Winds of Fate Read online

  Once I realized that the only way to get anywhere was to just start building a reputation, I headed for the gate leading to the plain. As I went, I opened my map to see where those iron-infested burial mounds were. I figured I’d have to go during the day, preferably right then, as heaven only knew what happened there at night. Live and learn.

  There were two red spots on the map not far from the burg. They were very close, indeed, I noted to myself as I closed my map.

  Wait a second! Why were there two spots? Could there be two sets of burial mounds?

  I pulled up my map again to see what quests the red spots were for. One was for the burial mounds and the grave iron inside them. The second, which was a little to the left of the first—and here I nearly plumped down on the ground in shock—showed that the local dryad was half a day’s walk away at most. I was as happy as I was surprised to see that. My previous experience with the beaten-up little creatures had me used to what I thought was the fact that they were all off in the middle of nowhere. But there… Something was fishy, that was for sure. The developers could put lipstick on a pig, but in the end, it was still just a pig. But, I didn’t have much of a choice, so what did it matter to me?

  The decision was made, so I just took a quick jaunt over to the trader to buy a couple apples. The dryads liked them, I’d noticed, and my fruit basket was running low. I also picked up some dried meat.

  Once out of the city, I headed toward the red spots at a moderate pace. If the map told the truth, and there was no reason to think it didn’t, I just needed to go straight. Sooner or later, I’d get where I was going.

  There wasn’t anything that special about the local scenery. Open plains were speckled with small groves of trees, and somewhere off to the left, I could see the sun glinting off a small lake. As I walked, little creatures jumped out from under my feet, though I had no interest in killing them—my time chopping the heads off snakes and gophers had long since passed. What was the point? I wouldn’t have gotten any experience, so I had no reason to go chasing them. Let them run. It was just a shame that the burial mounds were off somewhere away from the road. Maybe I should try to take a shortcut? I'd still have plenty of walking to do afterward, and I knew I'd be fine visiting the dryad in the evening. They always lived somewhere quiet. If all else failed, I could spend the night near the dryad, but I was kicking myself for not taking a portal scroll with me. I made a mental note to always have one in my bag. My stinginess will be the death of me.

  So I started bearing right, having decided to first collect my grave iron. To be honest, I wasn’t in much of a hurry. After the dust, sand, and monotone of the West, I was particularly enjoying the green landscape and fresh air of the North. Even the lone wolves who jumped out at me every now and again didn’t ruin the trip. They were easy enough to kill one at a time, and, happily, I didn’t have to deal with any packs of them. I was even working on that action at the same time.

  Two hours later, some hills appeared on the horizon, and I assumed they were the burial mounds I was looking for. To be fair, they looked more like the piles of sand and gravel you see left next to roads that are being built—the contractors leave them there and then leave the roads, too, when the money dries up. These were a bit bigger. Although…maybe that’s what burial mounds looked like. I’d never seen them before.

  What I can say for sure is that it was a bad place, maybe nearly as bad as the mines. The elusive taste of danger hung in the air somehow—that, and I had to step over human bones here and there, not to mention pieces and fragments of armor. Soon, I could see whole skulls, although only some of them were human. I couldn’t tell what race the others belonged to, but I’m no anthropologist.

  It got to the point that I wasn’t even surprised when I heard the creaking sound of a pile of bones assembling. I turned to my left and saw a skeleton staring back at me angrily. A rusty sword (What else?) rattled in his hand as he charged me.

  “Hi there, my friend,” I greeted him amiably. “Go ahead, come on over. Let’s get acquainted.”

  It was as if the skeleton understood me, and he ran up, joints crunching, to kill me where I stood. That plan didn’t quite work for me, however, so I met him with a sideways blow aimed at his legs. My bladе struck home, and the Level 45 skeleton never saw it coming. He collapsed, his legs taken out from under him, and tried to drag himself away. Finishing him off was a piece of cake that even came with a pleasant surprise.

  You unlocked Northern Undead, Level 1.

