Feyland: The Dark Realm

by Anthea Sharp

  “Pre-beta, even. Basically…” She bit her lip and glanced to one side. “I can’t ask them for help. I’m not even supposed to know that this version of Feyland exists, let alone go in-game. But I can’t stop.”

  He nodded. Games could get inside your skin and become the most important thing in the world - at least for a little while. It always wore off though. And simming didn’t keep his little brother out of trouble, or scavenge food from behind the grocery store, or help his mom when she finally came home after one of her episodes.

  But a new game, on a brand-new sim - his fingers tingled at the thought. And Jennet wanted to see what he could do. Check out his cred, like some kind of audition.

  “When do you want to watch me play?” He glanced down at his scuffed boots and tried to sound casual. “We could go over to Zeg’s simcafe—”

  “No. I want to see you play on your own gear.”

  He wished, for a gut-searing moment, that he didn’t have the life he did - that he could wave his hand and call a grav-car and they could drive to his house, a real house, full of good things to eat and shiny equipment.

  And they could game. With a legal account, not his ‘jacked connection. On a system that wasn’t half broken, in a place that wasn’t falling down, in a neighborhood that hadn’t turned to rot long ago.

  “I have to go.” He turned and started walking again.

  She followed. “But - you do have a sim-system, right? I heard you won a great rig. I want to see you in your home element. At your best.”

  “I don’t think so.” He hunched his shoulders. His home was none of her business. “I’ll see you around.”

  It was stupid, to think he could connect with someone like Jennet. They had nothing in common. No matter how attractive her world was, or how much he might want it, he didn’t belong there. Just like she didn’t belong in his. The thought of taking her into the Exe, showing her where he lived, revealing his secrets… just, no.

  “Wait.” Something trembled in her voice - hope or tears. It didn’t matter.

  Tam shoved his hands into his pockets and kept going. He had long-since perfected the art of walking away.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jennet watched Tam march off the school grounds, and desperation clawed itself up out of her throat. She needed him. Needed to see him play, needed his help.

  Now that she’d maybe found the one person in Crestview who could sim, she couldn’t let him get away.

  So she followed him, keeping a block behind and sticking to the shadows. He didn’t look back, not once. Still, it wasn’t easy. He zigzagged through smelly alleys, and went over a fence that smeared her white shirt with grime. Sweat prickled on her skin, but she couldn’t lose sight of him. She had to see him play.

  Maybe he wasn’t all that good. But even if he was poor and lived in a bad part of town, at least he wasn’t a complete idiot like that guy Fernald. And she was out of options.

  The buildings around her were increasingly run-down, and the air smelled like old garbage. Were there rats here? Tam dodged down an alleyway and she followed, watching where she stepped. When she looked up again, he was gone.

  The air felt colder, darker, and a shiver raked across the back of her neck. A rustling noise sounded behind her and she whirled, heartbeat spiking.

  Nothing there.

  Ok. Relax. She pulled in a breath of rot-flavored air. He’d be around the next corner. Surely he would. The shaky feeling taking over her legs didn’t believe her, but she forced herself to move. One step, then another.

  The alley intersected a deserted street. There was no sign of Tam. She swallowed. Time to call George. He’d come with the grav-car to get her right away, no matter where she was. There’d be some explaining to do, since she’d told him she was staying after school for a study club - but staying lost in the outskirts of the Exe seemed like a really bad idea.

  She backed into an alcove and fished around in her satchel, trying to ignore the things squishing under her feet.

  From out of nowhere, a hand grabbed her arm. She shrieked and tried to pull away, punching wildly with her free fist, while fear opened a dark hole under her feet.

  “Shh.” It was Tam. He grasped her other arm, keeping her from connecting with his face. “Calm down.”

  She took a gasping breath. “Tam - you scared me!”

  “Why’d you follow me? That’s a stupid thing to do. Especially here.” He kept hold of her arms, but she didn’t feel threatened by how close he was. Despite the fear still echoing through her, she felt oddly safe.

