by Rachel Aaron
“You think you’ve got something better?” she asked coldly, looking down on the much-shorter KuroKawaii from her full, towering height. “What are you going to do when you get to Bastion, huh? Go it alone? Find a way home? We don’t even know how we got here or if there is a way back. We don’t know shit about this new world, but it’s pretty damn clear that if we want to survive long enough to find out, then we’re going to have to fight for everything we need. Food, water, safety, knowledge—no one here is going to give us those things. We have no rights and no country, and everyone we’ve met so far hates our guts. Everything we have is in this courtyard right now. We have each other. We’re all veterans who’ve played way too much FFO. Some of you are questing badasses, some are PvP nightmares, some are world-first raiders, and others are crack explorers and lore masters. I don’t know how many other players got swept up in this, but I bet there’s no other group that can match the geared, top-notch people we’ve got right now. Right here.”
She pointed at the ground at their feet. “That’s why I want us to stick together, because we’re already the most any of us could want. As mercenaries, we’ll be able to go anywhere, do anything, be whatever we have to be to find our way back home and earn what we need to survive while we do it. That’s what I’m offering you, so before you listen to others spouting bullshit about what I want, listen to me, ’cause I’m straight-up telling you: I want this.” She waved her arm across the gathered raid. “My only scheme here is to take what we already have and make it better. If that’s not for you, then you’re free to go. But if you see the same potential for awesome that I do, I’m happy to welcome you to the new Roughnecks.”
The crowd began to buzz as she finished. Maybe Tina was being overly optimistic, but she thought it sounded like excited chatter. Then Zen raised her hand.
Tina winced internally. “Got a question about something I said, Zen?”
“No,” the Ranger replied, standing up. “It was a good speech, Roxxy, but you never did answer Kuro’s question.”
Tina arched an eyebrow. “What’d I miss?”
Zen pointed at the crate Tina was still standing on. “Where’d you get the food?”
Chapter 14
James
As befitted a final boss, the lich’s chamber was an enormous vaulted cavern carved into the red stone of the canyon itself. The towering walls were engraved from floor to ceiling with sharp, unpleasant-looking runes that flickered with the pale blue-white glow of ghostfire. Most of the floor space was taken up by worktables and alchemical benches covered in scrawled papers and bubbling magical experiments, but there was a large clear spot in the middle for player parties to arrange themselves before starting the encounter.
At the far end of the room was the three-tiered dais where the lich traditionally waited while players got ready to kill him. He wasn’t there now, of course, but everything else was, including a metal stand in the shape of a bony hand that was holding an inky-black orb the size of a beach ball.
James’s breath caught. “That’s it!” he hissed, grabbing Arbati’s arm. “That’s the control orb we have to break! All we have to do is get up there and—”
He was cut off by the sharp tack of a metal boot heel striking stone as the lich stepped out from behind a large rack of alchemical tanks at the rear of the dais. The undead Sorcerer was a towering figure in decaying silk robes, his elven beauty long lost to the rot of his unholy existence. He actually looked even more decrepit now than he had in the game, which struck James as a good sign. Not only did the lich look dead on his feet, but he was standing on the opposite end of the dais from the orb they needed to break.
“Welcome,” the lich said grandly, spreading his arms wide. “My most annoying—”
James cut off the opening dialog by immediately casting Stone Grasp.
As he scrambled to shape the magic, he couldn’t help but think it was a waste. Under different circumstances, he would have loved a chance to talk with an original inhabitant of the Unbounded Sky. Unfortunately, Lilac had no time for his curiosity. There were only a few minutes left before the sun rose and her corruption was complete. Arbati was already halfway across the room, racing toward the orb with his sword raised to slice it in half.
Letting the warrior draw the lich’s attention, James finished gathering the flows of earth into a stone hand, but not beneath the lich. Despite the setup for a grand battle, they didn’t actually have to beat the necromancer to win. Breaking the orb was the only thing that mattered, so James ignored the undead elf and conjured his Stone Grasp spell under the other side of the dais where the hand could rise up and crush the cursed ball to splinters.
