Forever Fantasy Online

by Rachel Aaron

  Another tear rolled down her cheek, and James clutched her hand. “What?”

  “Ten years ago, he said, ‘I will save you. I will save us all.’”

  James shivered. Lilac repeated the words with utter reverence, as if the Once King’s promise was sacred to her. “Do you know what he meant?”

  “I have no idea,” she said. “But they were the only words I ever heard him say in love. Everything else he spoke was madness and despair, but not that. They were also his last.”

  James straightened up in surprise. “What do you mean ‘his last’? I’m sure he’s still around.” Tina’s raiders had wiped on him for three nights straight just last week, but Lilac was shaking her head.

  “After those words, he never spoke to my undead self properly ever again. There were no more poems, no more orders. Just the same ravings over and over again. ‘Death to the living,’ ‘I will have my revenge,’ that sort of thing.”

  James nodded, thinking fast. The idea that there was a being out there who’d been in FFO while it was a game but hadn’t been enslaved to the Nightmare was huge. He wasn’t sure what it meant yet, but his instincts said that the exception was an incredible clue. He wished he could ask some of his more lore-savvy friends about it, like SilentBlayde. The Assassin had a ridiculously in-depth knowledge of FFO’s setting and history. He dimly remembered a rumor that some players had reported hearing a weird voice during the roll-out of the Deadlands expansion a year ago. Tina’s Roughnecks had been online twenty-four, seven that whole week, so maybe they’d heard something firsthand. He was scrambling to think of a way he could verify that when he realized Lilac was still crying.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling like a horrible brother. “What’s wrong? Do you hurt from the poison still?”

  “No,” she said, scrubbing angrily at her eyes. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I promise I’m not normally this weak, but lying here all day and night with the poison eating me while everyone else walked around free was…bitter. Now we’re talking about the Once King, and it makes me so upset. I can’t handle it.”

  “Why?” James asked, realizing belatedly that maybe that wasn’t the kindest response.

  “Because I’m so sad for him,” came the surprising answer. “I don’t know what was done to him, but I’m sure someone hurt him deeply long ago.” She looked down at her hands, almost as if she was ashamed. “I know he’s the enemy of every living thing, but I…I don’t think the Once King is actually a bad person. He recites poems to his minions to comfort them, like a father at his sick child’s bedside. I think that those words I heard ten years ago were his last. I don’t know what happened after that, but I think he chose to give us his hope at the end rather than his anger.” She wiped her eyes again. “I know it’s foolish, but I’m almost worried about him. Isn’t that stupid?”

  “I don’t think it’s stupid at all,” James said quietly, squeezing her hand. “Thank you for telling me, Lilac. I know this might be hard to believe, but my sister from my world, Tina, is a player, too. She’s been to the Deadlands, and she saw the Once King with her own eyes not even a week ago. I’m pretty sure she’s there now, just like I’m here, so I’m going to find her and tell her what you’ve told me.”

  He left off any promises of further action because he had no idea what to do beyond that, but that promise was enough to make Lilac nod.

  “Thank you, James,” she said, lying back in her cot. “I’m happy Father adopted you. You’re already a great brother.”

  James flushed, wishing his real sister felt the same way. Being reminded of Tina and being called a good brother was enough to make his throat close up. Lilac didn’t need his baggage, though, so he kept his worries to himself, rising to his feet instead. “Get well soon, sister,” he said, summoning up a gleaming smile for her. She gave him a fanged grin back before closing her eyes for sleep.

  The moment she wasn’t looking, James rushed out of the lodge, blowing past Gray Fang as he rushed into the village toward the gnolls’ encampment.

  ****

  The festival grounds were on the north side of the village. Looking at the large patch of barren soil, James felt that “ground” was about all this area could be called. The first thing James noticed when he entered was the improvised border complete with guard tent and checkpoint that the jubatus had set up between the gnolls and the town. On the other side, beyond the stern line of cat-warriors, lay what could only be termed Fort Thunder Paw.

