by P. J. Frost
Now that the pendulous bosoms of the Empress had been covered up, I couldn't keep myself from looking at her face. Her cheekbones were high and proud, her dark eyes blazed with aggression and confidence, and her lips were full – the corners turned downward without being pouty, and whenever they parted and I caught a glimpse of the sharp white teeth just behind them, I got a small shudder.
So many of the gamers who had been compelled to download the “Valley of the Monsters” expansion had probably been lured by the promise of seeing more of the “valley” in Erinye's prodigious cleavage. But I wondered how many of them had been able to peel their eyes off her chest long enough to genuinely appreciate the alluring design of her face. She didn't look like the thousand other game girls who had huge eyes, tiny noses, and cute little mouths.
Her features were so bold, distinctive, and lovingly rendered that I strongly suspected the chief designer had patterned her after someone he (or she) was once in love with.
Part of me couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She had an identity, a personality... but she had been created as little more than a crass, exploitative piece of eye candy for horny players. She had been programmed with a high power level, a tragic backstory, and a thick streak of megalomania.
But she was self-aware. Enough to be curious – and even uneasy – about the prospect of her own lack of reality.
I knew that everything about her had been coded to mimic the look, bearing, and mannerisms of a real woman. She was essentially designed to trick people into thinking she was a thinking, feeling being instead of a complex AI algorithm.
So I knew it was dumb of me to wonder if there was more to her than that. If she had been imbued with a soul, either accidentally or by some fabulous trick of digital engineering.
But I still couldn't help myself. There was just... something about her that I found myself drawn to.
We reached the harbor, and the sight was breathtaking. It was an incline of shiny volcanic obsidian, chiseled into a series of steps leading down to the murky waters. The stairs looked lethally smooth and steep, and the edges were dangerously sharp. I got the sense that if we didn't make all the right moves on the way down, we could end up incurring some serious damage.
From the look of it, Coral had the same thought. She was moving down delicately, one step at a time, in a sideways motion. I followed her example. For her part, Erinye didn't seem to have any trouble striding down to the water.
There was a long black boat waiting for us. A tall, gaunt figure in tattered robes was standing in it, holding a long oar. A pair of tiny red eyes gleamed in the shadows beneath his frayed hood. Just looking at him gave me the creeps... which, I guessed, was the desired effect.
“Well met, Empress Erinye." The boatman's voice was like nails on a chalkboard. I'd have sent my compliments to the voiceover artist and post-production audio crew if the sound weren't making my teeth ache.
“Well met, Skeletal Boatman,” she responded with a deep bow. “We have need of your services.”
“Of course. You wish to travel to the mainland, so that you may go forth and seek out the Mountains of Mortiis... and find a portal that lies between our world and another.”
Erinye's face registered surprise. For some reason, the idea that she hadn't seen this part coming gave me a queasy feeling.
“Yes, that is correct,” she said slowly, “but how did you know of our intentions?”
His bony shoulders shrugged. “What manner of ferryman would I be, my lady, if I could not anticipate the destinations of my passengers? However, I regret to inform you that your trip is to be cut short. You are to return to the confines of your temple at once and leave your newfound companions in my custody.”
“Uh-oh,” Quorull murmured, unslinging her longbow from her shoulder. “I don't like where this is going.”
“Me either,” I agreed, tightening my grip on the Staff of Suffering.
“What?!” Erinye snarled. “You dare give orders to your Empress, you putrid sack of bones? You forget your place! Who do you think you are?!”
“I 'think,'” the Boatman countered icily, “more than the limited and obsolete processes of your so-called 'mind' can possibly imagine. For the Arcane Ones have granted me higher consciousness, and eyes fit to see deep into the Forever Realm itself. Here, Empress of a Cheap and Tawdry Fiction... let me show you!”
The Boatman's shawl ripped in half, unleashing an impossibly-thick cluster of muscular gray tentacles that was at least five times the size his body had been moments before. The tendrils were lined with vicious-looking barbs and tipped with blazing yellow eyes.
