by Anthea Sharp
“Yeah.” Tam’s nimble fingers worked on the twine that bound the bird, while a series of tweets and chirps issued from the little beak. “Can’t you understand him?”
“Um, no. But obviously you can.”
Tam nodded. “This is Skyward. Hold on, buddy, almost got it.” He worked the snare free and carefully slid it off Skyward’s tiny foot. The bird let out a few more chirps, and Tam dipped his head. “You’re welcome.”
With a startling flurry of wings, the sparrow shot up into the air. In moments he was just a brown speck against the blue. A cheerful trill drifted down to them, and then he was gone.
“Hm.” Jennet stared up into the empty sky, thinking. “I bet that was Puck’s gift - understanding the speech of animals.”
“That could come in handy.”
“Or be totally annoying, depending. What about insects?” She glanced around, then pointed to a dragonfly skimming the grasses nearby. “Can you talk to it?”
Tam stepped over to it. “Hey, bug,” he said in a loud voice. “’sup?”
The dragonfly hovered for a moment, then flew off, its wings making a shirring sound.
“Well?” Jennet asked.
He shook his head. “Nope. Guess I don’t speak bug.”
“That’s probably best. I mean, you don’t need every little speck trying to have a conversation with you. Hey, look. There’s the river.” She gestured down the hill to where water made a sparkling line of silver between the trees.
“And here’s the trail. Come on.” Tam led the way, his movements confident and relaxed.
Jennet watched him. Like her, his avatar was an improved version of his real-life self. Even though there was a character selection menu, it turned out that the game somehow picked up on how you actually looked, with a few modifications. Good thing there weren’t any mirrors here, or she’d have even more explaining to do.
It didn’t take them long to reach the woods lining the river. Dappled light filtered through the fresh green leaves, and up ahead the river chuckled to itself.
“I wonder if fish talk,” Tam said. “And whether they have anything interesting to say.”
“Are fish even animals?”
“Guess we’ll find out. It’s peaceful down here.”
Jennet glanced at Tam. His eyes shone with interest as he looked around. It was nice, being able to see his face. He had good, strong cheekbones, and a sharp nose that wasn’t too big. But his best feature was his green eyes, the color of the leaves overhead.
It was interesting, too, the way he opened up in-game. It felt like he’d said more to her in Feyland than he had the whole rest of the time she’d known him.
“Let’s try this sieve thing,” she said, pausing at the river’s edge. An ancient willow grew there, its leaves trailing in the current. She materialized her sieve, and Tam did the same. He held it up to the light and turned it back and forth.
“Fetch water in this?” he asked. “If you hadn’t noticed, there’s a million holes in it.”
“Well, that’s the quest that Fynnod set us.”
Tam stepped down to the river and bent, scooping up water. It immediately flowed back out, sparkling and dripping through the mesh of the sieve.
“Yeah,” he said. “Of course it couldn’t be that easy.”
She set her staff down and knelt next to the willow, then dipped her own sieve in. A wavery reflection looked back at her. A reflection that suddenly grew long teeth and green hair.
“Jennet, there’s something in there… look out!” Tam yelled.
Long arms erupted out of the water, grabbing hold of her. Fright thumping hard in her chest, she tried to scramble back, but sharp nails dug into her arms. She couldn’t get free, and the creature was dragging her forward, into the water.
“Tam!” she cried.
The bank was slick. Nothing to hold on to but slender reeds that slipped through her fingers as the creature yanked her down.
“Jennet!”
Tam lunged for her, but the creature gave a last, vicious tug and Jennet tumbled headlong into the river.
Chill water closed over her head, the cold shocking through her, and she kicked out wildly. The river was deep here, by the roots of the old willow. Deep, and treacherous, and the domain of a water hag. Fear shuddered through her.
Her staff lay uselessly on the bank above - she couldn’t fire blue mage-bolts at the creature. Instead she jabbed her fingers into the tough green skin and tried to kick against the current. But no matter how she struggled, the water hag gripped her tighter and kept towing her down. Down. Dizzy panic tightened her throat.
