Ascendant of Aldrya

by Northwest Grant

  A hardcore role-player. Nigel rolled my eyes. "Don't do that. I'm new, I need a few pointers."

  "New? And I know little about sword fighting."

  Okay. Nigel took a deep breath and pulled up his character sheet. He pulled up his character sheet again and saw several skill increases.

  One-Handed Sword 2

  Shield 2

  Unarmed Combat 2

  Two-Handed Sword 2

  Taunt 2

  Bandaging 1

  The only skills that went up were the ones he'd used, even if he hadn't succeeded.

  There was now a party tab, and Nigel mentally scrolled over to it. An overlay appeared, showing Khoraja's face in a circle, next to his. He moved the cursor over to Khoraja, but it didn't show him any new information, and clicking her didn't seem to do anything either.

  "Whatcha looking at?" asked Khoraja. "You look like you're staring into space, or right through me, or something."

  "I was looking at my character sheet."

  "What's that?"

  Nigel stared at her, frustrated. She stared right back. She had to be a player. The only people in MMOs who didn't know they had a character sheet were NPCs. AIs. And no way was she an AI. No computer in creation could make AI that convincing. Then again, no computer that produce VR so realistic either.

  "You don't like me very much," she said, matter-of-factly. "And you talk funny."

  "I like you fine." And I don't want to fight the goblins in the shed alone. "If we could just talk like we're both from the real world for two minutes, that would be really helpful, that's all."

  "What do you mean, real world? Like there's a fake world?" Her eyes widened. "Oh."

  "Oh?"

  "You're the ascendant!"

  Windstar had said not to tell anyone, but he wouldn't get answers if he didn't ask questions. And Khoraja already knew. The ascendant. Windstar had said an ascendant. "What, exactly, is an ascendant?"

  "Is it possible you don't know? I suppose it is." Khoraja looked thoughtful. "Someone from another world, according to the legends. You're not much like what I was expecting."

  "What were you expecting?"

  "Someone who knew everything already. And I expected a woman. The divination said -- but sometimes divinations aren't accurate." She studied him. "You're not bad looking, though. Hmm. Well then. That's interesting. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Some ascendants do amazing things."

  "What do the other ascendants do?" If Khoraja wasn't a player, does that mean she's an AI? She definitely passes the Turing test.

  "Well, I'm no expert, but apparently most of them die quickly. Unless they have the right help. Fortunately for you, I'm here and willing to help you."

  "And you're not an ascendant?"

  "Oh, no. But I was sent to find you, and here you found me." She laughed. "They don't grow on trees, do they? Or maybe they do. I don't know how things are in your world. I hope you can tell me sometime. That would be interesting. In the meantime... are you ready to kill goblins? Because if we wait, they might get reinforcements. And I'd really like to finish them off."

  Respawns. Right. Nigel checked himself over, but he seemed fully healed. "Wait just a second, though."

  "Do you have pre-battle magic to do?"

  Nigel shook his head. "This sword is slow and too heavy." He laid down the two hander, and picked up one of the longer goblin swords, which was still a short sword in his hands, and a shield that was a little better than a buckler someone of Nigel's size. He didn't think he needed to hit a goblin with something as big as the two-hander to kill one--not if he got it with the blade--and with his my height he'd still have a reach on them.

  "Very heroic looking," Khoraja observed. She was standing now, and her shortened dress displayed her legs attractively.

  "Practical for this situation." Nigel focused on her eyes to avoid ogling. They were a deep dark brown.

  Khoraja smiled. "I prefer practical to heroic, anyway. I'll set the shed on fire, and you can kill them when they come running out."

  "What does Miss Mabel think about you torching her orchard?"

  Khoraja shrugged. "Never met her, don't know what she thinks. It doesn't do her much good to have goblins running amok, now does it? She can rebuild her orchard, but there's only one of me."

  Doesn't sound like she expects to respawn. Maybe that's just good programming. "Okay. Hit it!"

  "Hit what?"

  "Do it. Flambé the goblins in the shed."

  She smirked. "Cook them in the shell like eggs?"

  "Sure. A little grisly, but sure."