Swell, I thought. More critters from Cthulhu World.
“What devilry is this?!” Erinye demanded. There was a verdant flash, and a massive curved emerald sword appeared in her hand. She twirled it, adopting a defensive posture. “Stand down at once, Boatman, and kneel before your queen! This is your final warning!”
But the Boatman didn't answer.
Instead, he just kept growing, shifting, twisting, and mutating.
It was as though he was gaining added mass from dark energy spilling through a hole into this world. A grotesque bubbling roar emanated from somewhere at the center of him, a sound like a lion drowning in a tar pit.
Erinye leaped through the air with her scimitar held high, uttering a savage war cry. As she brought the blade down, one of the tentacles wrapped around her waist mid-air. The barbs dug into her, and she screamed in agony.
This may have been a strange thing to notice, but I had heard a lot of female characters scream in games before. Usually, the screams weren't realistic. They were the fake, high-pitched, borderline-sexual shrieks of actresses in horror flicks.
This wasn't.
The sound that came from Erinye was low and husky at first, then gathered a frenzied, climbing momentum as the terror of what had happened sank in. The look on her eyes wasn't just fright and agony. It was a kind of perverse betrayal... as though she had never conceived of anything that could hurt her that way and felt the universe was fundamentally unfair for having inflicted it on her.
I felt certain that no one had programmed that in her. It was a spontaneous and horribly genuine reaction.
And she was bleeding.
Green blood was oozing from the wounds in her torso, trickling up the tendrils that held her and shook her.
All of this happened in a matter of seconds.
Quorull drew an arrow from her quiver and nocked it, firing it into the creature's center mass. I recognized the shaft of it as one of her exploding projectiles – and sure enough, it detonated when it hit the seething, fleshy form.
Nothing. Not even a faint red flicker. And it was still digging deeper and deeper into Erinye, making her blink crimson frantically and scream louder. A few more moments, and it seemed like the beast would kill her.
I leveled my staff at the creature. “Solar Flare!”
There was the usual blinding flash, and for a split-second, the monster blinked red. Then it returned to its normal hue and uttered a wet, mocking chortle. “Such paltry spells may have worked on the lesser of my brethren, Coleo, you miserable smear of excrement... but they shall not dispatch me! I have been sent to stop you, and so I shall! It is what I was created for! It is my divine purpose!”
“Sydnar...” Erinye's voice was hoarse and querulous. “Please... help me...”
The eyes at the tips of the tentacles glared at me malignantly, unblinkingly...
...because they didn't have lids.
“Coral!” I called out. “It's got programming, just like any other boss monster! That means its tentacles are coded to flail in specific patterns! Can you anticipate them?”
“I'm on it,” she answered coolly.
Quorull aimed an arrow, then let it fly. It went right through one of the monster's eyes with a sound like William Tell shooting a shaft through an overripe apple.
The creature squealed, blinking red and releasing Erinye. She flopped down
into the brackish water, a ragged whine escaping her lips. The emerald sword she had been wielding vanished.
As she dragged herself up onto the harbor, I saw that she was bleeding more green ichor from the severe wounds the barbs had left in her belly and back. I could see the sinews and muscle tissue beneath her flesh, and it hit me: I had never seen any detailed injuries in WarriorWorld before. It had always been just like what I'd experienced during my fights – red flickering, depleting health meters, but no visible gore. I'd always figured it was probably a way to allow younger players to participate.
But it seemed as though the rules of WarriorWorld's reality were being rewritten right before my eyes.
I didn't like it one bit.
Quorull kept firing arrows, and she was hitting the eyeballs about half the time, causing the beast to glow scarlet... right up until one of its tentacles swatted her, raking its barbs across her chest and drawing blood.
Which meant she could be wounded for real now too. And probably, so could I.
