Scout (Blades VR Book 1)

by Terry Schott

  Jielir waited for another couple seconds, then launched an arrow. It sailed through the air and struck Lelthaes directly between the shoulder blades. him to the ground. The force of the impact knocked the young elf to the ground. The arrow bounced off the protective shield and ricocheted high into the air, landing point first in the grass a few dozen feet away. Jielir laughed and quickly fired the remaining two arrows. A second later they stuck into the ground, one on either side of Lelthaes’s prone form.

  The group broke into laughter and Jielir turned to face them, a smile on his face. “Once I teach you how to cast Birch coat, we will spend a while shooting arrows at moving targets.” He raised one eyebrow. “Targets that move and shoot back.”

  21

  And so it came to pass that the Lady of Darkness and the Lord of Light met on a grey battlefield in the heavens, both vowing to fight until the other was dead.

  The ground shook and the skies blazed. Time swirled about them to form the arena walls for their contest. Followers of both stood motionless, eyes raised on high.

  The Lady was ferocious, wielding her great sword of onyx, each stroke an attempt to cleave the Lord of Light in two and claim the universe as her own. The Lord, armed with his two-handed crystal war hammer, fought with the same determination and skill.

  After many days, a tremendous booming sound filled the air. Weary followers looked up in time to see the arena walls disappear at the same moment as the final blow was struck. The hammer of light made contact with the Lady’s side. The onyx great sword split the Lord from collarbone to pelvis. Cries of dismay filled the air. The weapons of both Light and Dark exploded like fireworks, showering the sky in blackness and light as the two limp forms plummeted toward the land.

  Varnkyl, High Seer of Light, accompanied by a group of knights, recovered the dying body of their Lord. Elsylis, the Dark Prophet, likewise found her god and secreted the Lady to a place of safety.

  The shards of the broken weapons spread, settling across the lands and imbuing their essence into the blood of mortals that they touched. Most were unaffected. A rare few gained wondrous powers and abilities which passed from parent to first born child. Most of the powers faded from generation to generation, but some of the abilities gained in strength. Known as Shards, the scions who retain these gifts roam the land.

  It is believed that one day, one Shard of Light and one of Dark will facilitate the return of both gods to their rightful places where they will rule and battle again. Until that time, the war of good and evil rages across the land between the followers of the two factions.

  Excerpt from The Teaching

  “Rise, sister.”

  Mercy lifted her head and stood, her right hand resting on the hilt of her sword, the familiar vibration travelling through the pad of her palm and shooting to the tip of her elbow. She touched her tongue to her bottom lip and waited for her superior, the Shard, to speak.

  “Tell me.” The Shard’s voice was a smooth baritone, rich and dark as the black tendrils of wispy energy that exuded from his body and hung about him like a halo of smoke.

  Mercy shrugged. “I came upon him near the rat nest. It appears that the creatures got the better of him.”

  The man sniffed. “Pathetic.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “If he had been prepared adequately.”

  “You think he was not?”

  Mercy pursed her lips and stared. One corner of the Shard’s lip curled for a moment. “Continue.”

  “There were only headless corpses. The poison must have been what killed him.”

  “Yet he did not die.”

  She shook her head. “He was cocooned.”

  “You’re certain?” He waited for her to reply, laughing when she did not. “What colour was the shell?”

  “Burnt orange.”

  Thumb and forefinger stroked the length of his moustache as he considered her words.

  “I dissolved it and healed the boy. Then I replenished his pack with food and water, placed a protective ward around him, and left before he woke up.”

  The Shard closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “It would have been more convenient if he had died as planned.”

  “I did not know he was a Shard.” She saw her master’s jaw clench and the pause of his breathing and knew the truth. He didn’t know either. “Does this change things?”

  He opened his eyes and sighed, then waved his hand. “I suppose for now it does.”

  “I will retrieve him.” Mercy stood.

  “No.”

  “But the purpose of the plague rat quest is for the initiate to die.”

  “I know what the purpose of the quest is. Resuscitation opens a path to the dark magic and begins their true initiation as a Death Stryker.”

  “That won’t happen for this one.”

  “No.” The Shard smiled. “He will kill the correct number of rats and return with their heads.”

  “Which will bring shame upon him.”

  “From the priests, but not the Strykers.”

  Mercy smiled. “Accomplishing what no one else has will set him apart from the rest.”

  “Make him a target.”

  “Your plans have changed for this boy?”

  “They must, now that we know he is a Shard.”

  Mercy frowned. “The rats will poison him again.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “He will need to be watched.”

  The Shard nodded. “You will be his shadow until he returns.”

  Mercy forced her expression to remain blank, but the Shard raised one eyebrow. “You feel such a task beneath you?”

  “No.” She bowed. “I shall be his shadow, as you command.”

  22

  Xander opened his eyes. Green pine branches were woven together to form a roof a few feet above his prone body. He turned to the right, both swords were sheathed and leaning against his backpack.

  Someone saved me.

