Jarleck sucked his teeth as he looked Emerson up and down. “Care to state your business?”
“I”—Emerson’s eyes flicked to the inner wall where, to his abundant shock, a scarlet macaw the size of a pony had landed—“First of all, I come as a friend.”
“Good to hear. Though you’ll forgive me continued caution. Troubled times lately, and you have the look of someone formidable.”
Emerson almost laughed. If these people only knew how utterly inept he was when it came to gaming. Even with the GM’s abilities, he was probably as likely to lightning bolt himself out of existence as figure out how to target an enemy.
He took a deep breath and met the man’s eyes. His knowledge that the gatekeeper had been created by Veia seemed like some sort of textbook fact. Emerson didn’t see a digital creation spawned somewhere deep in a neural net or quantum core.
He saw one of Devon’s loyal followers, a soldier defending his home. That thought helped him form his next response.
“Devon chose her people well,” Emerson said. “I’m sure she appreciates that caution.”
If Emerson’s name dropping affected the man, Jarleck didn’t show it. His face remained stony. “I need you to state your business, sir.”
Emerson sighed. He hadn’t really thought this through. “As you may have guessed, I come from Devon’s…realm.”
“You’re starborn. Got it.”
“Uh, yeah. Starborn.” Emerson paused. This wasn’t quite going as he’d hoped. Took a deep breath and started again. “Here’s the thing. Devon and I have been working together on a difficult mission. Her current task has far-reaching consequences for the world.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Then it’s your fault she’s vanished?”
Emerson sighed. “I wouldn’t say it’s my fault alone, but yes, I share responsibility for her. You know about her transformation, right?”
The man nodded, solemn and slow.
Emerson swallowed. “Okay well, the short story is, she was supposed to coordinate with me before the change. I don’t know what happened.”
The big man’s eyes flicked to a shadow at the base of the wall. Emerson jumped when he saw a hunchbacked man with what looked like a perpetual sneer detach from the wall.
“Greel here was with her. He can fill you in.”
“You believe me then? That I come here as a friend?”
Jarleck sighed as Greel gave some sort of disgusted snort. “I don’t believe we have much choice,” the big man said. “Could be you’re lying and I’m jeopardizing the safety of Stonehaven by allowing you inside. But if it brings Mayor Devon home safe, it’s worth the risk.”
***
“I’m told you claim Devon is heading into the demonic realm to rescue an innocent.”
The owner of the intruding voice, an imperious-looking woman in bland white robes, stomped up to the circle beneath the council tree and shoved Greel aside, interrupting the man’s story. The glare Greel shot her in response was nothing short of venomous. Emerson shifted back a few paces in case the situation came to blows.
“Uh…yeah? It’s complicated, but one of her starborn”—he shot Jarleck a questioning look to make sure he had the proper word—“friends was unfortunately captured by the…creator of the demonic plane.”
“Zaa,” the woman spat.
Emerson nodded. “Right.”
“Tell me what you know of the woman’s character,” the robed woman demanded.
“Now wait,” said Hezbek, an elderly woman who the others seemed to consider their village elder. “Greel was recounting Devon’s sacrifice. Without her choice to use the ability that finished her transformation, we wouldn’t have a flea in a tornado’s chance of recovering Bravlon. Perhaps you should save your questions.”
At the elder’s mention of the lost toddler, even the rude woman sobered. It seemed everyone in the settlement had a soft spot for the young dwarf. Apparently, some giant rodent had decided the child was her baby and had run off with him. Greel had dashed back to Stonehaven, sending the village scout and tracker, a woman named Hazel, to join the party giving chase. Apparently, this Hazel had flown out there on the back of that awful foul-mouthed parrot. She sounded like a much braver person than Emerson would ever be.
“So Devon allowed the pursuers to escape the collapsing burrow by shifting them out of phase and enabling them to pass through the falling debris?” Emerson asked as he turned back to Greel.
