by Paul Bellow
I continued following her. The architecture of the entire city—even the sewers—impressed me. What would the other city-states be like? I wondered.
A bright light further down the tunnel caught my attention. The foul smells faded a bit as we got closer. Freedom at last. I smiled, excited to get out.
We reached the exit and stepped out onto a muddy river bank. The sludge from the sewer tunnel ran into a river of sorts. Across it, I saw nothing but sand, rock, and the occasional cactus for miles. The sun had almost dropped to the horizon.
She walked down the river bank, hugging the tall white wall surrounding Midgaard. How would we get across the sludge-filled water? Did she have a plan? Some of my questions were answered as we came to a flimsy wooden bridge.
“Be careful,” she said. “It’s not the safest. We need to find shelter before the sun goes down.”
I nodded, following as she crossed the bridge made from planks and thick rope. As I walked behind her, I glanced down at the brown, putrid water.
“What happened outside the city?” I asked. “Pollution?”
She chuckled.
“That’s part of it. During the City Wars, every city-state stripped every available ounce of resources out of the land surrounding their cities.”
We reached the other side of the bridge.
“How do the cities support themselves now?”
She stopped, sighed, then turned around.
“You ask a lot of questions for a barbarian,” she said.
“I’m more than a dumb brute,” I said, maybe too defensively.
She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head back.
“I know,” she said. “That’s why I asked you to help.”
The sun sunk lower as we stared at each other a moment.
“Come on,” she said then turned.
I followed her away from the city. The temperature dropped as the sun slid around to the other side of the globe. We kept walking until the city looked tiny in the distance.
Monky stopped and glanced around.
“We’ll camp here for the night,” she said.
Two mounds of dirt and sand sheltered us somewhat.
“We should’ve brought supplies,” I said. “Aren’t you starving?”
She smiled and pulled a large sack off her back.
“Can’t be a lot in there,” I said as I walked over.
She opened it and reached in. After she pulled out a two-handed blade, three logs, and a live chicken out of the sack, I got the idea.
“One of those ‘hold everything’ bags,” I said, nodding.
“Hold this,” she said then handed me the chicken.
It struggled to get away as I held it by its legs.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “Get it ready for dinner.”
I snapped the animals neck then proceeded to pluck the feathers from its body. Monky prepared a fire and pulled out two folding chairs for us to sit on.
“Did you bring the whole city?” I joked.
She smiled, but it didn’t look sincere.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“We’ll be fine,” she said. “I’m just worried about gruesnipes.”
“Very funny,” I said. “My older brother took me snipe hunting once.”
“I’m serious,” she said, not smiling anymore. “They’re deadly out here.”
“You’re good at this,” I said.
“Don’t believe me if you want,” she said as she set the logs on fire. “They’ll attack you in the dark. If you don’t have light out here, you’re a goner.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, still not convinced.
The kindling underneath the logs lit up. I glanced around, realizing how quickly it had gotten dark. The cool night air chilled me.
“Are you done with that chicken yet?” she asked.
“Just about,” I said then resumed my work.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Don’t leave the fire.”
“Where are you going?”
“I need a bit of privacy,” she said. “I’ve got a magic light that repels the gruesnipes, so it’s fine. You can use it later if you need to.”
“Oh, I gotcha…”
“The gruesnipes are too tough for us to kill,” she said. “They’re serious business.”
I nodded as she walked away from the fire and into the darkness while the floating magical light followed her behind one of the mounds. I finished plucking the feathers from the chicken then proceed to gut it. Halfway through the process, I heard her scream.
The shrill shriek stopped as suddenly as it had started.
“Monky?” I called out as I stood.
The flames of the fire flickered in front of me. I looked in the direction she had gone, but I saw nothing. The lack of sounds made the scene even spookier.
“Monky? Are you okay?”
Should I go check on her? Or stay by the light? Even with a sword, I wasn’t sure how difficult it would be to kill a gruesnipe in the dead of night. She had done so much to save me, but she told me not to go outside of the light. Why hadn’t she listened to her own advice?
I continued standing, unable to come to a decision. A fierce, primal growl nearby got my attention. I looked in the direction of the sound but still saw nothing in the darkness.
“Monky? Can you hear me?”
The growling got closer. I stooped down and picked up my sword. Bring it, gruesnipe, I thought as I held the weapon up in front of me.
The beast growled one last time then stopped.
I remembered her warning that we couldn’t defeat one of the creatures. Would light from a fire keep it at bay? And what about other creatures of the night? I sighed as I sat down.
The thought of Monky getting eaten by a gruesnipe weighed heavily on my mind as I tried to distract myself by finishing supper. I wanted to run away from the fire and help her, but I resisted the urge. Brains not brawn were what mattered in the Tower of Gates.
I wanted to survive, and to do it, I needed to be smart. As the chicken on a stick roasted above the open flames, I dug around in the back to take stock of my inventory.
