Bard to the Bone

by Cid Banks

  Amy still needed me.

  I mentally slapped myself and scoured the party for Amy. Finally, I found her flattened against a white wall. “Amy?”

  “Hey.” Amy grabbed my wrists. “What took you so long?”

  “The countess was super handsy, but look! I got the key.”

  “Awesome.” Amy dragged me to the double-staircase. “Let’s find the others.”

  We sprinted down as fast as we dared, spilling onto the courtyard. Amy took my hand as she led the way. To the guards, we were just another couple milling on the yard. We stopped at a stone fountain, the water playing loud enough to mask our conversation.

  Amy pointed at a gate guarded by two soldiers. “They were supposed to walk through that door.”

  It was locked. “We have to open it. Come on.”

  We watched the guards move from the gate and continue their patrol around the perimeter. Then we ran across the glistening cobblestones. The gate was a pair of thick wooden doors with an iron portcullis. I grabbed the handle operating the mechanism. It barely moved as I pulled with all my weight.

  Amy halted my efforts, grabbing the handle. “What’s your strength?”

  “Um…two?”

  “Damn it.” She wheeled around, her eyes widening. “Oh crap.”

  “Good evening.” A guard boomed to us in passing. His partner nodded, hand resting on the pommel of his longsword. “Can we help you with something?”

  Shit.

  “No,” Amy said, with an almost-convincing amount of arrogance. “I think I know my way around, thanks.”

  They faltered.

  “This gate is closed to guests.” The same guard clipped. “If you would like to leave, the exit is that way…what are you doing?”

  Amy gave him a saucy wink and hiked her dress to her thighs slowly, like a burlesque dancer.

  “Milady?” he said weakly. “What?”

  A quick jerk of her hands tore the dress from her shapely legs. She ripped the red satin until only jagged strips remained. The result was a much shorter, clingier dress that flaunted her long, smooth legs.

  Was she seducing the guards?

  They stared at her, slack-jawed as she bounded to the dumbstruck guards. Amy giggled as she flaunted her tiny curves, bending her legs. Suddenly, she sprang. With catlike grace, she somersaulted in the air. The guards watched her soar, transfixed. Then her heel crashed into the guard’s head. The brutal kick snapped his neck. The 45 deathblow crushed his skull, raining blood everywhere. His body thumped to the ground.

  The second guard shrieked, his face splattered with blood. I tackled him. We rolled in the dirt. The guard punched my side. I gasped from the 4 damage. My elbow sank into his stomach. Then I grabbed my feathered hat and shoved it into his face. He swung blindly, missing my jaw. I pinned him down, preventing him from drawing his sword.

  “Uggggh!” Amy stood next to the iron portcullis, her skinny arms lifting the thousand-pound gate. Her legs wobbled. The ground at her feet cracked as the extreme weight popped her shoe’s straps. The gate raised a fraction, revealing a pair of feet. The rebels rolled under the gate. Cedric quickly secured the gate’s mechanism, and Amy stepped from the portcullis, massaging her shoulders.

  Rough hands lifted me off the struggling man. One of the twins, I couldn’t tell which, cold-cocked the guard.

  The rebels poured inside and set up a perimeter, communicating with hand signals. The brothers flanked our position, arrows nocked. Wearing a footman’s costume, Faris led a carriage inside.

  Amy kicked off her ruined shoes, sighing in relief. “That’s so much better.”

  A rebel inside the carriage tossed Amy a greatsword bigger than her body. She hefted it easily, the massive weapon entirely at odds with her torn dress. Coppery-red strips from her thighs blew in the wind. She flashed me a grin as though it was the most normal thing in the world. She looked battle-ready. Hot. Amy should’ve been one of the promo shots in the loading menu.

  “Well done, James.” Cedric handed me a sword from the unconscious guard. “We’ve got this. Follow me.”

  The dozen freedom fighters dashed behind Cedric. We snaked through the courtyard as Cedric muttered a wind spell to extinguish the lights. The lights were swallowed by darkness as we approached the keep.

  We diverted from the tide of people, flowing into a door far from the guests after quickly dispatching the men guarding it, and ascended the staircase. Cedric withdrew his shield and war hammer.

