Necromancers, Demons & Kings Read online

  He woke the next morning fresh and ready to get going with their day. They had run out of time when they had made it back to High Ridge, and he never had a chance to deconstruct that staff he picked up. The notes were also burning a hole in his pocket, as was the crown. He considered mentioning them both to Jimmy or Maverick, but for some reason he held back. Breakfast went by fast enough and, soon, he was closing his eyes as Tyler adjusted his gear and gave him a thumbs up for a good day.

  ***

  Bishop and the others arrived at the Crossroads twenty minutes after they logged in, and right when the carriage was pulling back up the road. They had to wait for a few other small groups and solo players to speak with the arrogant lord before they could turn in their quests for killing the leader of the occult and whatever bounties each player had managed to collect.

  Once Bishop turned his in, a single item dropped into his bags.

  You have received: Broken Dagger of the Unfortunate Wanderer.

  “Wow, that’s awesome,” he muttered, shaking his head with a rueful laugh. “You do this for everyone or just little old me?” he asked, but the NPC didn’t respond.

  “What did you get?” Jimmy asked.

  “A crappy dagger that has worst stats than anything I’ve seen so far. Think I’ll give it to Arthur to melt down for scrap.” He checked the rest of his inventory, worried for a moment the crown was gone. He sighed with relief when he confirmed it was still in his possession. “Shall we proceed to Hillside?”

  Most of the group had mounts. A few others were like Maverick. So, they made quick time, sticking to the road for once, and reached Hillside in decent time. The town was larger than Brookside, but smaller than High Ridge Sanctuary and certainly smaller than Weston. The rear of it backed up into the mountains, a good defensive location since there was no way for an enemy to surround the city. The houses were made of stone and large timbers. And for the most part, the NPCs seemed happy to have newcomers to their town.

  “Welcome to Hillside,” a guard near the watchtower greeted them.

  “We’re looking for the priests who reside her,” Bishop told him. “And the crafting hall.”

  “Certainly, friend,” the guard said, and he turned around so he faced the town. “The priests here reside in the old monastery that backs up into the mountains. Stay on the main road through town and you will find yourself before it. The crafting hall is towards the left near the fork. There will be signs to guide you.”

  “Thanks,” Bishop said, and he shook the guard’s hand.

  “And your friend awaits you at the tavern, Bishop,” the guard whispered, so only he could hear. “She says to hurry to her when you find yourself alone.” He released Bishop’s hand and the smile returned to his face as he greeted more players making their way up the road behind them.

  “What did he tell you?” Maverick asked. “Do we know where the priests are?”

  “Yeah, up the main road,” he told her, forcing his voice to remain light. A friend awaited him at the tavern. The question he needed answered though was whether it was Valen or Tavin who awaited his presence. Also, did the guard only share this information with him or would the others be meeting their main guides in this game in the tavern as well? His recent issues with Tavin and Valen were making him paranoid.

  Bishop stayed with his friends as they admired the beauty of Hillside. The town itself was surrounded by farming fields of wheat and corn that ran all the way until it hit the woods again. Music played at the center of the town and it appeared a festival of some sort was just getting underway. Bishop saw no signs, but Jimmy asked a passerby and the NPC clapped her hands happily.

  “It’s the festival for our dear Goddess!” she exclaimed.

  “Goddess?” Bishop asked. “Who?”

  “Oh don’t be silly, everyone knows of our Goddess, she provides for all the wondrous things in Hillside. Our patron mother, Driana.”

  “Driana, of course,” Bishop said, and the NPC wandered away. “I didn’t even realize there were gods for the people of Samar.”

  “That’s what happens when you’re too busy killing things,” Jimmy said. “The elves had quite a few temples around their starting area and I think Maverick said the shifters did, too. Very druidic spirits and gods. I take it the half-breeds didn’t?”

  “Ah no, not so much.”

  “Huh, well Driana is the Goddess of the fields. Guess that’s why this area has so many farms compared to the others we’ve been to,” he commented. “Oh well. Onto the priests!”

