by Randy Nargi
That price was better than ten crowns for the Catfish 99, but Justin was painfully aware of his dwindling funds. Oh well. That diamond should be worth a pretty penny.
He paid the barkeep. “Ok. Now that we’re settled up, what happened to Wreman?”
“Said he needed somewhere private to think. The noise was getting to him.”
“And where was that private place?”
The barkeep smirked and tapped the bar. “Another crown or two might loosen my tongue further.”
All of a sudden, Klothar’s arm shot out, and he grabbed the barkeep’s tunic, twisted it tight around his neck, and yanked the man half over the bar, spilling their beers.
“Tell the lad what he wants to know,” the ranger growled. “Now.”
The barkeep gulped and croaked. “Private room. Behind the fireplace.”
Klothar released the man, who stumbled back and rubbed his throat.
“That’s better,” Klothar said. “Now get us two more beers to replace the ones you spilled, you oaf. And make sure you serve us the good stuff.”
“Yes… yes, sir.”
So badass! Justin grinned.
While the barkeep was getting their beer, Justin looked around the tavern. There was indeed a large fireplace that jutted out from the back wall of the tavern. The fireplace itself was more than ten feet wide and had the mounted head of a wyvern—which was some kind of small dragon—hanging over it. He hadn’t noticed the head when he was here earlier though.
“Is that a real wyvern?” he asked Klothar.
“Of course it is real.”
“Are they tough?”
“Not as fearsome as dragons, but it probably took a half dozen men to kill that one.”
Klothar motioned to the left side of the fireplace. Around the corner was a narrow door. Klothar pushed it open to reveal a small room lit by wall sconces. There were a few chairs and a round table that was barely more than two feet in diameter. Two of the walls were decorated by tall, narrow tapestries, and there was a window on the outer wall. The only occupant of the room was Wreman the merchant. He had been sketching something on his wax tablet, but he looked up when he saw Justin and Klothar enter the room.
“Sorry to crash your private party,” Justin said. “This is my friend Klothar.”
The ranger didn’t say anything, but he stared at the merchant suspiciously.
Wreman said, “Pleased to meet you, Klothar. I’m hoping that your presence here means that the mission was successful.”
“It was,” Justin said, as he withdrew the amulet.
Wreman jumped to his feet and took the amulet. “Thank you, sonny boy, thank you!”
:::::. Quest complete! +250 Experience .:::::
Wow. That was some decent XP.
Wreman put the amulet around his neck and began to laugh. It wasn’t a very friendly laugh.
Then the merchant began to change.
His flesh began to melt like it was made of wax, revealing glistening sinews draped over bones. His body contorted and began to grow in size.
The creature’s eyes glowed malevolently. It gestured at the door and the bolt slid shut.
They were trapped.
“Get back!” Klothar shouted. In a flash, his long-handled warhammer was out of its sheath.
Justin dove for the door, but his foot caught on the leg of a chair which sent him sprawling.
When he looked back, Klothar and the creature were battling furiously. What the hell had Wreman become? He stood seven feet tall and what remained of his flesh hung over a misshapen skeleton. But he still wore the amulet.
Klothar slammed his hammer into the creature, knocking it back.
This might be a good time to inspect it.
:::::. Cree’arak the Lich. (Magical Humanoid). Hostile. .:::::
Oh shit.
The lich laughed at Klothar and pointed one boney finger at him. Instantly, the ranger flew through the air and smashed into the back wall.
Then the lich turned to Justin, both arms outstretched. Slowly it floated towards him. Justin could see every detail on its face. The wet shreds of flesh. The rotted mouth. The blood stained bone. So gross!
Fear clawed through him and he was barely able to breathe. He crouched back into the corner of the room, frozen.
“Justin,” it called—in a deep rumbling voice that seemed to come from everywhere. “You must join me. Together we shall find the Iron Veil, and then—”
At that moment, Klothar attacked from behind—with a massive blow from his hammer that landed solidly between the lich’s shoulder-blades.
The monstrosity wailed and turned on Klothar, but the ranger was ready. The hammer jabbed out into the lich’s face, which exploded into shards of bone and viscera.
It looked like game over for the lich. Its body flickered and started to smoke.
“Interloper!” it hissed at Klothar. And then from the folds of its robes, the lich jabbed something up into Klothar’s gut.
The ranger fell back and Justin saw a blood-red crystal dagger jutting from Klothar’s stomach.
“No!” Justin cried, scrambling to his feet.
The lich turned to vapor and was gone.
But Klothar gasped and blood burbled from his mouth.
Justin didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t a healer! He tried to stanch the flow of blood from Klothar’s stomach, but it wasn’t working. Worse yet, the ranger’s skin became covered with dark, spiderweb-like markings. As Justin looked closer, he saw that markings were actually Klothar’s veins swelling and turning black. They quickly covered his whole body.
The ranger screamed once more in agony and then his body faded away.
Holy crap! Klothar was supposed to be a Fabled character.
Just then he heard banging at the door. “Open up in there—in the name of the Guard!”