She had packed enough to last the both of us a few days. I had a rough idea of where to go to reach Asangard, the nearest city worth visiting according to the run-down and almost-dead player I had found begging on the streets of Midgaard.
No roads or even trails led through the wind-ripped landscape of the wastelands, but I continued on my way the next morning. I wanted to make sure Monky’s death wasn’t in vain.
31
Another Huge Monster
Josh
I walked north for a week, still not reaching the next city state. Every night, I sat around a fire and fixed what little food Monky had stocked in her magical sack.
After a hard week, I forgot about getting back to level one-two and concentrated on survival. The gruesnipes weren’t the only beasts I had to worry about.
While they were the only ones who came out of night, during the day, huge, violent creatures wandered about looking for anything to feed themselves.
I gradually returned to my normal strength as the effects of my buff-sickness wore off. Even at my best, I couldn’t defeat one of the massive day-beasts.
Right after that thought, I caught sight of a lumbering monstrosity up ahead. It walked upright, but its misshapen head with dozens of dark black eyes and tall height made it look less like a human and more like a monster. Did it see me? I wondered.
The giant experiment gone wrong continued shuffling forward with the power of two muscled legs. I moved to a dirt mound to the left and sat down.
My heart rate increased under the glaring hot sun as I worked on controlling my breathing. Barbarian rage would end up getting me killed. After so many days of walking, I had to be close to Asangard. The nameless player had said it would take a couple of weeks. Or had he said a few? I sighed as the hot rays of the virtual sun scorched me.
Almost eleven mont
hs after spawning back into the game, and I still couldn’t believe what was happening to me. Hungry, tired, and almost dead, I clung to a faint hope of finding someone to help me get back to Eric and Sarah—if they hadn’t already left the game.
Would they do that to me?
I heard a deep growl on the other side of the mound. After turning on my belly, I carefully inched toward the top. When I popped my head up, I saw the many-eyed monster defending itself from a newcomer, a minotaur with long, curved horns.
Great, I thought as I kept my eyes on them. Maybe they’ll kill each other.
The passing thought looked more like a possibility as the two figures at least double my height locked arms, wrestling with each other. I wasn’t sure who to root for as the minotaur lifted the misshapen monster then slammed him to the ground. A cloud of dust rose around his body.
Determined not to end up as someone’s lunch, I slid back down the mound. On the bottom, I crawled towards the opposite direction. The sounds of a fierce battle continued behind me as I crept away from the area, hoping to get away from the monsters.
When I couldn’t hear them anymore, I straightened up and glanced around. The wasteland looked the same in every direction, so I glanced at the sun. I needed to go to my right then turn a mile or so away to continue north. Would I ever reach Asangard?
Every mile that I finished left me hungrier and thirstier. I had cut down my food intake to stretch out my supplies, but I wasn’t sure how I would make it. Would I die on my own in the wastelands? The thought of dying wasn’t so scary, which frightened me. Suicide was no solution.
Later that evening, as the sun headed under the horizon, I pulled the last log from the magic sack. Would a gruesnipe eat me once it burned away? The thought terrified me, but I pushed the fear aside as I prepared what would be my last fire. Once again, thoughts of death nestled themselves in the forefront of my mind, acting all cuddly and warm. Suicide wasn’t a source of relief in the real world, but I wasn’t in the real world. Did suicide have repercussions inside the Tower of Gates?
The philosophical question hung with me most of the evening as I ate two dry crackers and sipped at what was left of my fresh water. Staring at the flickering flames, I remembered the first camping trip Sarah and I had gone on after we started dating. She had complained all day about the bugs, the smell, and everything, but when we sat down next to each other in front of a roaring fire, my hand holding her close, she realized why I loved camping so much. That was the night I knew I wanted to marry her.
My smiled faded as the memory did. I glanced past the fire and into the darkness pushing against my weak source of light. How much longer? Not a lot. The thought depressed and excited me at the same time. If I died of starvation, was it suicide? I marveled at the depth of my thoughts when modern conveniences weren’t around to distract me with advertisements and occasional stories worth watching or participating in. I had the game’s help files, but I had read through them five times already.
The Tower of Gates had its flaws—like trapping us—but overall I had grown to admire the effort put into creating the place. Even the flickering flames impressed me. I put my elbows on my knees and leaned forward, looking more closely at the details. While I never heard many sounds after the sun went down, I couldn’t get Monky’s screams out of my mind. The memories haunted me more during the long nights. I poked the last log with a stick, sending embers into the air. The smell reminded me of Sarah.
My emotions were all over the place as I settled down on my side next to the fire. The log wouldn’t last all night. I expected the gruesnipes would eat me, but I had no other source of light. Anything flammable had already been burned to conserve my wood. I closed my eyes, drifting off to sleep, but opened them when I heard voices in the darkness. I sat up, listening as they got closer.
What are they saying? Do gruesnipes talk?
I stood and drew my sword, holding it toward the direction of the sounds.
“There you are!” Thom said as he walked into the dim light.