  At the third floor, Cedric paused. He peeked around the corridor and ran. We followed down the hall, stopping whenever Cedric saw movement.

  Cedric poked his head around the corner and frowned at whatever he saw. He flashed two fingers and gestured to the rebels. I stayed back as two men accompanied Cedric outside. A second later, steel clashed against steel. There was a muffled cry and a heavy thump.

  “Out now!”

  We hurried to join them in the hallway, where two guards lay dead. Many doors lined the passage. An iron door bolted with several locks stood nearby.

  “Ben, Victor.” Cedric pointed to the end of the passage. “Over there.”

  They jogged over to keep watch as I opened my inventory for the key.

  “Quickly, James.” Cedric squeezed beside me.

  A giant padlocked door towered above me. It couldn’t be more evident that there was a shitload of gold inside, even without the gigantic, golden lion’s head. The sheer number of locking mechanisms. I slid the key in the lock and turned. Gears twisted and clanked as the door opened with a loud groan.

  Gold, gold, everywhere. It took a while for my eyes to adjust. Inside the torch-lit room was an embarrassment of riches. Piles of treasure sat on every surface, but it was an orderly space. Every coin was neatly stacked.

  I stepped inside as greed gnawed my guts. The money wasn’t real. I couldn’t trade a heap of gold for a Ferrari in the real world, but still. For someone who lived paycheck to paycheck, the sight of a virtual treasury was enough to make me drool. My mind spun with the possibilities. If I had a fraction of this wealth, I could afford a penthouse in Midtown. I could do whatever I wanted.

  Amy walked into the room, the warm glow from bewitched torches stroking her skin. She released an ecstatic giggle. “This is incredible.”

  It was like a library. The room even had a wheeled ladder against the wall. Instead of books lining the shelves, there were piles of silver and gold coins. The stacks of gold were carefully piled in equal heights. Bags of coins sat next to a half-filled chest. With a pouch of this gold, I could buy the finest gear. Maybe even a new instrument.

  Cedric grabbed an empty bag and shoved fistfuls of coins inside. Everyone followed suit, stacking silver ingots, sweeping the shelves of anything valuable, and looting the chests. My attention snapped to the desk in the center of the room. A brass scale sat on its lacquered surface next to seals and stamps. I rifled through the papers scattered across the top. They were filled with messy scribbles, which contradicted the obsessive level of order elsewhere. I thumbed through Count Florian’s notes, scanning his feverish writing for anything important.

  There was no time.

  I swept them into a chest and shoved it toward the window, where Cedric stood. Cedric grunted as he yanked the iron bars. He gritted his teeth as they slowly twisted and warped, snapping free with a quick jerk. He tossed them aside. They clanged on the floor as he opened the window. I approached it and poked my head outside.

  The wind tossed my hair as I looked down. Several cloaked figures stood next to the carriage. A bed of hay was supposed to soften the landing.

  “Hey!”

  Amy tossed me a bag of gold. It hit my stomach, knocking the air out of me.

  This was reckless as hell.

  I lifted the bag and let it drop. It landed on the cart with a dull thud, miraculously intact. Quickly, I grabbed the next bag. The rebels made an assembly line, passing everything of value into my hands so I could hurl it at the carriage. Bag after bag
sailed outside, emptying the count’s treasury.

  We weren’t as quiet as I’d like. One missed the target and split. Coins rained over the ground. Another bag that wasn’t fastened loosened mid-flight, sending a shower of metal down. The coins clanged off stone walls. I grimaced as the people below shielded their faces, protecting themselves from the coins pelting their heads.

  Muffled shouts dragged my attention to the hall, where the fighting was still raging. Blades sang against blades. There was an aborted scream—and then silence.

  “Time to go,” Cedric barked. “That’s enough, Langley. Everybody, out!”

  Below, Faris loaded the carriage. I searched the grounds, scanning for trouble, and found it quickly. Two guards were headed her way. I whistled to Faris, and she looked up, meeting my gaze. I pointed at the guards. Arrows flew in their direction. They struck down the guards.

  Amy dropped her bags, running. “Out of my way!”