He was placing the final line of earth magic when a razor-sharp line of mana shot into him, tangling his spell and scattering the magic he’d gathered. James jumped in confusion, head shooting up to see the lich smiling at him. The ancient sorcerer waggled his finger in a “no, no, no” gesture before turning to crook his hand at Arbati, who was lunging up the stairs at the orb. A ghostly light flashed, and Arbati went flying across the room, crashing through a row of alchemical tables beside the door.
The warrior was back on his feet in an instant. Moving faster than James had ever seen him go, he charged the orb again. This time, the lich walked forward to meet him, blocking Arbati’s two-handed overhead swing with a lazy gesture of his black metal staff.
James’s heart sank as he watched the lich parry Arbati’s attack one-handed. The necromancer deflected the warrior’s next attack with similar ease, keeping Arbati trapped on the stairs using nothing but his staff and his insanely fast reflexes.
Swearing under his breath, James started on another Stone Grasp spell, but he’d barely gathered enough magic to make a dirtball when the lich flicked another counterspell at him. Once again, the line of mana shot through him, slicing the building magic to ribbons and ruining his spell. Then for an encore, the ancient elf caught Arbati’s blade in his skeletally thin hand and yanked, hauling the jubatus up by his own weapon before flinging him off the dais yet again.
The warrior landed in a snarling, yowling heap beside James, who was already working on his third attempt at a Stone Grasp spell. The lich broke his casting without even looking, flicking a finger at James over his shoulder while he turned to examine the orb for damage.
James hissed in frustration as his magic fell apart yet again. This was bullshit. All counterspell abilities, bosses’ included, were supposed to have at least an eight-second reset time. That should have made this kind of total casting lockdown impossible, but apparently they weren’t the only ones who’d been freed from the game’s rules. The lich clearly had no problem disrupting James’s magic whenever he liked, and he had no idea what to do about it. He was still fuming when the lich finished inspecting his orb and turned to face them again.
“What is this?” the ancient sorcerer said, his dry lips cracking as he laughed at them. “Such faces! Is the twisted child surprised?”
Arbati snarled and charged again in reply, but the lich wasn’t even looking at him. His ghostfire eyes were locked on James, their flames dancing with cruel delight.
“Poor misplaced soul,” he said, smacking Arbati back across the room without so much as a glance. “You think that because you can cast, you understand what it means to have magic? I was born before the sky knew limits—before our wings were burned. I was a true sorcerer, and now that your game is no longer forcing its clumsy idea of how mana works upon me, I am free to be one again. But not you.” He shook his head in pity. “Poor miserable creature. You’ve been given so much power, but you’re still too bound by the old assumptions to use it, which is why you will never win.”
James clutched his staff. Never win, huh? He’d show this level thirty what it meant to have power. But as he pulled magic through his weapon in preparation to start grabbing up air magic for a lightning spell fast enough to beat the counter and big enough to turn the undead elf into a lich-roast, his vision began to go dark.
James paused, holding his magic tight on the off chance that he’d been hit with some sort of counterspell he’d never seen before. A heartbeat later, though, he knew that wasn’t it at all. Whatever this darkness was, it was coming from inside his head, and with it came a voice.
Why fight?
He blinked in confusion.
Why fight? the voice asked again. There’s no point.
Anger washed through him. Of course there was a point! Lives were riding on this. His life, Arbati’s, Lilac’s, the gnolls’, all the jubatus of Windy Lake’s—they would all die if he didn’t win.
So what? the voice whispered as the Eclipsed Steel Staff grew cold in his hands. Life is meaningless. An accident, a tragedy. To live is to suffer, to be bound by pain. Only the dead are free.
There was something lovely and sad in those final words, a sense of yearning like nothing James had ever felt. Listening to them, James couldn’t help but yearn, too. All this work, the constant dangers in his life here and all his troubles back home—what was the point? Even if he won this fight, all he’d get in return was more work. More trouble and pain.
