Pangea Online: The Complete Trilogy

by S. L. Rowland

  A notification flashes across my vision causing me to stop.

  Warning: It has been a while since you ate. Find nourishment in the next 30 minutes or you will receive a Hunger debuff.

  Grayson and Dean must have received the same notice, because they both slow down.

  Dean taps the pack hanging from his saddle. “Good thing I bought these.”

  We find a group of boulders and stop to eat, passing around a can of cold beans and some strips of jerky. We could heat the beans for more authenticity, but this isn’t full-immersion, so it’s not like we can taste the difference.

  After we are done, we’re on our way again. The town is eerily dark when we arrive, aside from the light escaping the windows at the saloon.

  The saloon doors open and a streak of light cuts through the darkened street. A woman’s wailing voice sings of a lost lover. A dark figure steps onto the porch, their face hidden in shadow.

  A gunshot rings across the night, and the music abruptly stops.

  “Oh, damn,” Grayson mutters, and for a moment, I fear he’s been shot.

  He quickly draws his revolvers and Elsie falls from the horse, landing on the well-trodden street with a thud.

  “Easy, old man.” Ryken steps into the street. “Those are our bounties. I appreciate you doing us the kindness of bringing them all the way to town for us.”

  Dawn exits the saloon and stands behind her mentor. A moment later, several more people watch from the saloon porch.

  Dean takes aim with his rifle out of the corner of my eye.

  “You sure you want to do that, Esil, Junior?” Ryken doesn’t seem the least bit concerned that he’s being aimed at. “Shoot me in front of all these people and you’ll have a bounty on your head. One that I wouldn’t mind taking.”

  Dean glances at me. I nod, and he slowly lowers his weapon.

  I urge my horse forward a few paces. “What do you want, Ryken?”

  “We want our bounties.”

  “Funny thing, we seem to be the ones with the bodies tied to our horses.”

  “It sounds like it’s your word against mine. In that case, Esil Allen, I challenge you to a duel.”

  A notification flashes across my vision.

  Alert: You have been challenged to a duel. While within town limits, duels are compulsory. Failure to accept a duel will result in a loss to your reputation and will affect your interaction with locals.

  Dammit. The jail is literally at the end of the street. Why does Ryken always have to be such a thorn in my side?

  I don’t spend a lot of time in this world, but I can’t turn down a challenge, especially from a bully like Ryken. Besides, he’s probably streaming this. How would it look if I ran from him?

  “Fine. I accept.”

  Someone on the porch whistles and more people spill out of the saloon. A moment later, the porch is so full that people move down to the street to get a view of the show.

  I dismount my horse and hand the reins to Grayson. He and Dean lead the horses to the side of the street and tie them to a post.

  A big, burly man with a bushy beard and wearing a white button-up steps into the middle of the street. A gold badge hangs just above his breast.

  “You two gentlemen trying to settle a dispute?” he asks. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m the sheriff of these here parts. We don’t tolerate mindless killing in my town. We do however respect the rules of a duel. So, first off, what is the challenge?”

  “That these three stole our hard-earned bounty.” Ryken answers.

  He looks from me to Ryken. “Each of you have a weapon?”

  I nod. The time for talking is over. Let’s end this one way or another.

  “Yes, sir.” Ryken smirks.

  “Step on up then.” He motions for us to come to him. “Any day now. Don’t be shy.”

  Ryken and I both approach the sheriff.

  “Good, now let’s see your weapons.”

  I unholster my revolver and hold it out to him. Ryken does the same.

  “These will do. Now each of you holster your weapons and face away from one another. Take ten paces, and then turn around.”

  The town is dead quiet except for the crunch of our boots with each step and a coyote howling in the distance. I keep my eyes in front of me, refusing to be distracted by the onlookers.

  “Now, turn around and face your opponent. You get one shot, whether you hit or not. Any more than that and you’ll have a bounty on your own head.”

