The fortress protected the narrow—and, more importantly, the only—passage leading to the boulder-locked Valley of Fear. Its startling architecture had a bad effect on my head. The unknown builders had used giant dragon bones as building material. Twenty-foot high vertebrae formed a massive wall from one end of the passage to the other—the wall highly resistant to both steel and magic. The towers were put together from ribs, the enormous skull serving as the gate tower, about fifty feet high, its fangs as tall as myself. No idea if it delivered on its promise, but the visual effect definitely did.
We were already about five hundred feet away from it when a heavy steel spear sank into the ground not far from us. We got the message and stopped watching the fortress defenders appear on the walls: a good couple hundred skeleton archers and warriors carrying shields and short broadswords. Among them we glimpsed the stooping silhouettes of Liches wrapped in their gray cloaks. Considering that every skeleton was way over a 100-plus, trying to storm the fortress without a small army for backup was madness to say the least.
Zena stared at me with interest. "Here we are. The contract's closed. You owe us eight hundred for the two extra hours. But honestly, I wouldn't mind spending it on a few front-row tickets to see you charge it."
I was riding a wave of reckless courage as sensing the end of my long-winded journey gave me added strength and nerve. I readjusted the Crown of the Overlord on my head. "Agreed," I gave her a wink. "Choose your seat and go get some popcorn. And don't you tell anyone you haven't seen anything."
At least that way I had someone to resuscitate my arrow-perforated body, I added mentally. I also wanted to leave some lasting impression on the girls. I liked them. It would be a good idea to catch their interest with some intrigue and some prospectives. Our clan's combat section was desperate for a few battle-wise warriors.
I left the group and waved my hand to them. Slowly I walked toward the fortress.
"Make a death wish..." one of the girls whispered behind my back.
When I passed the spear that was buried deep in the ground, I ran my hand along its shaft as if I owned it, my insides shrinking in anticipation of yet another one already in the air, about to pin me down like a large beetle. One step. Then another. A bead of sweat slid down my face. My feet raising clouds of dust as birds sang in the sky, I walked, moving my wooden legs, until I entered the shadow cast by the skull. I stopped right in front of its grimacing face and tilted my head up, peering into the dark void of its eye sockets. Slowly, its jaw opened, allowing me access to the fortress. Looked like I made it.
Chapter Ten
F rom the Analytics Department report made at the AlterWorld Corporation's last board meeting.
Agenda: The tendencies in AlterWorld's self-induced development.
Recently, we've been witnessing a new and rather frightening tendency as AlterWorld seems to be switching to perma mode all by itself, not only acquiring more and more independence but also gaining depth, recreating and generating its own past and present.
Just one example. During our worldbuilding phase, we came up with a multitude of myths and legends for our game concept. One of them was the story of Centaurs that had populated the world's prairies from ocean to ocean, then disappeared in as yet unknown circumstances. The gaming community kept pestering the admins to create an event that would bring the Centaurs back into the game. A week ago, the forums exploded with the news of their return, complete with videos and screenshots, even unique loot items that suited the new four-legged mounts. The sole problem being, we hadn't introduced any Centaurs, not even at a design draft stage! The world had created them on its own accord.
We won't even mention little details like the discovery of the Cursed King's lost sword or the grave of the legendary hero Sadaus, etc., etc., that we the developers have nothing to do with!
J. Howards, Director of the Analytics Department
* * *
The dragon skull's massive lower jaw dropped open, thudding against the ancient cobblestones. Its mouth was at least fifteen feet wide—big enough for a wagon to pass had it not been barred by a row of teeth, perfectly white and straight. So how was I supposed to squeeze through?
The problem resolved itself naturally. Noiselessly, the front teeth folded in, exposing a dark cavity behind. I caught a cool whiff of lavender as air escaped from inside. Did they have an aircon there or something?
I stepped in quite willingly, especially as the darkness proved not as pitch black as I'd thought. The skull bones emanated a greenish glow making movement inside quite comfortable. I had barely taken a dozen paces when the teeth shut close behind my back. The glow turned crimson; my head felt as if clasped by a steel band. My vision darkened. I dropped to my knees. The heavy boulders of someone else's thoughts stirred in my mind,
What an interesting sample of a sentient microorganism. He thought of using the Crown of the Overlord as a white flag, manipulating the lower organisms' primary instincts. Oh vain creature, you can't even start to comprehend what it is that you're wearing on your empty head. Heaving said that, who am I to accuse anyone of having an empty skull? And you seem to collect astral marks. The mark of a newborn god, three High Spell cooldown bars, the mark of a Dark Princess and of my little Bone Dragon brother. Next time you reincarnate, don't forget to thank him for the few extra moments of life his mark has granted you. And now, prepare to part with your power willingly. That would considerably simplify and quicken the process of killing you whilst giving me a few extra bits of energy, allowing me to drag out my miserable existence for a short while. I still might see the Titans come back; even Ophion himself might turn his regard to his prostrated servant...
The alien conscience tolled in my head, suppressing my own will. Thinking was a struggle: I just couldn't force myself to resist the dragon's will, let alone do something against it. I just couldn't have cared less. If only I could take a nap in this cool numbness...
I don't know what gave me new heart. It could have been the Fallen One's power forcing its way through the magic-absorbing ancient bones. It could also have been my inner greedy pig throwing a wobbly in my head as he realized we were at the point of being not just killed but also robbed.
"Wait," I forced my lips to move. "What's the point of killing the golden goose? You need strength, don't you? I can arrange for hundreds of sentient beings to scale your walls and dozens of volunteers to cram into your mouth for you to chew on."
The pressure on my chest subsided somewhat. I could finally take in a lungful of air.
"You sound interesting, o micro sentient. Speak on."