  To get it, kill 49 more warrior skeletons, warrior ghosts, or mage ghosts in the North.

  Reward:

  0.4% to mental resistance

  +1 respect among the peoples of the North

  Title: Vanquisher of the Undead

  To see similar messages, go to the Action section of the attribute window.

  That struck me as odd, given that I’d already gotten an action for skeletons way back when. I made a mental note to check back and see if local varieties were included in the overall count.

  I wasn’t terribly surprised to see grave iron in the loot I got from my twice-dead foe, and the system even helpfully informed me of it.

  You need to collect another 19 pieces of grave iron to complete the quest.

  So, I was going to be doing some skeleton-killing; not the worst way to pass the time.

  Sometime later, having taken out a few more of the walking dead, I made my way over to the burial mounds themselves. They were just what I imagined burial mounds to be—two squat, pockmarked hills that I’d say were about nine stories tall. They even had their own backstory.

  Fallen Warriors Burial Mounds

  In ancient times, this area, the Sveltyattur Valley, was the scene of a great battle between two Northern tribes that ended in one of them being completely wiped out. The victorious buried the fallen in two mounds, one for the bodies of their kinsmen, the other for the bodies of their foes. The latter had earned their respect by fighting courageously and fearlessly, which is what Northerners value most.

  After the darkness had come from the West, during the Second War of Hatred, the shadows of those killed in the battle were disturbed by Evil, and since then, misfortune awaits unwary travelers who wander too close during the day. Those who come at night await certain death. If they come across the Lord of the Burial Mounds, their afterlife will be equally terrible.

  I knew right then that I wouldn’t be coming back after dark—that Lord of the Burial Mounds didn’t sound like anyone I wanted to be messing with. But that was fine; all I needed to do was pick off another seventeen skeletons and get out of there, especially since it was already afternoon and I still had a long way to go. Just then, the sun ducked behind a cloud. A cold sensation wrapped itself around my feet, and I heard a familiar sound. But why is it so loud?

  Glancing to my left, the chill ran up my legs and the rest of my body. Mother of God! Dozens of skeletons were pulling themselves out of the many holes dotting the hills, their eye sockets pointed directly at me.

  I’m certainly no coward, and I can be as courageous as anyone when I need to be. That was exactly why I bravely took off in a headlong dash that was faster than even I thought possible. When I stopped a couple kilometers away from the mounds, I looked back for the first time, crossing my fingers and hoping not to see a mob of skeletons thirsting for my blood.

  Happily, there was no mob to be seen; just two skeletons laboriously and lazily meandering toward me, joints rattling as they came. I chopped them up into soup bones, taking out on them the fear I’d just felt.

  After standing there for a minute, I decided to make the safe play and headed off to see the dryad. Everything made sense with the burial mounds; I needed to come back with a group looking to slaughter some skeletons or lure them out one by one if I couldn’t find anyone to come with me. Catching them wouldn’t be that difficult, but it would be time-consuming to the tune of at least an hour and a half that I couldn’t spare from my long trek. And I’m not about to
try it in the dark, I thought to myself as I recalled the previous night’s wolf packs and marauders. I didn’t need that. Spending the night by the dryad and coming back that Friday with plenty of time to slice and dice the skeleton hordes was a much better plan.

  I checked my map one more time to orient myself, glanced up at the sky to make sure I had enough time before it got dark, and walked off across the green grass in search of yet another brain-teaser of a quest. Why a brain-teaser? Well, I don’t believe for a second that it’s going to be anything like simple and straightforward.

  The copse that was home to my next poor damsel in distress was easy to pick out. First, of course, the map told me I was in the right spot, but it was also the only one anywhere in sight. The sky was darkening quickly as dusk made its way across the terrain. I quickened my pace, and ten minutes later, found myself in the middle of the three-dozen stumpy trees the dryad called home.

  “Hey, North, where are you? Your sisters said to say hi—Ogina and Eiliana. They sent you a bow in greeting. And you should see them now; you can’t look away!”

