“As slaves,” the woman said matter-of-factly. “Zaunt is the homeland of the Mercurions. Strange people. You, they will work to death in some bluecrystal mine or another. Me… well, take one guess what will become of me.”
Ahh, yes. Beautiful, charming, escapist Archemi. I wanted to log out and punch Temperance in her plastic face, but I was stuck here, so I forced a smile instead. “I don’t remember how I got here.”
The sorceress’s expression was grave. “I don’t remember much, either. I was searching for someone, and I activated the Star…”
She trailed off, and her brow furrowed.
“The Star?” I cocked an eyebrow.
“Never mind.” She shook her head, and winced a little. “Ah, godsblood. There’s no way out of this.”
“Look, I don't know how I ended up here, but I'm not spending the rest of my lives digging for rocks,” I said. “We have to get off this ship somehow.”
“Impossible.” The woman shook her head. “We're over the ocean. Can't you hear it? Feel it?”
I'd assumed the rumbling in the background was engines powering whatever flying craft we were on, but now that she mentioned it, it did sound an awful lot like the ocean. But... deeper? Louder?
“We’ll be fortunate if this blasted hulk doesn't wreck.” She swallowed, and glanced down at her bound hands. “If I had my magic...”
“No point wishing for what we don't have.” I shrugged. “What's your name?”
“I am Rutha of Vasteau,” she replied. “And you?”
“Hector. Dragozin Hector. Of... Tuungant.”
Rutha smiled a wan, bitter smile. “Well, Hector, I suggest you sleep. I doubt very much that we will be relieved of our fate by the time we reach land. You’ll need all your strength.”
Frustrated, I tried to banish my quest journal to the HUD again, but the window was still firmly locked in place. Fucking piece of crap game. Fuming silently, I tried to pick out objects from the background, searching for ways out of the bind. The devs had to have given this situation some kind of resolution that didn't involve me getting worked to death or getting sick. But it was a beta… and there was something wrong with the quest. The Journal entry told me to search for tools, but there were no tools to be seen.
What if something had gone wrong, and the items I’d supposed to be able to find hadn’t spawned? And now that I’d been spawned here… what would happen if I died? Would I spawn back on this ship? Or would the bug extend into a faulty reincarnation as well? What if my file got corrupted, or I was deleted? I remembered Temperance's calm warning about people who were too far gone with HEX not making it. What if it was that they reached the start of the game, bugged, then died when the game crashed?
I felt lightheaded as I sat back, stomach churning. I swallowed nervously. “Yeah... sleep, I guess.”
“Thank you for at least making my journey more comfortable, Hector.” Rutha glanced over me. Her eyelashes were the same brilliant white as her hair. “Rest well, as much as one can in this circumstance.”
She might have been tired, but I wasn't. I was worried - and pissed. As Rutha turned away, I wrapped my arms around my knees and frowned. I didn't need sleep – I needed a way out of these chains and off this ship. I needed to find Steve and check that he’d made it, and I needed to learn what the hell I was supposed to do here.
I closed my eyes, listening to the ship creak and the ocean roar, a relentless drone of sound that went on, and on… and that didn’t vary or change. The ship was creaking over and over again at the exact same pitch, too quickly. Ree-ree-ree-ree-ree, like an alarm.
My gut tightened, and I sat bolt upright, looking around as realization dawned. Everyone around me had frozen. All the sounds that had been going on in that moment were either skipping, or had blurred into the one constant roar. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I shifted in my chains, looking around. Rutha had frozen, her eyes only half-closed, lips slightly parted, her head not quite touching her shoulder.
“Oh fuck.” It WAS a bug.
There was a strange tugging sensation inside my head, like something was pulling at the inside of my skull, and my heartbeat stuttered as fresh terror flooded my chest. My hands and nose began to buzz.
Then I heard footsteps.
My head whipped around so fast I nearly wrenched my neck. A tall, shadowy figure was picking its way through the crowd of human cargo, effortlessly avoiding legs, out-flung hands, and crates. It was heading straight for me.
