by J. R. Ford
“Apologize, now.” I could see Ana struggle to restrain herself. She was leaning forward, ready to pounce, thirsty for blood. Only in her words did I sense her reluctance to attack. To do so would leave Heather undefended and, in the likely case of her death, alone.
Alone with me, anyway. Similar outcome, with what good I could do. I hoped it would be quick.
“Apologize? She should apologize to us, for wasting our time.”
“Lose the punks,” Ana growled. “Come at me one-on-one. See how well that magic can protect you from a sword.”
Red Robes laughed. “A mage’s strength is his mind. Don’t expect me to fall for your ploy.”
Testosterone could only take me so far. “Let’s just go,” I muttered. A crowd had formed a pen around us, but we could push past.
“And let them just walk away, to attack and humiliate the next poor girl?”
“It’s not worth our lives.” Not hers, anyway.
“I wasn’t planning on spending them.” I could hear then that she had no doubt in her mind. Three versus two, and facing an electric whip, and she’d kill them all. I nearly recoiled from the heat she emanated. Lion’s confidence indeed — this woman practiced what she preached.
“What’s going on here?” A large black man in a bluish-purple tabard pushed through the onlookers. He wielded a spear in two meaty hands.
Behind him stood Emily and Jacques. Guess they’d taken my advice after all.
“Who are you?” Ana and the mage asked in unison.
“I am Captain Absame of the Azure Lance. We enforce order — within the city and without.” Goes to show what one can accomplish if they get up early. I should try it sometime.
Absame continued, his English measured and precise, with an accent my poor knowledge of geography couldn’t identify. “Break it up. No one’s dead. Let’s keep it that way.”
Edwin and Ana stared daggers at each other, then she turned away. She tried to hug Heather, who shoved her away and ran off on shaky legs.
Ana followed without so much as a glance at me. Because she had faith I would follow, I hoped.
We pursued Heather into an alley, where she sank against a wall and put her head in her hands. Overhangs blocked the light of the sun, but the second story of one of the buildings was inlaid with luminous blue veins, tinting everything in cool shades. Ana sat beside her; I sat across.
It was a subtle shift, an illusion, really. But Heather was no longer a humiliated girl crying alone in an alley. She was sitting with friends in the shade.
For a while, none of us said anything. I twiddled my thumbs and ground my teeth.
I hate silences even worse than chronic complainers, and this silence was powerful. It was as if walls of glossy black screens had risen between us. They muted the bustle of the street and the breathing of my companions. Everywhere I looked, everywhere I listened, there was only myself. Solitude I can handle, with a game, movie, book, anything. But like a screen turned off, silence reflects all.
After a few eternities of self-loathing and anxiety, two words shattered the prison. “Go away,” Heather said.
“Why?” Ana asked.
“You nearly got hurt because of me, because of my weakness. You don’t need me holding you back.”
“Forget about us. Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” she muttered, rubbing her cheek, which was hot red and swollen.
“What happened?” I asked, still confused.
“I asked if I could join his guild. I thought, with you busy instructing, Ana, I should find a questing party.” Her voice shrank to the whisper of passing clouds. “He said he’d let me, but only if I…”
I knew with leaden certainty what Edwin had said. Something I’d never been asked, and likely never would, not as Heather had been. My stomach tightened in sickened sympathy.
Ana’s features contorted into a visage of anger, but after a moment, she said, “Oh, Heather. When I said I wanted to teach people, I didn’t mean you’d have to find other people to adventure with. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. We agreed to stick together, remember?”
Heather didn’t reply. I said, “Then he attacked you?”
“I was so surprised. I’d never been approached like that in person before… I just kind of laughed at him.”
Ana smiled, then dropped it when Heather remained grim. I had nothing worth saying, nothing that would make the situation any better. Silence rose again, leaving me alone and feeling grimy.