  Long moments passed as he lay still, listening to the sounds around him. Convinced that he was alone, he sat up and crawled through the doorway, squinting in the bright daylight. He stood. “Hello. Is anyone here?”

  Unseen insects and the breeze blowing through the trees were the only replies.

  Xander ducked back inside and dragged his equipment out, beginning to strap his swords into place. While he adjusted the harnesses, he turned to confirm his seclusion. In the distance, he spied the decomposing animal corpse where he had encountered the corpse rats.

  “At least I wasn’t dragged far.” He shook his head. “I’m still lost though.”

  He opened the bag. Five rat heads peered back at him. “I only killed three.” He grunted and closed the bag. “Guess whoever saved me helped with my quest as well. But I can’t go back until I kill twelve.” The thought of hunting more of the disease-giving rats made his throat tighten and his knees weak.

  He frowned, and then laughed. When he’d started playing the PC version of the game, Xander had scoffed as his low-level character struggled to kill small rodents and insects. He could still remember telling his friends how unrealistic the game was. “Killing rats and tiny spiders would be no problem.”

  But here he stood, a low-level character in the virtual reality of that very same world. He sighed. “Guess rats and bugs can be challenging after all.”

  Remembering his wounds, he poked the skin beneath the tear in his shirt. There was no pain. The skin appeared pink, healthy.

  He set the bag on the ground and it made a tinkling sound. Xander opened the sack, tipping it so that the rat heads moved to one side. Beneath the bloody heads were five vials filled with a thin liquid shimmering with sparkling flecks of green and red.

  He smiled, knowing from the PC game what he possessed. “Healing pots.” The potion would cure most diseases, close cuts and punctures, as well as restore health. He slung the pack over his shoulder and took a deep breath, suddenly feeling much more optimistic about his chances against more r
ats.

  ***

  Xander felt the pain in his lower back. He threw himself backward, gritting his teeth as he hit the ground and felt the corpse rat squish beneath him. He ground his body back and forth for good measure, then sprang to his feet, blades at the ready in front of him, scanning for signs of another attack.

  There was none. The rats were all dead.

  He paused to catch his breath and rest his sore muscles, marvelling at the realism of his surroundings. Fatigue, pain, even needing air, were all tremendous touches that gave this program such realism. Despite being lost and poorly skilled so far, Xander was thankful that he’d been offered the opportunity to beta test this game.

  Finally, he thought. Someone has created true virtual reality.

  The small stings all over his skin began to burn and his vision became blurry. He staggered to his backpack, dropped one blade, and retrieved a healing pot. With a thumb, he broke the wax seal and raised the glass tube to his lips, tipping his head back so that the liquid rushed down his throat and spread throughout his body in a wave that felt like both ice and fire sweeping over him at the same time.

  The dizziness faded and the burning lessened. He tucked the empty vial back into the pack and placed it on the ground, retrieving his blade and wiping it on the grass before sliding it home again. He grinned. He’d practised the motion constantly during the three days while he searched for more rats, and felt he was getting pretty good at it.

  When he had regained his breath and felt none of the poisonous effects from his wounds, he bent down, pulled the knife from the makeshift sheath in his boot, and began moving from rat to rat, cutting the head from each and tossing it toward the sack. He threw the last head and sank to the ground, cross-legged, and smiled despite his weariness.

  “That’s twelve. Quest complete.” Xander rested a few minutes, then stood and walked to the pack, dropping the heads into the bag and removing the single vial of healing potion that remained. He held it up to the light and wondered again if it had always been there or if his saviour had left them to help.

  And then, as always, the other more serious thought followed: was using them against the rules of his quest?

  Xander considered destroying the final potion. “If I bring this back and it’s considered cheating…” He shook his head and dropped it back into the bag. “I’ll wait ‘till I get closer to the keep. Maybe I’ll need it before I get home.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Now which way is home?”

  ***

  Mercy had returned from the keep and found Xander two days before he killed his final rat. At first, she was careful to keep a large distance between them, but it soon became apparent that the boy had very little awareness of his surroundings. It was also painfully clear that he couldn’t track. With growing disgust, she watched him pass corpse rat nests, oblivious to their proximity.

  Finally, she had intervened, dropping obvious clues to lead him in the proper direction.

  Now, watching him kill the final rats, she shook her head. “So clumsy. I can’t believe he’s a Shard, and a powerful one.”

  When Xander picked up his bag and looked around, she saw the expression on his face and put a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh.

  “He’s more lost than ever. The kid has no clue how to get back to the keep.”

  He began to walk and she snorted. “Lady take me now. He’s going in the exact opposite direction.” She picked her pack from the ground and slung it over her shoulder, her pace slow as she began to follow. “Here’s hoping he figures it out soon. I have better things to do than babysit an initiate.”

  23

  Isaac set the laser pointer down on the table and crossed his arms. “And that’s where we stand at the moment. Thank you for your attention, everyone.”

  The quiet room now filled with the muted sounds of notebooks closing, papers being shuffled and tucked away, pens clicking. People stood and began making their way toward the exit.

  Isaac turned the projector off and closed the lid of his lap top. “Kara, can you stay behind for a minute?”

