The Cursed Codex

by Matthew S. Cox

  Keith grabbed a pen to take notes, but soon wound up doodling a face. He added long hair and a headband, his best effort to sketch Kyra Redmane. It came out more like a muppet being electrocuted, but he shifted down the page and tried again, glancing up at the teacher every so often for a general reference. Ms. Hoffman looked nothing like he imagined Kyra, but being a woman with long hair, she offered enough of a basic suggestion of form.

  By the time the class ended, he had three pages of female half-elf ranger sketches varying from close-ups to action poses. He cheated and used simple circles for the hands, but the last few doodles looked a lot better than the first.

  He sighed at the notebook before closing it. Getting back to the game wouldn’t happen until Saturday. Keith hated having to wait so long, but not because he wanted to hang out with the guys so much.

  He missed Kyra.

  9

  Tactical Advantage

  Keith managed to more or less keep his head in schoolwork for the rest of the day, except Social Studies. Mr. Porter’s voice could put soldiers in the middle of a firefight straight to sleep from boredom. Keith’s ability to draw human figures improved quite a bit over last period. Four more pages of notebook had little Kyra Redmanes all over their borders.

  On the long, slow walk down the main corridor from last period’s classroom to the door by his bike, he daydreamed about meeting Kyra for real. That, of course, got him blushing. What on Earth would he, a thirteen-year-old boy, possibly say to a sixty-four-year old (who looks like she’s twenty) half-elf?

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets and moped outside, down the short concrete stairway to the sidewalk, and off toward the bike racks. Scuffing sneakers made him look up.

  Ashur whirled back and forth with his fists up while Kurt and William feigned lunges at him. Henry held Tira up off the ground like a hostage taker, using her as a human shield. She kicked, screamed, and struggled, but the boy had her wrists pinned together in front of her.

  “Think you can get us detention, huh?” Kurt took a swing at Ashur, clipping his shoulder with weak contact due to the boy’s effort to dodge.

  “Get off me!” shouted Tira.

  Keith tossed his book bag on the ground near his bike and sprinted up behind Henry before grabbing his arm. “Knock it off, man. Put her down.”

  “Oh, here’s Clark Kent.” Henry laughed. “What are you gonna do, little pansy?”

  “Pansy?” Keith folded his arms. “I’m not the one hiding behind a little girl. You’re a coward and a racist.”

  Henry growled and dropped/threw Tira to the side. “Say that again, turd.”

  “I said you’re a coward and a—”

  Keith ducked Henry’s punch and circled to the side. The maneuver wound up leaving him and Ashur surrounded.

  “Thanks,” muttered Ashur.

  “Now we got both our problems in one place.” Kurt sauntered closer. “You’re on the wrong team, Croft. Maybe we should kick you out of the country, too? This school is for Americans.”

  “I’m surprised you can tie your own shoes, Heller.” Keith glared at Kurt. “I didn’t think cavemen even knew what shoes were. Oh, the 1950s called, they wants their stupid back.”

  Ashur snickered, which caused William to growl and throw a punch that caught him in the stomach, lifting him up on tiptoe. Ashur wheezed and began to crumple to the ground, but flew into a wolverine rage instead. He launched a flurry of wild punches at William, which startled more than inflicted injury.

  Keith shifted his attention between the other two boys, waiting for them to attack.

  A tiny pink ballet flat appeared at Henry’s crotch with a meaty smack. He groaned and collapsed forward onto his hands and knees, revealing Tira had snuck up behind him. Red-faced, he rolled onto his side and moaned.

  “Backstab!” shouted Tira. “Critical hit.”

  Keith clenched his hand into a fist. “You idiots got detention last time, but that wasn’t good enough huh? You’re gonna keep on it ’til you get suspended?”

  Kurt eased out of his fighting posture. “Screw it. These ragheads aren’t worth getting kicked out of school. Stupid lib principal’s on their side.”

  “Wow. You really are an idiot.” Keith shook his head.

  Once Ashur’s frenetic, flailing assault subsided, William and Kurt helped Henry back to his feet, and the three of them walked off doing bad, overacted Indian accents.