Life is pain, the staff agreed. You’re doomed to die anyway. Why not save yourself all that suffering and end things now, while the choice is yours?
It would be easier, James thought. If he rushed the lich now, the old elf would kill him, but not before he smashed his staff through the orb. He could die a hero, saving everyone, including himself, because if he was dead, he wouldn’t have to worry about this world and its rules anymore. He wouldn’t have to worry about going home, either. He’d finally be free of his debts, free of working like a dog every single day, free of Tina’s scorn, free of his guilt.
You would be free, the staff agreed, its voice as sweet as sandalwood smoke as a blissful, numbing coldness began to spread through James’s body. That is the gift I give. I can make your death easy, painless, and heroic, and all you have to do is let me.
James frowned, considering, but it was hard to think when everything was so dark and cold. He could barely make out Arbati anymore. The warrior had lost his sword and was now fighting the lich with his claws, screaming at James to wake up. That Lilac only had a few seconds left.
He blinked. That was right. He could choose death, but Lilac hadn’t had that luxury. Her life had been taken, just like Thunder Paw’s grandson’s. Their deaths wouldn’t be easy or heroic. They’d be terrible, the eternal pain of ghostfire and the devastation of those left behind. He thought of his parents, who’d be screwed by his mistakes if he never returned. Of Tina, who’d cry—
You really think she would cry over you?
His throat closed up.
You’ve been nothing but trouble to her, the staff whispered, angry now. You ruined her future with your selfishness. You’re a bother to her, not a brother. Everything would be better if you died.
James slumped. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation kicking in, or maybe he’d just dealt with too much since he’d woken up in the yurt yesterday morning. Maybe it was Tina and the endless mess of his emotions surrounding what he’d done to her, but when James reached for the courage to live, there was nothing there. There was nothing for him to look forward to, not in this world or back home. If he died here, though, there was still a chance he could do some good. Arbati was getting nowhere, and with the lich locking down all his casting, James was useless as well. As useless as he’d always been. But this way, at last, he had a chance to do something right, so James dropped the magic he’d been gathering with a ragged cry and charged the dais instead, swinging his Eclipsed Steel Staff like a bat straight for the orb.
Good boy.
Rotten lips curled in amusement as James hurled himself up the dais stairs. With one hand, the ancient sorcerer tossed Arbati away before turning to parry James’ charge, knocking his staff to the side. As James stumbled, the lich’s other hand shot out and grabbed him around the throat.
It should have hurt. The lich’s fingers—more bone than flesh—were cutting into his neck like garrote wires, but the staff’s cold numbed everything. James relaxed into the nothingness, his body going slack as it welcomed its end.
See how wonderful death is? the staff whispered kindly.
“See how wonderful death is?” the lich said at the same time, much less kindly. Then the old elf froze, his ghostfire eyes growing wide. For several seconds, his rotting face was twisted in confusion, then he looked down at the staff James was still clutching in his hands and began to laugh.
“You fool,” he said, dropping his own weapon so that he could rip the Eclipsed Steel from James’s hands. “You precious, precious fool. This is a treasure of the Once King himself, and you brought it here?”
Cackling with delight, the lich twirled the Eclipsed Steel Staff joyfully with his left hand then pointed it at James’s chest. “Thank you, player,” he said mockingly. “You will make me a wonderful servant.”
James wrenched his head up with a gasp. The beautiful numbing cold had vanished when the lich had taken his staff, leaving him clear-headed and furious. What the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t die here! The orb wasn’t smashed yet, which meant Lilac wasn’t saved. Thunder Paw and the gnolls were still sealed in a cage match against the armored undead they’d left trapped at the door. Tina was out there, and he needed to find her. He had so much to do, so many people relying on him. How could he even consider giving up?
