Читать книгу Book Three: Part 1 The Dusk of Hope - Sean Wolfe Fay - Страница 11

Stan opened his eyes. He took a deep breath of air and let it out slowly. He tried to move his arm but was only able to move it a few inches before wincing in pain. Reluctant to move again, Stan allowed himself a few more minutes of peace lying in bed.

Stan heard faint voices coming from down the wooden stairwell, and he turned his head to glance around the room. The torchlight gave the wooden attic a faint glow, and he noticed that the closet door was slightly ajar. Stan shrugged it off, figuring that it was nothing, and he closed his eyes once again.

As he lay in bed, nearly incapacitated by wounds and fatigue, Stan reflected on just how extraordinarily lucky he was to still be alive. His body ached all over from his leap into the ocean from the Noctem Alliance’s prison at the peak of Mount Fungarus on the Greater Mushroom Island. Filled with anguish over the death of DZ and reckless panic at the Noctem forces quickly closing in on him, Stan hadn’t been thinking clearly. Rather, he had simply grabbed DZ’s sword and taken a leap of faith—a leap, it turned out, that had hurt quite a lot.

After landing in the ocean and plummeting fast and hard to the ocean floor, Stan had swum as fast as his screaming limbs could carry him away from the island, the sirens wailing from the prison and troops shouting as they mobilized to pursue him. At one point Stan glanced back at the island and saw Mount Fungarus, silhouetted tall and proud against the setting sun, with half its top blown off, and troops scurrying around the various outer levels like ants around an anthill. Desperate to find cover from the incoming troops, Stan dived underwater to the seabed (which was thankfully quite shallow around the islands) and, by a stroke of incredible luck, he had found a bubble of air sitting on the ocean floor, a two-blocks-square cube. Far too relieved to question what the glitch was doing there, Stan had instead dived straight into it, lying on the ground and taking a huge breath of fresh air.

Inside that air bubble, Stan lay still for hours, exhausted from his desperate and narrow escape. Throughout that day, he broke down on and off over the death of DZ and the thought that Charlie and Commander Crunch were being tortured mercilessly as he lay there, unable to do a thing about it.

When he wasn’t crying or sleeping, Stan spent the rest of that day looking outside the air bubble. Squids would jet by Stan in schools, their rectangular black bodies propelled forward by a set of eight tentacles, with a rather frightening spiked mouth at the center. The surface of the ocean was illuminated with sunlight, and he could see the bottoms of dozens of wooden boats drifting to and fro across the water, undoubtedly searching for him.

Eventually, the day slowly darkened into night, and the watery world around Stan had become black. His stomach was growling, demanding that food be supplied soon, lest his health start to fade like the setting sun. After scouting out the surface to ensure no boats were directly above him, Stan had jumped out of the top of the air bubble and, kicking as hard as he could, propelled his way back to the surface.

As Stan looked around, he saw no ships anywhere near him, but he did notice the bright lights and strident sound that the Lesser Mushroom Island was emitting. Slowly but surely, Stan paddled his way towards the island, which held the promise of food and a temporary shelter. He had to duck underwater hastily, sometimes for minutes at a time, when a Noctem patrol boat had passed by, but in the end, Stan was able to make it onto the island undetected.

Footsteps echoing up the stairwell startled Stan out of his train of thought. He glanced over at the opening in the floor, and slowly the head, torso, and then legs of a player emerged. She wore black leather trousers, silver metallic gloves and a zipped-up navy-blue hoodie, out of which emerged a streak of magenta hair that fell over her deep brown eyes.

“How you doin’?” she asked in a quiet, rather harsh voice. Stan shook her tone off; he had realized that her tone was not to be taken personally.

“A bit better,” Stan replied, propping himself up on his elbows, despite the aches flaring up again.

“Well, that’s good,” the player replied, pulling a piece of bread from her inventory and tossing it in Stan’s direction, followed immediately by a Potion of Healing. Stan caught the two items, and stared at the bottle of red liquid in disbelief.