Aaron, Ferris, and Sherlock followed him, all of them wearing their trademark colored robes. I kept the sword up, determined not to become a prisoner again.
“Stop!” I said. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Or what?” Sherlock asked then laughed.
They continued forward. I noticed a wand in Ferris’ right hand. Aaron held a silver and bronze rod while Sherlock and Thom both had their hands raised, palms out.
I cursed my bad luck under my breath then asked, “How did you find me?”
“You’ve got a magic sigil on your back,” Thom said, his red frizzy hair bouncing around.
I lowered the sword, resigned to my fate.
“Drop it,” Sherlock said. “We have an interested buyer again. That’s why we waited so long to fetch you.”
“I didn’t think you would last so long,” Aaron said in a glum voice.
After dropping the sword, I turned and ran into the darkness, not wanting to become their prisoner again. Even getting eaten by a gruesnipe would be better. My heart pounded in my chest as I ran at full speed, waiting for something to swoop down and get me.
Or would it come up from under the ground? The thought scared me into running even faster. While the sigil would allow them to follow me, I wasn’t about to make it easy on them. Part of me hoped a gruesnipe would consume me. I continued running at full speed.
32
Just a Rat in a Cage
Josh
The Four Wizards caught me before a gruesnipe got me, of course. After they replaced the healing collar around my neck, they teleported me back to my cell in one of their towers. I had spent the last week barely alive and utterly alone. Eleven long months had passed according to the life-timer for my character. I occasionally checked the game-screen to check on its progress. What would happen after the one-year penalty expired and I wasn’t on level one-two?
I shuddered at the thought as I stood and stretched, ready to face another long day alone in a bare room. Except for a hole in the floor in one corner that could hardly be called furniture, I had nothing but the ceiling, floor, and walls. And my mind.
The time passed even slower when I relived various events and went over fond memories, but the reminders of the real-world outside of the game kept me going. Without them, I would’ve gone insane with all the forced isolation and starvation.
I paced the floor of my cell, looking for any positives. My buff-sickness had finally gone away. It would return once they started pumping me full of hidden magic again, but until then I felt good. The Four Wizards suddenly appeared all around me.
“Are you ready for your new owner?” Sherlock asked.
I kept my hands at my sides, resigned to the fact they were more powerful. Even one of them could take me out on their own. I accepted my reality.
“Sure,” I said.
They laughed then cast a spell, teleporting me away. I reappeared in a grand living room. A fat man with no shirt lounged sideways on a duvet. The light from several torches around the room reflected off his oily skin. He sat up and clapped at my arrived.
“Fabulous,” he said. “Bring him here.”
Two men, one on either side of me, grabbed my arms. I couldn’t resist them. Weak after all the mistreatment and near death, I let them drag me closer to the man.
“Give him a healing potion,” the man said. “We need this to look real.”
A third man rushed over and poured the contents of a bottle down my throat.
You feel better!
You have [100/223] health remaining.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Silence,” the oily fat man snapped.
I could tell by the sound of his voice he was accustomed to getting what he wanted.
“My name is Artemis, and you belong to me,” he said. “Do you understand?”
I nodded my head. Could I overpower his guards and kill him?
“Here’s the deal,” Artemis said as he leane
d over and grabbed a chicken leg off a nearby table. “I’m running for the Guild Council, and I need to appear strong,” he said. “My men are going to beat you within an inch of your life. After they’re done, you’ll be put in a cage in front of my residence with a sign stating I whipped you in a fair fight. If you tell anyone otherwise, I’ll torture you constantly for the next twenty years. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I said then bowed my head.
“Good,” Artemis said. “Get to it.”
The man on my left sucker-punched me in my jaw. My instincts took over, and I kicked his legs out from under him. Artemis clapped and giggled with mirth.
Four other men surrounded me as I crouched down, ready to fight all of them. One particularly bulky man with a white, sleeveless shirt rushed forward.
He slammed into me, sending both of us to the ground. I struggled with him as the other five kicked and punched me everywhere, not forgetting a spot.
They didn’t stop after I quit fighting back, pummeling me with their bare fists and boots. Whenever I neared death, the collar healed me a little.
“Stop!” Artemis said. “That’s enough. Get him outside.”
Two of the men picked me up under my arms and dragged me outside where there was a cage and sign.
After putting me inside the cage for all who passed to see, they slammed the door shut and locked it. I glanced over at the sign and read the note.
Basically, it said Artemis had beaten me within an inch of my life for helping Wiley escape from the arena. Was he one of the owners of the coliseum?
The question faded to the back of my mind as the pain from my wounds reminded me of my situation. Whenever I felt myself dying, the collar healed me.
I had never been suicidal in my life, but it would’ve felt like such a relief inside the Tower of Gates. So many months of absolute torture had done me in.
While I did have several good moments, they were far and few between unlike the bad ones. I thought about Monky getting eaten by a gruesnipe after our escape.