  “I told you,” she said. “I need to see you game - see if you’re good enough to play Feyland.”

  He let go of her and took a step back. “And if I’m not?”

  “I think you are.”

  He had to be. He was the best chance she had. Her last chance to get back in-game and win free of the Dark Queen.

  For a long minute they stood there, the smell of garbage wafting around them. Tam stared past her at the crumbling, graffiti-etched wall. Then he shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “Come on, I’ll take you back to school. You don’t belong here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She glared at him. “Except your place.”

  “Damn it, I’m not—” He broke off and held up one hand, his whole body going tense.

  His nostrils flared and he cocked his head, listening. To what? Fear shivered through her.

  He leaned forward and spoke in a barely audible voice. “We need to get out of here. Now. No questions. Follow close.”

  “Ok,” she whispered. Her skin prickled, like somebody was watching them.

  Tam led them down the alley. He moved silently, carefully, like some wild creature used to danger. She stayed right behind him, doing her best to be quiet. But despite her care, her shoe knocked against an old can. It teetered for one tense second, then tipped, clanging and rolling along the cracked pavement.

  Calls erupted behind them, yips and crazy laughter. Tam grabbed her arm and hauled her forward. “Run!”

  Panic powered her steps and her breath rasped in her throat. She didn’t dare look behind them. Tam dodged and turned, leading her through a series of broken-down buildings, cutting through weedy lots. The noise of pursuit faded, and finally he slowed.

  “I… have to… rest,” she panted. She felt like a knife was stabbing into her side, sliding between her ribs, over and over.

  He slanted a look around the dingy street they were on, then led her toward an abandoned building.

  “Alright. In here.” He ducked beneath a door hanging crookedly by one hinge. “We should be safe - they usually don’t go much outside their territory.”

  “They?” She clasped her hands tightly to make them stop shaking, and concentrated on getting air back into her lungs.

  “The Jackals - local gang. Good thing they didn’t get a closer look at you, or we’d still be running. There’s a black-market demand for wrist chips, and they wouldn’t be gentle about taking it out. They have knives.”

  She pulled her wrist against her body. “That’s…horrible.” Would the gang really have taken a blade to her flesh and cut her chip out? She shuddered.

  “Welcome to the Exe.” There was a flash of sympathy in his eyes.

  “Nice place.”

  All told, she preferred the dark places in Feyland. Though with his real-life skills, she had no doubt Tam would be great in-game, too.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  She drew in a deep breath, let it out. Disappointment curled cold in her belly, but he’d made his point. She was in danger here, and it was better for both of them if she left. She’d have to find another way to see him play.

  “All right.”

  Steps dragging, she followed him down the street. At the next intersection, he paused. A low, liquid groaning sound, like something dying, floated down the street. Tam leaned close, his lips almost brushing her ear.

  “I’ll count on my fingers,” he whi
spered. “When I hit three, run straight across - right for that alley. Don’t look back.”

  The cold in her stomach moved up to her throat. She nodded.

  He listened a moment more, then held up his hand. One finger. Two. Three.

  They bolted across the street. She got a confused impression of figures clustered around an oil-can fire, and then they were in the alley. Tam put his hand on her back, silently urging her to keep going, though there didn’t seem to be any outcry behind them.

  What a fool she’d been, to follow him into the Exe. Good thing he’d figured out she was there, or she’d be in severe trouble. But now she was completely lost. Tam had doubled back so many times she had no idea which direction the school was. She just had to trust him, and keep following.

  Finally, he stopped. “Here we are.”

  Jennet blinked. This wasn’t Crestview High - they were still in the Exe. Cautious hope unfolded inside her. “Here?”

  “Yeah. Home sweet home.”

  Tam tilted his head to the flat-roofed building in front of them. It looked like an abandoned mechanic shop, with rickety exterior stairs going up the side. On the roof was a smaller box - a little apartment maybe, repaired with old boards and pieces of salvaged metal. At least there were windows, though a blue tarp covered most of the roof.