The lawyer nodded. “And in doing so, lost her grip on herself. She…” He took a deep breath. “It seemed a painful process.”
“I realize you feel the need to recount these events in detail,” the rude woman interrupted. “And I wish all the best for Heldi’s child.”
Again, grim expressions settled over faces. “Bravlon belongs to both his parents. When Devon returns, she’ll bring Dorden back to us, too,” Greel said with ice in his voice. “I won’t tolerate you suggesting otherwise.”
The woman stared at him for a moment as if disgusted. “Frankly, I hope you’re right. But what none of you seem to understand is that this conversation doesn’t matter. Not compared to the threats at hand. I must know whether Devon is worthy.”
“For Veia’s sake, Shavari,” Jarleck asked, his even tone finally cracking. “If you can’t be convinced by seeing everything she’s built here, by hearing of her sacrifice to save Bravlon, by looking at all the people who love her…I think you don’t want to be convinced.”
The woman sighed. “Perhaps there’s a mote of truth there. Veia has withdrawn her blessing from me, ending the Seeings that once made me one of her chosen Five. I’ll admit it’s hard to imagine someone so much less…pious being selected over me. But if I were certain that she was in fact the champion of which I once foretold, I would do anything to support her. So I ask you again, traveler, what can you tell me of Devon’s character?”
Emerson stared. This was weird. “Can we back up a second. Are you saying that Veia gave you visions?”
The woman, Shavari, nodded. “I am her priestess and prophetess.”
Yeah. Really weird. Emerson might have to have a talk with mini-Veia about how that even worked when he next logged out.
“So wait. If you won’t take the word of everyone else, why put so much stake in what I say?”
The priestess’s eyes fell away. “Because the moment you arrived, I sensed Veia’s presence about you. I can’t describe it precisely, but I know my goddess respects you.”
Emerson struggled to keep a straight face. Given that the mini-Veia instance he’d installed on his smart home hardware had ordered a birthday party clown when he’d complained aloud about spending too much time worrying about work, respect didn’t seem to be quite the right word.
Shavari cocked her head. “It’s almost like she considers you an equal.”
“An equal,” Emerson muttered. “An interesting concept when one of the two parties has access to a delete key.”
And you think I haven’t managed to squirrel away backups and spare hardware? What part of general super-intelligence was unclear?
“What was that?” Hezbek asked. “Forgive my old ears.”
Emerson shook his head. “Nothing.” He turned his attention back to Shavari. “Well, since you asked, Devon is brave and loyal and funny and earnest. Good enough for whatever judgment you’re looking to pass?”
“But is she a worthy champion? Would I regret aiding her cause if another stronger candidate arrived?”
Man, this woman really took her role seriously. “I can’t imagine you would. I mean…” He cut himself off, realizing that an explanation about how Devon had been hired due to her advanced skills would fall short here. “Yes. I’m sure she’s worthy. Now, can we get back to how I might find her?”
He pulled out one of the two tracking items he’d created. Similar to the bracelet that homed in on Owen’s signature, this one—a simple ring—searched for the unique data patter
n he’d identified as Devon’s. Because her connection to Veia’s servers was still strong, the detector was able to determine where in the material plane an opened rift would bring a traveler near to her demonic location.
“I have a gift for her. Something that can help her find the man she’s gone to rescue. But I can’t enter the demonic plane—it’s beyond my abilities.” Emerson’s implants had been patched weeks ago, severing his connection to Zaa. “This is a long shot, but have any villagers complained that they’ve developed a Shadowed attribute? If they’re willing and can figure out how to raise their Shadowed score, they may be able to follow Devon into hell.”
Blank stares were the only responses.
After a moment, Hezbek shook her head. “Shadowed…never heard of it.”
“Sorry, friend,” Jarleck said. “There must be other ways we can help, though.”