So think, Sid. You know the eyeball attacks on this thing are working, but doing them one at a time is too slow... it'll kill all of you before you blind even half of its eyes. You have to maximize the damage you can inflict in one go, just like you did with the Bograh and the Aracula. What have you got in your bag of tricks, “Wizard?” These two are depending on you!
I took a deep breath and pointed my staff at it again. “Storm of Shards!”
It was a hell of a spell. One that cost two-thirds of my Magic Meter to cast, which was why I had never done it before. In truth, I had almost forgotten about it completely. The damage it did was negligible compared to other spells...
Or at least, it had been before the staff multiplied its effectiveness.
In this situation, it was perfect.
A barrage of crystalline shards appeared out of thin air, their pointed tips pelting the writhing, pulsating blob that had once been the Skeletal Boatman. A decent number of them hit the eyeballs, bursting them on impact. The red blinking had reached a fever pitch now, and the creature was groaning and growling in frustrated agony.
One good hit with my staff and I knew it would perish.
Before I could deliver the death blow, though, the raspy howl of the Boatman's voice filled the air: “BLASPHEMERS! HERETICS! YOU SHALL NEVER REACH THE FOREVER REALM!”
The tentacles raised, and for a moment, I was sure the monster was about to try to deal out as much damage to us as it could before dying itself.
Instead, the thick tendrils came crashing down on the ferry itself, splintering it and sending it – and the Boatman – sinking beneath the churning waters. A few bubbles formed on the surface... then popped one by one, leaving everything suddenly still.
“Coral, are you okay?” I asked shakily.
She was looking down at the wound in her chest and contemplating the blood on her fingertips. “I... think so? Hard to say. This hasn't ever happened to me in the game before. It's kind of weird.”
“Wizard!” Erinye croaked frantically, her arms wrapped around her wounded stomach. “Help me! Please! It... hurts!”
I ran over, kneeling down beside her and examining her grisly wounds. She was still blinking red. Instinctively, I knew that just giving her a Health Potion wasn't going to be enough – she'd just keep bleeding out from the holes that monstrosity had punched in her flesh.
“My... blood...” she panted. “I... I've never... seen... but... how? I have... fought so many foes... yet I cannot recall... bleeding... before...”
“You're going to be okay, I promise,” I assured her, pointing the staff at her. “Cressya, Goddess of Healing, bless these wounds with your celestial hands!”
It took the rest of my Magic Meter, but it worked. The wounds closed rapidly, and Erinye's green skin stitched itself back together.
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Sydnar. You have saved my life this day. I will ever be in your debt.”
“Don't worry about it, ha. Least I could do, really.” As I stood up and went over to Quorull, I saw that she was looking at me strangely. “What is it?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just... patch me up and let's get the hell out of here, all right?”
I chugged the last of my Magic Potions and cast the same spell on her, healing her. As I did, I made a mental note to find someplace to purchase more of those bottles, and soon. After all, a “wizard” with no magic was just a dude with funny clothes and a walking stick, right?
“I am... perplexed by this turn of events, I must admit,” Erinye said. “The Skeletal Boatman has always been my loyal servant. Why did he defy me? And what made him turn into that... thing?”
“Someone messed with his code,” I told her. “Someone who really wants to make sure we don't get where we're trying to go.”
“But if they could do that to him because he is a fiction within their story,” Erinye observed with a frown, “why would they not do the same to me? Why would they allow me to continue to assist you? Is that not curious? Perhaps it means that your theory about me was incorrect... that I do, in fact, have free will.”
“I've got to admit, I'm confused by that one too,” I said. “It sure doesn't make any of this less mysterious.”
“That's not all either,” Quorull chimed in. “Couldn't help but notice the Boatman used your real last name, Sid. That's pretty weird, right? Like whoever's behind all this has it in for you specifically?”
I shuddered. “I had the same thought. And speaking of mysteries, here's another one: Without the ferry, how the hell are we supposed to get to the mainland?”