“Olea!” he breathed in disbelief. “Where did you…”

“It don’t matter where I got it,” Olea replied brusquely as she started to head back down the stairs. “A Noctem soldier just came and told me that we gotta meet in the central plaza in five minutes. I don’t know what they’re planning, but I gotta hunch it’ll destroy whatever safety you have here, President Stan.”

“I understand,” Stan replied, nodding grimly. “I’ll get out of here as soon as possible.”

Olea nodded, and walked down the stairs again. As he poured the red potion down his throat and watched her go, he thought about how fortunate he had been to encounter her. When Stan had pulled himself out of the water and onto the shore of the Lesser Mushroom Island less than twenty-four hours ago, he had been shocked to find that it was overrun with Noctem troops. He had ducked from alley to alley, moving with great agility despite his wounds, careful to avoid detection.

It was only when he had passed by the back door of a shop called GoddessOlea’s Boat Rentals that he had been pulled into a building from behind by an unseen pair of hands. When he came to his senses, Stan found himself being interrogated by a player who he later found out was called GoddessOlea, or just Olea for short. When she discovered who he was, she wasted no time in bringing him up to her attic and beginning to heal him. The process of healing had been slow, as resources had been incredibly scarce on the Lesser Mushroom Island since it had been invaded by the Noctem armies. The troops had pillaged all stores that sold potions, golden apples and other healing supplies, meaning that Stan’s recovery, which should have taken just a few minutes, had been ongoing for a full day now.

Somehow, though, Olea had managed to get her hands on a Potion of Healing. Now that the red miracle liquid was in Stan’s body, he felt all his aches disappear. Stan was sure that this particular potion had been brewed with glowstone; it was particularly strong. Stan leaped out of the bed and onto the wood-plank floor.

He knew that now that he was healed, he had to get off the island as soon as possible. The innocent people of the Lesser Mushroom Island were already suffering enough just because the Noctem Alliance was present there. He knew it was only a matter of time before the Alliance realized that he must be on the island, and when they did, Stan could only imagine what would happen. And if the Noctems found out that Olea had been harbouring him…

As soon as Stan had finished cramming the last of the bread into his mouth, he jogged over to the chest in the corner of the room and flung it open. It was totally empty, save one item: a diamond sword, clearly old and well worn, with a violent enchantment glimmering dangerously on the blade. Stan reached into the container and clutched the handle of the sword. He had asked Olea if there was a place that he might be able to acquire an axe, but she had told him that, as long as the Noctem troops remained on the island, it would be impossible. So as of now, DZ’s diamond sword, endowed with a Knockback enchantment, was his only means of defence against the world.

Stan made his way over to the stairs but halted at the top. He realized that it might be wise to glance out the window and check the conditions on the street before going downstairs. Stan walked over to the wood-plank wall and ducked down beneath the open window before peeking his head up to look outside. He cursed under his breath but was quite glad that he had looked outside first, since the entire street was lined with Noctem troops. Stan sighed, accepting that he would have to wait until this big announcement was over to make his escape.

Then Stan did a double take out the window and realized that he could see the entire congregation of citizens in the central plaza of the city. Stan realized it was risky to stay near the open window, but his curiosity got the better of him and he watched the meeting commence.

The players of the city were gathered in a gravel plaza around a giant brown mushroom, which had been decorated with red mushroom blocks and turned into a water fountain. The crowd seemed confused, and unsure of why they were there. Then, suddenly, there was a collective gasp as two dark forms emerged onto the top of the brown mushroom.

The player further towards the back looked identical to Stan, though slightly darker in overall tone and covered head to toe in dark spores. Stan clenched his fist in hatred as he realized that he was looking at the chief of the Greater Mushroom Tribe, who had betrayed him and his friends to the Noctem Alliance in their raid of the Specialty Base. Slightly in front of him stood another form that Stan did not recognize. He was wearing the black leather armour of the Noctem Alliance over a camo-coloured army uniform and an assault vest.

“Greetings, people of the Lesser Mushroom Island.” The camo figure spoke in a voice that Stan was shocked to find that he recognized. “My name is Spyro, general of the Noctem Alliance.”