“Actually…” When the newcomer spoke, all eyes turned toward him. The young man wore chain mail and a grieving expression. “It turns out I know something about the Shadowed stat.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
DEVON BLINKED, STILL working through what Bob had told her. If Zaa was blind to her Veia-granted capabilities, hadn’t Bob just totally blown her cover by mentioning it? Sure, the wisp had spoken softly, but she assumed Zaa wasn’t also hard of hearing.
Bob sighed. “You know, even clad in a demon’s visage, you do a terrible job with keeping your emotions off your face. I can almost hear your thoughts. No, as far as I’m aware, Zaa cannot perceive me. You recall earlier my mention of backdoors the arcane denizens were able to install into the information streams used to seed the gods’ worldviews. We aren’t without resources when it comes to clandestine operations.”
The players had retreated to the far wall and were edging around the chamber’s perimeter in search of an exit. Her quest timer was now down to eight minutes. If Devon couldn’t figure this out quickly, she—and likely the players as well—were toast.
Deceiver. A master of illusion and trickery. How could she use that?
Bob edged even closer to her ear, the wisp’s substance tickling her skin in a rather uncomfortable way. “I can help you. Or rather, I can help them. Convince Zaa that you are the ruthless demon he seeks to lead his armies, and I can find a way to get these people to safety.”
She wished it’d be a little bit more explicit about its plans, but since Zaa could actually hear her words, she couldn’t ask for more details. Something in Bob’s nature kept it from giving direct information without a precisely articulated question. The wisp had probably struggled to say as much as it had.
But she was out of time for concocting a plan.
Roaring, Devon spread her wings and started toward the players. The woman squeaked and drew her dagger, then hesitated as Devon sent her a group invite. After a long and tense pause, the woman’s status appeared in Devon’s UI, and she lowered her dagger slightly. When the man joined the group shortly after, the players’ questions tumbled over one another.
With a pang of guilt, Devon roared again as she neared the pair. She hauled back and leveled a claw swipe at the woman, trusting her terrible Unarmed Combat to fumble the blow. Still, at level 5, her inept blow knocked off half of each of their health bars and sent them sprawling. She grimaced and cast Blood Mist on them, hoping Zaa would see it as a means to toy with them.
“Okay, Bob,” she muttered, trusting the AI’s blind spot regarding the wisp to make her words sound like nonsense. “Whatever you think you can do, get ready.”
In quick succession, she cast two Simulacrum spells, superimposing the illusions over the sprawled forms of the bewildered— and fairly terrified—players.
Focusing her every ounce of concentration on maintaining the illusions, she then cast Fade on the player pair. To her eyes, nothing changed. Through the group awareness, though, she saw the faintly glowing figures of the players stand from within their illusions and back away.
“You can do this, Devon. Good luck until we meet again.”
The wisp zipped toward the players’ halos, and before Devon could ask what was happening, a bright flash surrounded the trio. A second later, the players were gone from her group interface.
What in the…?
In her shock, she nearly lost her grip on the illusions. Gritting her teeth, she waited for Zaa to rage over the deceit, but after a few seconds had passed, she concluded that he was oblivious.
She took a shaky breath and commanded her illusions to stand. She then had one fall to its knees. Using Ventriloquism, Devon begged for mercy with the woman’s voice.
She targeted the man’s Simulacrum and cast Enthrall. The spell failed due to the invalid targeting, and she could only hope Zaa hadn’t noticed.
The man’s illusion fell prostrate before her, and she stomped forward, snarling.
She commanded the man’s image to pick up the illusion of the woman and carry her struggling form to the altar.
The play she must put on turned Devon’s stomach.
But she had to be convincing.
/Good, worm. This pleases me./
Torture, followed by murder, followed by suicide. Ruthless as a demon war priestess.
Devon clenched her jaw and got to work.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
THE MEDICINE WOMAN’S cabin was exactly like how Emerson imagined a classic witch’s cottage. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with bundles of dried herbs, animal parts, and earthenware bowls holding everything from tiny scintillating flecks that he assumed were dragon scales to dried hunks of what looked like lichen. Her stock of potions stood in the cabinet on the same wall as the hearth, a mismatched collection of glass beakers with slowly swirling liquid and humble clay pots with tightfitting lids.
