing.”

  Suddenly, one set of red eyes became three. “Ah, what do we have here?” a voice like Vin Diesel gargling lava said from the gloom. “Tasty humans, with rabbit stew on the side.”

  The owner of the voice tromped out of the cave, followed by his buddies. Six feet of lumpy, misshapen gray flesh mottled with purple and black, long thick arms with hands dangling down to their knees, and huge pairs of tusks thrusting up from their lower jaws.

  Awesome. We had cave trolls.

  “Kill the humans!” the lead troll roared. All three of them banged their fists on their chests like they were mutant gorillas, and then ran down the slope toward us at a rapid lope.

  Crash pointed his staff at the first troll. “Star Scream!” he shouted.

  Multicolor shards of light shot from the staff and blasted the troll in the chest. He flew back between his buddies and hit the ground, but he rolled a few feet and got up again with a renewed roar.

  Deciding to let the ranged guys do their things, I opted to become the role of the tank. Charging forward, I slammed one of the other two with Stun Shock. As he stopped in place, George sent a shower of ice pellets at the other one, turning him into a troll-sicle. I spun on my heel toward the now frozen troll, drawing my sword back for a strike.