  She giggled, and walked forward into the orchard, past a still burning tree. She stopped and pointed at the shed with her right hand. Nigel stopped next to her, his sword and shield ready. She chanted, gesticulating with her left while she did so. A beam of fire shot from her hand to the shed and blossomed into a giant ball twenty feet across.

  Two goblins came shrieking out of the shed a moment later, looking singed, with yellow health bars. Nigel half-expected them to run for the hills. But they yelled and ran forward, waving their little swords. Nigel knocked one down with his shield, then stabbed the other in the throat. Acting on instinct, Nigel spin-kicked the goblin he'd knocked down as the little green monster tried to get up, and that knocked it flat again. Should I spare him? Or do I need to kill him for the quest? Reality, vs. a game. Nigel didn't know how goblin minds worked, or if they were all evil, or what.

  The goblin made up Nigel's mind by trying to stab him. Nigel rammed his sword through the goblin's chest. A spurt of green blood stained the brown earth. Again, with the yucky cheese smell. The five senses thing was amazing, but right then Nigel would have preferred having only the sights, sounds, and vibrations of a VR rig.

  "Well done," said Khoraja.

  "Medium rare," Nigel said.

  Khoraja laughed. AI or not, she shared his dark sense of humor, and he enjoyed making her laugh.

  "I have to go turn in this quest," Nigel said. "Er, talk to someone. Coming with me?"

  "That's what I'm here for," Khoraja replied.

  CHAPTER TWO

  "Good job!" exclaimed Sergeant Windstar. "Although you, young lady--you should watch where you set fires."

  "I'm an elf," Khoraja retorted. "And I am older than you are. And even with the fires, I nearly died dealing with your goblin infestation. Why aren't you over there, dealing with the problem? Aren't you the local guard?"

  Windstar ignored her and addressed Nigel. She handed him a coin purse. "Here's a reward for you."

  "Thanks!" Nigel said, remembering Windstar responded to politeness.

  "Actually," Khoraja said, "I did most of the work."

  "It's true," Nigel added, not that he expected it to do much good. She'd killed several before he'd arrived. He looked inside the coin purse and counted ten shiny gold coins. He took five out. They glittered in the sunlight. He handed them to Khoraja.

  She gave one a bite. "Hmm. Probably real."

  "Of course it's real," said the Sergeant, annoyed. She turned away from her and addressed Nigel. "I have another quest for you. There's another batch of goblins occupying the old salt mine. I imagine it would take two or three adventurers to roust them out. People around here depend on the salt mines for income."

  Great, another quest.

  "Goblins?" Khoraja's ears literally perked, which was kinda cute. "We'll do it."

  "We won't," Nigel said.

  "Well, I can't do it by myself." Khoraja glared at him.

  He was torn. On the one hand, clearly he was supposed to follow the quest chain. But he wanted to have more context. Be patient and learn your opponent, one of his martial arts teachers had told him. He wanted more information before he rushed in. Running to save Khoraja had been foolish, although he didn't have much choice. He couldn't stand by and watch her die. That differed from taking on problems that were none of his business.

  Windstar turned to Khoraja. "May I have a word with him privately
, please?"

  Khoraja harrumphed, but walked down the road a ways and pointedly studied at her hands as if considering a manicure.

  "Ascendant," said Windstar. "I failed to give you some information you needed. A previous ascendant was quite a bit of trouble. He was rude from the start, so when you were rude, I had to consider that you might be like him. But the ways of ascendants are often strange."

  "How often do ascendants come here, anyway?"

  "You're the first one for over a year. But since the age of ascendancy began, they have usually been much more frequent."

  Nigel wanted an exact number, but he could only ask one question at a time. "Everyone else here is from around here? Born here?" He waved his hand, as if that would clarify that he was talking about the entire world.

  "Yes. Well, except for demons that are summoned from the Abyss, or golems molded from the earth, or... "

  "But from here. Not from another world, like me." Years, huh? That blew a theory that he was working on, that the game was part of some new medical treatment.

  "Yes. Except ascendants."

  "So you guys, being here, giving me tasks--that's not a coincidence."