Stan’s fist clenched even tighter as he heard that name. The last time he had seen Spyro, the Noctem soldier had turned Oob and his family into Zombies and recruited them into the Noctem Alliance. Stan shook with rage as he realized that this was probably why Spyro had been promoted to general. Although he knew that he couldn’t be reckless, Stan still found himself longing for the day when he could sink a blade into both players standing up on the fountain.

“As you all know,” Spyro continued, “tonight marks the start of the third day since the Noctem Alliance established its presence on this island. Therefore, I, the commander of this legion of the Noctem Alliance, believe the time has come to make certain announcements. Firstly, it is my pleasure to announce that the Greater Mushroom Island will, from this day forth, no longer be an independent nation, but rather a province of the Nation of the Noctem Alliance.”

Horrified gasps and screams erupted throughout the crowd at this announcement, and intensified as troops began to pour in from the streets leading into the plaza. These soldiers were not clad in black like the Noctem troops, but rather in a light grey.

“The people of the Greater Mushroom Tribe,” said Spyro affectionately, gesturing to the troops now encircling the population of the city, “have been instrumental in the agenda of the Noctem Alliance, and we are now amiably considered mutual allies. In repayment for their help, the Chief of the Greater Mushroom Tribe has requested just one favour for his people. Therefore, in fulfillment of this favour, the Lesser Mushroom Island is now, and forever shall be, under the rule of the Greater Mushroom Tribe.”

Although Stan could not see the expressions on the faces of the crowd, he could imagine that they looked absolutely terrified at the implications of this turn of events. Stan felt his heart clench. A conversation came flooding back to him… a secret talk between Blackraven and the Chief of the Greater Tribesmen while he himself had been feigning sleep in his jail cell on Mount Fungarus. He had to let the people of the island know of the incredible danger they were in. His mind immediately went into scheming mode as he tried desperately to think of how to warn the Lesser Tribesmen in time.

“The people of the Greater Mushroom Tribe,” continued Spyro in an almost casual manner, “feel that you, the people of the Lesser Mushroom Tribe, have betrayed the sacred ideals of the Mushroom Tribe by living in the way that you have for the past six months. Therefore, under the new mandate, the Greater Tribesmen will see that you are put firmly back into your place.”

Spyro gave a smug little chuckle, which caused another collective outburst of terrified cries as Stan’s stomach flooded with acid. Spyro merely continued, “The second announcement regards a matter of national security. It has come to the attention of the Noctem Alliance that Stan2012, President of the Grand Republic of Elementia and Public Enemy Number One, has escaped Fungarus and is now in hiding on this island.”

The crowd was silent. Stan knew they must have been shocked but were far too terrified to speak out.

“As I am sure you are aware,” Spyro continued, malice dripping from his voice, “the Noctem Alliance does not take kindly to any who work against us. This island is, as we speak, being surrounded by a heavy blockade by sea. Escape from the island will be impossible. Therefore, if anybody has any information regarding the whereabouts of Stan2012, you are to deliver it to a member of the Noctem Army immediately. Should you carry information regarding the president’s location and fail to report it, you will receive a punishment that fits your crime.

“And now I am instating a curfew. All citizens are to return to their dwellings and are not to leave until sunrise.”

Immediately, the citizens filed out of the plaza with surprising speed. As a wave of people filed back towards Olea’s store and towards their own houses, Stan could practically feel the cloud of dread wafting off them. Stan saw Olea break from the rabble and re-enter the front door to her store. Stan turned around as she clambered up the stairs, looking disgruntled.

“How much did you hear?” she demanded.

“All of it,” Stan replied. “Olea, I…”

“Don’t say nothin’,” Olea said, speaking quickly and with an urgent look on her face. “You gotta wait for an opening, and then get off this island. It’s a hazard to you as well as the people living here the longer you stay.”

Stan nodded, his breathing shallow, as he walked back over to the window, looking out the corner. Olea walked over beside him to view the scene on the streets as well, and Stan could almost hear her racing heartbeat, which matched his nearly perfectly.

The roads were now cleared. Not one person could be seen in the streets, illuminated by the redstone lamps even as the sun was vanishing behind the skyline. The only forms of life remaining outdoors came in the form of the mass of grey-armoured troops standing in rows in front of the fountain and staring up at the Chief of the Greater Tribesmen.

