Mage

by L. J. Swallow

  "All good. Woke up in bed this morning. I guess permadeath isn't something we need to worry about.”

  “Yeah, unless we only get three lives or some shit,” remarks Zara.

  “I said to you, I’m damn sure our bands would let us know if we’d lost a life.” Aidan taps his. “You checked, right Jay?"

  "Yeah. Good as new and nothing to indicate I'm about to shuffle off the mortal coil."

  I can't stop my unblinking stare. How can he be so blasé? "Can you remember what happened?"

  "Just the fight, then nothing. Hurt like a bitch for a couple of minutes before I blacked out."

  "And you woke up in bed? Can you remember what happened the rest of the day? Or how you healed."

  "Or who healed you," puts in Aidan.

  "No. Nothing. But what does it matter? I'm back and we can keep going until we get the fuck out of here. What did I miss?"

  I keep my mouth shut about exactly what happened to me after I left Dean—they already think I'm unhinged after my outburst the other night.

  "No new quest lines for me to deal with," says Zara.

  "Dean?" I ask.

  "No, I guess we keep wandering until we find someone or something with a quest. We’ve met the Big Bad Wolf, maybe we’ll meet Goldilocks next?"

  Aidan looks up from his band. "I hope it’s soon."

  "Same," mutters Jay.

  The conversation continues around me, but I can't focus. I need an explanation. How can they accept everything is okay? This game involves blood, pain, and death—even if just temporary. As I ate breakfast this morning, I ran through my other weird encounter yesterday, the one with Ethan at the edge of the zone.

  I need to discover if he knows more.

  "Why no big quest chain?" I ask.

  "One will come,” says Dean. “I think we need to gain some higher-level abilities first.”

  "And some practice working as a cohesive group without the healer dying," remarks Zara.

  I blink at her. "You really don't have a filter, do you?"

  "Against the truth? No."

  "She's right. But nobody's to blame. It takes time to get used to each other’s play style."

  "Yeah, but mashing buttons on a keyboard is different to timing rotations when an ugly-ass mob is in your face promising death. We've no add-ons here," she retorts.

  I’m doing my best. I’m learning a skill I’ve never used before and think I’m doing bloody well, considering. I rarely miss with my spells, for a start. Aidan places a hand on mine, and I jerk my head around.

  "You okay?" he asks.

  I glare at Zara, who's switched her attention to the display on her wristband and lower my voice. "Kind of. Listen, I need to find those flowers.” And Ethan.

  "But I thought we were levelling as a group?"

  "We can knock out some quests together later this morning?" I suggest. “Jeremiah taught me how to craft potions—including healing, so it makes sense I do this first.”

  “Are you sure you should go alone?” asks Dean.

  “I don’t intend to take on a pack of monsters on my own, and I’ll keep close to the path. I’ll be okay.” I straighten as he opens his mouth to protest. “I want to do this alone and prove to myself I can work solo—one day, I may need to. Any of us might, and we need to be ready.”

  “Right.” But he’s doubtful.

  Aidan mumbles his disagreement and turns to ask Zara her opinion. I take Dean’s arm and lead him to one side. “I need to see Ethan again. Something weird happened to me last night.”

  “What? Are you okay?” His eyes search my face. “El?”

  “I might’ve imagined it. I’ll explain later.”

  “I should come with you,” announce Aidan.

  “I’ll be fine. Honestly. I really need these flowers. As many as I can find.”

  Aidan chuckles again. “Typical El, gathering resources to sell at the trading house. Are you looking for market domination in this game too?”

  I poke my tongue out but enjoy the Aidan-and-El banter we’ve missed the last few days.

  Jay catches my eye, watching us in silence, and I don't believe his bravado. Something happened when he died, or if it didn't, something isn't right with him. Even if it's just fear.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I've formed my plan to visit Ethan again. Following my bizarre hallucinations last night, the eerie feeling somebody could be watching me more closely than I realised follows me on my walk to him.