  Ryken and I both rest our hands on our holsters. To win, not only do you have to be quick but also accurate.

  Ryken’s fingers tap against the grip of his revolver like he’s playing the piano. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Each finger tapping in turn.

  I wait for his pinky finger to tap and draw my weapon. I haven’t even raised it past my hip when a gunshot rings out, and I realize my mistake.

  My vision goes red as the bullet hits my chest. I stumble back and forth for a moment as my haptic suit clenches around the wound. Then the world fades to sepia and I find myself hovering above my dead body. A timer counting down from five minutes appears in the center of my vision.

  Ryken laughs, holstering his weapon. He shot from the hip, and I never had a chance.

  He walks over to Dean and Grayson. “I think you have something that belongs to me.”

  Grayson hands over the reins to the horses with the bandits draped across their backs.

  Ryken gives one of the horses to Dawn. “I’ll meet you at the jail to claim our reward.” Then he turns to Dean. “If you want to enter this tournament, I suggest you find yourself a real mentor. You might think he’s a good bet because he came from nothing, but let me tell you. Esil Allen is a leech. Everything he got he took off the back of someone else. I like your spirit. Shooting me out there in the desert, that’s something I would have done. Come with me and I’ll find you someone with substance.”

  “That’s enough.” Grayson takes a step toward Ryken. His hands rest on his holsters and for a moment, I think he might shoot him. “You won the duel. Leave it be and get out of here.”

  Ryken smiles. It’s cold and unsettling. “Alright, old man.” He gives one last look at Dean. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  When I respawn in one of the rooms above the saloon, I have half a mind to find Ryken and put a bullet in his head. It’d be worth taking the bounty to wipe the smug look off his face. Instead, I go find Grayson and Dean. They cut their conversation short when I walk up.

  Dean looks down at the ground. I’m almost certain he is thinking about what Ryken said.

  “Hey, I know how much you want to enter the tournament, but following him, behaving like that, that’s not the right way to do it.”

  He looks up at me with the same fire I saw in his eyes on the day we met. “So, what, I’m supposed to watch an opportunity pass me by because you say he’s a bad guy?”

  “He’ll never understand what you and I have been through. He calls me a leech because he’s never had to ask for help. He’s always had the solutions right there in front of him. He and Aleesia both came from money, but she understands the value of human connection. That you help those you care about, even when it’s not easy for you. Everything is about winning and losing for Ryken.”

  Dean shakes his head. “What am I supposed to do then? No one else is going to take a chance on me.”

  “I will.” It’s not something I would have ever wanted to do—I’m just not wired to be in the public eye—but I’ll be damned if I let someone like Ryken bully his way to the top.

  The fire fades, and Dean smiles. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. It’s going to be tough, and you’ll likely lose all privacy, but if you want this, then I’m all in.”

  Dean rushes over and wraps his arms around me. “You won’t regret this.”

  “I’m sure. Now what do you say we call it a night. Buzz’s big tournament is tomorrow.”

  Dean logs out, a
nd I let out a deep sigh. What have I gotten myself into?

  Grayson and I linger for a moment. The street is once again empty and music seeps out from the saloon.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Grayson asks.

  “Not really, but I need to. Dean has the same killer instinct as Ryken. If I can channel it into a positive direction at all, I want to try.”

  He nods. “You know I’ll help in any way I can.”

  “I know. See you in Asgard tomorrow?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. There’s no telling what Buzz has planned.”

  That’s the truth. We say our good-byes, and I log out. My life just got a whole lot more interesting.

  Chapter Ten

  The crowd buzzes like a swarm of bees through the stadium. The constant drone makes it hard to hear anything else. The other riders, their mounts, and the occasional projectile whizzing by all get lost in the ruckus.

  For the moment, all that matters is the race. Not the Pro-Am Tournament, not the Broken Lands, only me and my opponents.