“The time has come, my brothers and sisters,” the voice of the chief rang out over the plaza. “Our evil brethren have desecrated these sacred islands with their heathen ways for the last time. It is time for us to finally rid this server of the barbaric savages once and for all. We have long prepared for this day. You know what to do.”

The Greater Tribesmen cheered and pumped their fists into the air, some empty and some clutching bows. Then they dashed out of the plaza, flooding the streets. What happened next made Stan’s stomach drop in horror.

Half the Greater Tribesmen were sprinting down the streets, throwing small black objects into the windows of some of the street-side stores. The objects shattered the windows and were immediately followed by a burst of fire and light from within the store. As the blaze from the fire charges intensified, players burst out of the doors of their burning houses and into the streets. There they instantly fell dead to the ground, with arrows sticking out of them courtesy of the Greater Tribesmen, who were armed with bows.

Stan whipped around to face Olea. “What in the… what the…,” he sputtered, his mind unable to grasp what he was seeing.

“It’s the Great Purge,” Olea breathed, glancing in awe at the fires now erupting all around them, and the countless civilians being shot to death in the streets. “They talked about it for months… but I never thought it’d actually happen…”

“What are you talking about?” Stan demanded.

“The Greater Tribesmen are killing all the Lesser Tribesmen,” Olea said, her voice quavering with fury. “They talked about it before, called it the ‘Great Purge.’ We’ve always known that the Greater Tribesmen hated the Lesser Tribesmen, but we never figured that they’d go through with something like this…”

“We have to stop them!” cried Stan, looking around frantically at the carnage in the streets and drawing his sword.

“Put that away,” growled Olea, grabbing Stan’s sword out of his hand and tossing it to the floor. “There’s nothin’ you can do to stop this, and you know it.”

“But… I have to…,” Stan stammered, unable to accept the truth of what she was saying.

“Whatcha gonna do?” spat Olea cynically. “March out there by yourself and fight the entire Noctem Army? Listen, Stan. I hate what’s going on out there just as much as you do, but I know there’s nothin’ I can do to stop it.”

“Well… well, what about you?” Stan shouted, trying to get her to see reason. “Won’t they come after you, too?”

“No,” Olea replied bitterly. “They only attack the places where the Lesser Tribesmen live. They’re ignorin’ the citizens of the mainland and lettin’ ’em be. Though if they want to destroy this city in the first place, I’m not sure what the point of that is…”

“I know why,” answered Stan as the conversation in the jail cell rushed back to his head. “The Greater Tribesmen made an agreement with the Noctem Alliance. They’re going to take the republic citizens as hostages and then destroy all the buildings on the island.”

Olea’s eyes widened and then glazed over for a moment, and Stan could see the gears whirring behind them. Then she pulled herself together and looked at Stan.

“Stan, you gotta get out, undetected and fast,” Olea said quickly, glancing nervously out the window. “You gotta get back to Elementia if we’re gonna win this war, and save not only your people but us here on the Mushroom Islands, too.”

Stan nodded, trying to ignore the boiling feeling in his stomach. He knew that, as abhorrent as the massacre outside his window was, he would have to ignore it for the time being, however painful it may be for him. He was about to thank Olea for all that she had done for him when suddenly a sharp knock came from below.

Stan and Olea held each other’s glance for an instant. Then Olea, an unnerved look on her face, hissed “Hide!” under her breath as she walked over to the stairwell, clearly trying to remain calm. Stan, meanwhile, felt his heart skip a beat as he clutched DZ’s sword and ducked into the closet, closing the door quickly yet silently behind him.

The closet was tiny, with barely enough room for Stan to stand in. He was surrounded by chests, stacked wall-to-ceiling, on all sides. Stan spun around to face the door, feeling incredibly claustrophobic in addition to his terror of whatever had come knocking at the door. Stan tried to calm his frantic breathing so that he could hear the voices arguing downstairs.

“Whaddaya want?” Olea’s brutal voice demanded.

“We’re looking for President Stan,” a second voice replied aggressively. “We got a tip that he might be hiding out in here.”