To escape, I opened the menus. Mom hadn’t yet left to pick Luci up. If I knew her, she was probably calling the developers to complain that she couldn’t send us baklava, to Heather in particular. I checked the leaderboards and glared at entry number one, with 106 points: Edwin Casper. Guess those points came from finding that magic whip. I closed the UI.
Heather again pierced the silence. “Just go on without me. You’ll do much better.”
Guilt tickled my gut for being liberated by such miserable words. But as I heard them, I felt something in my stomach harden, sure as the stone beneath us.
Ana had summoned me to her side with a glance. I knew then that Heather could do the same.
…Probably. Hard to tell.
Ana rebutted, “I won’t leave you. I’m a woman of my word, and I said we’d stick together.”
“That was before you saw how weak I am.”
“Then I’ll train you.”
“Don’t you get it? I’m not like you! I’m not a warrior.” She seemed to shrink further into herself.
“Don’t want to be a fencer?” Ana scowled, then her eyes lit up. The heat was back. “Then we’ll find you the Storm’s Breath! That prick and his stupid whip will be no match.”
“Storm’s Breath?” I asked.
“The shopkeeper where we spawned told us about it. Said it was a powerful magic Artifact.”
“Where would we even look?” Heather asked. She still seemed shaken, but her gaze was fixed on Ana.
“Pradeep was a Storm,” I said. “His column said so.”
“We can follow in his footsteps,” Ana said.
“And how do we do that, exactly?”
“Riyaasat,” I said, remembering the map. “He lived in a fortress on the northern plains.”
“Then we’ll start there.” Ana got up and offered Heather a hand. She took it, and Ana yanked her to her feet. “Come on,” she told me. “We won’t be the only ones with this idea. This is a race!”
I prickled that she just assumed I would come, without even bothering to ask. But again, she didn’t have to. I pushed myself up.
Guess I had a quest, and maybe even friends.
4
“Pradeep lived in Riyaasat,” the cartographer confirmed. “It’s probably deserted now — folk don’t spawn up there. Just head out Plainsgate. You can get there in a day and a half, if you can find your way through the maze of roads.”
“Maze of roads?” Heather asked.
“We’ll do our best,” I said, leaving.
Heather chased after us. “Are you sure we’ll be able to find it?”
“It’s a fortress in the middle of a plain. Of course we’ll find it.”
“What about the maze of roads?”
“He’s just trying to sell his maps,” Ana said, nodding. “His job is to make money, not help us out.”
“I might go buy one anyway,” Heather said. She reemerged shortly. “Yeah, they’re too expensive. I’m sure we’ll find our way.”
“That’s the spirit,” I said. “Set quest marker: Riyaasat!”
“Did that work?” Heather asked.
“No way,” Ana said. “If it did, how would the cartographer make any sales?”
“Yeah, no,” I said. “We’re doing it the hard way. What else we need?”
“Rations, a tent, some medical supplies. Armor if I can find any.” Ana held up a finger for each item. “A good gambeson or hauberk could mean the difference between life and death.”
Heather blanched.
/> “No risk, no reward,” Ana said.
“I’m not sure it’s worth risking death just to find me some silly magic,” Heather muttered.
“Will you risk it with us?” Ana asked her.
“Well I don’t want you two going off without me!”
“Then let’s go,” Ana said, waving her hand dismissively.
The wide street was still sparsely populated. Some of the buildings were constructed of the grainy stone, some of wood and plaster. Those of stone were blocky and obtuse, rising to roofs of dark-blue shale. Those of wood or plaster had a little more style. Some looked traditionally European, with large windows and gables; others Asian, with multiple layers of shale eaves; and still others still of designs I didn’t recognize. Despite Dad being an architect, my knowledge of cultural architecture was as meager as that of accents. Luckily, there was plenty of room to walk abreast, and I didn’t bump into anyone while admiring the buildings.
“Do you need new weapons?” Ana asked. “My treat.”
Heather and I glanced at our newbie swords but stayed quiet.
“A spear, poleax? Or maybe a shield?”
“I wouldn’t know what to do with any of those,” I said. “I can barely use my sword.”
