by Terry Schott
“Two months ago. A promising, very gifted girl. She woke up one morning and”—he snapped his fingers—“her gift was gone. Took a few days to understand what had happened, but we eventually realized that it was because she was a Traveller.”
“I see.”
“Before that, I hadn’t seen one of your kind since I was young and became a full-fledged druid.”
Aleron frowned. “That would have been a long time ago.”
“One hundred forty-seven years ago.”
The hair at the back of Aleron’s neck tingled. “That’s not possible.”
Keaedan arched an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”
Aleron sucked his teeth, closed his mouth, and shook his head.
“Finished with the truth already, Deceiver?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Then stop acting as if you deserve the label.”
“Fine.” Aleron heard the anger in his voice and took a moment to regain his composure. “Travellers are something new. We’ve only been coming to your world for a few months.” He shook his head. “I don’t know who you met forty-seven years ago, but there’s no way it was one of my people.”
Keaedan puffed on his pipe. “Earth did not exist that long ago?”
“Of course it did.”
“Then how can you be so certain one of your kind did not visit us back then?”
Aleron sighed. “We travel here using these machines—devices—called computers.”
“They are magical?”
“Yeah.”
“They send your spirit here.”
“That’s right.”
“And what about Aleron’s spirit?”
He frowned. “Who?”
Master Keaedan leaned forward and tapped him on the chest. “Aleron. The boy you inhabit.”
Aleron looked at the ground and smoothed the dirt with a small stick. “All I hear is my name when you speak. It’s part of the…magic. Write the boy’s name in the dirt. Maybe that will work.”
Keaedan grabbed the stick and wrote. Aleron smiled. “So the name of the boy who’s body I am in is called Reylar.”
“That’s what I said, Aleron. Where is his essence?”
I have no clue, but I’m not about to admit that. He spoke confidently and without missing a beat. “He’s fine.”
“Where is he?”
“On my world.”
Keaedan squinted. “That sounds terrible.”
“Have you been to Earth?”
“No.”
“Reylar is an honoured guest while I am here. When I return to my body, he will come back to this one. For him it will feel as if he never left.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Aleron smiled. “I am telling you the truth.”
Master Keaedan frowned.
“I want to speak more of computers, the magical devices which send us here.”
“All right.”
“Forty-seven years ago, computers did not exist on my world.”
“Then what magic did you use to travel here at that time?”
Aleron shook his head. “There was no way, which is why you must be mistaken about the person you met.”
Keaedan took the pipe from his mouth and inspected the bowl. It had stopped smoking. “He told me he was from Earth.”
“Who did?”
“The Deceiver, all those years ago.” The old man looked as if he was suddenly in pain. His eyes became glassy.
“Why do you call him—us—Deceivers?”
Keaedan did not answer. He was staring off into the distance, his expression blank.
“Master?”
The man’s lip began to tremble.
Aleron knelt beside him and grabbed his arm. “Master Keaedan?”
“Huh?” He focused on Aleron. “What is it?”
“I asked why you called him a Deceiver, why you called me one?”
He gathered his robes and lay down, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. “That is enough talk for tonight. I must think on what you’ve said.”
“Okay.” Aleron decided to let the matter drop.
“We will set out early,” Master Keaedan said.
“Good.” Aleron turned his back to the fire. A few minutes passed. “Master?”
“Yes.”
“I’m telling the truth. There’s no possible way my people could have visited when you were young.”
There was a pause.
“I can tell that you believe that, Aleron, but I know what I experienced. I spent much time with a man who said that he came from a faraway dimension called Earth. I could never forget that name. You might not know how they did it, but this is not the first time your people have come to our world.”
31
It is inevitable that players will use slang and phrases not common in the virtual world of Preu Treya. When this happens, NPC’s will either hear a phrase that they are familiar with which matches the sentiment, or they will not hear the words at all. Other players will hear what is said, as will viewers when that function is eventually activated in the gaming experience.
Excerpt from the Blades VR Player’s Handbook - Slang Language and Phrases
Shale emerged from the tent, barely aware of her surroundings. Sounds seemed dull, her vision faded at the edges. Something touched her arm and jerked her back to reality.
“You okay?” Lelthaes gripped her arm, a grin on his face.
“Yeah.”
Laughter. “Felt strange, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You okay now, though?”
She recognized concern in his expression and smiled. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Good.” He released her arm and jutted his chin toward the lake to their right. “Eroan was up to her waist in the water before she snapped out of it.”
Shale laughed. “I’m surprised you didn’t let me try and break her record.”
“I’m sure you could have made it up to your shoulders.” He smirked. “But I would have had to go in and fetch you. The idea of you getting soaked is funny, but I don’t need a second bath.”
She pushed on his shoulder and he laughed. “You had lunch?”
Lelthaes shook his head. “Waited for you. Let’s go.”
They went to the cook pots, each got a plate of food, then found a table to sit at.
Lelthaes took a bite and then started asking questions. “Quite the experience, huh?”
“It was.”
“They say the stories told after never come close to describing the actual experience.”
“They were right. Scouts are a cool new addition.”
“Addition to what?”
Shale laughed and shook her head. Wow, it’s so easy to forget that I’m playing a game. These computer-generated characters act so real. “Pay no attention to me. I’m still shaky and confused from my visit with the Scout.”
“She’s my aunt.”
“I didn’t know that.”