  “We’re not even from India!” yelled Ashur. “You’re so dumb, you can’t even be prejudiced correctly.”

  “You okay?” asked Keith.

  “Yeah. Dicks.” Ashur dusted off his jacket.

  “Ahh!” shouted William.

  Keith whirled, as did Ashur.

  Mr. Benson leaned on one of the metal poles holding up the extended roof over the walkway. He’d evidently come out of nowhere and startled the three morons. The teacher’s stiff posture and pointed look at Tira suggested he’d witnessed the ‘backstab’ and had suffered sympathetic pains. The giant teacher made a ‘come here’ gesture at the three bullies, and muttered at them while they hung their heads.

  “Tira, what are you doing?” Ashur grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her over. “You shouldn’t be fighting. Mom will kill you.”

  She pointed at her ribs. “He squeezed me so hard it hurt. I’m gonna defend myself. And I didn’t fight. I exploited tactical advantage.”

  Keith couldn’t help but laugh. “I wish I got my phone out fast enough to take a picture of Henry’s face. I just saw this little shoe appear and bam, down he went.”

  “Your foot!” Ashur dropped to a knee, grasped his sister by the right ankle, and lifted her leg up. A minor bruise had appeared on the top of her foot. “Mom’s gonna flip.”

  Keith gritted his teeth and crossed his legs. She’d kicked him hard enough to bruise herself. No wonder Henry couldn’t stand without help.

  “She’ll only flip if she notices.” Tira pulled her leg back and stood tall.

  “Mom notices everything.” Ashur waved his hands about as if trying to grab words from thin air.

  Keith nudged him. “What are you panicking for? She didn’t do anything wrong. And you guys are American. Don’t listen to those idiots.”

  “If she gets detention, we’re going to both be grounded for the rest of the month.” Ashur gazed up at the canopy roof, studded with wads of gum.

  Mr. Benson sent the other three boys off then walked back into the school. Kurt, William, and Henry trudged up onto the grass to give Keith and his friends space, and headed off across the parking lot.

  “Don’t think they got detention either, but they look ready to pee themselves,” said Keith.

  “He’s probably going to call their parents.” Ashur sighed. “If he saw her kick Henry, he heard what they said.”

  Keith patted them both on the shoulders. “They deserve to get in trouble. Seriously, what kind of butthead gets physical with a little girl? Those guys are so scared of you, they gotta pick on a third grader.”

  “Little or not, I got a kill.” Tira folded her arms.

  “Come on.” Ashur took her hand. “I’m late for soccer.” He nodded at Keith. “Thanks, man.”

  “You know it.” Keith bumped fists.

  He headed to his bike and slung his backpack over his shoulder, watching his friends go. Wanting to play Crypts and Creepers every day sounded fun, but also a tad obsessive. He had homework to do, lawns to mow, and garbage to take out.

  Keith sighed and pulled his bike free of the rack.

  Saturday’s so far off.

  10

  The Girl in the Shadows

  Monday night, Keith sat up in bed studying… the Gamemaster’s Codex. He’d already changed into a T-shirt and briefs, so if he heard his mother or father coming to check on him, he could kill the light and play dead fast. He wanted to use some of the trap rules to create some fun for Tira’s thief as well as maybe throw in a puzzle or two to challenge the guys with something other than a f
ight.

  Eventually, he grew tired enough to close the book and set it on the nightstand. After trudging to the bathroom and back, he turned off the bedside lamp and tried to sleep. His brain wouldn’t shut down, continually going back and forth over where to take the adventure from the point they left off. He stared at the backs of his eyelids for a while. The module laid things out pretty clear, but it also had what Elliot would call a ‘linear’ storyline: no real choice for the players to make, merely going from point A to B to C. Of course, since it had been designed for level one characters as well as brand new players, the simplicity didn’t surprise him.

  But he wanted more.

  A scuffing noise echoed from the left, like someone running down a stone-floored hallway. He opened his eyes and glanced toward the sound at a stretched rectangle of moonlight banded across the closet door. The soft footsteps continued, rising and falling in volume, with the occasional stumble that made him picture a person changing their mind about a turn and doubling back.