“That’s an overstatement. But really, I’ll teach you. Any weapon.”
“You really know your fighting, eh?”
“As soon as I heard about this game, I knew I had to be first wave, and my parents preordered me a ticket. So I started learning personal combat, must’ve been four years ago.”
“So you could teach?” I asked.
“To survive, but I figured I could do some instructing between quests. Fighting is a skill in high demand here — I saw it as an income stream that didn’t involve risking my life. That part didn’t work out.” Upon seeing Heather discomfited, she laughed. “Don’t worry about it! I probably would’ve gotten in a fight with him eventually, even if you’d never spoken to him. Oh, and I don’t think I mentioned, I got points for the class too! ‘Receive 4 gold from sale of goods or services to other players: +4’! It’s interesting that it’s tied to gold. Seems like I would’ve earned more points if I’d charged more.”
Four points just for teaching a class? Almost the value of a human head. Memories of my own near-death washed over me like saltwater, making my injuries sting. I didn’t want to endure that purgatory again. “What weapon would you recommend for each of us?” I asked.
Ana scratched her chin. “It’s up to you, how you want to fight. If you use a polearm, you can out-distance most swordfighters, but once they close in, things get scrappy. With swords, you have to get up close and personal, but even different types of swords lend themselves to different fighting styles.”
“I’m good with what I have,” I said. Heather nodded.
“Nonsense, you can barely swing it. Let’s find you a rapier. If all you can do is thrust, might as well get a weapon suited for it. Once your shoulder heals, you can cut with it too, though it won’t do as much damage as a heavier blade would.”
As we made our way northward, we reached a huge square choked with stalls. The savory aroma of roast nuts wafted past us, and vendors clamored for the shoppers’ attentions. It seemed most of the players in Bluehearth were here.
“It’s like Christmas!” Heather said. “Only warm!”
We wandered around the edge, too intimidated to penetrate into the heart of the market. One large tent advertised copies of itself and promised more camping gear inside.
A couple shoppers in the namesake tunics of the Azure Lance milled about inside. Ana bought a tent with space enough for three, as well as a lantern, tinderbox, and compass. I chipped in with my blood money. A nearby stall sold us hard biscuits and dried meat.
Deeper into the market, fragrant smoke billowed from a conical tent striped green and purple. It was roasting inside, a real sauna, thick with the visceral smell of gore. Potions murmured in iron cauldrons.
“Health Potion?” A crone sat near the back of the tent, half obscured by shadow. A blue scarf draped around her neck and shoulders. She gestured at a pot of fragrant liquid. “Only 10 gold a dose, or 100 for the recipe.” I recognized a Russian accent only because it was thicker than her stews.
“Ouch,” Ana said. “Have anything cheaper?”
“You younglings have only limited uses for mana,” the babushka said, smiling. I glanced at cauldrons of scintillating blue, yellow, and green.
“There are different types?” Heather asked.
“Each class has their own. But I only sell Storm, Alchemist, and Hexer mana.”
“What can each do?” Heather took a whiff of each.
“You’ll find out,” she said with a smile.
“You sell disinfectant?” Ana asked.
“One gold for a bottle.”
“Five silver.”
“You’ll have wished you bought it when your leg falls off, dear.”
“Eight silver. You want a sale, don’t you?” Ana suddenly seemed unsure. “Wait, do you?” The idea that these employees might not actually care about profit seemed to shake her.
“I do,” the babushka said, and left it at that.
“What about sunscreen?” I asked. The clime was comparable to late Georgian summer, and there’d be no shade on a plain. Ana haggled the merchant down to 1 gold and 2 silver for the two bottles.
Heather, dubious, uncorked the sunscreen and smelled it. She shrugged. “Smells like sun cream, all right.” As she tucked it into the pack I carried, the glint of sunlight on bright chainmail seduced Ana. She rushed ahead, then came sulking back.