  I jumped aside as she joined the others in the hallway. Torches lining the stone walls illuminated a violent fight. Rebels in mismatched armor battled Count Florian’s guards, whose chainmail vests were decorated with a red hawk. A man with twin, bearded braids slashed a guard’s neck. Blood sprayed the ground. He grabbed his throat, choking.

  Shock rippled through me. It was imaginary, but the carnage looked real. Watching Amy bolt fearless toward the fight emboldened me. If she could do it, so could I.

  I followed Amy, desperate to help, but the more I watched, the more I realized she didn’t need me. Seriously, she was badass.

  Amy moved with the greatsword as though it was an extension of her arm. Even in the narrow confines of the hall, she made it work. She slashed and whirled, her movements so wild I could barely follow them. Sparks flew wherever the tip grazed the stones. With a hair-raising scream, she swung her greatsword overhead. Her enemy split from the waist, blood gushing from his torso like a fountain. Another guard lunged with a mace. She parried it.

  Amy tackled a spear-wielding guard who crashed into the wall. Cracks splintered the stone behind him. The man stumbled from the wall while Amy tended to a wounded rebel.

  I leaped, stabbing him for 8 damage. Blood gurgled from his lips.

  Ahead, the fight was intensifying. Florian’s guards poured from the stairs, charging toward us. I ducked under a hail of bolts. The two forces crashed into each other. It was pandemonium. Cedric cleaved through enemies, his warhammer shattering limbs.

  A knight in thick plate armor emerged from the darkness. He spun a mace. The spiked ball crashed against the wall, narrowly missing Cedric’s head.

  “It’s over!” Cedric roared. “We need to leave.”

  He parried another attack from the knight and sprinted down the steps.

  “Help them finish!” Amy gestured at the treasury. “I got this!”

  No way in hell was I letting her fight alone. “Amy, wait!”

  Amy ignored me, meeting the armored knight’s mace with a two-handed swing of her greatsword. The knight staggered from the force of the blow. He lunged. The mace whistled through the air. It smashed into a door, ripping splinters from the wood.

  “Amy, be careful!” Terrified for her, I drew my sword. She was so small. He would crush her in one blow.

  “Relax, man. This isn’t my first battle.” She laughed as the knight glanced at the stairwell. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  He blocked her thrust, ungainly in his heavy armor. Stained glass shattered as Amy raked the sword against the too-narrow hallway. A frustrated scream burst from her. She stabbed the knight. He bellowed, gauntlets yanking at the bloodstained sword skewering his chest for 29. Merciless, Amy dug the blade deeper. Pinned against the stone, he died.

  Blood was everywhere. All over Amy’s sword. There was a grinding of stone as she yanked it from his chest. The NPC’s body fell like a limp doll. She stepped over him like he was an insect, eyes blazing with the triumph of battle.

  A shadow loomed behind Amy’s grinning head.

  Shit—another guard!

  Teleport

  I reappeared behind Amy’s enemy and lunged.

  “Eat this, asshat!” My dagger struck his back, wounding him for 14.

  “Argh!” He staggered, reeling from the unexpected attack.

  “Nice one!” Amy slammed her fist into his chin for 19. He dropped like a boulder.

  “We better get downstairs.”

  Amy licked blood from her lip, unfazed by the attempt on her life. An hour ago, I had twirled her on the dance floor, oblivious to the berserker warrior hiding inside.

  “A little song, a dance, someone’s head on a lance.” Amy grinned, dimples carving into her cheeks. “Not bad for a first date.”

  Typically, a girl killing a bunch of guys was a red flag.

  I approached the stairs.

  Amy grabbed my wrist. “Screw that. Let’s jump!”

  “Jump?”

  She crashed into the stained glass. Colorful shards exploded. She soared into the air, landing on the courtyard embroiled in battle.

  Teleport

  I teleported next to her, landing on a body. We sprinted for the gates. Guards surged into the night air as nobles ran from the fray. Amy grabbed a barrel and flung it into a pair of men. I gaped at the sight of a pint-sized Amy hurling objects bigger than her body. I had 3/10MP remaining. In a moment, I’d have enough for one more teleport.

  I needed to stick to what I did best.

  A guard fought to escape a swarm of costumed aristocrats. My MP popped to 4, and I left him behind with a thought.