This wasn’t good. He was covered in blood and there were two people missing. Justin frantically looked around the room. There was only that one door in or out. But Wreman or Cree’arak or whoever he was left his satchel and the wax tablet—which had some sort of design on it. No time to look at it now. Justin threw the tablet into the satchel and slung it over his shoulder.
“Open this door now or we’ll break it down!”
The window! He might just be able to fit. He worked the shutters open and squeezed through, dumping himself in a narrow alley behind the tavern.
From inside the room he heard cries of alarm. In two seconds they’d be out the window after him and he’d be toast. He had to run.
Justin raced away from the tavern towards the stables. Maybe he could hide out there until it got dark. But then where would he go? The fort was locked up for the day. This was really bad.
He slipped into the stables, keeping his eyes open for the stable master, but luckily he didn’t run into him. He found his horse and snuck into her stall.
“Easy girl. It’s me. Justin. I never caught your name, but you know me, right? Please be calm…” The stall was maybe only eight feel by eight feet and was empty except for a wooden hay rack mounted on the wall. The feeder was stuffed with hay. That was good news. The horse had already been fed. Maybe that meant no one would come by.
Outside, the cries of the guards were clearly audible. They were organizing a search. And they were getting closer.
What was he going to do? He was trapped in here.
His horse gave a quiet nicker and nuzzled him as if to reassure him.
“Yeah, that’s easy for you to say, horse.”
A voice called, “I’ll check the stables!”
Oh, crap. With his sword gone, he didn’t even have anything to defend himself with. Maybe Wreman had a dagger…
He crouched down in a corner and fished around Wreman’s satchel. Besides the wax tablet, he found the cloud diamond, a small brass bell, and a ring. The ring was warm to the touch. That was weird.
A guard peeked into the stall and their eyes locked.
“Here he is!” the
guard yelled. He brandished his cudgel and opened the half door.
“Don’t move or I’ll thump you!”
Justin felt a cold sweat trickle down his spine.
“What you got in the bag, boy? A knife? You planning on sticking me?” The guard was so close, Justin could smell the man’s breath. It smelled like rotten cabbage.
Justin must have made an inappropriate face, because the guard’s face contorted and he lunged forward, brandishing the cudgel. He swung it right at Justin’s head.
But the cudgel missed.
The guard’s eyes widened, and he swung again.
And the cudgel missed again. It was almost like it was passing right through Justin.
“What in damnation?!” The guard jabbed his weapon right at Justin’s gut, but Justin didn’t feel a thing.
As the guard backed away in awe, Justin looked down and saw that his entire body was now translucent and gently undulating—almost like he was made out of smoke.
The horse snorted and reared up, her eyes wide with fear.
Justin fell back instinctively, trying to avoid getting trampled, but instead he floated through the back wall of the stable.
What the—?
He was flying now—through dark timbers and then he was on the other side of the stockade wall. This was the freakiest thing ever. It was like he was a ghost, but how?
Then he looked down and saw that he was wearing a ring. It must be the ring that had been in Wreman’s satchel. But how did it get on his finger?
Justin decided to just go with it. He willed himself to fly and quickly discovered it wasn’t really flying as much as hovering just a foot or so above the ground. And he could move fairly quickly—about the same as running. But the coolest thing was his ability to pass through any object. It was like being a ghost.
After five or ten minutes of testing the ring, his head started to hurt really bad; it was a sharp pain right between his eyes at the bridge of his nose. He had never had a migraine before, but this is what he imagined it felt like. Could it have something to do with the ring? Who knew? But better safe than sorry. He pulled the ring off his finger, just in case.
:::::. Survived a cursed relic! +100 Experience .:::::
WTF?! A cursed relic? Really? Ugh. Just his luck.
He rubbed his temples. The pain didn’t go away, but it was starting to fade to a dull ache. Justin peered at the ring. It was kind of hard to see in the light of the setting sun, but the ring appeared to have been forged from a black metal. It had all sorts of scratches on it. When he inspected the ring, all he got was an error message.
:::::. Unknown .:::::
He put it into one of the small pouches on his belt where hopefully it wouldn’t get lost.
Now he had to figure out where he’d spend the night.
Chapter Seventeen
It was almost dark. As Pari waded through knee-deep water, she heard the voices. Human voices, for sure. The sound came from up on top of the cliffs She couldn’t make out what the voices were shouting, but it sounded like commands.
She listened for a few more moments. Should she call out for help?
But then she saw the shapes being lowered down by rope. They were canoes. Two of them.
As they splashed down, Pari got a weird feeling—a feeling of dread. She silently slipped into the water and quietly swam away from the canoes as more ropes were lowered and men started to climb down.
She swam behind a large boulder and froze, with just the top of her head and her nose above the surface of the water.
There were six men. And they descended the ropes, two at a time, with military precision. It all happened very fast, with no wasted effort.
Who were these guys?
Pari decided to inspect them quickly, one after another.
:::::. Rod Marcino. (Warrior). Player, Level — .:::::
:::::. Ed Van Hester. (Battle Mage). Player, Level — .:::::
:::::. Joseph Weidlin. (Warrior). Player, Level — .:::::
:::::. Alastair Gromley. (Enchanter). Player, Level — .:::::
:::::. Thom Callahan. (Healer). Player, Level — .:::::
:::::. Francis O’Neil. (Scout). Player, Level — .:::::
They were all players, but their levels weren’t displayed. Very strange. She had never seen anything like that before.