  As the Tears of the Dawn grow close to the river bank near the edge of the area, I'm justified in visiting the area his house is located. This buoys me as I leave the bordered town and begin my trek towards Ethan’s. I pass others along the way, but their names appear on my band informing me they're travelling traders or townsfolk. Nobody speaks.

  A nagging question returns: why are there so few players?

  I reach the riverbank to begin my search for Tears of the Dawn, hoping I haven’t left it too late in the morning. I begin my search away from Ethan’s house, concerned I’d be followed. Jeremiah’s correct—all these dandelion-type flowers look the same. I bend to examine a few and there’s no shine to any. Either none grow here, or I can’t tell them apart.

  I move a few metres further along the bank, combing the grass as if I’m a detective looking for clues to a crime, and crouch down. Another confusing mass.

  With nimble figures, I push through the yellow-headed plants before picking two. I squint at the petals. Does this one glow a little? I hold it over my palm and the faint glow strokes the skin.

  Yes.

  Using this one as reference, I spend the next half hour picking as many as I can find—four. With each one, I check my band but there’s no ‘quest complete’. I wrap them in a cloth square I looted yesterday and tuck them into the pouch Sonara gave me.

  Time to find Ethan and ask more questions.

  The sun shines and, as I walk along, I study the blue cloudless sky. Am I covered by a dome trapping me inside and people watch me, God-like, from above, or is this an online game? I shudder at the cascading thoughts, and switch to picturing my old life.

  A nearby splash alerts me and I snap my head around, muscles coiling, ready for attack.

  Ethan stands up to his ankles in the water, fishing rod stuck into the earth behind him, and he pokes around the river bed with a long staff.

  Again, I’ve no alert on my band announcing who he is. I hang back by the willow tree, beneath the branches dappling sunlight across the nearby water, and watch. He jabs the staff up and down as if trying to locate something on the riverbed. The noise attracts attention, and something rustles in the reeds opposite him. Along the opposite bank, small figures appear and my band fires up.

  Gremlins

  Level 18

  Aggressive

  I shrink back further into my semi-hidden spot, watching as the blue creatures gather to study Ethan in silence. Can't he see them? They’ve appeared from an area across the river—another zone which I’ve not ventured into yet. They're the size of a two-year-old, but too high level for me.

  Ethan halts in one spot and hits the stick up and down. He bends down, soaking his sleeves as he delves underwater. For a moment he appears to struggle and then pulls out a mud-covered box. I can't make out the expression on his face, but his demeanour suggests this discovery is what he spent however long standing in murky water to find.

  The water surges and I jump to my feet as Ethan falls backwards, arm outstretched as he lands in the shallow water. Three gremlins have attached themselves to him, two on his legs who obviously pulled him under, and one sits on his chest, attempting to take the box. He swears and flails at the creatures with his stave, kicking his feet and shouting.

  I drop a pillar of fire from the sky, followed by bolts from my fingers, as I hit the remaining gremlins bouncing across the river. They screech in pain and run back to the opposite bank, covered in fire and hopping around in a macabre dance, before they burst into flames.r />
  I turn to the others and hesitate. My next cast needs to be close to Ethan's chest, and I question myself whether I’ll miss and harm him. The question's moot as the gremlin drops his grip on Ethan and turns his attention to me.

  Shit.

  I back up, continuing to throw fire from my fingers, as the tiny creature approaches. I've played enough to know a monster’s size doesn't matter, only their level, and this one's flashing a red difficulty on my band. Do I turn and run? As the gremlin jumps and seizes my throat, I tip backwards onto the floor and gasp at the sharp pain as the claws dig into my neck.

  Water splashes, the sound of someone wading through the river, and the creature turns limp, claws scraping as the grip slackens and it slides down my neck and chest. I stare between the dead creature and Ethan, hand immediately touching my stinging neck.

  "I guess you're higher level than me," I say.

  "Uh. How about 'thank you'?"

  "I was trying to help you."

  "Believe me, I'd be fine. You're mad trying to take on something that level."