  "No. We go to wherever the next ascendant will arrive. That is our mission. It has always been our mission."

  "Were you born?"

  "We were... constructed," said Windstar. "Look, that's not important. These quests are designed to make you learn, and strengthen you. They are not your only path, but they are the best path we can devise for you."

  Nigel got the impression that Windstar was as eager to change the subject as she was to impart the information. And constructed sounded an awful lot like she might be the AI he thought she was.

  "How long have you been doing this?"

  "It depends on what you mean by you," Windstar said.

  He tried a different tack. "How many of these quests are there?"

  "That will evolve over time. Some ascendants are provided with hundreds of quests."

  "Khoraja said most ascendants end up dying quickly. Do they die trying to do your quests?"

  "You told her you were an ascendant?"

  "I asked some questions, and she ... made a guess. Which I confirmed."

  "Elves are entirely too perceptive," said Windstar. "I suggest you kill her."

  "What?"

  "I asked her to move aside because I did not want her to know you were an ascendant. Alas, I'm not allowed to kill anyone unless directly attacked, or an ascendant near me is attacked. So you should kill her."

  "I will do no such thing."

  "As you wish," she said. "Although perhaps if you convinced her to attack me I could retaliate."

  Clever AI, trying to get around its programming. "No. Why is it such a big secret?"

  "You asked what killed off previous ascendants. Yes, some died questing. Some strayed from the quests and died. But many were killed by someone who felt threatened by ascendants. You have a reputation for shaking kingdoms, unleashing cataclysmic change. Don't tell anyone who you are." She nodded in Khoraja's direction. "Perhaps she can be trusted. Perhaps not."

  "So what happens if an ascendant dies?"

  Windstar shrugged. "If they die of violence, it's possible they'll be resurrected by a high priest or priestess, if they find the body soon enough. Some reincarnate somewhere far away, in a different body with different abilities. Others simply die like everyone else here. As to whether there's an afterlife, I can't tell you."

  He wanted to ask more, but Windstar was shouting. "Fire Mage!"

  Khoraja walked back. "I have a name, and it's Khoraja."

  Windstar nodded. "You know his secrets. Guide him."

  Khoraja smiled smugly. "If he helps me clear that mine, sure. You guys are paying really well."

  Nigel knew he needed Khoraja, so he wouldn't be running blind in an unfamiliar world. She wasn’t cautious for someone with such a long life expectancy, or she wouldn’t have been in such trouble when he found her. But her plan with the shed had been sound enough.

  No way was he doing a hundred quests. The only life he knew he had was in this strange virtual reality. He wasn't going to spend it jumping through hoops. Even if he woke up on Earth he might be a cripple who would never recover. Did the voice that brought him here create Windstar? Maybe it created the crazy little goblins to test him.

  "I'll go," Nigel said. "If we can find help. She said we needed two or three people. Let's get a third."

  "Good idea," Khoraja answered, surprising him by agreeing so readily. "We'll go to Belden Village and find a healer. A druid, hopefully, or failing that a war priest." She turned to Windstar. "And after that we'll take care of your little goblin problem. Let's go."

  "Wait. I have more questions." Or at least, give me a moment and I will.

  Windstar shook her head. "No more questions until you've cleared the mine. I've got someone else I need to talk to."

  Ah, that's how it will be? He still wasn't willing to be anyone's pawn. He followed Windstar's gaze. A young woman was walking toward them, decked out in a tight white leather corset, white leather shorts, and white leather boots that hugged her thighs. Long pink hair cascaded around a perfect face. Her breasts, pushed up by the corset, were two perfect half-spheres. She was gorgeous, made more so by her brilliant smile and big eyes.

  This is starting to seem like a harem book, thought Nigel. Nothing but beautiful girls. Then he saw a man maybe a hundred feet farther than the girl, dressed in black, wearing a bandana over his head. The man was carrying a bow.

  The man raised his bow, aiming at the vision in white. "Stay back!" Windstar said, and lumbered toward the man, platemail clanking.

  "Watch out!" Nigel yelled to the girl. He raced after Windstar. He heard Khoraja chant a spell.