She watched them climb into the canoes. Six very buff dudes in their 30s. All dressed in banded mail, bristling with weapons. They moved quickly. Again, with no wasted effort. No one struggled to get into a canoe. No one cracked a joke. Or complained.
The first warrior, Marcino, barked out a question: “Do we have a fix on the island?”
O’Neil, the scout, said. “4.3 miles southwest.” It looked like he was wearing some sort of goggles.
“Supers, Grom?”
The enchanter said, “None that I can detect. Not yet, at least.”
“Okay, ladies. We need to make it to that island by dark. Blue Squadron, move out.”
With that, they started paddling straight out into the fog. Their ropes were left still hanging from the cliff.
Thank god.
It was tough, with the water steadily rising, but Pari forced herself to wait until she couldn’t see the men any more. Then she tied all her bags to the end of one of the ropes and then climbed up a bit. She made a loop on the other rope, fifteen feet from the end and then wriggled into it and fastened it around her waist. If she fell, this second rope might prevent her from hitting the ground. Or it might just cut her in half. Either way, it was better not to fall.
As she climbed, Pari told herself that it really wasn’t that far. Maybe the height of a telephone pole. No biggie, right? But halfway up her arm muscles were burning, and she was breathing really hard.
She cast vivify on herself and it seemed to help. Maybe it was just psychological, but she felt a rush of energy that helped propel her to the top of the cliff. Still, once she got to the top, she rolled over on her back and just rested there for a good ten minutes. Then she sat up and looked around.
The top of the cliffs were flat and made of the same chalky rock as the sides. The wind was much stronger up here and she was chilled from being wet. Beyond the cliffs to the east were scrubby bushes, gnarled and twisted from the constant ocean winds.
Pari crouched down and pulled up her bundle and then tossed the rope back down. No reason to alert those guys that someone had used their ropes. Then she made her way east into the bushes. The vegetation was sparse enough so that she could make good time and quickly hike away from the cliffs. She didn’t know who those players were, but she still had a bad feeling about them. It was better to put as much distance between her and them as possible.
Once she was a hundred yards away from the cliff, Pari found a decent-sized stick and tied some glowstones on the end of it. Instant torch.
Now she could move even quicker. She needed to make sure she was far away from this area in case those guys with the canoes decided to come back this way. She sucked at tracking, so there was no way she’d be able to find their trail, but she figured if she zig-zagged roughly northeast she might get far enough away.
Pari hiked for probably three or four hours until she couldn’t take another step. She needed sleep and at this point she didn’t care about anything else. Not the hardasses in the canoes. Not wandering monsters. Nothing. Pari knew that players had an exhaustion attribute that was tracked behind the scenes. If you didn’t rest regularly, you could really mess your toon up. And she was close to being messed up.
Luckily there was a large clump of bushes nearby. After probing them with her stick to make sure there were no snakes or other creepy crawlies around, she gathered her cloak around her and curled up in a ball. She was asleep within five minutes.
Chapter Eighteen
“Blue Squadron found the island,” Colonel Noon said.
General Groves and Noon were in a SCIF in Building 800 which was in the military base on the Loneskum-Alexander cam
pus: a secure area within a secure area within a secure area within a fairly secure area.
“They’re ahead of schedule,” Groves said, as he sat down at the conference table. He hadn’t had dinner yet and his stomach was rumbling, but there was no food and drink allowed in the SCIFs.
“Yes, but unfortunately they are in a holding pattern right now,” Noon admitted.
“I don’t think I want to hear this.”
“There’s not too much more to hear, sir. That was the last transmission we got. An hour ago.”
“So that’s it?”
“We have no geospatial, no comms there. It’s all HUMINT. Or simulated HUMINT. Whatever you want to call it. Slow going. That’s for sure, sir.”
“But it’s working?”
“So far. We know that the controller gave Blue Squadron the alternative quest. It must trust them to some degree.”
“Who else has it? Do we know?” Groves asked.
Noon shook his head. “Other than that one fellowship, we have no idea.”
A knock sounded on the door. Noon checked the video screen and then unlocked the door. Brigadier General Anthony Basato entered and nodded at Groves and then Noon.
“Severine just filed her report,” he said. “Tomorrow morning her targets will be out of the game. Permanently.”
“We were just talking about them,” Noon said.
Groves stood up. “Okay, then. Two pieces of good news.”
“I’m going to make your day, chief. I’ve got one more for you.”
“Really, Basato? What next? Are you going to tell me you found a backdoor into the controller and we can just pull the plug on it without going through all this gaming bullshit?”
“Almost as good. No, this is about Margolin.”
“Do tell.”
“One of his guys found the glitch. You know, the one that didn’t exist.”
“He found it already? That asshole was angling for two weeks. Tell me everything.”
“We got in there as soon as Margolin pulled the guy out. We’ll have the thing documented by end-of-day, but I wanted to give you a heads up that Margolin is now trying to manufacture evidence of human error on the med-tech side.”