  A speck of mud flies through the air and lands with a soft plop against my goggles, obscuring my vision. I wipe it away with my thumb and focus on the task at hand. I whip the reins hard, urging my giant chicken to run faster.

  As best I can, I tune out the roar of the crowd, focusing on the squawk of the other giant chickens riding my tail.

  Position: 3/12

  The finish line is in sight. One final stretch of track and two angry chickens stand between me and first place.

  I reach into the satchel that hangs around the neck of my chicken, Bobo, and pull out a blue canister. Bobo is seven feet tall with bright blue plumage. A streak of yellow feathers juts out of the top of his head like a mohawk. This is our fifth race together today, and for the most part, we’re a pretty good team. I contemplate throwing the canister. It’s a great item, and I usually save it for when I’m in second place, but there’s no point in holding on to this one any longer. It’s time to make moves if I want a shot at winning.

  The lightweight canister zooms down the track like a rocket when I toss it forward. It splits open in the middle, and a rope with weighted knots on both ends ejects, wrapping around the feet of the chicken ahead of me. The giant chicken falls to the ground with a squawk, and red feathers flutter into the air. The fall launches the rider headfirst into the mud.

  She waves her fist at me as I pass, displaying one brass knuckle with the word “off” engraved on it. My imagination fills in the text from her other knuckle.

  Only one rider stands between me and chicken-race immortality.

  Okay, maybe not immortality, but between me and the next round of Buzz’s First Annual Chicken Cup Classic.

  Bobo plants his claws in the mud and makes a final push on the leader. I have no idea who the rider in first place is. He wears a golden samurai mask and full body armor, concealing his identity. His chicken is purple with a white head and long golden tail-feathers that whip in the wind.

  An item box appears on the track, hovering in the middle just as the leader passes by. These boxes are filled with useful items for attacking opponents. Whenever someone hits an item box, the contents automatically appear in their inventory.

  The leader equips a black canister and tosses it to the ground in front of the item box. Oil explodes from the canister, creating a slick right where the loot box is.

  The finish line grows ever closer and I’m no nearer to first place. I need to get that item box, but there’s the risk I’ll get stuck in the oil. It’s a risk I’ll have to take in order to win.

  Setting our sights on the box, Bobo and I race straight toward our salvation or doom. I urge Bobo to jump and we hit the box square on.

  A red canister instantly appears in my hand. Without a second to wait, I toss the canister to the ground before Bobo lands in the oil spill. The canister cracks open as it hits the ground, and a giant flame erupts from Bobo’s backside, barreling us through the air and past the oil slick. We continue to soar down the track and are inches from taking first place when the sky suddenly goes black.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  The leader and I are neck and neck when two giant rods of lightning fork down from the sky. An explosion of white light and deafening thunder hits, forming a crater in the track and immobilizing both me and the samurai. For the next two seconds, we’re unable to move, forced to watch helplessly as first and second place go to a pair of gnomes on color-coordinated chickens.

  “Dammit!” the rider next to me curses. “It’s always the gnomes. Gnomes suck!” He slams his samurai mask on the ground, and I can see that he is actually…a woman.

  We creep past the finish line once the stun wears off, taking fifth and sixth place.

  “Tough luck,” I say, but it does nothing to remove the scowl from her face.

  “Just once, I’d like to make it to the finish line without being blown to bits right as I’m about to win. You lead for three laps and then a well-timed item undoes everything. And of course, I’m never lucky enough to have an Infinity Shield.” She shakes her head.

  “Better luck next time.” I extend my hand. “Name’s Esil.”

  She cracks a smile. “I know all about you. I’m sure everyone competing knows who you are. Though, it’s a little harder to recognize you without that giant wolf. Name’s Sam, nice to meet you.”

  I check the updated rankings as they adjust to the most recent stats. I’m out of the top ten and won’t be competing in the final race.

  Oh well, at least I had some fun and can catch up with the others.

  “Well, what do you know,” says Sam. “Made it by the skin of my teeth.”