  James slowed down, jaw falling open in amazement. The gnolls had only arrived last night, but they’d already created an impressive structure, circling their wagons to create a walled ring complete with elevated shooting positions and controlled access. Inside, a ring of barracks-tents surrounded a larger, more formal tent that housed Thunder Paw and his emissaries. Gnolls were everywhere, marching in groups of six or more as they patrolled the grassy area between Windy Lake and its new neighbor.

  “This is like the Korean border,” James muttered, holding up his hands as the jubatus guards came forward to search him. Once they saw the Claw Born insignia on his armor, though, he was waved through with only minimal growling.

  The guards on both sides eyed him warily as he walked across the no-man’s land between village and camp. Thankfully, once he got inside the ringwall of wagons, getting to see Thunder Paw was relatively easy. He was still challenged at three different checkpoints, but the gnolls snickered and yipped happily at him once he announced his name, motioning for him to go on through.

  Thunder Paw’s tent was a lavish three-room affair made from canvas and woven grass rugs. Inside, he found another grim gathering. Ar’Bati, Rend, and Thunder Paw were all sitting on small wooden benches, scowling down at a large hide with a map of the entire savanna painted across it. The map was covered in various bits of glass, wooden tokens, and colored rocks that Thunder Paw was moving around like game pieces. Everyone looked up when the guard announced him, and the expressions on their faces were enough to make his fur stand on end.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Ar’Bati, newly equipped in his own set of Claw Born-branded leather armor, turned back to the map with a dark look. “We have a problem. One of our scout patrols says that something called the Waterhole Bandits Event just started at one of the oases. I’ve never heard of it, and it wasn’t in the list of threats you gave us last night.”

  “That’s because it’s not supposed to be happening,” James replied in a worried voice. “The Waterhole Bandits are a one-off seasonal event that only happens on April First as part of the Spring Cleaning of the savanna series. The nightmare broke on April twenty-eighth, so those guys should be already be beaten and done for the year.”

  “Well, clearly no one told them that,” Fangs snapped. “They are pillaging and plundering their way across the entire northern savanna as we speak! It’s going to be too dangerous for us to travel to Bastion with things like this, so I’m taking a force of warriors to meet one of Red Canyon’s chiefs. We’re going to fight together to drive the bandits out once and for all.”

  Despite the grim looks, that announcement was enough to make James grin from ear to ear. They didn’t even have a treaty yet, but if they were already fighting together, then this was already going better than he’d hoped. It would have been nice if it hadn’t taken the threat of mutually assured destruction to ensure peace, of course, but James was ready to take what he could get at this point. That said, there was still one problem.

  “I’m not going to tell you not to go,” he said, “but I can’t come with you. I have to get these scrolls to Bastion as soon as possible. It’s only a matter of time before the lich’s spies realize he’s dead, and we have no idea how many of the Once King’s other commanders are still active. Red Canyon was only a tiny part of the ‘portal an undead army into Bastion’ plan. If the invasion goes down, and we fail to warn the king in time, Bastion’s defeat will be on our heads.”

  Fangs growled deep in his throat, clea
rly torn between his duty here in the savanna and the jubatus’ allegiance to the king. His tail was still lashing when Rend stood up and put a hand on James’s shoulder. Like his son, the old jubatus was almost a foot taller than James. He was broader as well, towering over him as the old warrior looked him in the eyes.

  “I know the honor we owe to the king,” he said. “But even if you run straight there, you boys will never get to Bastion. There are hundreds of bandits between you and the border, and they’re empowered by strange magics we don’t understand. Duty is well and good, but I won’t risk both my sons cutting through that alone. Is there any way the other players in Bastion already know about this invasion and can warn the king in your stead?”

  James was so touched by his new father’s concern for his safety, it took him a while to properly process the question. “Maybe,” he said at last. “But I don’t think there’s anyone out there who has the whole picture like I do. The Bastion spy quests are spread out over many levels, and other than a few mandatory ones, most players just skip them. Even if they did complete the line, most max-level players haven’t done those quests in years. The only reason I remembered them is because I was standing on top of the letters.”