  “Think Bronson will be there too, so I can see where that quest leads? With the notes?”

  “I’m sure that’s where he would be. Can you try to share it with me again?” Jimmy asked. Bishop finally told him about the journal he picked up, but left out the bit about the crown still.

  Bishop brought up the menu showing his available quests and selected the one for delivering the notes to Bronson. He attempted to share it, but it didn’t work. He couldn’t lie he was excited to have another solo quest that was only meant for him but, at the same time, if it transported him somewhere else with a lot of demons to fight, or worse, facing off with Valen again, he would much rather not go it alone.

  “Damn, I hope you get something good out of that.”

  “Same,” he said, and he was about to tell Jimmy about the crown when Trajan picked up the pace. “Guess we’re here.”

  A large stone faced building rose up before them with a single bell tower set in the center of the courtyard. Beyond it were men and women milling around in robes and cloaks, matching those they saw at High Ridge. These were dyed a deep red color. Bishop stared closer and reached out to grab Jimmy’s arm.

  “What?”

  “Those cloaks look familiar to you at all?” he whispered.

  Jimmy’s eyes narrowed then widened as he covered his mouth. “They… they’re the necromancers!”

  “Shh! Keep your voice down,” he hissed, as a few passing NPCs stared at them curiously. “I doubt these priests have anything to do with the necromancers, but I think they might have been a part of the same following until those demons attacked that old palace.”

  “Welcome, heroes,” one of the priests said, his robes white instead of red as the others. “You have journeyed to us for a purpose I sense. Please, tell me how we may be of assistance?”

  “We were told you and those in your order would be able to tell us a bit more about Helenex and give us a defense against the call of her sirens,” Maverick told him, shooting Jimmy a sideways glance.

  The priest’s face darkened. “That I can, but we should discuss these matters inside.”

  He turned around and hurried inside. Maverick led the way and the others followed, Bishop keeping his eyes open for any more clues to explain what might have happened to the far south of Hillside. The inside of the monastery had paintings hanging from the walls and sculptures of who Bishop assumed was the Goddess Driana, but nothing else that could help him with his current dilemma. The priest passed through one hallway and onto another before finally entering a vast library. He walked up to a book opened on the podium at the far end of the room and flipped through several weathered and yellowed pages before he turned the book around for them to see.

  “Helenex, the seductress, is one of the most dangerous Demon Lords. I’m certain the other priests told you this?”

  “Yes, but they said you and your order studied her the most extensively,” Maverick said.

  “We have. We have also found the entrance to her lair.”

  “The waterfall?” Jimmy asked.

  “No, the waterfall is nothing more than a trap to lure men in and kill them,” he corrected. “Her lair lies along the coast, Dead Man’s Bay. Their skeletons line the coastline and her sirens guard the entrance.”

  “And you have a way to guard against them, right?” Jimmy asked, fidgeting with this staff. “So they can’t, you know, lure us to our deaths?”

  The priest nodded. “It will not
be easy and if you take it before you are ready, it will damage you.”

  “Ready,” Bishop repeated. “Got it, we can’t use it until we’re level twenty I bet.”

  “Well, we’re only two levels to go,” Trajan said. “How do you make it?”

  The priest pulled out a piece of parchment from his robes and held it up. “Here is a list of what we will need. You each have to collect the ingredients on your own, in the surrounding lands. You cannot do this quest together, or it will negate the potion we must create for each individual.”

  Bishop broke up the party so they were all in their own group again, and the priest offered the quest to each of them in turn. When he took the priest’s hand, a prompt appeared.

  You have received: Ward of the Siren Ingredient List.

  “I guess we’re doing some soloing for a while,” Bishop said after the priest wandered away, finished with them for the moment. “I have a few things to take care of here as I’m sure everyone else does.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement and the LongBeards said they would meet up with Bishop’s Guard later that day and see where everyone was with gear and leveling. Bishop waited for the others to wander away, leaving him alone in the library. He hadn’t called Willy to his side yet. For some reason, he had a feeling the white wolf would not like this town.