  Glancing at the rankings again, I spot a “Samantha Tarly” in tenth place.

  “Well, how about that. I’ll be cheering you on in the final race. Best of luck.”

  “Thanks! Really, though, who would have thought that a bloody chicken race would be one of the most popular games in Pangea?” She beams at me as she walks past to register for her next race.

  Over the past year, Buzz has turned his small chicken farm into one of the biggest attractions in Asgard. Between the time he spends in full-immersion and here, I don’t know how he has time for anything else. Considering I’ve barely seen him lately, I guess he doesn’t.

  A firm hand slaps me on the back.

  “I guess you can’t win everything.” Buzz flashes me a wide smile. “You were really making some moves before that lightning bolt hit you.”

  “You should really take that item out of the races.” I roll my eyes.

  “No way. The crowd loves it. You should see their reaction when it hits.” He tilts his head back in laughter.

  Buzz has been sporting some new threads since opening Buzz’s Chicken Races to the public. He’s let go of the wolf persona he’d taken on since coming to Asgard. His current outfit can only be described as a cross between a jester and a rogue. He wears the curled shoes and clothing of a jester, but with a dark, motley tunic that is almost somber. Instead of the typical fool’s hat, he wears a cowl in the shape of a chicken head. Several daggers hang from his side, each with a hooked talon on the hilt. He still pays homage to the wolves with a small patch in the shape of a wolf head over his heart.

  I still can’t decide if it’s funny or badass.

  “Is the turnout everything you hoped?” I ask, but I already know the answer. The stands are full. There are numerous races per hour. This place is booming, and Buzz of all people had a vision for it.

  “Business is good. You know, I always had dreams, but it looks like I am finally on the way to becoming the Chicken King. There have been talks with Asgard to have a race in honor of the gods, can you believe that? Loki might even compete.” He beams with pride.

  “That’s great to hear. I’m happy for you.” He’s come a long way since we both worked in the mines together, mining data for eight hours a day and barely getting by. And in spite of all the challenges, he’s overcome the
m all with a joke and a smile on his face. This truly couldn’t have happened to a better person.

  Buzz wraps his arm around my shoulder. “They say find something you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life. This sure as hell beats mining, I’ll tell you that.” He turns me around until I’m facing the stands. “I hooked up Grayson and Dean with box seats. Best view in the arena.”

  “Nice. I’m sure Dean is grateful.”

  “I can see why you picked him. He seems like a good kid.”

  “He is. He’s got a fire in him, that’s for sure. I’m hoping with a little guidance to make it a controlled burn and not a wildfire.”

  Buzz looks up at the display overhead as it counts down to the next race. It’s a busy life running a chicken empire.

  “I hate to cut and run, but you know, chicken king duties await.”

  We shake hands and Buzz disappears into the crowd. I’m glad he has finally turned his small farm into an empire. If anyone is deserving of this much success, it’s Buzz.

  I head toward the stands to find Dean and Grayson, but the path is full of people moving about during the time between races.

  “Esil!” someone shouts nearby.

  I search for the person who called my name and spot a hand waving frantically from the stands. Dean beams at me. Grayson gives me a mock salute from behind him.

  Dean still wears his new cowboy getup, but Grayson has returned to his pirate outfit. He wears a white vest, halfway unbuttoned, exposing a roaring bear head tattooed on his chest. Several necklaces and amulets dangle from his neck. There’s a belt with a revolver on his hip, and two golden battle gauntlets cover his hands. His mustache curls up around the edges, forming two semicircles above a full gray beard.

  They jump the railing and meet me among the crowd.

  “Man, I totally want to come race chickens some time. It looked like so much fun. You almost had it too.” Dean grins.

  I pat him on the back. “I’m sure we could arrange that. I hear you guys had the best seats in the house.”

  Grayson gazes over the massive arena. “It’s a far cry from the chicken coop we defended from foxes and frost giants.”