The Lag (The Game Master: Book #1) (4 page)

Attila took a seat at the table next to him. The half-orc had pale-blue skin. A scar ran across his temple. His long beard was tied in a knot at the end; as for his hair, it was unusually thick, resembling a nest of little snakes. A bowl of pickles stood on the table next to a second mug. Beast reached out and filled it from a keg.

"Cheers, man! May the Canyon be good to us!"

Attila reached for the mug and drank the toast. His client's Adam's apple twitched as he poured the beer down his neck. Then he grunted, pounding his nearly-empty mug onto the table. Attila barely touched his drink.

"So? Have you got it?" Beast craned his powerful neck toward him. His voice sounded impressively husky but still Attila thought he could detect a sour note. The player must have been young — most likely using a voice changer attached to a microphone to sound older.

Beast cast a furtive glance around and leaned toward Attila. His dark orcish eyes glistened as he repeated,

"So, you got it? Show me. Can't wait."

His boyish intonation didn't match his militant stance. When an enormous bearded hulk of a half-orc complete with scars, weathered skin and fat greedy lips begins to fidget and pull faces, it admittedly looks funny.

"Relax," Attila said. "Calm down, man. You're attracting attention. You sure you got the money?"

"Where's my cheat?" Beast raised his voice.

Attila cast a worried look around. "Put the voice down, you idiot!" he hissed.

Beast shrunk his head into his shoulders. "Why?" Not receiving an answer, he sat up straight again. "Who do you think you are?"

Jesus. Attila heaved a sigh. "The Eye is hovering over the donjon's roof," he said. "It's transmitting the images here," he reached into his bag for the Book and laid it on the table. "Wait, I'm gonna turn it on now. Can you see? You can control it via these crystals. Here, try it."

Continuing to explain, he pushed the Book toward Beast who immediately began pressing and turning the knobs, open-mouthed with the effort. When the image in the frame obeyed his actions commanding the Eye to move, he beamed like a little boy.

Yes. This was a boy. He must have stolen the money from his parents. Having said that, some of these kids were quite capable of earning large sums by gaming, much more than their dad could bring home by busting his hump on some assembly line. Attila kept explaining the details while casting occasional glances at the helmet. What a stupid logo.

The bad foreboding arose in him again. He cast an inconspicuous look around. No one seemed to be paying any particular attention to them. Everything was business as usual. And still-

The landlord and the hunched-up Elf by the bar were talking in low voices. The Elf finished his mug in one swig and cast a nonchalant glance at Beast and Attila.

Attila didn't like it. Then again, there was nothing suspicious about the man. It wasn't even the patrons that worried him, it was the tavern itself. There was something wrong about the whole setup. What could that be? He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

"Cool," Beast mumbled, playing with the Eye. The image on the book cover kept rotating. The picture in Attila's left goggle lens mirrored its movement. He could see the room and he could also see the overlapping view of the ruins outside, the bushes and the donjon.

Beast had found Attila via one of his old clients. He'd contracted him to make the Eye: an absolutely indispensable thing for every Pioneer, whether alone or in a group. A cheat like that could seriously improve your chances of survival in the Dead Canyon. The problem was, it wasn't exactly legal. The emphasis being on "exactly". The truth was, the Admins had chosen to close their eyes to the players' use of cheats which admittedly added to the game's appeal. On the other hand, they tended to unsettle the game's balance which was why cheat builders were prosecuted, arrested and heavily fined.

Admins didn't bother to arrest them themselves, though. They had specially hired players to do just that. Called Legionnaires, they too were obliged to follow the game's rules just like everybody else. Well, almost. The constant standoff between the legionnaires and cheat masters that often resulted in major confrontations were Gryad's special feature: a fun attraction which added to the game's excitement.

Attila frowned. There was one other strange thing about the tavern. It was nearly empty. Normally, the Unicorn was packed. He'd never seen even half of its tables empty; now virtually all of them were deserted.