  He pulled up the quest to find Bronson, but all it said was the man was located in Hillside somewhere. Since he didn’t need to stick around the monastery, he left and walked back through the town, searching for the tavern. He found it easily enough and checked the quest tracker.

  Tavin was there. The stairs the arrows led Bishop to went downstairs into a set of rooms beneath the tavern. He glanced over his shoulder, waiting for an NPC to stop him or for an error to occur. But he reached the bottom of the dimly lit stairwell without any problems and continued to follow the arrows. They guided him to a door and he stopped, raising his hand to knock.

  His knuckles barely grazed the wood when the door burst open and he stared passed the straight face of Tavin into a room with a roaring fire in a hearth, fur rugs, hanging adornments on the walls. He realized, without even stepping inside, this was where Tavin actually lived and not in Harborage.

  Not even sure why he did it, he bowed his head and made sure his eyes were locked on hers when he said, “Hello, my Queen Tavin. May I come in?”

  Her face paled and, for a second, he thought she would slam the door in his face.

  “Let him in already, Tavin,” a familiar voice called out, and Bronson stepped into view. “It appears we were not wrong to put our faith in this one.”

  “No, no we were not,” Tavin agreed, and she stepped aside so Bishop could enter. She closed and locked the door behind him. “Wine for you?”

  “Wine? You’re going to offer me wine after I just called you my Queen?” he asked. “What the hell is going on? Why is there an exact replica of the castle in Weston? Who are the dead that fill it and why… why is there a portrait of you with Godfrey?”

  Tavin slammed the bottle of wine down on the table so hard that it shattered. “That is not Godfrey in those portraits.”

  “No? Then who is it?” Bishop asked and wondered if he was having a programed conversation or if this was completely off script now. How much of this was planned out by Dennis? “Tavin, just tell me what’s really going on. You and Valen… that day, outside the dungeon. What was that?”

  She didn’t move, didn’t speak, but her whole body stiffened and the anger that poured off her in waves almost made Bishop bolt for the door in case she lashed out at him. After all, he was only a lowly player. She could easily kill him if she wanted to. He still couldn’t see a health bar over her head, or even tell what level she was. Bronson was exactly the same. The emotions they exuded were almost too real for him.

  “Bishop, here,” Bronson said, and he guided him to a chair by the hearth.

  “I have something for you,” Bishop said and, as he drew out the journal to turn in for the quest, he removed the broken crown as well. “And I have a feeling this is for Tavin.”

  Bronson took the notes. XP points exploded around Bishop, but he hardly noticed them as the quest was completed. He held out the crown in his hands and Tavin’s gaze slowly slid to it as if afraid it might suddenly come to life and take her hand off if she reached for it.

  “His crown,” she whispered. “You found it.”

  “Do you want it?”

  She opened her palm and he rested it gently in her hands. Carefully, her fingers closed around the tarnished gold and iron crown. She sank into another chair by the fire. “Let me tell you a story, Bishop. A story that will change everything you think you know about Samar and this war you are fighting.”

  A prompt hovered before his eyes and he skimmed through the quest. Tavin was going to take him on a journey back through her memories. Bishop didn’t even hesitate before he hit accept and the room around him faded.

  At first, the chance of a glitch happening had him cursing, but then his gut twisted as it always did when he was transported somewhere else in the game and he was thrown from his seat. He landed with a thud on his back. Tavin’s hand appeared in his face and hoisted him up. The room around him looked familiar, but he and the Tavin standing before him were faded as if they were ghosts visiting this time and place.

  “Where are we?” he whispered, unsure if he would draw attention by those moving around him and Tavin. Many of them wore armor. Others were dressed in the robes of the priests from Hillside. Bishop entertained the notion that perhaps those priests started here, in what he called Old Weston, before they were forced to move somewhere else.

  “In the past,” she replied. “My past to be exact, within my memories.”