  The woman looked back, pursing her lips and nodding. “Of course.”

  When they were alone, Isaac sat and motioned at the seat across from him. She joined him and folded her hands on the table.

  “Any luck?” he asked.

  “With what?”

  His mouth tightened at the edges. “Finding Sebastian.”

  “Oh.”

  “Who did you think I was talking about?”

  “I wasn’t sure, that’s why I asked.”

  He frowned. “Did I ask you to locate anyone else?”

  She shook her head.

  “Wait a minute, you’re trying to locate Xander Vallenhall.” Kara’s shoulders tensed and her eyes flicked away from his. Isaac laughed. “I told you to forget about him.”

  “But—”

  “He’s fine.”

  Her eyes narrowed and he laughed again. “I promise you. He’s safe and sound. Now tell me what you’ve been able to learn about my old friend, Seb.”

  She spread her hands.

  “Nothing?”

  “It’s like he never entered the game.”

  “Oh, he went in. There’s no doubt on that end of things.” Isaac reached for the pencil on the table and tapped it on the surface. “I can’t believe he’s staying so invisible.”

  Kara snorted. “Not sure why you’re surprised. He designed the entire game, right? Programmers always hide stuff in the code that only they know about.”

  Isaac shook his head. “There’s no way he could have done that.”

  She laughed. “Pretty cocky to think that.”

  “No.”

  She waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she shrugged. “We will keep looking.”

  “The best way to find him is through other players.”

  “We have his characteristics programmed into the system. If an avatar matching his profile gets close to a player, there’s a good chance that we will be alerted. It might be the best way to find him.” She spread her hands. “But the odds are still very small.”

  Isaac sighed. “Sebastian is the only one who can do the core programming. We have to find him and get him back here.”

  “There are a couple others I would like to bring in to help find him. Ted over in—”

  “No.” Isaac stood. “The more that know about this, the worse it could be.”

  “There are rumours that being inside the game and losing connection causes the player to go into a coma.”

  Isaac shook his head.

  “Social media sites are picking up on it.”

  “It’s ridiculous.”

  “They say—”

  “I know what they say, but it’s not the case. If the system crashes, people wake up. There are no health concerns.”

  Kara frowned. “Then we should tell people that.”

  “We will, but not yet. Let the rumours build.”

  “It’s good press, I guess.”

  He nodded.

  “Anything else?”

  “That’s it.” He set the pencil on the table. “Find Sebastian.”

  “It might be impossible.”

  “I don’t recognize that word.” She groaned as he laughed and stood. “You’re one of my best, Kara. Keep trying.”

  24

  Aleron was painfully aware of the stares as he shuffled into the village.

  Women, men, even small children stopped to look at him. His first few attempts at eye contact told the tale. The elves would quickly look away, pretending to be interested in anything but him. He sighed and let his gaze return to the ground in front of him, watching the hem of Master Keaedan’s dark green robes as they swept across the grass and dirt.

  The repository of NPC memories that resided in his brain clearly told him what the issue was. To be accepted to, and then found not suitable for a chosen role involving magic was embarrassing and shameful to both the candidate and their fa
mily. Aleron’s entire ancestral line would bear this blemish against their bloodline for a very long time.

  Initially, Aleron had been disappointed from a gamer’s point of view. Being allowed into the beta version of Blades VR was thrilling for many reasons, but the ability to cast magic was by far his greatest desire.

  “He’s unable to cast the simplest of spells.” A woman’s voice spoke from his right. He felt his cheeks and the tips of his ears grow warm and he fought the temptation to look up and glare at whoever had said it. Now that he was inside the game, he felt more than disappointment. Deep down, the family here was his. He was experiencing the shame as if he was the elven lad.

  Because I am.

  “Only part of the shame belongs to the boy.” This voice was deeper, barely more than a whisper. “The druids are responsible for accepting dirty blood during the selection process.”

  The swing of Master Keaedan’s robe broadened and Aleron quickened his pace to keep up. The conversation faded as they moved out of range.

  The druid halted and Aleron looked up. They stood in front of the village house that belonged to his family. The Master’s eyes were as bright as his smile. Since hearing of Aleron’s experience with the trumpeting sound, the old druid looked far from disappointed in the boy’s inability to wield druid magic. Aleron could not understand why but kept silent. His memories held no information regarding Scouts, and he feared asking about them.

  “Gather supplies for our journey and visit with your family. We will set out tomorrow morning.” Aleron nodded and Keaedan laughed. “Don’t be so grim, boy. I know that you’ve always wanted to spend your life travelling. You will get that wish more now than you ever would have as a druid.

  “Yes, Master.” He looked at the ground once more, knowing the tone of his voice conveyed his worry and doubt.

  Keaedan patted him on the shoulder and moved on.

  Aleron looked at the front door, took a deep breath, then entered the house.

  He stood in the entry, boots and leather shoes lined up against one wall, cloaks and jackets hung from a rod. He removed his cloak and placed it on a hanger, then turned toward the hallway on his left as a woman appeared from a doorway further down.