by Randy Nargi
She strode away.
“Maybe some other time,” Lukas said.
“Yeah. Nice bumping into you.” Justin hurried after Pari. He looked back to see that Klothar was still there, muttering something to Lukas who suddenly got very pale. Then Klothar turned on his heel and joined them.
“I hate those guys. I really do.” Pari said, still walking quickly away from the Yak Shack.
“Lukas is okay.”
“I had a little discussion with him,” Klothar said.
“Oh really?”
“I think we have an understanding now.” The ranger refused to say anything else about it.
As they walked through the city, Justin asked Pari if the Golden Hawks had a headquarters here in Rathenhall.
“They have a fellowship hall everywhere. See that tower? That’s theirs.”
Justin looked where Pari was pointing and saw a tall round tower with a large golden statue on top of it.
“Are you kidding?” he said.
“Nope. Can you believe it?”
The statue was of a giant hawk with wings outstretched. It was at least twenty feet from wing tip to wing tip. The rest of the tower was very ornate as well, with a circle of columns holding up each of the five levels. It kind of looked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but it stood straight and tall.
“So ostentatious,” Pari muttered.
“You’re telling me.”
As they continued walking through Rathenhall, Justin asked Klothar how he had figured out the puzzle. The ranger explained that the bard he had been listening to was horrible.
“He spent all his time describing the exact movements of the heroes—so much so that I lost track of the actual story.”
“But what made you connect the words in the clue to directions?”
“It’s like I told you, lad. The bard kept rambling on about how Vian and his party first went north when they entered the ruins of the Amber Mist. Then they went east through the Serpent’s Chamber. Then south under the Sigil of the Shattered Shield. Then east again. Then north. I was bored to tears, but it did get me thinking about directions on a map. There are only four letters used in directions: N, S, E, W. I tried to remember the words that ran around the tower, but all I could recall was something about snakes, swans, eggs, and wood nymphs.”
“All words that start with the same letter as a direction. Pretty sharp there, Klothar.”
“Thank you, lad.”
Justin said, “So now we have to figure out who or what Aune is.”
“Tomorrow,” Pari said. “I’m so wiped from lack of sleep, I don’t think I could figure out anything more than where my bed is.”
“So we’re not going to hit that magic pool?”
“We’ve got a magic hot tub at the house. You’re welcome to that,” Pari said.
By the time they made it back up the hill to Pari’s fellowship hall, it was dinner time. Mariel had packed up her stuff and was gone so it was just the three of them for dinner. Mrs. Lawson’s chicken stew was excellent, but after the big meal, Justin was feeling comatose. Pari showed Klothar and Justin where they could sleep—as well as the sauna and the hot tub—which was really the baths and then she said goodnight.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
In the game, Justin didn’t dream—which made sense if you thought about it. The whole experience was a dream. You couldn’t really have a dream within a dream. Could you?
“Wake up, lad.” Klothar was shaking him.
“Wha—?”
“Quiet,” Klothar hissed. “We’re under attack.”
Justin sat up. He felt a little drowsy and disoriented, like when he rezzed at a Life Tree, but he took a few deep breaths and willed himself alert.
As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, Justin could make out Klothar’s form crouching near the bed.
“Are you serious?” he whispered.
“Aye, lad. I don’t sleep very well and I heard men moving downstairs. There’s at least four, maybe five of them.”
Now Justin was fully awake. He slid from the bed, threw on his clothes and boots and buckled on his belt and scabbard.
“What do we do?”
“You use your ring and draw them out. I’ll do the rest.”
“What about Pari?”
Klothar shrugged. “Let’s the two of us take care of this before she even wakes up.”
Maybe it was his imagination, but Klothar sounded a little maniacal—like he was looking forward to this or something.
Justin dug into his belt pouch and his fingers closed around his ring. “Okay, ready when you are, señor.”
They snuck to the bedroom door and Klothar cracked it open and peered outside.
“All clear,” he whispered.
Next, they crawled out into the corridor, moving slowly and trying to avoid any creaking floorboards. One side of the corridor was the balcony overlooking the stairs down to the main hall. Justin strained to see anything down there even though the great hall was slightly illuminated by glowstone sconces. He did, however, hear movement and the sound of hushed voices.
His heart started pounding like crazy, then Klothar whispered “Go, lad, go!” Justin slipped on the ring and felt a weird sensation as his body became ghostly.
“Can you see me?”
“Barely. Now go!”
Justin launched himself through the railing and balustrades of the balcony and floated down into the great hall.
The first thing he saw was a dead body in a big puddle of blood which glistened in the soft light of the glowstones. It was Mr. Darrow. His throat had been cut, from ear to ear. Justin’s stomach heaved, and he looked away. Then he heard some more commotion on the other end of the hall.
Sticking to the shadows, Justin glided past the statues and artwork in the great hall. There at the end stood three men at the bottom of the left staircase. All three were wearing black leather armor. One was unarmed while the other two wielded a short sword and a black truncheon respectively. Both weapons were black with blood.
“This level is clear!” called a harsh voice. Four more shadowy figures entered from the dining room—three men all dressed the same and armed to the teeth—and Mariel.