Stan nearly gave a squeal of panic, but managed to suppress it. How did anybody know that he was here? He had made sure he wasn’t followed!

“Well, whoever told you that was a no-good liar!” retorted Olea, her voice confident and bearing no hint that she was misleading them. “I know better than to risk my life by protectin’ that fugitive, even against you cretins.”

“Well, then how do you explain the fact that your neighbour saw two heads looking out your window? We know that you live alone.”

“Who told you somethin’ as ridiculous as that?” Olea inquired, sounding outraged, as a fist of ice clenched Stan’s heart. “And how do you know that I live alone?”

“Well, let’s just say that if your best friend’s house is engulfed in flames, and you’re talking to a man with a fire charge in his hand, you’re willing to hand over information a bit easier.”

“You are the lowest of the low…” seethed Olea. Stan could envision the almost inhuman snarl of disgust on her face.

“Oh, how wrong you are, little girl.” The guard snickered. “If you want to see the lowest of the low, just take a look at who your good friend President Stan has pledged his life to defending. Come on, search the house.”

“Whaddaya think you’re doing?” shouted Olea, and Stan could hear the scuffle downstairs as the soldiers ransacked her shop. “If you don’t stop right now, I will kill you!”

“He’s not here,” the second voice grunted. “Search upstairs.”

“Stop that right now!” bellowed Olea, as Stan heard the clomping of footsteps growing rapidly louder. “This is breakin’ and enterin’! What are you… this is my bedroom! I demand that you leave right now! What the…? Oh, no, don’t you dare open that…”

Stan was prepared. Just as the wooden door in front of him was flung open, flooding his eyes with light, Stan surged forward with a battle cry, thrusting DZ’s sword forwards and directly into the stomach of the soldier. The Greater Tribesman gave a yell of anguish as the diamond sword tore through his grey leather armour and came out his back.

Olea whipped out a diamond sword of her own and slashed into the soldier nearest her as the Knockback enchantment on DZ’s sword took effect, sending Stan’s soldier flying across the room and into the wood-plank wall, his items bursting into a ring around him as he landed. Olea quickly gained the upper hand on the second soldier as the third and final soldier in the room rushed into Stan.

Stan was able to repel the soldier reasonably well, countering the blows and jabs of his opponent, but Stan’s skill with a sword was only rudimentary, and he found himself unable to connect a blow of his own. One well-placed hit later, and Stan found DZ’s diamond sword spiralling across the attic and landing in a corner with a clattering sound. Stan frantically dived to avoid the following strike from the soldier’s iron sword and landed flat on his face. He rolled onto his back and tried to scuttle over and retrieve his sword.

Right as he reached the weapon, the soldier was upon him, leaving no time to arm himself. The soldier’s sword didn’t hit, however. Before the soldier could deliver a blow, two diamond swords poked point-first out of his stomach, and the soldier collapsed at Stan’s feet, a ring of items bursting from around him. Stan looked up and saw Olea, pulling her two swords out of the soldier’s back and latching them onto her hips.

“You OK?” Olea asked, not breathing heavily in the slightest as she reached a hand down to pull Stan to his feet.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Stan panted in response. He was too shell-shocked to think and just grasped Olea’s hand and let her pull him to his feet.

“I swear… when I find out which of those disgustin’ vermin ratted us out…,” hissed Olea under her breath, but she stopped when she noticed Stan. He was staring at the floor, where the items of one of the three dead players lay—namely, the player who had died at Stan’s hand. He stared, almost uncomprehendingly, at those items.

Stan found himself unable to speak. For the first time in his life, Stan2012 had killed another player.

“Hey, don’t dwell on it,” Olea said, walking up beside Stan and turning her blocky head to face him. “You didn’t have a choice. It was either him or you.”

Stan sighed. “Yeah, I know,” he replied, his voice sounding almost meek. “It’s just…”

“Just nothin’,” Olea replied firmly. “It had to be done, and you know it, so it’s not worth thinkin’ about no more. You can’t waste no more time, Stan.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Stan said, looking at Olea and a bit disturbed with himself as he found that, despite the fact that he had just ended another life for the first time since he had joined Elementia, he was able to put the conflict within him aside relatively easily. “OK, I’ll head out now.”