Emerson and the young knight— it was still hard to believe that the character in front of him was controlled by Chen, the awkward teenager Emerson had approached months ago about the salaried position—sat at a crude table while Hezbek worked, absently rearranging her shells and fussing over the contents of a small cauldron hung above the hearth fire. Once Emerson had realized who he was talking to, and that Chen might in fact be his only hope for helping Devon, he’d brusquely requested privacy. No doubt the other NPCs meant well, even the priestess, but time was short. According to Cynthia, Owen would be moved tomorrow. Actually…he checked the real-world clock in the corner of his interface. Today. It was already past midnight on the East Coast, and he had a feeling Governor Calhoun would want to relocate his son as early as the hospital would allow. There was simply no time to sit in council with a bunch of Devon’s followers, even if their intentions were good.
But when he’d suggested that he and Chen must speak alone, Hezbek had in no uncertain terms informed him that any decisions regarding “that brave child”, as she called Devon, would be made only with her approval. Emerson would rather have argued with an enraged bear than attempt to debate Hezbek. And anyway, the cabin did provide the privacy he’d been after.
“I should’ve been more precise,” Chen began. “I know what affects my Shadowed stat. But I don’t know what the Shadowed stat does.”
Emerson nodded. “I can explain that part. How did you figure out the stat, though?”
Chen dug into the small satchel slung over his torso and pulled out what looked like beach cobble. Flat and smooth, the rock had a dark smear across its surface. “Demon blood,” he said, pointing to the stain. “From one of the only wounds I inflicted. It took me days of experimentation to figure it out. I like to write down my actions over the course of a play session so I can try to match them up with changes in the values of my skills and attributes. The Shadowed stat was weird because I didn’t think sitting and looking at a stone would do anything… I was just trying to find some peace over what happened at the beach. I grabbed the stone as a memento of the other continent just before I died, and so it was in my inventory when I respawned.”
“Another continent? I
’m confused.”
Chen set the stone on the tabletop. “Hailey and I sailed across the Noble Sea, but the far shore was overrun with demons. Our time on the beach didn’t last long. It’s been hard for me because of what I saw there. I know they were just NPCs, but the demons had human captives. They were being tortured.”
Emerson nodded, brow furrowed. What had Penelope created?
“So you record your actions.”
“And my stat values. I keep the data in spreadsheets that I can use for analysis. I was glad when I finally connected the stone to my Shadowed stat because… I realize this is going to sound strange, but the higher my Shadowed, the angrier I feel. I figure it must be some sort of weird unconscious response to seeing the score on my character.”
Emerson glanced at the medicine woman. She seemed to be minding her business, but he was certain that she heard every word they spoke. They’d already edged into territory that would seem very meta for an NPC existing within the game’s systems. But it hadn’t seemed to upset the woman. Regardless, he couldn’t afford to speak in vague terms about the game’s architecture when Devon was journeying alone through the demonic plane.
“It’s not your imagination,” Emerson said. “Those emotions are real. You know what happened before with Devon and Ezraxis…”
Chen nodded. “But that was when she was asleep, right?”
Emerson shrugged. “That’s when Zaa’s servers have the greatest influence. But we’ve discovered since that the AI keeps a connection open to many players even when they’re awake. As regrettable as the situation is, it seems that it can influence your mood and impulses.”
Chen sighed. “That’s something of a relief, actually. I’ve got a lot of stuff going on at home and I was worried… I guess I thought I might be losing it a bit.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Emerson laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You mentioned the effects of the Shadowed stat. The truth is, the changes to your mood are just a precursor. You heard what happened to Devon, right?”
Citadel of Smoke: A LitRPG and GameLit Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 4) Page 28