  I pout. "This is my natural inclination to assist."

  "Well, you can't die yet." He frowns down at me and reaches out to touch my neck. The sensation tingles against the wounds and I'm unsure if more lies behind this. Never mind he looks like the kind of guy I'd chat to in real life, but his manner—although mysterious—is also calm. And apparently caring.

  Seriously, El, you cannot find anything about this bloody situation anywhere close to romantic.

  My neck ceases stinging and Ethan wipes green liquid from his hand.

  “What are you doing here? Surely not thinking about hunting in Greenvale?"

  I laugh out the answer as he helps me to my feet. "No, and certainly not alone."

  "I bet your paladin friend would try. She's a livewire." He smiles and wades towards the river bank to collect his belongings. “What are you doing out here?”

  "Collecting Tears of the Dawn."

  He stares. "Did somebody tell you to do that? A Dryad?"

  "I found a recipe for a potion—" I pull the parchment from my pocket. “Look.”

  "Potion of Waking Nightmare?" He straightens, glancing around as if we're being watched.

  "Do you think this is what I needed to find?"

  "Are you hungry?" he asks. Without waiting for an answer, he picks his pack from the floor and hauls it over a shoulder. “Come with me, we can talk over lunch.”

  I follow him a few hundred metres, until he gestures at the ground midway between the riverbank and a willow tree. I look down at where my thin leather shoes squelch in the mud. He chuckles and opens his pack before pulling out a grey woollen blanket.

  “Here. Sit.”

  The small square is almost enough for us to sit apart but his leg touches mine as he rummages in his pack. He pulls out a pot with a cork lid which he removes and holds out under my nose. A smell like spiced tomato soup makes my mouth water.

  “Nothing fancy, I’m afraid.” Ethan dips in bread and eats, half-smiling through the mouthful. "Eat. I promise there's no magic potions in there that will harm you."

  I hadn't considered the possibility until he said that. I tear a chunk from the small loaf and join him in sharing his soup. "Can you explain more about what’s happening?" I ask eventually.

  His deep brown eyes regard me in a way that sets the hairs on my neck. I'm unsure if I'm scared of Ethan or if his promise of an escape warms me to him.

  "You're prophesised." He says the words with a low laugh. "Which means someone brought you here, not that you were born into a great destiny. Somebody 'planted' your coming in books.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  He cocks a brow. “And what about this situation is sensible?”

  "I only need to know one thing—can I get out of here?"

  "I hope so. I hope we all can. The Kingdom watches, but the Council wants to help. Or some of them do, anyway." He chews a nail. "Your trainer, Reuben. Has he spoken to you about the lore much? Tell me what quests you're on right now."

  “To find Tears of the Dawn and make the potion.” I grip my heavy backpack. "Do I need to raise reputation with the Dryads? Like in the game I play at home?"

  "This game doesn't work the same." He delves into his pocket and pulls out the box he dug from the riverbed. Mud from the outside sticks to his fingers as he examines the smooth metal surface. "This is what I was looking for in the river."

  "What is it?"

  Ethan hands me the box and I flip it over, looking for a catch. Engraved in the bottom, less than two centimetres across is the symbol I saw yesterday on the van. "What is it?" I repeat.

  "Listening."

  "How? You said you were hidden."

  Ethan indicates my band. "They leave trackers around to pick up information via the wristband. They hear everything and know where you are, we can’t stay long, or we'll be spotted. There are points through Alaria that monitor activity and then report back to those running the game. ‘The Kingdom’, as they euphemistically call themselves."

  I drop the box as if it's white hot, the familiar panic seizing my chest. "Ethan, this is really screwing with my head."

  "You're in a game. Of course, something is monitoring what you're doing."

  "And you.”

  “No.” He glances at my band and back again. "Because I'm not visible."

  "Visible to who?"

  "On the map."

  "Why?"

  "Because I don't have the band anymore."

  “You’re being vague again.”