What the fuck? He inspected her just to make sure.
:::::. Mariel Severine. (Healer). Player, Level 4 .:::::
One of the men moved to the right staircase and addressed his team in a low voice.
“O’Neal, stay down here and hold the fort with Severine. The rest of us will go room to room. Everyone dies but the girl.”
Holy crap. Well, here goes nothing.
Justin glided towards the men and called out, “Hey assholes!”
They all whipped around, clearly surprised. But it didn’t last more than a second. One of the men hurled two throwing knives at him without blinking. One, two.
Justin grinned as the blades passed harmlessly through him and clattered to the floor.
“I’m your worst goddamn nightmare and I’m going to make you pay for what you did to Darrow—”
But before Justin could finish his badass speech, a swirling bolt of plasma flew from the hands of one of the men and smashed into Justin’s chest, blowing him through the back wall and into oblivion.
He awoke under a Life Tree in a manicured grassy area that ran between two lanes of a boulevard.
This sucked. Note to self. The Ring of the Spectre is freaking useless against magical attacks.
After shaking his head to try to clear it, Justin staggered to his feet. He should be getting used to dying by now, but he was still groggy and disoriented.
But then memories of what had happened flooded back.
Pari! She was in danger! And there was no way Klothar could take all seven of those fuckers. He had to get back and help.
Justin took a deep breath and then sprinted down the street. Where the hell was he? Somewhere in Rathenhall, judging by the look of the buildings. But where?
This area looked vaguely familiar, but the cit
y was a maze and it was too dark and too closed-in to see where the hills were. Those hills were the only thing he really remembered about where Pari’s place was. It was some place in the hills, on the west side of the city.
But then it hit him. He reached in his pouch and found his Circle of Reckoning.
Pari, please still be alive!
And there it was. Her glowing dot. It was still on the map. To the northwest. Not far.
Justin sprinted north along one of the main streets. This was definitely looking familiar.
He ran past a big dark square. Everything was silent except for the splashing of fountains. Maybe that’s where the Yak Shack was.
The road jogged to the northwest and Justin followed it past shops and mansions. But then, across the way, he spotted a tower that he recognized. He couldn’t miss the big statue of a golden hawk perched on top.
Screw it. He needed all the help he could get. Maybe Lukas would come kick some ass.
Justin ran up to the fellowship hall and pounded on the big oak door.
C’mon. Wake up, guys!
He pounded again, then circled around the tower, looking for any lights in the window.
“Lukas!” he shouted. “I need your help!”
Back at the door, he kept pounding. He even tried the handle, but it was locked.
Justin was just about to give up when the door opened. It was Chad, rubbing his eyes.
“Justin? What the hell, bro? We’re trying to get some shut-eye here.”
“We’re being attacked. Assassins at Pari’s place.”
“Whoa, slow down. What?” Behind Chad some of the other Hawks were starting to see what was up.
“Player killers. They’re attacking Wood & Silence. I need your help!” Justin gasped.
“This game doesn’t have PKers,” Chad said. “Is this some kind of prank?”
“I swear to god, no. They’re going to kill Pari and she’s level five. She’ll be gone.”
“What about the rest of the fellowship?”
“They’re all dead. I’ve got to get back there.”
Chad and the Hawks obviously didn’t believe him. This was a horrible waste of time.
“Screw it.” Justin turned and left the Hawks tower. Pari was right. They were assholes.
He quickly glanced at his Circle of Reckoning to orient himself and then set off, running as hard as he could towards the manor house. He had no idea of what he would do once he got there, but he had to do something. At least Pari was still alive according to the Circle of Reckoning. But for how long?
Justin was breathing hard by the time he got to the gates of the manor house. Everything was dark and quiet.
He entered the yard and snuck over to the kitchen door. Inching the door open, he peered inside and was greeted by a grisly sight. The cook, Mrs. Lawson, was dead on the floor with her head bashed in. Justin averted his eyes.
Whoever these assassins were, they were brutal, going after NPCs.
Justin fished in his pouch for the ring, but couldn’t find it. He frantically dug through all the other pockets and bags, and then he remembered. He had been wearing the ring when he was killed.
Shit.
He had just lost a relic—the one thing that had prevented him from being a total wimp-job. Great.
Moving as silently as he could, he stepped around Mrs. Lawson and snuck through the kitchen into the dining room. Thankfully, there were no more dead bodies here. Just place settings for breakfast. He picked up a silver knife and bounced it in his palm, judging its weight. Not much of a weapon. But it gave him an idea.
Trying not to look at poor Mrs. Lawson, Justin returned to the kitchen and checked the racks and drawers until he found what he was looking for: a meat cleaver. It was heavy and had a blade the size of an old hardcover book. Much better.
He returned to the dining room and then cautiously moved through the corridor into the great hall. A cool breeze whistled through a gaping hole in the outer wall—the wall through which he had been blasted. That had been some serious firepower, whatever it was.
Sprawled out near the bottom of the stairs were the bodies of two of the attackers. One was missing most of his head and the other had a knife buried up to the hilt in his eye.
Good job, Klothar.
