Fantalia Online

by Jason Krew

  It's just a game.

  He was here again, in this shitty situation that he had never really anticipated. A straight fight he could deal with, but the feeling of being tracked. His pulse eclipsed the rustling, and the path seemed to grow narrow. He stumbled down it, boom, boom, boom, his heart thundered in his ears as he staggered from fire to fire.

  He thought he heard footsteps behind him, and the urge to turn around was almost irresistible, but he was terrified of what he'd find. He balled his hands into fists, and with a strangled cry he turned his head. A distant thud registered in his ears, and scrambled red lights streaked across his vision. He knew no more.

  Chapter X - Part One

  Roger woke up, and a sick lance of dread pierced him. He couldn't move. He looked down at his arms and legs, saw that they were tightly bound to the bars of a cage. It was cramped, made for someone half his size. Panic stole over him.

  'Hello,' he croaked, barely more than a whisper. He swallowed, trying to control his breath. 'HELLO.'

  The darkness received his voice, and there was no reply.

  He blinked his eyes, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He was still in the forest. He could see vegetation and the trunks of trees, but they didn't look right. Sick, maybe. Hollow.

  And there was something else, barely perceptible, at the very edge of his senses. A throbbing noise, passing beneath the thin veneer of forest activity. Drums? It was not a pleasant sound, and he nervously rattled the chains of his bondage.

  How long had he been asleep for? There was no way to tell. He didn't even know you could get knocked out in this damn game. He didn't feel any pain, but there was a kind of dizziness, if you could call it that. The world moved in and out of focus, shifting left, shifting right, slanting to and fro like a ship rocking on the waves.

  He heard voices then, harsh little voices like the sound of scurrying rats, growing closer and closer.

  'Log out,' he said.

  Nothing happened.

  'Log out. Log out, log out, log out.' Nothing. He wriggled and writhed against his bonds.

  'Soph,' he hissed. 'Soph where are you.' The little green creature was nowhere to be found. Had Soph betrayed him? Had he run away? He would kill him if he ever saw him again. If he could even be killed.

  Should've done the damn tutorial.

  The source of the voices emerged from the bushes. Short, squat creatures, with hairy little legs and big rounds faces set in wide manes of tangled hair, woven through with leaves and vines. They were horrifying, with ugly mouths that clicked with large pointed teeth.

  They were making straight for Roger, and a strangled cry caught in his chest.

  'Zug gug,' they uttered, hurrying over and working at the door to his cage. It swung open with a rusty squeak, and Roger felt thick, hairy hands apprehend him and drag him bodily onto the forest floor.

  Before he knew it he was on their shoulders, jostling about as they carried him into the trees. His head lolling to one side, he could see other cages, but the ones he could see were empty. He had never felt so scared. So alone.

  Or had he?

  Old wounds surfaced, and he felt the tremors coming.

  Not here.

  He couldn't escape them. Not even in this game. The most anticipated event of his life had quickly turned into a nightmare.

  I can't escape it.

  'Log out,' he pleaded, but there was nothing. 'Log out.' Tears began to spill down his cheeks.

  The forest seemed to laugh at him. The bird song was all wrong, like the birds were slurring drunkenly to one another. And the drums. He could hear them well now. Pulsing, vibrating, ricocheting off the dying, strangled trees and out into the darkness.

  He began to writhe like a man possessed, and the creatures dropped him. He rolled in the dirt, trying to get his feet under him, and then another light show appeared before his eyes, and he knew no more.

  When he came to, the light show was still there, lilting and careening before him, though his eyes remained closed. He blinked them open, slowly, and realized he was in some sort of clearing. The rhythm of the drums consumed him, beating through his body and setting the pixels aflutter.

  The light was a fire, a great big one, set in the centre of the clearing, which was some kind of glade, veiled by a thin dark haze. Toppled ruins dotted the clearing but none so immense as that at the very end. It was a tall wall, carved into which was a chair.

  What sat in the chair made Roger's breath catch in his throat. The horned skull banner from the bandit camp in Sandcliff flashed before his eyes.

  It was many feet taller than he, an other wordly creature more fearsome than anything Roger had encountered so far. Lithe and long limbed, with a heavily muscled torso and elongated legs that ended in hooves. It sat cross legged on a tall throne carved from the wall of rock. A palpable aura emanated from it, and Roger felt a fear such as he had not felt in years. He locked eyes with the creature, red irises shining out of a long, bestial skull. Intelligent eyes.

  Satyr.

  The word popped into his head, the closest equivalent Roger could find to fit the creature. A deep, thrumming voice issued from the creature, and the drums stopped.

  'Who are you?'

  Roger didn't speak. Couldn't speak. He was paralyzed, and it had nothing to do with his bonds. The creature waited patiently for a response, but his ugly little servants jabbed Roger with hard sticks.

  He could see more of them, gathered at the edges of the clearing, little spears in their hands, shaped wood fastened with tips of sharpened stone. He could see the set of drums lying idle, and a part of him wished they would play again. The silence that hung on the air left him with nowhere to run.

  'Log out,' he choked. 'Log out.'

  The creature raised an eyebrow, at least that is how it appeared to Roger.

  Roger closed his eyes. 'Log out.'

  He opened his eyes in time to see the Satyr flick his wrist, and the pygmies threw him back on their shoulders, and hefted him back towards the cages. Roger felt an instant of relief, until he realized that the ordeal was far from over.

  What was happening? His mind threw it all at him. Just how long would he be stuck here? He could feel his fathers fury at Roger failing to return home, but it somehow paled in comparison to his fear of the horned creature on the stone chair. Would the police come looking for him eventually? Would his parents report him missing? What if the game was closed down because of this? Would the whole world blame him for ruining their experience?

  The creatures shoved him back into the cage face first, giving him a final smack before slamming the door shut with a clang.