  “Whoa,” whispered Keith.

  Hearing such noises in his closet froze him in fear. He caught himself pulling the blanket up over his face, and stopped. Thirteen going on six. I’m not a little kid anymore.

  The bizarre running slowed to a stop with a metallic clank. A few seconds of silence passed before feminine grunting, like a girl trying to move something too heavy for her, came from behind the closet door. She sounded frightened and in a major hurry.

  “What the…” Keith sat up. “Hello?”

  Metal rattling and straining grunts continued. He pictured a young woman fighting a stuck door.

  “This is too weird.”

  He lay back down and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the messed up waking dream. Or maybe he’d already fallen asleep and dreamed of being awake. The grunting stopped, but the footsteps resumed. His closet phantom skidded to a halt a moment later, emitting the gasp of a startled girl. She sounded older than Tira, but definitely not like an adult.

  “Crap,” whispered the girl in his closet.

  A few seconds later, the footsteps resumed at a faster, but quieter, run.

  Keith flung his blankets aside and got out of bed. He made it three steps toward the closet before noticing his bare legs and briefs. There’s not going to be anyone in my closet. Still, he plucked a pair of pajama pants off the floor and put them on.

  The noises changed back to struggling grunts in time with soft whumps. It sounded as though someone banged on the inside of his closet door, but it didn’t bump around like last time. Step by step, Keith crept closer to his closet, reaching for the knob. As impossible as the idea of having someone appear out of thin air and be trapped in his closet was, a part of him expected—no knew—he’d see someone if he opened the door.

  “I’m freaking out.” He clenched his jaw. “Just a weird dream.”

  Keith grabbed the knob, twisted it, and flung the door open.

  Instead of his closet, he found himself staring down a long, straight stone hallway with torches every so often on either wall in iron dragon claw holders. Far off at the other end, a dark-haired girl ran into view from a side passage and stopped, spinning side to side. He couldn’t make out too much detail, but felt sure she was not Kyra Redmane, though some similarity did exist in their clothes. Green cloak, fringed boots, and the girl carried a bow as tall as her height.

  “Hello?” asked Keith, his voice echoing down the hall.

  She startled, and whirled to face him. A scrap of torchlight lit her pale face and shocked, gaping mouth.

  “Uhh, hi.” He waved.

  “Don’t close it!” yelled the girl. “Please!” She sprinted toward him, wild eyed as though a giant boulder would come barreling down the corridor to crush her.

  The fear and pleading tone of her ‘please’ set his heart pounding. Why was this girl stuck in this dungeon? Why did this dungeon connect to his closet door?

  “Come on!” yelled Keith.

  Torch by torch, the girl drew closer. Dark brown hair flew behind her like a cape. Arrows bounced out of the quiver at her belt from how hard she ran. The terror in her eyes overcame Keith with a powerful need to help her. He stepped into the closet, icy stone at his bare feet.

  “It’s open!” He took another step, reaching out for her.

  She leaned into her stride, growling with purpose.

  Keith took another step.

  A vaporous figure of billowing black exploded into being in front of him, sending a wash of arctic chill right through his clothes. Beneath a hood of wispy shadows, an age-blackened skull, stretched long and thin beyond human proportion, opened its mouth to hiss. Glimmering, pale light in the eye sockets flickered as two oversized skeletal hands reached for him.

  “Gah!” Keith leapt back, shrieking.

  Wet stone took his feet out from under him and he landed on his back, half in his bedroom. The giant apparition leaned out, reaching for him. Still screaming, he rolled away and kicked the door closed, shaking.

  “No!” screamed the girl, sounding far away.

  Something deep, dark, and utterly terrifying growled behind the door. The girl shrieked, and the rapid patter of footsteps faded to silence.

  Keith gulped, staring at the door. His brain decided to restart four seconds later. “Crap!”

  He leapt upright on shaking legs, and pulled the door open again to find a normal closet.

  “No,” he whispered. “Please, no.”