  Bishop followed her intense gaze across the throne room to see Tavin sitting on a throne beside the man he swore was Godfrey. “Who was he? He’s clearly not Godfrey.”

  Tavin smiled sadly and, for those few seconds, Bishop forgot this was all meant to be a game. The action-packed, fun-loving quests of Samar had just taken a serious turn he was not ready for, and suddenly everything about this world, these characters seemed real.

  “Lachlan Raijin. He came from a long line of royals here in Samar, royals who have hidden a secret for as far back as anyone can remember. So far back, most people under their rule had forgotten. He was King of Samar long before his brother came to power,” she growled, and Bishop glimpsed the demon half of Tavin lurking beneath the surface. She stalked through the crowd, walking into them and not touching them.

  Bishop followed, afraid to lose her in the memory. “What do you mean? What happened?”

  She stopped at the edge of the dais and held up her hand. “I am about to show you.”

  Bishop stared at Lachlan. He was nearly an identical match for Godfrey. “Twins, they’re identical twins. But the man we killed at the other palace… he was a necromancer?”

  Tavin nodded. “He was turned into one, yes. At least now he can be at peace.”

  “But why? What happened?” he insisted again.

  “Betrayal happened,” she snarled. “Betrayal and death.”

  Bishop felt the rumble beneath his feet before he heard it, rolling over them like thunder from a storm. Lachlan clutched at Tavin’s hand up on the dais, their eyes filled with hate as the then King yelled for the guards. He and Tavin drew the swords at their hips and prepared to fight, so unlike the day the demons attacked Godfrey when he and his queen stood there, unable to do anything as they were swarmed.

  “She is here,” Lachlan snapped, and Bishop swore he saw his eyes flare green.

  “No… no she can’t be! He swore he warded all of Weston!” Tavin yelled.

  “He lied,” Lachlan hissed. The temperature in the room plummeted and his breath puffed out before his face. “She is here and she brings the dead with her.”

  The words were barely out from his lips when the great doors at the end of the hall were thrown open. Screams and cries of agon
y echoed inside as those out in the courtyard and beyond were slaughtered. Skeletal beings, demons, and hellhounds flooded into the room, the first two wielding blades glowing green with fire. Tavin and Lachlan did not stay back as Bishop assumed, but charged into the fray, leading the attack on those who dared harm their people. Bishop took a step forward to help, already pulling his bow from his body, but the Tavin beside him held out her arm.

  “You cannot stop this. It has already come to pass,” she murmured. “Watch, as I have, time and time again.”

  The attack was ruthless and bloody. It was clear from the outset, Lachlan and his people didn’t stand a chance. The dead and demonic being overwhelmed them in moments until they were forced back to the thrones. The demons halted their attack and waited. Lachlan bled from several wounds as did Tavin, but neither appeared ready to surrender. Clapping echoed around the room and the demons parted to make an aisle. Bishop’s blood ran cold as he spied Valenastrious herself standing there, flanked by two beasts he knew had to be Demon Lords. She glided down the aisle, not making a sound as she came face to face with Tavin and Lachlan. They shoved the remaining guards behind them, keeping them safe even if only for a few moments.

  Bishop doubted Godfrey would put his life in danger like this.

  “Well, that was a brilliant display of stupidity, was it not?” Valen growled, grinning far too wide for it to be natural. “Too bad it was all for nothing.”

  “What do you want from us, vermin?” Lachlan snarled.

  “What I have wanted all along, my dear Lachlan. Control of these lands you hold so dear. Now I shall have them. You have failed,” Valen informed him, running her fingers down his cheek. Her touch burned and he cringed, yet he did not back away from her touch. “Now, you will suffer for all eternity as one of my slaves. Trapped.”

  “No!” Tavin yelled, and she shoved Lachlan aside. She swung her sword down and sliced Valen’s hand from her arm. Valen snarled and whirled back, but the injury did little to push the Demon Queen away. She backhanded Tavin with the one hand she had left and, as soon as Lachlan was before her again, she shoved her hand clean through his chest. “No! Damn you, no!”