As he climbed the staircase, Justin heard the sound of a woman screaming in pain. Pari!
He picked up the pace, but was still trying to move silently. If the assassins saw him, it would be game over.
Upstairs in the corridor he found the body of another leather-clad attacker. He had been a big, strong-looking guy, but now he was just lying there with his head twisted at a weird angle and his eyes bulging out of his head. But nearby, on the ground, was Klothar’s hammer—splattered with blood. And there were more bloodstains down the hallway.
What did that mean? Was Klothar dead? If so, Justin would really have no chance. Even if the bad guys were down to four.
From further down the corridor he heard another scream and then sobbing and shouting. It was all coming from Pari’s room.
Justin moved closer and then peered around a corner. One of the big assassins stood guard in front of Pari’s bedroom door.
“We can do this all night, Pari.”
Justin recognized Mariel’s low gravelly voice from behind the door.
“No!” Pari screamed again. “This is just a fucking game!”
“That’s where you’re wrong, curry muncher. This ain’t no game. It much bigger than that.”
Mariel said, “Tell us where the Iron Veil is and we’re done, Pari. Don’t you want this to be done?”
“I told you for the millionth time—”
Then the sound of something smashing into flesh and Pari cried out in anguish and then was silent.
“Asshole, you knocked her out again,” Mariel said.
“Well then heal her back up. We can do this all night.”
Justin leaned back around the corner. This was really bad. He had to get in there.
But first he’d need to distract the guard. He hunted through his pouches for something to throw. If he could just get the guard to turn around, he’d be able to sneak in and attack the guy from behind with the meat cleaver. Not very honorable, but these guys needed to be stopped.
But the only things he had to throw were a few strips of jerky. True, they were as hard as a rock, but they were still strips of meat and they weren’t that big.
He peeked around the corner and then flung one of the jerky strips down the hall. It didn’t go very far, and the guard didn’t even seem to notice. Justin tried again.
This time he tossed the jerky like you might throw a playing card, edge over edge. It flew down the corridor and landed somewhere in the darkness. But you could barely hear it. And the guard didn’t notice it either.
Two strips left. Maybe if he could get a little more air with his throw. He waited until the guard glanced to his right and then let go with everything he had. The jerky strip whirled through the air near the guard’s face. A perfect throw! And it definitely got him to turn.
It’s go time!
Justin raised the cleaver and scampered forward aiming right where the guy’s neck met his shoulder. But the guard whirled around and blocked the blow.
Then Justin was slammed back, his stomach exploding in pain. The guard’s hand shot out and suddenly Justin couldn’t breathe. The guy was crushing his windpipe. Justin lost all strength in his arms and the cleaver clattered to the ground.
“Little fucker,” the man growled.
Then Justin felt the pressure around his neck release and he started gulping in air. The guard shoved him through the door and he stumbled and fell into Pari’s bedroom.
“Look what I found.”
As he lifted his head, Justin was sickened to see Pari, tied to a chair, bloodied and bruised, her face a swollen mess. Her body slumped, unconscious.
Standing over her were Mariel and a tall assassin. And a few steps away was a shorte
r man holding what looked to be a camera or a phone or something which glowed in the dim light. A phone? It didn’t make sense, but it looked like the shorter guy had been videoing Pari’s torture.
Justin quickly inspected him.
:::::. Francis O’Neil. (Scout). Player, Level — .:::::
How come the guy didn’t have a level listed? Justin inspected the other two, starting with the tall guy.
:::::. Rod Marcino. (Warrior). Player, Level — .:::::
:::::. Joseph Weidlin. (Warrior). Player, Level — .:::::
None of them had levels.
“Who the hell are you?” Marcino asked.
“He’s the ghost boy,” Weidlin said. “Remember, downstairs. Van Hester took him out.”
“His name is Justin,” Mariel said. “He’s just a level one.”
“Two,” Justin spat.
Marcino said, “Well, Justin, Level 2. Glad you decided to come back. Very brave of you, by the way. I like that. Plus it makes it easier for us, not having to hunt you down.”
Marcino gestured to Pari’s chair. “Put him over there. Maybe we’ll have better luck with this one.”
O’Neil put away his phone and moved the unconscious Pari off the chair and dumped her unceremoniously on to the floor. Then Weidlin dragged Justin to his feet and pushed him onto the chair.
“Don’t bother tying him, I don’t think he’ll last long.”
“Be careful,” Mariel said. “He’s so wimpy, you look at him too hard and he’ll be kissing the Life Tree.”
“I know what I’m doing.” Marcino pulled something from a leather belt pouch and with a flick of his wrist a small curved blade appeared in his hand. It had a half-moon shape and looked very sharp.
“I—I don’t know anything…” Justin stammered. “I’ve only been in the game for a few days.”
The guard, Weidlin, moved in back of him, while Marcino held the curved blade up to Justin’s face so he could get a good look at it.
“You want me to record, chief?” asked O’Neil.
“Yeah. They said they wanted everything.” Marcino turned back to Justin. “So, junior, here’s how it’s going to be. I’m going to give you a little taste first, so we both are on the same page about how much this is going to hurt.”