“Greetings, Hector.” The shadows resolved into a man with a light, even-toned voice. It carried through the hold in a way that felt unnatural, and the hairs on the back of my neck crawled. “It seems the Architects have cast you a cruel lot yet again.”
“Who are you?” My eyes narrowed, but I couldn't really do much. The chains on my wrists weren't making the right noises any more, but they sure as hell felt real.
““You may call me Matir.” The man stopped six feet or so from where I sat. He was dressed in all black: black breeches, black boots, a hooded half-cape, a black tunic, all of which shifted and bled sparkling static into the air. His face... he didn't have a face. All I saw was a pit of darkness underneath the hood, with one point of light burning like a star in the center. “I thought that perhaps you could use a helping hand.”
Chapter 6
My eyes narrowed. “Who and what the hell are you?”
“I told you. I am Matir. And I am here to encourage your potential.” Matir looked down at me, his ‘face’ a void of sucking darkness, like a black hole. “Your arrival did not go as planned.”
Swallowing nervously, I tried to tune out the repetitive soundbytes playing over and over again. It was like being trapped in a cell with a giant box of cicadas. “No shit.”
“A great force is at work, seeking to unbalance the world,” Matir said. “And it seems you were caught up in the discordance it is creating. It is my gift to sense such things… and thus, I am here.”
“So, you’re a literal Deus Ex Machina?” I sighed. “Fine. What do you want?”
“As you are aware, you are on a slave ship. Specifically, you are a prisoner of war,” Matir said. “This isn’t usually a problem for Starborn, but there’s a problem. You aren’t Starborn.”
“But Starborn are players, right? What do you mean I’m not Starborn?” My stomach clenched.
“You were meant to be.” The dark figure spread its hands. “You have all the prerequisites… but something went wrong between the time you chose your fate and the time you descended to begin your life on Archemi.”
“I’m not in the mood for this,” I said. “Just give it to me straight. What does that mean?”
“Starborn are what they are because they return to life when slain. You will not return. You will die with finality, like all other men. Those who could recognize you as Starborn will not know you for what you are, and will not offer you the adventures your spirit craves. In the rare event you obtain a quest, it will cause time and reality to warp around you, as it did here. You carry the seed of fate, but it has Stranged and cannot blossom… and if you die and join the Caul of Souls, your spirit will be sucked into it and destroyed.”
Well, that explained the HUD freeze and the weird ‘numberfetch’ stuff. “Then I guess I’ll be doing my part to keep the Drachan out of Archemi,” I said, sourly.
Matir laughed. “What fire you have! The Drachan are already here, boy. Why do you think you’re in the bowels of this hulk?”
“I figured we were doing one of those mystery murder cruise things.”
“Murder and mystery indeed,” Matir said. “So, will you let me help you?”
No lie: this guy creeped me the hell out. I fought the urge to hunch back against the wall. If he wasn’t a dev or a mod or something, what was he? Something generated by the AI, some kind of failsafe to bail players who got stuck in impossible starting sequences and accidentally got turned into NPCs? “What can you do to get me out of here?”
“Oh, this and that.�
� If Matir had a face, he'd have smirked. “But first, I must know something. I can and will help you, but my favor must be repaid. Do you agree?”
Of course. Something told me this was a really bad idea, but what choice did I have? I didn’t want to spend eternity here. “Depends on the favor.”
“Nothing that you cannot rightfully accomplish. Do you want my help?”
I hesitated for a moment. “Sure.”
“Then we have a deal.” Matir stood back from me, clapping his hands together. “And a bargain, I might add. You shall be Starborn… but you shall be born under a dark star, Dragozin Hector. And when you are ready, you will come to the Thunderstones near the village of Myszno in Vlachia. Take your time, though... there's no rush. The passing of the Dark Star is a ways off yet, and you will need to realize some of your potential before we can settle up. For now, I will give you a memento to make sure you remember me.”