"I'll take it," Beast announced.

"Quiet, you," Attila hissed. "What's wrong with you, man? Can't you keep your voice down? It's five and a half grand."

Beast's eyes opened wide with indignation. "You said it was four!"

"I had to buy some native software. Couldn't get any hacked ones. Didn't I warn you that the price might go up? I did. So if you want it, you'd better pay now."

Attila pulled the Book closer and closed the Eye's view on the cover, opening his payment provider instead. Beast stared at him, mouthing something.

Attila knew this old salesmen's trick. You had to hand the goods over to the client so that he could hold it, touch it and feel that it was already as good as his. Then you took it back from him. Subconsciously the client would already regard the item as his own and would be much more prone to buy something he otherwise wouldn't have. So now Attila was sure this Beast wasn't going to reconsider.

He was desperate, too desperate to scruple about such tricks. Besides, he'd indeed gone over his budget while working on the Eye. A visit from some shady debt collectors was the last thing his wheelchair-bound body needed. He had to raise the money today by hook or by crook.

Beast sniffed unhappily.

"Have you ever used the in-game banking system?" Attila asked.

"Of course I have. Who do you think I am?"

"I don't know, do I? I'm not talking about shopping. I mean a direct transfer between accounts."

"I know what you mean."

"So send it, then. Or are you not taking it? I'll be off, then," Attila reached for the Book. "It's not a problem to find another customer for this."

"I
am
taking it!" Beast wheezed. Stealing a look around, he reached for his backpack that lay on the bench next to him. He rummaged through it for his own Book and placed it on the table. It looked truly Barbaric with its rough leather cover, all scratched and dented. Instead of crystals, he had four skulls mounted in the cover's four corners. The screen was framed with a pattern of bones.

"Don't look," Beast said, leaning over his Book and covering it with his elbow. "I need to enter the password."

Attila, however, looked hard — but not at the Book. He was peering at the outside view that the Eye was sending to his goggle lens, watching five legionnaires circle the donjon. They were clad in light knee-length chainmail shirts with an emerald sheen. Their signature helmets were topped with birdlike beaks. The legionnaires were armed with bastard swords which they all wore whenever they weren't undercover. They never used shields, relying on their powerful arm bracers with which they could parry the fiercest of slashing blows.

They hurried through the brambles toward the donjon. Were they just patrolling the area? Or were they on a manhunt?

Slowly Attila turned his head and looked at Beast. The understanding came too late.

Beast glared back at him. "Quit staring! I don't need no password spies!"

Attila cast a quick glance at the two men by the back door. Why had they chosen that particular table? And the card players by the front entrance, weren't they sitting there to cut off all possible escape routes? And this Beast... he was trying too hard pretending to be an unskilled noob.

Gosh. This was a setup.

They'd been waiting for him. Wanted to catch him red-handed. He, Attila, had given the RV details to his customer who was in fact an undercover legionnaire. This wasn't the real Tavern: the NPCs had lured him into its copy created specifically for the purpose of entrapping him. What was that spell called — Smoke and Mirrors? A powerful piece of magic and prohibitively expensive, too. To cast it yourself you had to be a level 80 wizard which was something only Elven wizards — and maybe the Drow too — could afford with their racial magic bonus. And the gelatinous goo he'd walked in as he tried to enter the donjon was no glitch, either. By disturbing it, he'd triggered the trap.

The Elf by the bar stood up. The landlord leaned over him, explaining something while casting a big horsey eye at the table where Attila and Beast were sitting.

How sure was he that this was indeed Barb? Most likely, the character was being controlled by a legionnaire player, someone in the RussoVirt office who'd taken over from the game's AI for this occasion.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Beast asked warily.

"Waiting for you to enter the goddamn password," Attila mouthed while undoing the top button of his shirt. Pulling inconspicuously at the chain, he produced the two-pronged medallion. It was flat and almost as large as the palm of his hand. Immediately it began whizzing. Bright blue charges of lightning emitted from both its ends.