Red-hot shame burned the last of the cold from James’s body. He grabbed the lich’s hand and started ripping the rotting fingers from his throat, but it did no good. The staff was already pressed into his chest, its tip a blazing inferno as the old elf prepared to fill James with ghostfire. He was kicking his legs in a last-ditch effort to kick it away when he saw Arbati moving out of the corner of his eye.
As quiet as the cat he resembled, Arbati snatched up his dropped sword and prowled back up the side of the dais. Cackling over James, the lich hadn’t spotted him yet, and James’s hopes soared as Arbati reared back as if he was going to throw his sword at the orb. Hopes that immediately crashed when he realized his own body and the lich were between the warrior and his target.
Arbati hurled the blade anyway, flinging the sword straight at James. Watching it fly, James was certain that Arbati meant to kill him before he was turned undead, but the six feet of glowing-green enchanted steel didn’t land in his side. Instead, it whirled through the air beside him to crush the elbow of the lich’s outstretched arm.
The rotting sorcerer cried out in pain, dropping his staff and the ghostfire inferno surrounding it. He dropped James as well, leaving him to tumble down the stone steps.
James was still seeing stars when Arbati grabbed his shoulders and bellowed in his face.
“Cast!”
The head warrior hurled himself into the lich after that, leaving James reeling. Arbati fell on the ancient elf in a whirlwind of snapping teeth and flashing claws. The lich shouted again in surprise and pain, then his body erupted in a pillar of white-hot ghostfire. After that, it was Arbati’s turn to scream as the two of them fell off the dais, struggling and pummeling each other in the heart of the blaze.
James didn’t dare look to see where they landed. He didn’t even push himself off the floor. Everything he had was focused on casting one more Stone Grasp spell, keeping the image of Lilac crystal clear in his mind as he wove the magic faster than he ever had before.
One second later, a massive hand of gray stone erupted from the platform, knocking over the metal stand and catching the necromantic orb in its palm. Making a fist, James commanded the granite hand to close, crushing the delicate orb in its stone grip. An explosion of death magic followed, shooting shards of black crystal in all directions. One of them left a nasty gash on James’s shoulder, but he barely felt it. The rush of victory overwhelmed everything else, sending James straight up to his feet. But as he turned to shout the good news to Arbati, he saw his friend was down on the floor, his face pressed into the stone
underneath the lich’s tattered boot.
James froze, the shout dying on his lips. The warrior’s eyes were closed in agony, and his body was covered in smoldering patches of ghostfire. When James tried to get closer, the lich gave him a ghastly grin and pressed his boot down harder, grinding Arbati’s face into the floor.
“You’ve won nothing,” the undead elf growled, reaching up to shove the jaw Arbati’s punches had broken back into place. “My orb might be shattered, but your friend here is now the property of my king. You can’t save him, and you can’t beat me. You have nothing, player.”
Rather than answer, James turned and grabbed the Eclipsed Steel Staff off the ground where the lich had dropped it. When he came up again, the ancient elf was sneering at him.
“Surely you don’t think that’s going to work,” the lich said. “That staff is as much my king’s as your cat here. You can’t use it against—”
James flipped the staff in his hands and swung it as hard as he could, savoring the look of surprise on the lich’s face as the black steel knob landed in the side of his skull. The blow knocked the sorcerer off Arbati and onto the floor. He was trying to push himself back up when James marched over to kick his decrepit hands out from under him.
“This isn’t a game anymore, but that orb was still the source of your power,” he said, flashing the lich an evil grin. “Now that it’s gone, you’re a one-skull, buddy.”
“Ahh!” was all the ancient sorcerer got to say before James brought his staff down again. Without necromantic fortification, the lich’s millennia-old bones shattered easily. A few more hits, and even his ghostfire snuffed out, vanishing into the dark as James crushed what was left of his mummified husk into powder.
Panting, James stepped back from the pile of dust and robes that was all that remained of the very old, very dead celestial elf. When he was certain the white fire was gone and the lich wasn’t going to rise from his ashes, he dropped his magical-staff-turned-beat-stick and ran to Arbati.