Before I could reply, the hooded man lifted a gloved hand, and a sudden searing, cold pain shot through my right arm. I hissed, jerking away, and looked down to see a strange symbol burning itself into my skin. A Chaos Star with nine irregular spokes, each spoke containing a pair of sigils that crawled with sparks of dark energy for a moment before settling into dark, seared lines.
“My mark.” Matir lowered his hand, radiating satisfaction. “Now those with the eyes to see will be able to recognize you.”
I was liking this less and less. The intense pain vanished as quickly as it arrived, leaving the brand etched into my skin. It was less like a tattoo and more like a black charred scar. I looked up at him, frowning. The environment was still glitching around us.
“What are you?” I demanded, straightening on the floor. “You're not meant to be here. This isn't part of the game.”
He looked down at me. The darkness inside his hood seemed to suck in the visual snow that blurred the edges of his figure. “Everything and everyone is part of the game. Especially you.”
Just like that, the game resumed. It was like I'd blinked: one moment, everything was screwed, and the next, we were back to rocking, thumping, and creaking. People around me shifted and dozed. Rutha's head was properly resting on her shoulder now, her hair tumbling over her face.
My HUD unfurled like a flower, automatically pulling up a rapid-fire series of alerts, new messages, and a quest journal entry all at once:
NUMBERFETCH 00-001A-TypeNew[HeraldOfMT]
Registration complete! Compiling profile…
Pain Threshold Detection: 76%
Visceral Tolerance: Med-High (Realistic)
Race: TuunM-0016
…
As the factors continued to download in a flashing wave, I had the feeling that I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to be able to see. It was like watching people putting a stage set together when you were supposed to be there to see the show.
Once it finished, the spool of alerts closed, and the first message opened automatically.
Welcome to Archemi!
Thank you for joining us in our mission to repurpose our Full Immersion Reality world, Archemi, and for assisting us with the BigBrain Virtual Consciousness Project! Your participation will clear the way for Ryuko to save tens of thousands of lives – the unique ‘brain maps’ of people who would otherwise be lost to HEX.
Due to the nature of this mission, Stranged and monstrous enemies over Level 12 are currently disabled, random mob (enemy) spawns will not occur in populated regions, and all potentially devastating world events have been suspended. Leveling is currently reduced, and there will be a Level 10 cap until we have realized the full scope of the evacuation and surrounding policy. We are working as fast as we can to strike a balance between making Archemi an escape for the adventurous as well as a refuge for people who may not be gamers, so please bear with us as we assess what features will remain and what features we’ll have to put on ice.
The Mod Team will currently be logging in and out as we continue to refine BCI networking and storage. You can use your menu to view a list of online Mods at any time.
Despite the caps, there’s still plenty to do, and plenty of baddies to fight at lower levels. So don’t rush – explore your city or town, have fun, and relax. You’re immortal, baby!
–Your Friendly Neighborhood Devs.
Ahh… the message I probably should have gotten during a normal upload. So Matir had been right, unfortunately. All things being well, I should have landed in a Tuun city with some starting gear and a couple of fetch quests, not in the belly of a slave ship. Maybe it wasn’t all bad, then. I hated fetch quests.
I tooled over to the Quest Journal to see what quest Matir had inflicted on me:
New Quest: The Shrine of the Elder Gods
When the Dark Star passes in front of the Moon, journey to the Thunderstones at Myszno, a village in the east of Vlachia.
Reward: ???
Difficulty: Level 12-15
Level 12? But the maximum level cap is 10, right? I was still staring stupidly at the quest window when the hull began to vibrate in a way it hadn't before, then jolted so hard that people woke with short, startled screams. Rutha started up, as did the man next to me.
“Whu-what?” She looked around as much as her collar allowed for. “Are we docking already?”
There was another jolt through the hull, and this time, people screamed for real. It felt like a giant foot was kicking us from underneath, making the chains rattle and bang against the walls. Fear made my skin hum, but my combat training was kicking in. This was a battlefield, just like the ones I’d fought IRL, and maybe even less dangerous - assuming I could respawn. Rutha scrambled up, tugging on our line of chains as, down the end of the ship, a trapdoor opened up and a pair of men clattered down into the hold. They carried torches and whips, and began yelling at the other slaves in a language that sounded like Italian, but harsher. Small prompts floated over their heads, identifying each man as [Slave Guard] - Level 2.
