My first priest tells me you have an offer for me.
“Yes, White Snake. What do you want for taking me to a specified point on Terrastera?” I opened the map and visualized the spot I wanted.
Apophis does not make deals with those that do not know the snake paths, death-deceiving emissary of Those Who Have Not Awoken. My first priest says he will pay for you, but that is not good enough. But I will listen to you out of respect for Those Who Have Not Awoken.
The structure of the phrases implied that the telepathy interpreted the snake’s language closely to the original, but not with perfect precision. All I could do was hope that the meaning wasn’t lost in translation in the other direction.
“A battle approaches, White Snake. The greatest battle of the living, the dead and those who follow the Sleeping Gods. I promise you that I will dedicate captured lives to you, Apophis, if you provide me this service and take me to Terrastera.”
The burning lands are dangerous, and your bribery means nothing. Even I do not go there,” the snake hissed. Do what you say you will aiid you will get your wish. Until then…
“Now, Monty,” I said, not letting him finish. Words wouldn’t be enough here.
The earth shook—the Montosaurus fell out of his dimensional pocket. That was where he had hidden when he ran away from me and when the undead occupied the island.
As soon as he appeared, the reptile went into battle mode and started to grow, his head looming over Apophis. He roared, covering the snake with stinking breath, steam and sweat. Apophis jumped back and hissed, his huge neck flaring. Acrid yellowish venom began to drip copiously from his fangs.
The two beast gods seemed to have forgotten about me. Apophis distended, becoming as thick as the reptile’s arm, stretching out, but the Montosaurus, after entering combat, had reached its previous size. I flew above both of them and felt the gazes of the Yoruba members, eager for the show, and the ores from the Broken Axe tribe who had come to speak with the Initial of the Sleeping Gods personally. I didn’t get to spend long up there—the tension between the beast gods twisted space itself, pushing me away. I descended, landed a little off to one side.
Yemi, not knowing what to do, hovered between Apophis’ altar and me, then grabbed me, shook me.
“Do something, Initial! But, I beg the Sleeping Gods, do not kill the White Snake!”
The beast gods hovered above the castle itself. The Montosaurus, standing a hundred and sixty feet tall, tore down the fortress wall with his tail. His weight made the pavement crack. Sinkholes appeared in the earth. But Apophis was no smaller, and his serpentine head with its flared neck cast a shadow all across the castle like a huge umbrella.
For half a minute, all we could hear was roaring and hissing, and then it all ended. The beast gods had come to an agreement. They went back to their normal sizes, and I heard Apophis’ voice in my head again.
I will do what you ask. My ancient enemy tried to claim that you are capable of subjugating me as well. I do not believe it, but I will not take the risk for the sake of one small service. Are you ready to go right now?
‘1 am ready, White Snake. Do you see the place I want?”
I see it. A place of power.
He wTapped himself around me to the chants of the African clan:
“Scyth! The Sleepers! Apophis! Montosaurus! Yoruba!”
“Broken Axe!” the ores roared. “May the Sleeping Gods never wake!”
“And may their sleep be eternal!” Yoruba cried.
The show had clearly impressed and surprised all present. Yemi, who had been making veiled threats and calling me ‘kid’ three hours before, shouted just as loud as the rest of them.
“Scyth! The Sleepers! Apophis! Montosaurus! Yoruba!”
The deafening cries cut off sharply. The w^orld started to shimmer and blink.
Your wish has been granted, Apophis hissed, releasing me from his grasp. Do not forget your words.
The White Snake disappeared into thin air.
The next moment, a smoking droplet of acid rain bored straight through the helmet of my ColdBlooded Punisher set and took away all my health, activating Diamond Skin. Resilience jumped up a point and Cartography leveled up to eleven.
The ultrasound chirping of some beast drifted from behind purple stone trees.
“Hey there, Terrastera!” I shouted.
Chapter 18: Aid of the Sleepers
TIME IS YOUR most valuable resource. That’s what our schoolteachers told us, what Uncle Nick said, and usually it met no objection. But only now did I realize how little of it—time—I had. If only I had a day or two more, I could have leveled up so high on Terrastera that I could have crushed Nergal’s army single-handedly. And if I could find Supreme Grand Master Oyama and get him to teach me that trick of hitting from a distance, defending Tiamat’s temple would have been a walk in the park.
But time was running out. Mogwai would respawn soon. I needed to level up the Awoken as high as I could, so that they overtook all the other players. The clan had to become strong without Scyth. Anything could happen to me, after all.
Anyway, there was less than a day until the battle in the Lakharian Desert. The Alliance of Preventers hadn’t declared their precise time of attack, but the world was already waiting with bated breath for the stream. All predictions said that the siege of Tiamat’s temple would begin one day soon.
I really didn’t want to bathe naked in acid rain, but I had no choice. I removed all my equipment, keeping only the divine Reaper’s Scythes and Legate’s Crown— as it turned out, the only items that didn’t lose durability to the fierce weather on Terrastera. Though it