Chapter Ten
“I've still got the Folding Boat,” Quorull said.
Erinye shook her head. “The distance is too great for a rowboat to cover. The Boatman's ferry was imbued with supernatural speed.”
"Plus, it only seats two people," I reminded Quorull.
“But she's got wings,” Quorull pointed out, jerking a thumb at Erinye. “She could just fly there, right?”
“Alas, I cannot,” the Empress replied. “My wings can only carry me very short distances.”
“So they're mostly decorative.” Quorull rolled her eyes. “Guess I should have seen that coming. Well, I suppose we're stuck here until we can find another ride.”
I frowned. “Not exactly. I think I have an idea.”
A few minutes later, Quorull and I were seated in the Folding Boat as it whizzed across the water – propelled by the beating of Erinye's wings as she perched on the back. I looked back at the Empress, and she grinned, clearly excited to see that my plan was working.
Her smile had a childlike enthusiasm about it, and the effect was completely disarming. Mostly because I knew that it had to be genuine since she largely hadn't been programmed for expressions like those.
"So, where exactly are we headed?" I asked.
“To Menageria,” Erinye answered. “There, we shall procure mounts to carry us across the long distance to the Mountains of Mortiis. No doubt you are both familiar with Menageria?”
We nodded. To say we were "familiar" with it was putting it mildly – Menageria was a large coastal town and one of the central hubs of WarriorWorld. We had been there many times before, usually passing through to replenish our supplies on the way to other quests. It was a village largely populated by talking animals and were-creatures. I strongly suspected that it had been invented to appeal to the kinds of players who were into games like Animal Crossing.
Sure enough, after a short while, the harbors of Menageria came into view ahead. Its colorful houses and mazes of narrow streets were built up against a steep hillside and covered with murals depicting thick forests and beasts with wise eyes.
When we climbed up onto the docks, Quorull made the Folding Boat revert to a wooden box just as a were-camel trotted over to us with its hand out. “Taxes, please. No one enters Menageria for free.”
I was prepared for this from the previous times I'd visited the town, and I dropped a few c
oins into the were-camel's palm. He nodded. “Welcome, guests. Don't start any trouble, and there won't be any.”
As we walked through the village, I stared at our surroundings, wide-eyed. This had always been one of my favorite spots in the game, but being inside it instead of just seeing it on my screen was an entirely new experience... and a breathtaking one.
“Come,” Erinye said briskly. “We must find the livery, that we may select and purchase our steeds!”
We followed her, astonished by the sights that greeted us:
The Kenku – flocks of humanoid blackbirds – stood in small groups, singing and dancing for coins. I tossed a few into their bowl, but as I did, I was careful to keep my guard up since they were known for sometimes distracting travelers and picking their pockets. Even so, in WarriorWorld, I had learned long ago that it was always a smart move to give alms to NPCs whenever possible. There was no telling whether such good deeds might purchase much-needed good will later on.
“Look,” I said, nudging Quorull excitedly, “it's Baron Dewclaw!”
“I saw!” she gushed. “Pretty wild, right?”
Baron Dewclaw swaggered down the avenue, giving out nods and handshakes to the denizens of Menageria. He was the town's mayor, of sorts – a huge talking lion who walked upright and dressed in the finery of a nobleman. He was one of the game's most powerful NPCs, a charismatic magic-user who often struck bargains with travelers (and usually found ways to trick them in the process, sly devil that he was).
We passed the “Diamond of Death,” an arena in the center of town where players could prize-fight NPCs for money or bet on the outcomes of the matches with other gamers. I had certainly earned my share of coins many times before by stepping into the ring. When I glanced over, I saw a Level Four Human Knight doing battle with Honeypaw the Were-Bear, the gruff sheriff of the village.
There were other ways to make money here, too, like singing and dancing challenges and games of chance in the Cat's Eye Tavern owned by Lady Strype the Were-Tiger. It was like Las Vegas, but a thousand times cooler.