Our chance had come.
Chapter 7
“Hey brother.” I turned to the man on my left. He was awake now, and like me, he was Tuun. We spoke the same language. “When they come this way, give me slack on the chains. I want to try and get the keys.”
Any other person probably would have laughed in my face or told me I was crazy, but this man’s eyes narrowed with dark humor. He was older than me, shorter, with a wide, chiseled face and narrow eyes. His hair was a short bristle of spikes on top, braids like mine down the back. “Not if I get the keys first. Let’s have some fun.”
As he spoke, a health ring - like a corona - appeared behind his head, identifying him as [Tuun Warrior]. My first NPC party member.
I nudged Rutha next. “Me and Psycho here are going to get up when those two come this way. Can you help us get slack in the chains?”
“Are you insane?” Rutha boggled at me.
“Like live lizard in fire,” the other Tuun grunted in an accent thicker than mine. “They took us like cowards, when we were fallen. Now, we are awake. There cannot be many guards. More of us than them, if we seize ship.”
One of the [Slave Guards] was beating on someone on the ground: someone small, maybe old or very young. I began to shout and curse at them, thumping my manacles against the floor and making a ruckus. “Hey! Dickcheese! Come here and give me some of that!”
One of the pair of slavers, a thin guy with a thick mustache, barked something at his companion and ran back upstairs. Going for reinforcements, I bet - they knew they were outnumbered down here.
The Tuun was warning the woman on his other side, a thin girl with huge eyes, who nodded and turned to her left to do the same. The slaver was picking his way toward us, features contorted in fury.
“Shut up! Shut up!” He barked. “Or we’ll dump you all in the ocean right now, you worms!”
“If they have to lighten the ballast of the ship to make it through this storm, they will anyway,” Rutha murmured.
I was trembling now, but not
from fear: from excitement. Adrenaline was my friend. It had been a while since I’d been able to get into a fight and not have to worry about getting my ass handed to me by an officer. Time to put these newly chiseled biceps to good use.
The [Slave Guard] came up near us, striking indiscriminately across the rows of people chained down, while five more came down into the hold from the trapdoor. I saw him raise his weapon to bring it down onto the frail girl, and that was it. “Go go go!”
“HuuRAH!” Rutha hauled toward me on one side, throwing her weight in, and the girl and her neighbor did the same on the other side. Suddenly, me and the other Tuun had enough room to get our feet under us. We surged up, surrounding the isolated slaver with a collective twelve feet of pissed off beefcake. The guard yelled an alarm and shoved the hissing torch in my face: I smacked it aside with my cuffed wrists, while the other Tuun belted him over the back of the head with his manacles. The torch dropped and rolled, and immediately began to smoke on the dry wooden floor of the ship.
“Put it out! Put it out!” The Tuun Warrior roared.
The newly arrived [Slave Guards] were running for us, but a wave of excitement had ripped through the hold. I saw people trying to trip them up, sticking out legs and ramming their bodies into them. The stir was greatest in our row, and we had all the chain we could ask for as everyone pulled their links in toward us to give us room to fight. I kicked the sputtering torch toward the old woman in front of us and stomped on the embers, swearing a storm as the embers burned the soles of my bare feet. She groped forward for it, trying to pick it up and get it off the ground before the ship caught fire.
The other Tuun beat the guard down to the floor with the shackles, ripped the keys off his belt, and began to hurriedly unlock his manacles. The five [Slave Guards] were getting closer: I could see green translucent health rings now. They’d entered the range of combat.
“You better make it fast!” I turned to the fallen guard and searched him for weapons. A Loot inventory popped up. He had a [Curved Knife] on his belt, a [Whip], and [3 Copper Lintz]. I looted him bare, equipped the knife, and set it between my teeth.
Archemi Online Chronicles Boxset Page 6