  Teleport

  I stood across the courtyard, watching Amy carve a bloody path to the exit. I strummed my lute to Ballroom Blitz, casting Song of Spirit again. My buffs extended to Amy, who added her voice to mine.

  Two soldiers blocked my way. Amy switched direction, yo-yo-ing toward me. She dove and swung. The greatsword swept their knees. Legless, they crumpled, screaming. She hacked the fallen enemies.

  A nearby guest vomited at the sight. Others released hair-raising shrieks and fled. Amy glistened in the carnage like a beautiful, deadly goddess. She roared, bloodlust unsatisfied.

  Amy

  Level 9 Warrior

  HP: 56/56

  Strength: 14 Reflex: 8 Willpower: 3 Charisma: 7

  Traits: Gregarious, Wrathful

  Relationship: Flirtatious

  Mental note: never piss her off.

  We ran outside the gates, joining the carriage. Horses pulling it galloped through a hedge. They trampled through the Count’s garden as rebels loosed arrows at pursuing guards. Coins pinged the road as the carriage lurched over a low, brick wall, stopping long enough for us to climb. Amy bounded to the front, where Faris held the reins. I grabbed the frame, barely holding on as the carriage rolled away.

  Our bumpy ride tore across Florian’s lands. Rebels on horseback kept the escape route clear. Another carriage approaching us was blasted aside by Cedric’s hammer. It toppled over. We galloped away, the rebels hooting with joy.

  We’d pulled it off.

  I navigated to the front of the carriage where Amy stood, her victory cry ringing across the hills. An ornate gold arrow icon popped above her head. It was the same one on my indicator.

  Quest Completed: The Rebel Cause

  Join the rebels on their mission as they struggle to overthrow the tyrannical king!

  Reward: 40 experience, Improved relationship with Rebellion against The Storm King

  Level Up!

  “I can’t believe it.” Amy sunk into her seat, exhausted. Tears welled in her eyes. “We finished the quest, and I leveled up!”

  Leveled up?

  “Great song choice, by the way.” Amy blinked the mist from her gaze. “I almost forgot glam rock existed.”

  My mind exploded. Amy recognized Ballroom Blitz. She used words like quest and leveling up.

  Amy was real.

  Twelve

  We made camp at an abandoned amphitheater far from Florian�
�s castle. I sat on the weathered steps as the rebels danced in the firelight. Someone had tapped a beer keg. They’d been pouring drinks all night in celebration of the successful heist. A campfire roared on the stage, the orange light carving dimples into Amy’s cheeks. She joined in a bawdy drinking song and made increasingly elaborate toasts. To the success of the heist. To Cedric. To oak-matured mead. To—

  “—James!” Amy drank, wiping the foam from her lips. “To the bard who rocked the dance floor. He slayed the whole room.”

  Faris sipped ale, scowling as the twins pantomimed my battle with the bard. Amy wasted no time in exaggerating my performance.

  “James attacked the guests?” Cedric raised a disapproving eyebrow.

  “She means I was good,” I boomed from the top of the amphitheater. “I didn’t hurt the guests.”

  “It’s a turn of phrase where I’m from.” Amy smiled at Cedric. “My bad.”

  Where was she from?

  A few hours ago, Amy had revealed that she was a player. We hadn’t talked about it yet, but I’d had time to digest the new information. There were plenty of signs, but I hadn’t been looking. I was too swept up in the craziness of what was happening.

  I was dying to know more.

  Amy refilled her mug and excused herself from the campfire. She made a beeline for me, grinning. “Why don’t you join us?”

  “No thanks.”

  I didn’t feel like celebrating. It bothered me that I hadn’t thought about logging out in hours—that I’d started thinking of the avatar’s face as my face. This James wasn’t me. The liquid in my mug wasn’t beer. It was a cluster of digital data. And the feeling when I drank was…what? Electrical impulses stimulating my brain?

  Amy sighed and sat beside me. “What’s eating you?”

  It was getting harder and harder to keep telling myself the wind playing with Amy’s hair wasn’t real. I opened my menu and flipped to the logout screen for the first time in days. Grayed out.

  “You’re trapped, too. Right?”

  “Yeah,” she said, shrugging. “After a while, you stop thinking of it like that.”