The Call of the Coven: A LitRPG novel (Shadow Kingdoms Book 2) Page 4

  One of the archers has reached the dead kobold; he puts one booted foot on the leather bag, and nocks another arrow to his bow. I take him for the leader, as the others fall in behind him in a tight formation. By now Coruff has used her magical ability to generate a small force field that crackles midway between us and our attackers. I can only step back, staying close to my companions and watching.

  “Don’t block the whole street,” says Josa. “We need to get the ingredients, and the chest.”

  “No. We need to get out of here,” I say.

  “We can’t leave our magical supplies,” Coruff replies, fury written across her catlike features. “The safety of the coven is at stake.”

  Two pairs of mercenaries move to the edge of the street and begin to squeeze past Coruff’s barrier, and there is indeed a small gap there between the crackling energy and the side walls. Josa unslings her composite bow, and fires one arrow after another, the missiles bouncing off the red sandstone stone buildings that line the street, and they are forced to pull back to avoid being hit. However, it is clearly only going to be a matter of time before they pass by the blockade and charge upon us.

  “Well, regardless… we’re going to have to leave it,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

  Josa must have agreed with me, for she gestures with her thumb to Coruff and then turns and begins to sprint down the street, the green tentacles on the side of her head bouncing on her shoulders as she goes. In short order the two of us are running in her wake, the remaining kobold having been left to its own devices. With luck, they will leave it alone, given that they are focusing on us.

  Josa next leads the way up a side alley. She shoulders her bow and draws her sword as she goes, while yelling at local people to get out of the way. I see citizens of all kinds standing wide eyed, mid-conversation, some of them pressing back against the narrow passage between more of the red buildings, and a couple of times I have to duck under ropes of drying laundry that are strung across the passage. I then almost trip over a pair of kids, but they pull back against the wall just in time.

  Josa takes a left down the adjoining passage, and then a right. She is leading us away from the coven, but to where, exactly? I just follow, doing my best to keep up. I can certainly feel the weight of the weapons in my backpack, and curse myself for not making sure that they were more easily accessible.

  On the other hand, they would slow me down – and I certainly couldn’t use the morning star here, surrounded by innocents who would get in the way of its whirling chain and spikes.

  There are another couple of turns, and then we emerge onto a small street with a row of grey houses along one side and a tall copper-colored fence along the other. I also see my first skill increase since returning:

  Increase in skill level: Running level 20 (Stamina +1)

  Beyond the fence is something I recognize – the ancient Kings’ Graveyard with its ornate headstones and large chambered tombs. We must be approaching the city wall.

  Sure enough, we emerge from this street out onto a huge thoroughfare that leads towards grand twin city gates which are visible to our right, not too far away now. Josa immediately slows to a walk, as does Coruff, using her staff to lean on – perhaps in a rather exaggerated way. I likewise stop running, but I can’t help glancing behind, and hope my doing so does not look too suspicious. There are no signs of pursuit right now. It appears that we have lost them.

  Of course, that also means that we have lost the chest.

  * * *

  The highway leads to the enormous guarded gates, and has many people, soldiers, wagons travelling along in both directions. I even see a camel with an ornate seat upon it, and at least four passengers that I can see. They are so high above us and sway in perfect harmony with the beast’s ungainly movements. Other people pass leading goats. Sellers of many types of food, garments and household items have stands along the side, and I see no end of mercenaries standing around, many with spears or crossbows at the ready.

  I take a deep breath, checking that my possessions are all still secure about my person, and as I do so it occurs to me for the first time how sunny and oppressive the conditions are here – I really feel hot in this cloak! At least the back alleys had some shade, but here we are in full sun, and it’s the middle of the day. I take a slurp from my waterskin – realising as I do so that it has been sitting in a warm cupboard for two months and I didn’t refresh it before leaving – and then waft some air towards my face with my hand.

  “Act normal – but keep your hood up,” says Josa, leaning closer to me as she walks. Coruff is breathing hard, as am I, but Josa much less so; she is clearly a skilled fighter with great physical presence, but a magic user too. I wonder what the stats of her particular species are. And indeed, what species it is.

  Almost without consciously thinking the question, the information pops up:

  The vep-te people are a sentient species native to the Dubasan island of Veptans. They are a shy, unwelcoming race that rarely travel far from their home territory – the caves and rocky bluffs along the southern coast of that island. Humans on the island generally stay away from the vep-te, who are known to be vicious warriors – and easily offended. On a rare occasion, individuals from their species have been known to join adventuring parties or mercenary groups. One such individual was Roka the Shrike, a user of druidic magic who was also a skilled and ferocious warrior, renowned especially for her skill with the lance. In the Imperial year 11, she...

  I break off from reading, and the scroll disappears. Hmm… I suppose that information came to me because my in-game character would know about all of the native sentient species of the Isles of Dubasa, given that it is my starting location. The game is as intuitive as ever. And it looks like Josa is not alone in having combined druidic magic with combat.