  Jennet blinked. “This is where you live? I thought you didn’t want me to—”

  “I didn’t have much choice. The Jackals were between us and school.” Unhappiness edged his voice. He turned to her, his mouth grim. “Do not say a word about my place. Ok? Nothing.”

  She nodded, swallowing back the questions crowding the tip of her tongue. The fact that he’d brought her here at all - that was key. She tried not to glance up at the shack on the roof. It looked like it could fall down in the next big storm.

  Ignoring the stairs, he led her around the building and unlocked a big metal door in back. It scraped open across the concrete floor with a low groan. Inside, the single huge room was dim and cold, light straggling in through high, grease-filmed windows. It smelled like old machines.

  “I’ve got an hour til the Bug gets home,” he said.

  “The Bug?”

  “My kid brother.”

  “All right. I’ll call Dad’s driver and—”

  “No.” He frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of a grav-car skimming up to his front door. “The Jackals will have gone to ground by then. I’ll take you back to school and you can get picked up there.”

  Without waiting for her agreement, he moved to the far wall and waved his hand in front of the light plate. It took three tries before the bank of fluorescents overhead flickered on. The sickly glow illuminated his sim system.

  It was a newer-model Zing, though it looked like it had been used hard. The chair had a long rip across the seat, partially hidden by a lumpy pillow. Cables ran like crazed electric worms from the drive to the helmet and gloves, and silvery tape seemed to be holding half the system together.

  “This is… I mean, you won this?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He dipped his head, letting his hair fall back over his eyes. “Last year’s tournament.”

  “So, you made Nationals? What was it like, playing there? Where did you rank?”

  “I didn’t go to Nationals.” His voice was tight.

  “Didn’t go? But that’s—”

  “Something came up.” He turned away from her and clicked his system on. “So. You want to see me play. Any game in particular?”

  “Um…”

  As far as subject changes went, that one had been pretty obvious - like a door slamming shut. All right. What game did she want to see him play?

  She had originally thought WorldStar. It was the sim most like Feyland - not that any other game could compete. But now… she glanced around the grimy space that housed Tam’s system. He obviously didn’t have the money to buy new expansions of the popular games, or pay the access fees. She bit her lip.

  What were the free sim games, anyway? She’d never paid any attention - they were inferior, crammed with ads, and usually the graphics were sub-par. Come on…think. She had to know some games. She fished around for a name, but the grating, low-pitched hum coming from Tam’s system made it hard to concentrate.

  “Does your drive always make that sound?” The question was out before she could reel it back in, but the noise was truly awful. It sounded like a moaning beast, with the added bonus of a teeth-gritting vibration of metal against the concrete floor.

  He scowled at her. “If you don’t like it, you can leave.”

  Heat rushed into her face. Great. She was going to ruin this. Better get to the gaming as soon as possible.

  “What games do you have?” There. Nice safe question.

  “Anything.” He tossed the word out, casual.

  “Really? Even WorldStar?”

  “Yes, even that. And Zombiemecca, and Ruler of Days, and—”

  “Ok, ok.” She swallowed back her questions. Tam had all the top games, and it was probably better if she didn’t ask how he could afford them. “WorldStar is kind of like Feyland. Fantasy-based quests, you know. Battles with monsters.” And queens. She shivered.

  “Alright, WorldStar - and you don’t have to sound so surprised.” Tam slid into the chair and picked up his gaming helmet. “The backbone of the ‘net runs through Crestview, and plenty of people know how to use it - at least in the Exe. Anyway, it’s why your company is here.”

  “VirtuMax isn’t my company.”

  He shrugged and pulled the keyboard onto his lap, tapping out a few commands. “You’ll have to watch secondhand,” he said, leaning forward and flicking the battered monitor on. “I only have one helmet.”

  “Oh. Right.” Still, even the flatscreen would give her a decent idea of his game-play.

  The screen was dull, with holes in the display where pixels were stuck. There were enough, though, to see the overall picture. She was getting the feeling his whole system was that way - barely enough.