  Something shuffled around under the trees until a disheveled head popped up from a hole among the roots.

  “Really?”

  “You think I’m lying?” I asked, a little hurt. “My parents taught me not to lie.”

  “So, my intuition was right; my sisters are free.” The creature sniffled, crawling out from her hiding place.

  That dryad wasn’t just ragged and bedraggled like her sisters; she was also filthy to an extent that made sense for someone living under the roots of a tree.

  “And you’re the hero?” she asked.

  “In the flesh,” I answered, still a bit peeved. “Who else? How else would I know to look for you?”

  “And find me!” She poked her finger skyward.

  You completed a quest: Find Hilda the North

  This is the third in the Children of the Goddess series of hidden quests.

  Reward:

  7500 experience

  White Prince Crown

  Class ability scroll

  Ability to unlock the fourth quest in the Children of the Goddess series.

  That’s when I heard a ding!

  You unlocked Level 49!

  Points ready to be distributed: 5

  That was a nice surprise.

  “But finding me is only half the battle,” the dirty face said, all business. “You have to help me, too.”

  “Seriously?” I slapped my forehead. “No!”

  “Oh, you do,” Hilda said with a nod. Bits of earth flew in every direction.

  “That’s crazy,” I replied in feigned shock.

  The grimy dryad’s crinkled her eyebrows, but the effect was lessened by the dirt caked over them. She clenched her fists at her sides and looked threateningly at me. The effect, however, was anything but menacing. In fact, it was hilarious, and I had to do my best to keep from laughing.

  “Oh, come on, do you have to be that scary?” I asked, holding out my hands. “I’m already afraid of you. And, of course, I’ll help—that’s why I’m here. Just tell me how. Okay?”

  The dryad looked at me.

  “You have to get my crown back.”

  “What crown?”

  You unlocked Crown of the North.

  This is the fourth in the Children of the Goddess series of hidden quests.

  Task: Return the ice crown belonging to Hilda the North that was stolen in ancient times by the servants of the Great Fomor.

  Additional task: Kill the Great Fomor.

  Reward:

  12000 experience

  +50 respect among the peoples of the North

  +10 respect in each of the Northern burgs

  Set item matching your class: random

  Elite quest-starter item: random

  +10% life energy or mana: random

  +20% chance that the Fayroll animal world will come to your assistance in your time of trouble

  Ability to unlock the fifth quest in the Children of the Goddess series.

  It was only when I’d read that the third time that I realized how screwed I was. In a word, it was the usual—impossible. How would I kill the Great Fomor if he were an NPC since NPCs are protected by the administration? If I killed him, the quest wouldn’t count, and my character would be a dead man. If someone else killed him for me, well, why would they do that? And why would they give me the crown if they did? It was one big, nasty spiral. At least the reward was great. Nice and out of reach.

  I handed the dryad an apple, almost without thinking, and sat down on a log at the edge of the copse. The dryad sat next to me, bit into the apple, continued eating it noisily, and started telling me her story through a full mouth.

  “The first thousand years here weren’t bad. I was hungry, sure, and it wasn’t much fun, but at least it was doable. It was just me sitting around waiting for my rebirth. But then that witch, Fomor’s helper, came by and stole my crown. She set fire to my copse and nabbed it while I was putting everything out. And what am I without my crown? That’s where I get my strength, my power over the weather and plants, even over animals. That Fomor can’t use the crown, but I can’t do anything to him without it—even after my rebirth. I can’t get my power back on my own, so please get it back for me. Are you even listening?”

  The dryad tugged on my sleeve.

  “I’m listening, little one, I’m listening,” I answered sadly.

  “‘Little one,’” Hilda snorted. She scrutinized the apple core from every angle, thought about what to do for a second, and ended up popping the whole thing in her mouth. She really was hungry. “I don’t remember when the world was created, though I do remember when it was under the sway of the gods. I was created by Mesmerta, the greatest of the goddesses. That was thousands of years ago.”