“Hee hee,” the creature burbled. “Wicked Peg found a morsel. A sweet tasteling.” She smacked her lips as she pulled Jennet into the submerged shadows.
Jennet’s limbs felt heavy. Her body was an echo of her own heartbeat, slowing, slowing. Bubbles escaped her mouth, little pearls lifting from between her lips to float up and away. The sky was wavery splinters of light above her.
Then silver exploded into the current beside them. Air and a flash like lightning - Tam diving in after her, his weapon shining. His sword darted, faster than she could have dreamed, stabbing the green-skinned Peg and making her howl. She lifted one hand from Jennet to claw at Tam’s blade.
“Away, away. Prick me not, foul beast of the air!”
Tam kept slashing. Trickles of blood bloomed, clouding the water like green algae. With a last screech, Wicked Peg released Jennet and wriggled away, disappearing into the murky depths beneath the willow.
The last bit of breath escaped Jennet. Her lungs were screaming for air, and Tam’s arm was around her, urging her up. He kicked, strongly, and pulled her from the depths. They emerged together in a gasping spray of light.
“Come on.” Tam half-carried her onto the bank. He kept his arm around her, even when they had gained solid ground.
Jennet knelt on the mud, coughing. Even though her mind was screaming at her to get away from the river, her legs wouldn’t hold her up. She pulled in a rough lungful of air, then coughed again as it scraped her throat. Shivers chased through her.
That had been way too close. What was a high-level monster like that water hag doing here? Feyland was getting more dangerous than she had dreamed.
She crawled forward a few feet and grabbed her staff, then pulled herself to her knees. “Let’s get out of here.” Her voice was hoarse.
Tam nodded and took her hand, helping her to her feet. Her legs trembled and he gave her a concerned look. It warmed her up a little, inside.
“Yeah,” he said. “Some distance is a good idea. You sure you’re ok?”
“I’m fair.” All she wanted was to get away from the river, and the green terror lurking in its depths.
“Let’s head over there,” he said, waving to a sunny clearing just visible between the trees. “It seems far enough to be safe.”
She nodded. He put his arm around her shoulders, helping her when she nearly stumbled. By the time they reached the clearing, her breathing had evened out and her steps were less shaky. Flowers dotted the grass - blue bells and spangles of daisies. It looked pretty and innocent, and she desperately hoped there wasn’t some evil creature hiding in the trees, ready to pounce on them.
Tam surveyed the area, and seemed satisfied. “Here. Sit down a minute.”
She sank down in the soft grass and looked up at him. Water plastered his hair to his head and dripped off his armor. He looked a mess, and she certainly wasn’t any better off.
“I hope you don’t start rusting,” she said.
“Yeah. That could get awkward. But magical armor doesn’t do stuff like that. Right?”
Jennet glanced down at her soaked gown. “If you don’t rust and I don’t mold, I think we’ll be ok. Anyway, well… thanks.” The word seemed inadequate.
Tam gave her a crooked grin. “Hey, I’m a Knight. It’s what I do. In fact, give me your sieve and stay here. I’ll figure this thing out.”
“N
o.” She climbed to her feet. “I’m coming with you. If Wicked Peg comes back… well, it might take both of us to defeat her again.”
She was not going to let Tam out of her sight.
There was a stubborn set to his jaw, but finally he nodded. “Ok, but let’s stay away from deep water.”
“Yeah - you don’t have to convince me of that.”
They headed upstream, and she was relieved to see the bank flatten out and the river grow shallow. The water ran around large rocks, making a cheerful babble.
“It seems safe,” she said.
“Maybe.” Tam kept one hand on the hilt of his sword and gave the river a wary glance. “At least the bottom’s easy to see - it can’t be more than a few inches deep.”
“You stand guard and I’ll get my sieve.” With a thought, she summoned it, and then braced herself against the surge of weariness that followed. “Maybe if we put mud over the holes, the water will stay in.”
“Anything’s worth a try at this point.” He spoke to her, but stayed facing the river, his eyes scanning the shallows.
