I realized my thoughts were going in circles. Well, sometimes it was worth just changing focus. Where could I get Concentrated Essence of Life? The Demonic Games? I might as well just destroy Behemoth’s temple myself; the Games would go on for some days, and I’d have no way to leave — it would be as if Scyth had fallen into a cursed dimension. Anything could happen on Kharinza in that time.
According to Crawler, not all the winners of the Games used their essence. Some sold it to rich clans, and those kept it as an asset. I remember threatening to punish everyone that tried to destroy Tiamat’s temple with a counterstrike against their castles. Looked like it was time to make good on the threat. To make things more fun, I could bring in Taipan and Yoruba. Yemi would agree for sure, but I had my doubts about Pecheneg. On the other hand, he’d dreamed of vengeance against Otto Hinterleaf for years, hadn’t he? Why wouldn’t he take the chance?
So that was one thing decided. I’d talk to Grokuszuid and find out who might have the essence, and if that didn’t work… We could shake out the clan storehouses of the Alliance, and if that too failed, Infect and I would apply for the Demonic Games. We needed Crawler for administration and Bomber was best off taming the kraken to release it when we needed it.
Then, apart from the open question of the Destroying Plague’s legates, there was only the issue of surviving on Holdest. Hold on… Apophis! I knew exactly where the Nucleus was, which meant all I had to do was persuade the White Snake! Or ‘persuade’ it like I had the Montosaurus.
I contacted Yemi using a Farsight Mirror. The orc’s broad fanged face didn’t fit into the little mirror and I could only see one blood-filled eye:
“It’s all going to shit, Scyth!” the ju-ju shaman roared as soon as he saw me. “I’m not a priest of the Sleepers anymore, all my stats are cut down! Why in Shaitan’s name did we leave the temple? I thought you’d come up with something, but no! You just lost your nerve!”
“We’ll fix all this. For now, listen to me and don’t interrupt. I need to talk to Apophis again…”
“Not a chance!” Yemi interrupted. “You failed to keep your promise, you didn’t dedicate a single victim to him in the battle for the temple! And you know why? Because there was no damn battle! My reputation with the snake is at mistrust! The Broken Axe clan has lowered my reputation to affection! All because of you, Scyth! Because I vouched for you! What do you plan to do?”
Stunned by this onslaught from the furious spellcaster, I moved my hand with the mirror further away and found nothing smarter to say than:
“You’re spitting all over the mirror, Yemi. Stop panicking. The second temple is a matter of time. You know where we’ll put it, you’ve been there.”
“I don’t give a damn about all that, my castle is under siege!”
“From who? Do you need help?”
“We’ll handle it,” Yemi waved his hand as if he hadn’t just been complaining about a siege. “A few jackal clans from those that got hit by the explosions at the Nergal temples have united. They’re like our neighbors, they’ve had an eye on our riches for a long time! If it was someone more serious, I would have called you already. We’ll deal with these hyena pups ourselves!”
“What about a counterattack? We can destroy their castles…”
“Like I said, we’ll deal with it. Babangida, Francesca and I can tear down any castle together — we still have the levels we gained on Terrastera, thank the Sleepers.”
“Good. But if you need help, call. Once you’re done with those ‘hyena pups,’ contact me. We have things to do.”
“We off to capture Shak or Darant?” Yemi chuckled. Now that he’d let off steam, he relaxed a little. “We have nothing to lose, so tell me your plan.”
“It’s simple — we capture the main castles of the Alliance. Starting with Modus. I’m going to sort out the logistics; I need to figure out which castle to take first so I can head there and lay a teleportation route. And I have a couple of things to wind down before the operation.”
“Whatever you say, kid. May they never wake!”
“Uh-huh. May their sleep be eternal.”
Once done talking to Yemi, I called Crawler. He wasn’t far from me, but I couldn’t be bothered to get up.
“Yeah, Scyth?”
“We didn’t finish talking about Holdest. What do you need to invent the cold-resistance potion?
“Rank seven. Seems Snowstorm decided to let the new faction grow; they set a level 700 minimum for the potions.”
“What about the ones for resistance to heat and noxious jungle vapors?”
“It won’t be easy, although I already have rank four of the craft. It’s called ‘invention,’ Scyth, because there’s no universal recipe. I really need to shut myself away in the lab to concentrate and start working on Alchemy.”
Nether. I’d really hoped that we could at least move through the desert without issue…
“Terrastera?”
“Needs rank ten.”
“Got it. End transmission.”
All my hopes were crashing down around me. Putting my comm artifact away, I tossed my head back, pressed the back of my scalp into the hard bark, closed my eyes and kept going through the options.
Cooking? Maybe I could try to invent a dish with cold protection? We had plenty of ingredients from Holdest to experiment with. My urge to act bubbled up again, but I forced it down and didn’t even try to stand. Just made a note of it. Cooking was probably the