  The monitor lit up with the WorldStar background. Then Tam’s characters appeared, lined up along the bottom of the screen.

  “Do you have a level 200?” she asked.

  “A few. Do you want a caster, thief, or tank?”

  She blinked. “You have a top level in each class? You must spend a lot of time playing.”

  “Not all that much.” He slid on his worn e-gloves. “I’m efficient. So, who do you want?”

  She leaned forward to scan the character portraits. A decked-out Soldier, a Shifter - no, too low level. She needed something that would push Tam to the limit.

  “That one.” She pointed to the Sorcerer, a tall, green-haired character without any telltale marks of superior gear. No glows hovering around him, or towering shoulder armor, or billowing capes. She didn’t want this to be too easy. “Lorne?”

  “It’s an anagram,” he said, not looking at her. He drew the helmet down over his face, and selected the character.

  Jennet turned the letters around in her mind. Lorne. Loner. No kidding.

  Then the game of WorldStar opened, showing the Sorcerer standing in the street of a small village. Somewhere in Dvelt Province, judging by the grassy plain that spread out beyond the mud-brick buildings.

  “Where to?” Tam asked.

  An ordinary spell-caster, up against… She tapped her lower lip with her fingers. “Isn’t there a Guardian-class encounter near here? Some big kitty in a cave to the east?”

  He let out a muffled snort. “That big kitty is called Saberclaw. People don’t fight him solo. It usually takes three - with a healer.”

  “Can you do it, or not?”

  He turned his head toward her, the visor reflecting the dim light. “My least-decked character, and in a lightweight armor class, too. That’s a pretty mismatched fight.”

  She knew it wasn’t fair - but then, life wasn’t. And she needed to see what he could do against nearly impossible odds. She couldn’t take a complet
e noob into Feyland with her.

  “Yeah, it is mismatched. Maybe Saberclaw needs some reinforcements. Poor kitty.” It was a dumb joke, but she saw the side of his mouth twitch up a little.

  “Alright then,” he said. “Here we go.”

  Tam guided his character to the mount master, and before long, Lorne was on a gazelle-like creature, galloping east. Purple mountains loomed in the distance, and a flock of black birds swooped up from the plains like a spiral of smoke. Soon, Lorne reached the low hills.

  At the edge of one canyon was a gaping shadow edged with rocks that looked like fangs. Saberclaw’s cave. Bones littered the ground in front, some old and bleached, others new, with bloody hunks of meat hanging off them, evidence of a recent player’s death. Would Lorne’s bones join them?

  A knot formed in Jennet’s stomach. She folded her fingers over the back of Tam’s chair and watched as he dismissed his character’s mount.

  Tam lifted a finger, and his Sorcerer’s arms rose. Magical energy gathered in a ball of glowing light between his hands, then spread down over Lorne’s figure, encasing him in a layer of invisible armor. Another wave of his hand, and potions appeared, hovering in the air before him. Blood red, glimmering orange, dark purple - without hesitation, the Sorcerer chose two, uncorked the vials, and drank.

  Magical preparations complete, Lorne stepped over the litter of bones and walked to the edge of the darkness.

  Truth time. Jennet held her breath as the pebble of fear in her stomach turned to a boulder. What if Tam wasn’t good enough?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tam was barely conscious of Jennet hovering behind his chair. Please, don’t let his system cut out now. Jennet had set him a drastic challenge. But he would win it, impossible odds or no.

  He took a deep breath and focused.

  There was only the faint hiss of the wind in the plains grasses, the hollow footfalls of his Sorcerer as he approached the cave to confront Saberclaw. Tam made a quick check of his inventory, making sure his oh-crap items were in place - the things he’d need to win this. Extra health potion, blinding dust, one-use spectral shield. A cloth-wearer had to have tricks like this up his sleeve to survive most scrapes. Though a solo encounter with a Guardian-class beast hardly qualified as a scrape. More like a severe mutilation.