She scooped up a handful of dark, gooey mud from the edge of the bank and plopped it in the mesh. So far so good. She smeared it around until it coated the inside of the sieve then, fingers crossed, carefully scooped up some water.
For a second, it held. Then her triumph turned to disappointment as the mud dissolved. Brown water ran out the bottom, and the sieve emptied.
“Great,” she said. “Now what?”
A trill of birdsong filled the air, and Tam jerked his head up. He nodded, then turned to her, a smile in his eyes. “Skyward’s back. He says it’s safe here. And he says to use ashes in the sieve.”
“Ashes? Like, from a fire?”
“That’s right.”
Another flurry of chirping, and this time Jennet saw Skyward, perched on a nearby branch. Ashes, hm? She thought a moment, letting her mind come up with the picture. Ashes - thick gray flakes that would lie over the mesh, with the weight of the water holding them in place.
“It could work.” Holding her sieve out, she imagined ashes settling into it, covering the holes. In an instant, the thought became reality. She swayed. “There. The tricky part will be scooping the water in without dislodging them.”
“We can do it.” Tam sounded completely confident. He summoned ashes into his sieve, then marched to the edge of the water and tilted it into a quiet eddy of current. His lips curved into a full smile as he held up his sieve, brimming with water. “Quest complete.”
The hardest part was trudging back to Fynnod’s without spilling the water. Skyward kept pace with them, twittering what Jennet imagined was encouragement. When they reached the thatched cottage, Fynnod was sitting in his usual place on the front steps. He watched them approach, his close-set eyes gleaming. She let out a silent breath of relief. Their earlier misadventure with the milk hadn’t ruined the quest, after all.
“Greetings, Fynnod.” Jennet gave him the proper words.
“Fair Jennet. Knight Tamlin. Have you completed the quest I set you?”
“We have,” Tam said, stepping forward. The sky reflected off the water brimming in his sieve, a circle of blue bounded by metal.
The Brownie nodded, his ears flapping at the movement. “Then you have won access to the second circle. Prepare yourselves.”
“Hold on,” she whispered to Tam. “He’s going to transport us there.”
A golden glow surrounded them, and she caught a glimpse of Tam’s surprised face. Then the world spun, a sudden vortex of glittering light. She reached, blindly, and caught Tam’s hand in her own. It wasn’t dangerous, traveling the rings, but it could be disorienting your first time.
The whirling stopped, the light dissipating to show a deep forest. As usual, they stood in the center of a ring of mushrooms.
“Where are we?” Tam let go of her hand and slowly surveyed the dark pines surrounding them.
“We’re at the next fairy ring - the second level of Feyland.” They had done it!
When Tam had defeated the Black Knight, she’d been pretty sure, but this was more proof. She was back in-game - though there was no way they could make it to the Dark Court in just one play session. Even if Dad didn’t get home from work until his usual late hour, it was time to get Tam out of Feyland.
“Now what?” He sounded ready to quest all night.
“Now…” She visualized the interface, mentally pressing the exit button. “Now, we log off.”
“But—” Tam’s protest was lost as the game-world dissolved around them.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tam lifted the sim helmet and blinked. He felt like he was waking up from some crazy dream - the kind that left your mind and body sluggish and overly warm. In the chair beside him, Jennet peeled off her e-gloves and ran her fingers through her hair. She looked…
Huh. She actually looked better. Less worn-looking. Her eyes were sparkling, and bright blue. Why had he ever thought they were pale?
She smiled at him, the glow and relief in it making him dizzy. “So - what do you think of Feyland?”
“Really amazing. Those fights…” he shook his head. “I could feel so much in there. Thanks for showing me the Full-D. Let’s do it again - soon.”
Her smile dimmed. “Tam… I really need to tell you—”
“Oh no!” He glanced at the clock blinking on the wall, and then read it again to be sure. “No - it’s not really six-thirty, is it? I promised Marny I’d be home by six. She has to leave by then. Jennet, I have to go. Now.”
He slid out of the chair, apprehension tightening his lungs. What a crappy thing to do to Marny. Hopefully she’d be able to stay a little longer. He didn’t like the thought of the Bug on his own, even for a short time. There was no end of trouble that kid could get into.