  As we walk, I see Coruff send one of her ‘little bird’ messengers – a tiny magical yellow bird that rises up and wings its way back in the direction from which we came. “I can’t stay around for the reply,” she says, noticing my interest, “but it’s important that we do what we can to alert our allies, and try to get those magical supplies returned to us.”

  “Do you think that van Turk and his mercenaries will help?”

  “I hope so,” she says, but Josa remains tight-lipped.

  “Were our attackers working for the Knights of Dawn, do you think?” I ask. “Or the Kapa-Vane mercenaries?”. We are still a few dozen paces away from the gateway, but I keep my voice low and my hood up.

  “I thought so at first,” says Josa, “but it’s also possible they were just opportunists. The potions in that chest are worth a lot of money, and these are hard times in Dubasa. We are not used to seeing common bandits on the streets of Vel – it was always famously safe. But things have changed faster than I would have thought possible over the past year or so. There is corruption everywhere, and criminals can work without fear of censure if they have the right contacts.” Her eyes are bright, and she seems to be coping well with the danger we are in – perhaps even enjoying it just a little. I, however, feel deeply concerned that my journey is going to be cut short before it has properly begun.

  The gate is up ahead of us now, and I am pondering over possible lines that I could use to explain my presence, if challenged.

  However, as it turns out, the guards are only questioning the occasional passer-by, and asking to search larger chests or carts. We now have only our small backpacks; we push our hoods back as we walk through, and are allowed to go freely on our way without questions or delay.

  I look at my companions to see whether they used magic to speed our progress, but this is difficult to gauge.

  Ahead lies the continuation of the major highway all the way to the docks, with another major road, one that runs North-South up the coast of the island, crossing our path. It was here that I first saw the Knights of Dawn, and my heart starts beating faster simply at the thought of those murderous warriors.

  Chapter 7: The House
of the Mercenaries

  “Where now?” I ask, looking around at Coruff. Beyond her, I see the long warehouses at the Vel docks, where I sheltered with Lugg and Garner on my first arrival after our escape from the slave ship. I’d rather not return to that place. But Coruff points the other way, towards the north of the docks, where some stone buildings are set back around fifty yards from the water.

  We hurry on together, passing piles of crates, lobster pots, and coiled ropes. Gulls screech overhead. In the harbor I can see three ships, one of which is loading up, with another at anchor just a few dozen yards out. The third, however, appears to be badly in need of repair; its mast is present, but the side of the boat is badly damaged, and it is sitting low in the water at the far right side of the harbor.

  As we approach the buildings we pass a busy area with wagons and crates, and further on I see barrels being rolled towards the nearest ship and pushed up a long gangplank. The ship in question is long and sleek, and the gangplank is located near to the back of it. The stern, I remind myself.

  I pause for a second, watching the loading activity, and almost fail to notice a small figure which bobs out from behind a crate just to our left. We all reach for our weapons, but quickly see that this is not a threat; instead, one of the little kobolds from the house hurries into our path. He is still clutching Coruff’s chest of potions, though there is no sign of the leather bag.

  “Well done,” says Coruff brusquely, still breathing hard from our run, and the little servant follows in our wake as we continue past the first of the stone buildings. I glance back at it – it appears uninjured, and relatively unencumbered by the chest. I’m curious about why the two witches do not question it more about how it made it back here and whether it knows what became of the other supplies – but perhaps that conversation will come later, when we are safely inside.

  As we get closer, Josa indicates a row of tall red sandstone buildings that mark the furthest edge of the dock. “This way,” she says, and we follow her past the first of them. I glance sideways at Josa. The tension and excitement that I previously noticed in her face is absent now, and she walks calmly, apparently relaxed and even humming softly to herself.

  We pass the first few doors on the sandstone buildings, most of which appear to be well-maintained town houses. But when going by the third or fourth doorway I notice from the corner of my eye a figure slumped in a doorway – a lizard man, like P’oytox. At first I take him for a drunk or a beggar, but then I realize that the figure is dead, its face and limbs contorted. I flinch back in shock at the realization.

  The lizard man looked red around the mouth and neck, but was otherwise covered in green scales like P’oytox. His body is dressed in a very poor-looking frayed canvas smock. Most lizard folk are green or yellow, and a few are blue in color; I have never seen one with red scales.

  I see that Josa has also noticed, for she pauses, turning to look back at him, and frowning deeply. “I don’t think that unfortunate soul met a natural death,” she mutters. “A cruel fate – and an evil lies behind this.” With this, she begins to hurry on.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, taking one last look at the body and then striding on after her.

  “I think someone has murdered that traveler,” she replies in a hushed voice.

  “Should we tell someone, perhaps?”

  “I’ll let the inn owners know. They can be trusted.”

  I ponder this as we proceed further down the paved area in front of the row of buildings, and then I see the inn. Externally it looks much like the houses, but there are two small tables outside, one of which is occupied, and from within I can hear a group of people singing badly. As we continue slowly past, a bang followed by raucous laughing bursts out, as if someone has just fallen over and then been mercilessly mocked.

  “I don’t want to go in just now,” says Josa. “But we will return.”