  For emphasis, he took off his backpack and opened it to pull out a letter. He’d just meant to use the folded paper as a prop, but as he dug around inside the heavy cloth sack, his hand brushed a scroll that tingled with magic.

  James froze, mind going blank. “Oh my god, I’m an idiot,” he said, face splitting into a grin as he grabbed the scroll and thrust it triumphantly into the air. “We can use this!”

  Rend frowned. “What’s that?” His nose wrinkled. “Smells like necromancy.”

  “That’s only because it’s been inside a lich’s desk for eighty years,” James said quickly. “This is a portal scroll. The lich was going to use it to open a gateway for his army of undead to march into Bastion after he’d conquered Windy Lake, but there’s no reason we can’t use it to get there instead! I’ve got tons of other correspondence, so I don’t even need it for proof.” His grin widened. “We can turn the undead’s own plan against them! We can use this scroll to teleport into Bastion and warn the king about what’s coming! Forget walking through bandits. With this, we can be in the Room of Arrivals in five minutes!”

  Thunder Paw and Rend were still eyeing the scroll fearfully, but Ar’Bati had already risen to his feet.

  “Let’s go, then,” he said, grabbing a pack from the corner of the tent.

  The agreement happened so fast, James was caught off guard. “Are you sure?” he asked nervously. “Do we need to arrange anything or—”

  “What’s to arrange?” Fangs said with a shrug. “You said it was important.” He smiled at Rend. “Father will handle the bandits. He was going to be in charge of our warriors while I was gone, anyway.”

  “That’s right,” Rend said proudly, nodding to Thunder Paw. “We’ll crush these fools who think they can take the grasslands from us.” He stood up then stepped forward to grab Ar’Bati and James in a crushing hug. “You boys go. The Four Clans are the king’s oldest allies. We can’t let him down now! I’ll take care of everything while you’re away. This isn’t my first stampede.”

  “Thank you, Father,” Fangs said, lowering his head respectfully as Rend let them go. “I swear we will not disappoint you.”

  “And I promise to get us home safe,” James added. “I have plenty of gold in the bank at Bastion. It should be more than enough to buy us safe passage back to Windy Lake when this is over.”

  Rend waved as though sending his sons through a one-way portal to an enormous city that might soon be under siege were a trivial matter, but Thunder Paw caught James’s eye.

  “Be careful,” the old gnoll warned. “The undead are relentless. Even if you foil their plans, they will never stop. Me know this.”

  He touched the collar at his neck, and James nodded.

  “We’ll be careful,” he promised. “Thank you, Thunder Paw.”

  The gnoll nodded, turning back to the map with Rend at his side. Satisfied the savanna was in good hands, James let Ar’Bati pull him out of the tent, through the gnolls’ checkpoints, and to the edge of the festival grounds outside.

  Once he’d located a suitably flat stretch of grass, James unrolled the scroll and started reading. Spell scrolls had been a pretty common mechanic back when FFO was a game, and most only needed to be read aloud to activate. That said, James almost screwed this one up immediately, because the scroll was written in elven, not the Language of Wind and Grass. Pronouncing the unfamiliar words was a challenge, but the spell had its own momentum once started, and soon James was caught up in it like a leaf in a stream, reciting the strange words in a ringing voice.

  As he read them, the magical letters peeled off the page, forming huge glowing streams of blue mana exponentially larger than the ones he normally worked with. The ribbons of mana shot out into the land, seeking all the elements, even ones James couldn’t see, like fire and light. Once it had gathered all the magics, the spell scroll wound them together to form a spinning mosaic of power. It was incredibly beautiful, but James couldn’t appreciate it, because now that he’d reached the end of the spell, his guts were suddenly wrenched inside his body as the world twisted to form a blazing-white circle six feet in diameter shining like a tiny sun in front of them.

  “Cooooooool,” James said, lowering the now-blank scroll.