"What d'you think you're doing?" Beast tried to grab Attila's hand while reaching for his mace.

Attila stood up and jabbed the fake customer's chest with his weapon. A blue light flared out; the air crackled with static, spreading an aroma of seaweed. Beast flew back like a dry leaf caught in a gust of wind.

Triton's Fork was one hell of a weapon. Triton was an ancient sea god; the medallion had preserved a tiny speck of his strength. To resist Triton's Fury spell, you had to have a top set of armor and a whole bunch of Earth-bound amulets.

Leaping to his feet, Attila scooped his Book from the table and kicked the bench to trip the stooping Elf who was rushing toward him. The Elf clattered over the floor. Beast cussed and grabbed at the wall trying to scramble to his feet, then tumbled back down.

Attila whipped out a vial from a belt pouch and poured its contents down his throat. He had over a dozen such pouches with a wide choice of potions and elixirs, each in its respective quick access slot. He could feel the potion fill him with enough power to lift the table and use it against the two guarding the back door, sweeping them off their feet. Giant's Strength was an enhancing elixir that only worked a few seconds, but that was plenty.

By the time the legionnaires stomped into the room, Attila had broken down the back door, run through a small passage and rammed a second door that led into a tiny storeroom. Once inside, he slammed the door shut and propped a heavy crate against it. Then he kept running.

He'd never been in this part of the tavern: a succession of dark pantries and storerooms. Attila very nearly stumbled into a heavy chest that stood in the middle of one such chamber. Without stopping, he leaped over it and ran out, finding himself back in the dark low-ceilinged corridor. The grim pattern of the walls' stonework repeated itself again and again.

Finally, the stairs. They should lead into the donjon's main room. He ran up the steps, simultaneously whipping out the Book and lowering the Eye trying to make it enter the main room. But operating the Eye on the run wasn't easy. He missed. The steel star hit the wall. He could hear screams and a hell of a racket outside.

Attila stopped and began fiddling with the Book's crystal knob. The Eye left the donjon's wall and ducked into a window. Attila rearranged his goggles and hurried on, peering at the view in his eye lens as he ran.

Far below, he could see the donjon's round hall. Its cracked stone floor was overgrown with grass and littered with bones and bits of broken furniture. Attila noticed a round trapdoor in the floor by the wall. Was it where this staircase was taking him? It definitely looked that way.

Two men stood over the trapdoor. One was wearing the beaked helmet and a bastard sword. The other wore a checkered bandana and a kilt. He was holding a short spear. Had Attila chosen the Imitation mode, he could expect a prompt to jump up next to the player's spear,

A pole weapon used for thrusting and throwing and used both as a projectile and melee weapon.

So this Highlander was on the Admins' payroll too? An undercover agent, oh great. They were waiting for him, the tips of their two weapons pointing at the trapdoor.

He heard the sounds of splitting wood far behind him. The crate hadn't stopped them. They were coming for him. He had nowhere to escape.

He could already see the end of the stairs and the barred trapdoor. Attila slowed down, trying to step noiselessly. The two men above him mustn't hear his approach. They had no idea he could see them.

He recognized Beast's indignant bellowing. Attila gulped. Thoughts rushed through his mind, running in circles like a pack of excited dogs. There's always a way out. He spun the crystal knob, causing the immobile image in his eye lens to jerk back into motion. The heads of the two men began to fade away until the Eye reached the room's ceiling.

Attila spun the knob in the opposite direction, forcing the Eye to go back. The bandana agent must have sensed something. He was about to turn around when the Eye smashed into his head.

Thump. The image jumped and rippled. Attila didn't watch further. He forced the bar aside and swung the trapdoor open, jumping inside. Before the second agent could recover, Attila sent him flying with a hearty well-aimed punch. Yelling, the man landed onto a heap of stones.