  I pause, glancing at the place. I’m already not looking forward to our visit. Two thuggish-looking men sit outside at one of the tables, each holding oversized tankards of ale. One of them glares at me, and I notice that his companion has chainmail protruding from under his shirt. I am reminded of the enemy mercs, and I hurry on, with Coruff just beside me.

  Just up ahead, at the very next building, Josa has stopped once more. She glances to both sides and behind her with her hood still up, and then pushes open its badly weathered oak door.

  Inside a long stuffy corridor leads to a large, dank and stale-smelling room. It looks like a storage area with boxes, barrels, crates, sacks and a few wooden chairs. There are also a couple of stacks of wooden planks at the far end of the room.

  Here, though, unlike outside, there is no sign of any loading or unloading that might be expected in a place so close to the docks. Instead, the crates are largely being used as seating. I don’t recognize any of the others around the room; most wear leather armor and appear to be more mercenaries. Presumably they are friendly ones; after reacting to our arrival warily, putting hands to weapon hilts, they have quickly returned to their conversation. I assume that they recognize Josa at least, and perhaps Coruff too. The remainder look like dock hands, though they too have weapons on their belts.

  Josa stands in the centre of the room, looking around for a moment. “We won’t stay here long,” she says to us, “but this place is the headquarters of van Turk’s company, and is safe for us for the moment. We will meet at that inn next door. The Hummingbird Inn, it is called. We’re early – Maleki may still be there.”

  I step closer to the druidess. “I didn’t like the look of the men who were sitting outside the front of that place. They could be spies, don’t you think?”

  It is Coruff that answers me. “No, Daria. That pair is on our side. They are keeping watch.”

  I spread my hands to indicate our surroundings. “Then let’s go, I suppose,” I say, “whenever you are ready. This place is depressing, and it smells bad.”

  Josa smiles broadly – the first time I have seen her do so – and reveals very straight greyish teeth. “I’ll pass your assessment onto van Turk when he arrives. But wait here for a short while, please. I need to send a couple of mercs to relieve him at our own safehouse. After that, we will finalize the arrangements for our departure by ship.”

  Coruff nods at this.

  Josa then turns, looking around appraisingly at the resting mercs, one hand on her sword hilt, then looks back at me, her brown eyes wide and intent. “Keep yourself to yourself,” she says quietly. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

  * * *

  Coruff sighs, and settles herself in the far corner of the room, both the kobold and the wooden chest at her feet and her hood raised up over her face.

  “Do all of the coven members have different powers?” I ask, hoping to keep my mind off the nearby dangers for a minute or two. “You suggested that Josa’s powers are unusual, but Maleki and you were both able to create an energy barrier.”

  She peers at me, a half-smile on her face.

  Or perhaps, for a felaxian, this is a whole smile.

  “We are all different,” she says, “but we can lend strength to each other’s powers, as Maleki did that day. And as a coven we have also developed and researched some unique magics of our own.”

  I nod, intrigued, and she continues:

  “Josa I spoke of already. Maleki and I are witches. Both of us are skilled with potions, but she is also a master of energy. And then there’s Ben, a sorcerer. In particular, he has power over light and dark.”

  “Ben?” I say, realising that I’d made an unconscious assumption that all the coven members were female. She pauses, looking at me, then nods and continues.

  “Yes – Ben is one of the ranera people, from the Confederacy originally. Next is Partook, an elven spellcaster. His powers link to life and death – but he uses them in a very different way from your lizard companion P’yotox. So I wouldn’t call him a necromancer, and he certainly wouldn’t accept that title.”


  Ok, right. The types of magic that she has mentioned roughly match the shadow pathways that players can take – shadow druid, shadow witch, shadow sorcerer and the like. In the game, magic users don’t have broad skills, and make a choice of magical tradition when they create a character. However, I’m also aware that there is some overlap in these pathways, and that magic users can also specialize in or even develop their own unique spells through periods of study.

  Coruff breaks off from her list of coven members and looks directly at me. “We are not what we once were, that’s the truth. And with Jullameti going missing too…” She sighs. “Once, the Islands of Dubasa were a haven. Maleki first came here because it was safe for our kind. Now, it no longer is. We don’t know exactly why the mercs are coming after us, but it’s evident that they don’t just want to question or imprison us.”

  “Revenge, perhaps?”

  She nods “The death of the Knight Skizol may be part of it. But as you might remember, the Knights of Dawn were hunting down monitors and other magic users before that. Maleki was taken prisoner. The main difference now is that the Kapa-Vane and their elf leader Snagaras have become much more aggressive – murderous.” She looks down at her feet, clearly upset.

  “So you lost someone recently?” I say.

  She nods. “One of our number, the druidess Vakella, has been killed by the mercs.”

  “Vakella?”

  The name sounds familiar, and I ponder it for a moment. Then, my heart sinking slightly, I remember. Garner introduced me to the druidess Vakella at the run-down inn on Zagra, and she took offense when I asked if she was a monitor. How much of this was feigned to cover for her threatened coven member, I wonder?