“Good,” Olea replied, “You can slip out the back door.”

Stan grabbed his sword, took a deep breath, and marched downstairs. Stan was totally floored to see the complete devastation of the shop that the soldiers had managed in just a few seconds. It looked like they had checked around the few pieces of furniture in the most destructive way possible.

Various picture frames sat on the floor, which was sprinkled with shattered glass from the busted-out windows. The glass dust was twinkling with radiant red light, and Stan looked out at the blaze now engulfing the city. The fire was spreading to the houses of the other citizens as well, and the streets were flooded with people desperately trying to extinguish the fires and protect their livelihoods from being lost in the inferno.

Stan could hardly take in what he was seeing. He remembered, just days ago, when he had stood in the centre of this great city, on tour with a guide named Danny, and was blown away by the brilliant displays of lights and lively players bustling through the streets like blood through the veins of a magnificent living being. At the rate the flames were spreading, the city would all be gone by morning.

What Stan did next was without thinking. It was without logic. It was without any form of common sense whatsoever. Stan burst out of the front door of Olea’s shop and into the streets. He was acting on raw, unbridled emotion, wanting to do everything he could to draw the Noctem Alliance, these harbingers of destruction and pain, as far away from this city as possible. Stan raised his arms, still clutching DZ’s sword and, with a vein pulsing in his forehead, he opened his mouth and gave a mighty roar.

“HEY! SPYRO! COME AND GET ME!”

Immediately, hundreds of heads, civilian and military, whipped towards him. There was a moment when time seemed to freeze as the entire populace of the burning metropolis locked their eyes simultaneously on to Stan. Then chaos reigned.

From all across the streets, dozens of soldiers, clad in black and grey, started charging toward him, some releasing a battle cry and some firing off arrows. Stan spun around and sprinted as fast as he could through the alleyway of the city and onto the mycelium shoreline, barely noticing the shower of arrows falling just short of him. He only glanced over his shoulder once, and his eyes locked not on the wave of troops pouring after him, but on Olea poking her head out the back door of her shop. The look on her face was a mix of surprise, fury, gratitude and trying to comprehend what in the world he was thinking.

Stan didn’t look for long, though. He sprinted down the mycelium-covered hill that led to the water’s edge, where he noticed a patrol boat quite close to the shore. The black-suited pilot of the dinghy barely had time to turn his head when Stan sent him careening into the ocean via a shockwave of Knockback energy from DZ’s sword. Stan landed haphazardly in the boat, and by the time he had seated himself properly, the Noctem soldiers were already splashing into the bay, just blocks away from him. Before the troops could destroy his boat with their weapons, however, Stan had desperately willed the boat to fly forwards like a rocket, leaving the Noctem soldiers in a trail of bubbles behind him.

Stan quickly glanced up at the white rectangle that was the nearly full moon and aligned himself to face east, towards Element City. As he turned the boat, Stan noticed something black poking out from under the boat’s seat. He investigated further, and found a black leather tunic and cap, presumably one that the piloting Noctem soldier had had as a backup. Stan gratefully pulled them on; a little extra protection never hurt.

Finally, Stan gave one last glance behind him. He saw no other boats following him, and he noticed a swarm of dark forms scuffling around the shoreline, preparing to follow him. Though he knew that he ought to be thankful that the Noctem troops hadn’t been fully organized and ready to pursue him yet, Stan hardly noticed this in comparison to the city. From this distance, the tallest skyscrapers of the Lesser Mushroom Island still stood proud and tall, even amid the scarlet blaze that illuminated the night from beneath them.

As Stan stared in awe at the downfall of this great city, a single tear rolled down his cheek. Stan’s mind began to flood with the memory of all the death, slaughter and betrayal that he had witnessed in the city, but he forced himself to tune it out. All he had to remember, he told himself, was that it was all because of the Noctem Alliance. And the only way that he stood even the slightest chance of taking them down, once and for all, was to return to Element City.

So, with new resolve and a heavy heart, President Stan2012 turned his back to the Lesser Mushroom Island and willed his boat to accelerate at top speed towards Element City.