  Portals in game hadn’t been anything special. They were just spinning doorways, easy paths to other parts of the game world. Now, though, being near the portal was nothing short of incredible. The magic coming off the shining circle made his skin tingle, and he could actually smell the smoky city scent of Bastion wafting through from the other side. It was absolutely stunning, but as much as James wanted to study the spinning ring of interwoven magic in front of him, there was no time. As the glowing portal stabilized, the gleaming-white light inside the circle cleared to reveal a huge, empty stone room lined with pillars. The Room of Arrivals.

  “We gotta move,” he said, swinging his bag onto his shoulder and sliding his wrapped staff between the straps. “These things don’t last long!”

  “Then let us go,” Ar’Bati said, offering James his hand. “Brother.”

  James grabbed the offered paw with a grin and jumped through, pulling his brother through the magic and into the great city on the other side.

  ****

  Thirty minutes earlier, on the other side of the world, Tina was sleeping in.

  She woke to a dim gray glow, which was as bright as it got in the Deadlands. She rolled over on one of the barracks’ stonekin-sized cots, then lay still a moment longer, listening to the noise of the Order outside. Given how many times she’d logged out here, the hustle and bustle of the fort felt oddly nostalgic. As much as she was enjoying lazing in bed, though, today was the day they were supposed to go to Bastion, so after a brief few minutes, Tina hoisted herself up and went to check on her guild.

  After fourteen hours of fatigue-induced slumber, most of the other players were busy sorting themselves out as well. There were attempts at ordinary morning-routine stuff. People laughed at the new racial differences as the feline jubatus stretched their spines and the ichthyians discovered they had slept with their eyes open. NekoBaby and a few others with the his-her problem were pondering which gender’s bathroom they were supposed to use before discovering that the Order’s facilities made no such distinctions.

  Tina poked her head outside to discover that breakfast had already arrived for them in the form of multiple baskets. When she brought them inside and opened them up, the smell of fresh baked bread roused everyone who wasn’t already awake. Tina looked forlornly at the delicious golden loaves while she and GneissGuy crunched their rocks. Idly, she wondered if there were stonekin chefs out there somewhere who could make them different flavors of magical rock to eat.

  She was still steadily crunching away when Tina felt a twisting in th
e air. Everyone stopped eating as their stomachs flip-flopped, looking around in confusion. Breakfast had just resumed when Commander Garrond, looking as disapproving as ever and still wearing his armor from yesterday, barged into the barracks.

  “Morning, Commander,” Tina said respectfully, angling to keep her good footing from yesterday. “All quiet on the western front?”

  She was trying for friendly, but the prickly paladin was all scowls, glaring at the raid from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “The portal to Bastion is up,” he snapped. “Finish your food and get out.”

  Tina sighed. So much for getting along. “We’ll be out in fifteen,” she assured him, rising from her reinforced stool. “Thanks for keeping your end of the bargain.”

  The commander nodded brusquely and left, his aides trailing after him in a flurry. When he was gone, Tina turned to her raiders. “You heard the man! Stuff your bellies then your armor, ’cause we’re leaving for Bastion in fifteen minutes!”

  There were no cheers this time. Just the gulps, coughs, and slurps of rapid eating. When she was satisfied they were hustling properly, Tina returned to her bunk to put her boots back on. Nothing could get her out of her armor, but even she hadn’t been willing to sleep with shoes on.

  She grabbed the huge metal boots from under her bed, grimacing in disgust at how much of her silvery blood still coated the insides. From the clammy way her breastplate kept sticking to her skin, she suspected the rest of her suit wasn’t much better. She really should have cleaned it last night, but eating and sleeping had taken priority.

  She was regretting that decision now. Roxxy’s main profession was Blacksmith, and just like her Knight skills, the smith’s knowledge was waiting in her brain when she reached for it, informing her of just how impossible it was to get blood out of armor padding once it had a chance to set. Between that and all the dents she’d collected during Grel’s beating, her gear was in serious need of maintenance. Hopefully, she could find somewhere to do that in Bastion. For now, though, there was nothing for it but to swallow her disgust and shove her bare stone feet back into her clammy, metallic-smelling footwear. She was pulling the leather straps tight when SilentBlayde walked over.