“Fifteen gold for a gambeson! Twenty-five for a chainmail hauberk! I should have charged more for the class…”
Next to the armorer was a weapon stall, complete with beat-up-looking dummy in a ring beside the counter. Five gold for a rapier with a steel cup hilt to protect my hand. I was unconvinced until the merchant let me handle it.
It was heavier than I’d expected, but all the weight was in the grip. When I flicked my wrist, the point danced. I lunged, and the sword sank into the dummy’s sack chest. Sand spilled as I retreated.
“Put your finger over the cross-guard, you’ll have better control over the point. When you lunge, extend the arm first, then lean your body, then step,” Ana said. “Recover! Faster! Thrust two! Recover! Four! Recover!”
For the first time, I felt like I had a real sword in my hands, not just a sharp baseball bat. A weapon elegant in its murderous intent. Ana drove me as fast as I could go, then nodded, satisfied. I handed it to her and let her unleash a series of lightning quick maneuvers against our increasingly battered target. The sword whirled in thrusts, cuts, and circular motions as if parrying a phantom opponent. Finally, she pressed the blade slowly in and observed the way it flexed.
“It’s a decent sword,” she appraised. “I’d pay 3 gold for it.”
“It’s better than decent,” the vendor said. “Four gold.”
“Three gold, and you can take Pavel’s old sword. You won’t need it anymore, and it’s practically new, right?”
“Yup,” I lied.
The vendor nodded, and I handed him some blood money and my newbie sword. Ana picked up a dagger and boot knife as well. Once we were out of earshot, she said, “It really is quite a good sword. We got a good deal, I think. Plus, I got a notification: ‘Save 2 gold by haggling, +2’!”
“Thanks,” I said. “I would’ve just paid the 5 gold.”
“I wonder how far you can get in this game without violence,” Heather said.
“Even merchants need to guard their wares,” Ana said. “Notice how most of them carry weapons? Besides, nonviolence went out the window when that whip came out.”
Before that for me, but I kept quiet for the same reason I’d lied earlier. Didn’t want them wondering if I was some sort of murderer, not until they knew me well enough to trust me — though hopefully not so well that they learned better.
“Anything else
we need?” Ana asked. “Some new rags?”
A spare outfit wouldn’t hurt. A stall draped in pink and yellow fabrics beckoned.
Shelves were heaped with clothes. Cloaks and ponchos hung from rafters. Many of the articles were the same design in different hues, but Ana and Heather were gushing over the selection anyway. Heather pressed a dress of pale blue to her chest. “I love this color,” she said, then disappeared behind a circular curtain. Ana stood stalwart guard. After a minute, Heather emerged and spun in place. “What do you think?”
The hem danced in white embroidery, bright against her gray trousers. No sleeves, only broad straps over her shoulders. To me, it seemed as if she could’ve floated into the sky in that dress, her hair a cloud caught in the golden glow of sunlight, her body lost to the vast blueness.
No way I could say any of that, of course. “Looks good.”
“It suits your eyes,” Ana said.
Heather called the woman at the counter over and haggled a bit, then picked up a spare as well. Ana rifled through blouses and britches.
“Not a fan of dresses?” I asked.
“Only when I really need to turn heads.” She picked out a short-sleeved maroon blouse and some white trousers.
“You have trouble with that normally?” I asked, keeping my tone playfully dubious despite my lurching stomach.
She laughed, which I think was a good sign. “You going to pick anything up?”
“Another set of clothes would be good. Maybe something similar to what I have now.”
“We can find you something a little nicer than those,” she said. I looked down, blushing. I had to admit, the gray trousers and shirt were not exactly sharp, especially when the trousers were streaked with forest grime.
I had a rapier on my hip. Confidence edged into pride. And what was wrong with wanting to look good?
But I shrank away from the prospect of Ana and Heather looking at me, judging me. What a hypocrite. I sucked down my nerves and puffed that pride as swollen as I could manage.
“I want to keep my cloak though.”
“The cloak is good. Here, try these.”
“It’s way too small,” I said, sizing up the shirt she offered.