  “I don’t remember that, of course, but I wasn’t talking about your age. I was referring to your size,” I said apologetically. “But what does it matter? What am I supposed to do with this quest?”

  “Go kill that Fomor,” Hilda answered imperturbably. “You’re a warrior; killing is what you do.”

  “Not all enemies are that easy to kill,” I retorted. “And how am I supposed to kill someone who can’t be killed?”

  “Everyone can be killed,” answered Hilda firmly. “You just have to find the right blade. That’s what the God of War you worship said. I was in the Halls of the Warrior when he said that—Mesmerta took me with her, and the Lord of the Guards himself favored me. He used to spend most of his time up here in the North where his fiefdom was.”

  “Really?” I said in surprise. “What kind of god was he?”

  “Valiant,” Hilda answered thoughtfully. “Uncompromising, sometimes reckless, always direct. He didn’t like going the long way around.”

  “How did he never get his neck broken?” I grunted.

  “Well, he’s a god,” the dryad answered, her nose wrinkling. “Who’s going to break his neck?”

  “The other gods.” I looked at her steadily. “As far as I know, there was a whole community of them back then. A snake pit, or worse.”

  “You’re talking about the gods, even if they are departed.” Hilda’s gaze was reproachful. “Show a little respect. I mean, sure, things were complicated—that’s why he spent so much time up here. None of the other gods liked the North since only bloodthirsty, battle-hardened warriors lived here. They’d rather trust steel and muscle than the gods. And so, they spilled blood in search of power and gold, rather than in service to the gods. It wasn’t like in the East or the South.”

  “It’s all the same, here and back where I live, too.” I shook my head.

  “Well, yes,” the dryad agreed. “Anyway, don’t get too down. Think about the weapon you can use to fight with someone you’re not allowed to fight. Hey, do you have another apple, by any chance?”

  She looked at me hopefully.

  “Of course.” I sighed and handed her a second apple.

 
She took it, breathed in deeply and happily, and sank her teeth into it, spraying juice everywhere. There was a spark of childlike happiness in her eyes.

  I took a deep breath as well. At least life is good for one of us. I was feeling a bit depressed.

  Night fell on the North just as completely as it had the day before, though this time there weren’t even any stars. Although, wait a second… I thought I caught a smattering of lights on the horizon, but they definitely weren’t stars. They were approaching—quickly.

  “What is that?” I pointed at the horizon.

  Hilda’s eyes widened, which surprised me, as I didn’t know they could get any bigger. She quickly hid the half-eaten apple in her rags, and then had some even faster words for me.

  “The Wild Hunt. Oh, you’re out of luck this time. Run, although that probably won’t save you. Maybe they’ll ride by without catching your scent. Run! They’ll definitely catch you here. Go!”

  She dove into her hole, disappearing in an instant.

  I had no idea what was going on except for the fact that I seemed to have found myself yet another problem. Why, oh why, did I leave my last scroll in the hotel? I’m such an idiot!

  Following the dryad’s instructions, I turned and sprinted away, noticing as I did that the lights were rushing toward me at an incredible pace. It was like the Wild Hunt was out riding some kind of high-speed transport.

  All too soon, I heard a clatter of footfalls and a girlish voice from behind me. “There it is! Get it! A-oo!”

  The clatter grew until I realized that running was pointless. They were going to catch me one way or another, and I was just prolonging the inevitable. The thought crossed my mind that I should have stayed in the copse—at least that way, I could have asked Hilda to hide my things somewhere so it would be easier to find them after I died. But there was no use crying over spilled milk. I didn’t even get a chance to see what that crown she gave me was.

  I turned to face my death and saw a dozen riders on skeleton horses. Their inhumanly beautiful faces gleamed out above shiny armor and chainmail, and they were armed with lances. One of them, a girl, pulled her horse up and cocked her spear to run me through. I squeezed my eyes shut.