  He shut the door waited a second, and pulled it open.

  Ordinary closet.

  Keith slumped to his knees. The girl made no further sound, and the evil coldness had faded.

  “I’m sorry… Please be okay,” he muttered.

  The room lights flicked on, blinding.

  “Aah!” Keith flinched.

  “Are you all right?” his father walked in, blinking and groggy. “What’s all the shouting about?”

  Keith bowed his head, blushing at being caught trembling. If he admitted he’d had a nightmare based on Crypts and Creepers, he worried his parents would take the books away and not let him play it anymore until he’d gotten ‘old enough to handle it.’

  “Uhh. Just a nightmare. Those buttheads at school were picking on Ashur again and I had a dream they pulled out knives. I fell out of bed fighting them in my dream.”

  “Damn. Things are escalating. I think I’m going to call the school tomorrow.” His father reached down and helped him up, pulling him into a hug. “You’re all good, bud.”

  He hugged his father back, grateful for the feeling of safety. What was that creature? He couldn’t have imagined feeling such pure evil, could he?

  “I’m okay, Dad. And they didn’t have weapons. That’s only in the dream. I don’t think they’d go that far. Just idiots. They’re not really even after me. They think Ash and his sister are terrorists.”

  “Oh. Those boys get that crap from their parents, no doubt.” His father patted him on the shoulder after the hug relaxed. “I’m proud of you for standing up for them, but be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “Now get some sleep.” His father trudged into the hall and shut off the light.

  Keith glanced at his bed. Yeah, right. “Gotta pee.”

  His father, his eyes already closed, mumbled incoherently and wobbled off down the hall to his room. Keith followed only as far as the bathroom, grateful the creature hadn’t made him soil his pants. It had been that scary. He lined up on the toilet and took a leak, amusing himself by thinking of the creature as having a radiant terror aura… and he’d failed his magic save.

  As a little boy, ‘jump’ scares had always got him. The parents tried to take him to a haunted house once when he’d been about eight, and he had such a bad reaction to it, they never went again. In fact, they’d bailed out only a third of the way through when he wouldn’t stop screaming. He chuckled about it now. Though he still considered himself vulnerable to jump scares, he wouldn’t have a total freak out like that again a
t thirteen.

  Maybe I’ll ask Dad if he wants to try a haunted house again this year. See if I can handle it. I guarantee they have nothing as bad as that… whatever it was.

  Back in his room, he sat on the edge of his bed and picked up the Gamemaster’s Codex. Page by page, he scanned the creature list in the back, but didn’t find anything that looked like what had scared him. Illustrations of the ‘wraith’ and the ‘soul harvester’ looked close, but the wraith didn’t have a hood or a skeletal face—being pure black shadow. The soul harvester had a physical skull, but it wasn’t stretched and distorted, plus the creature carried a reaper’s scythe.

  “Guess it’s in the Critters Unlimited add-on.” He sighed, and flopped down in bed.

  School would happen tomorrow regardless of how much (or little) rest he got. Between his heart still racing from the sight of that creature, and guilt that his chickening out might’ve put that girl in danger, he didn’t sleep much.

  11

  Meta Gaming

  The week dragged on. Kurt, William, and Henry kept their distance, though someone slipped a picture of ‘Akhmed the Dead Terrorist’ into Ashur’s locker on Wednesday. It infuriated Keith, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Even if he told them Ashur’s parents were nonreligious and pointed out that Ashur and Tira were like every other kid in this school except for exotic names and brown skin, they wouldn’t care.

  Keith did summon the courage to ask to meet with the principal, and complained to her about it. He felt like she merely humored him, and though Mrs. Filmore smiled and agreed the whole time, he doubted anything would happen. Unexpectedly, once word got around that the picture happened, quite a few kids down to even some sixth graders approached Ashur to offer support.

  Every night that week, Keith fell asleep staring at his closet door, hoping to hear strange sounds, but that girl never reappeared. By the time Saturday rolled around, he believed he’d actually had a bad dream and maybe sleepwalked out of bed to the closet.