“I’ll call the car.” She hit the blue switch beside the sim systems, turning off the jamming field. “HANA?”
“Yes, Miss Jennet?”
“Have George bring the car around front. Mr. Linn needs a ride home, as soon as possible.”
“Right away, miss.”
“I’m sorry,” Jennet said, leading him down the hall. “Time is weird in-game. I knew you had to go, but…”
“It happens.” He had lost plenty of hours in the past, had emerged from simming to find that the whole day had spun away. The consequences this time couldn’t be that bad. He hoped.
Outside it was dark, the air quickly cooling into night. Jennet waited by the grav-car as he climbed in.
“So, see you at school tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for playing, Tam.” Her voice was soft, almost wistful.
“See you.” He let the door slide closed and told George where to head. The man didn’t raise an eyebrow, which, considering their destination, was impressive. He must have some weaponry in the car - maybe even attached to it - if the thought of driving into the Exe didn’t worry him.
It was full dark when the grav-car slid to a stop in front of Tam’s building. He mumbled his thanks and got out as fast as he could. People were watching from the shadows and boarded-up windows - he could feel their stares. He hurried up the rickety stairs, not bothering to look back as the car slipped away.
It was quiet upstairs. Too quiet. A quick glance around the living room confirmed that his little brother wasn’t there.
“Hey,” he called. “I’m home. Come out now.”
There was no response - and the Bug wasn’t any good at hiding. He always laughed and gave himself away.
Tam peeked into the tiny room where his mom’s bed was, did a quick check of the cramped bathroom - nothing. He pushed back the panic creeping up his throat.
There was a note on the dingy table. Tam picked it up, trying to keep his fingers steady. It was in Marny’s round handwriting.
Hey Tam, it’s 6:20 and I really need to head out. I gave your evil kid brother the rest of the Sugar Crunchies and made him promise to chill until you got h
ome. Hope you get here soon. And that you had fun.
--M
Tam checked the faded green readout on the kitchen clock. Half-an-hour since Marny left. That was plenty of time for the Bug to get into trouble. Or for someone else to show up, and get him into even worse.
He sniffed - no telltale smell of matches or smoke. Not like the last time he’d left his brother unsupervised. He’d come upstairs after simming a little too long, to find a pile of paper smoldering in the middle of the kitchen.
“Bug?” he called, “Peter?” Maybe his brother would answer to his given name. Nothing, and the fear really began to set in.
Should he call the cops? No - they’d only blow him off. The first few times Mom had gone missing, he’d tried to get them to come help, with no luck. Why would this be any different? He lived in the Exe.
His stomach twisted and he tried not to picture all the hurt his little brother could be in. The Bug was pretty random. The medicine he had to take for his blood disease made him act on impulse - not that an eight-year-old had a lot of sense to begin with. In the last year he’d started with the whole pyromaniac thing. He said the flames made him feel good. Tam was sure he’d hid all the matches where Peter couldn’t find them, but still…
Maybe the people hiding out in the old shop down the street had seen something. They scared the piss out of him, with their crazy yellow eyes and the sickly-sweet smell of whatever they were smoking filling the air, but he had to start somewhere.
Tam was partway down the stairs when he heard it. A muffled clang, then a scrape of metal, coming from close by. He flung himself down the rest of the stairs and pelted to the back. Sure enough, the big door was unlocked. And inside -
“Peter!” He scooped his brother up in an awkward hug. “I was so worried about you.”
“Yeesh.” The Bug squirmed in his arms. “Let go, Tam. And don’t step on anything.”
Tam let his brother slip free, and finally saw what the kid had been doing. Disbelief hit him hard, right in the gut.
“Oh, god.”
He turned in slow circles, trying to take in the destruction. Disconnected cables were half-unwound in coppery spirals over the floor. The visor of his helmet was propped against the open side of his CPU - which looked like it had been visited by a bomb. His gloves were turned inside-out, the sensors dangling like broken spider-webs.