  He chews on his food and looks ahead. “I need to be for now. I don’t want to mess with your head. But understand I want to help you because getting the hell out of here is top of my ‘to do’ list also.”

  “Believe me, my head is messed up enough.” I lower my voice. "I dreamed something last night. I saw people dressed in... strange clothes who spoke about me as if I was a prisoner or something."

  Ethan's face falls into concern. "Is that all you saw?"

  I nod. “Do you know who they were? Or was it a dream?”

  "I don't know, Eleanor." Ethan closes a hand over mine. I jerk in surprise, at his touch and how human he feels. Just like Dean. “You need to stay focused. If you have a quest that takes you away from collecting the flowers, don’t follow it. Take the trip to the Dryads and the Shrine.”

  He gestures at the recipe parchment which I hold in my perspiring hand. “Please. Make the potion and meet me.”

  “Then what?”

  “Somebody will need to drink it and see what happens.”

  “But what happened to me last night?” I ask. “The men spoke about me as if I was someone they owned.”

  Ethan runs a hand through his hair. “Eleanor, the game owns all of us while we’re here. That’s why we need to leave.”

  “But I never signed a contract, I don’t understand. I’ve been thinking about this, over and over, and I haven’t signed any paperwork for months. I always read through anything people want me to sign. There’s no possibility I agreed to this.”

  Ethan’s long fingers squeeze mine. “I can hear you panicking. Stay focused. Beat the game—beat them.”

  “I will.” I hope I sound convincing, because I don’t believe my words. I'm stuck here, and I need to follow whatever path I'm on until the storyline ends.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The town gates welcome me after my morning by the river, my wristband displaying stats to show I’m at full health and strength. I pass by a small stone memorial and halt. The half-metre-high-and-wide grey stone, hidden in long grass, wasn’t there yesterday. Cautiously, I approach and look down.

  I receive an alert.

  A different alert—the text flickers on my screen, replacing my stats, and I struggle to catch them as they fade in and out. The moment they appear the screen scrambles, as if somebody is intercepting a message and erasing it. The words fuzz again, and I shake the band, but can’t read the text. The flick
ering intensifies and the screen turns blue with no stats showing.

  Confused, I lean down and look for writing on the stone, but there’s none. The rock is cool and smooth and doesn’t move when I shove it hard.

  Frowning, I stand. I’ve had enough headfucks today, I’m not adding more to the list. I bloody hope the others are in town.

  To my relief, the group hang around the fountain where they chat. Jay looks up. "Did you find your flowers?" I expected a scornful tone, but seems his death subdued his attitude.

  "Yes, and I know how to make my new potion.” I hold up my much of flowers. "I also now know where to make it.”

  Aidan sits on the ground, legs pulled under him. He squints up at me. "I understand you're one of those players who like levelling trade skills, but I don't think we have time."

  Zara nods. "Agreed."

  I look to Dean for support. He sighs. "Where do you need to go?"

  “The Grove of Tranquil Waters."

  He chuckles. “That sounds like more fun than the Mountain of Fiery Doom.”

  “I haven’t heard of that place,” says Zara. “Do you have a quest there?”

  “No. I was being sarcastic.” He shakes his head. “I meant, it sounds reasonably non-threatening. Is it far?”

  “Next zone,” I think. “Greenvale.” I tap my band. The blue screen has returned to normal and the new map area is visible again.

  “Judging by other trips on foot, I’d say that would take us until evening.” Aidan swipes his fingers across his wristband screen, as if using a map app on his phone. “And you think this is significant?”

  “Yes. Dean?”

  He nods.

  Zara pushes her braid over on shoulder. “No way. I’m not wasting a day traipsing across the countryside to make a potion! Come on guys, this isn’t the way to win.”

  Jay sits up from where he lay on his back staring at the sun. "I’ll go."

  “Please stay here, guys. We don’t have much time,” says Zara.

  “How do you know that?” I ask sharply.

  She waves a hand around the town square. “Do you see any players? There must be a time limit and then... Who knows what happens next?”