  The pink-haired girl looked behind her just as the man let loose the arrow. A moment later, it was sticking through her head, and she fell, flat on the ground. The archer turned and ran. A fireball bloomed behind him. Windstar charged right through it. Nigel chased after her, the fire dissipating and leaving only a vague warmth in the air where it had been. Ahead, a horse waited. The archer in black put his foot in the stirrup and used it to vault into the saddle. One quick slap to the horse's rump and it broke into a gallop. Windstar slowed to a stop, and Nigel stopped next to her.

  "You see what I mean," said Windstar.

  Nigel didn’t see, but didn’t stop to ask. He went back to where the girl lay. He couldn't do anything about the archer, but perhaps the girl could be bandaged. He and Khoraja bent over the young woman. Khoraja looked up at him and shook her head.

  "She's dead, Nightwolf."

  Oh. "She was an ascendant, wasn't she?" he asked.

  "Yes," Windstar said. "He was probably laying in wait for her."

  Nigel walked over and knelt by the body. "Is there anything we can do?"

  Khoraja shook her head. "Even if Belden has someone capable of doing a resurrection, it's a few hours away. Only those trained in soul work can stay tethered to their bodies for long."

  "She has no training," Windstar said. "She just got here."

  Nigel looked at her. She'd been through chargen, presumably. Maybe she'd had longer to make choices than he had, and had chosen this appearance. Presumably the pink hair was her idea, and the big eyes. An anime fan. Other than that, she could be anyone. A college student. A housewife. And now she was dead.

  "She'll get to start over somewhere else," he said.

  "Maybe," Windstar said. "Even I and my crafters do not know exactly how that works."

  He thought for a moment of promising the dead girl vengeance. That seemed over dramatic. But he knew that if he had a chance, he'd happily take that archer down.

  Khoraja stood and put a hand on his shoulder. "There's nothing we can do for her, Nigel. Let's go."

  Nigel stood. He knew she was right, but couldn't help being annoyed at her for being so practical.

  The trip to Belden Village was a long walk. Without a wa
tch it was hard to tell how long it took, but the sun was noticeably lower in the sky when they arrived.

  Belden, according to Khoraja, was a part of the Princedom of Lionguard, which was on the western edge of the Vestron Empire. To the west stood the Burning Wastes, which near the beginning of the Age of Ascendancy two hundred years ago had been the Kingdom of Galicia. Adventurers still ventured into the Burning Wastes to seek the old artifacts of the Kingdom, which was wiped out when a gate opened to the Abyssal planes. The Emperor had real power then, and the Empire was more than a loose collection of city-states and little princedoms. Galicia had maintained its independence because it had many skilled artisans and enchanters, and the soldiers of Galicia carried magic weapons and wore enchanted armor into battle.

  He described a little of Earth to Khoraja in exchange--she was full of questions, and he learned something from her questions as well as her answers. The elves called the world he was in Aldrya, although humans simply called it "the world." Aldrya meant something like "place on which trees grow."

  Khoraja believed Aldrya to be flat, although it had a horizon that indicated curvature, and a sun that progressed in the sky much like Earth's. Nigel didn't argue the point, because it was unlikely to matter, and curved didn't necessarily mean the place was a sphere, although he thought it probable.

  Magic was common--used to help crops grow, used to help people heal from sickness or wounds. Most people knew some, like Khoraja's trick with laying her hand on the bandage. Khoraja told Nigel he should learn to do that. It didn't require being a mage to do a little magic. Technology was at a late Medieval level, and scientists were unknown. They didn't have the germ theory of disease--maybe that was because that wasn't how diseases happened, but perhaps because they didn't have the scientific method. The engineering level of the both Elvish and Human society hadn't changed in thousands of years. Magic was too easy, he supposed.

  Khoraja was interested in the description of where his earthly body was--tubes in his arms, casts on his legs. Cars and airplanes fascinated her. And books--there were books on Aldrya, but they were treasured and rare. The idea of an ordinary individual having a library, or a device that let one hold a library in one's hand, sounded like heaven to her.