His eyes flicked to the Scout’s tent and then back. “My dad’s sister. I learned about her when I was younger, but you know.” His gaze returned to Shale. “Once they become a Scout, they leave their old lives behind.”
“Yeah.” Shale pretended to know, but she didn’t. Since learning about the Scout class, she’d done her best to discover more details but it was difficult. Asking questions drew strange looks.
“You know”—Lelthaes scrapped the last bit of food from his plate—“I’m tempted to ask if she revealed anything special to you.”
Shale frowned. “Aren’t there rules against that?”
“Not rules, specifically. More like superstitions.”
“Hmm.”
Lelthaes frowned and pushed his plate to the side. “Never mind, forget I asked.”
“No big deal. She didn’t tell me anything exciting.”
He tilted his head and squinted, gauging her expression before smiling. “Me neither.”
Shale could tell that he was lying an
d wondered if he knew that she was as well. “Any clue when we’re leaving?”
“Two days. I heard Jielir talking with a ranger.”
“From the group that was here when we arrived?”
Lelthaes nodded. “Our wet nurses.”
Shale laughed. “I’m glad they aren’t sending us out on our first raid without seasoned help.”
“I suppose.” Lelthaes looked past her. “Speak of the demon.”
Jielir sat down beside her. Shale laughed. “What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“How did it go for the two of you?”
“You tell us.” Lelthaes leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “The Scout gives you reports on everything she covers, right?”
“Highlights.”
They waited for him to say more but he didn’t.
Lelthaes laughed. “Ha ha, very funny.”
Shale chuckled. “Really?”
Jielir yawned. “Are you surprised? It’s possible there was nothing particularly special about either of you.”
“For myself, it’s likely.” Lelthaes nodded toward Shale. “But there is bound to be a couple of extraordinary things about this one.”
“Always so modest.”
“Relax,” Jielir said. “The Scout gave me warnings about each of you.”
“Warnings?” Shale frowned.
“Things to keep an eye out for.”
Lelthaes arched an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound good. Let’s hear all the gory details. I’m willing to let Shale hear mine if she doesn’t mind sharing hers.”
“Fine by me.” Shale shrugged but Jielir shook his head.
“When you need to know, I’ll share. Not today, though.”
Lelthaes groaned. “No fair.”
“It’s for the best. You’re at a delicate stage in your training. Too much praise will give you a false sense of confidence. That could lead to costly mistakes in real life.”
Shale laughed.
“Something funny?”
Real life. “No.”
“So what does our first raid involve?” Lelthaes asked. “It must be something big to include cadets and a full company of rangers, right?”
Jielir shook his head. “You know we don’t talk about missions ahead of time.”
“Real missions. I assumed you would give us an easy training assignment to start.”
“We did, but that doesn’t change protocol. No info until it’s time.”
Lelthaes grinned. “At least I tricked you into admitting it was a simple mission.”
The instructor shook his head. “Rangers refer to every job as simple.” He grinned. “And they are.”
“Even when they aren’t?”
“Especially then.” Jielir stood and reached across the table to pat Lelthaes on the shoulder. “Have more faith in your skill, boy. Believing in success is key. If you can’t master that, we’ll leave you behind. Enjoy the rest of the day. We head tomorrow out at first light.”
32
The bell rang again as Ezref entered the study. Sebastian sighed and closed the book in his hand. “I’m guessing from the sour expression on your face that whoever is ringing the bell isn’t someone we want to see.”
Ezref shook his head. “It’s the adventurer wizard from a few days ago.”
Sebastian scowled. “He’s back?”
Ezref’s lips pursed as he nodded.
Sebastian swore and stood. “Why?”
“No clue.”
“Guess.”
“Maybe he’s passing through on his way home and wants to thank us for helping him.”
“Is it too much to ask for him to have died during his little adventure?”
Ezref raised an eyebrow. “Apparently.”
Sebastian dropped back into the chair and knelt forward, rubbing his face.
“You look tired.”
“Trivial little crap like this makes me want to scream.”
The apprentice said nothing.
“I mean, things are going smoothly. We’ve got a good gig here.”
“Gig?”
Sebastian scowled. “Why can’t people leave us alone?”
“They do. Mostly.”
“It’s the ‘mostly’ part that is causing the issues.”
“I won’t deny that.”
Sebastian waited for Ezref to say more, but he didn’t. “Well? How do we get rid of him?
His question was met with silence.
“Can you meet him at the door like you did last time?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t sound happy about doing that.”
“He will want to meet you. We got lucky last time, but I can’t use the same excuse.”
“Which is why the little bastard returned, isn’t it?”
Ezref grimaced. “Most likely.”
Sebastian bit his lower lip and gazed up at the ceiling. “Then I will bite the bullet and invite him in.”
“No!”
“Meet him at the front door, then?”
Ezref shook his head.
“For god’s sakes, why not?”
“He will know instantly that you are an imposter.”
“From my aura?”
“Your lack of an aura, yes. As I’ve explained to you more than once, magical residue from the spells we work saturates a crafter’s aura over the years. It cannot be rushed nor counterfeited. He would look at you and know instantly that you are new to the craft, and most definitely not a master.”
Again he sighed. “And since I’ve lost my powers, I can’t even flick the little bugger out of existence.” Ezref opened his mouth to speak but Sebastian raised a hand. “I know, even when I could, you warned me against it. At least I’m trying to come up with solutions here. You never shut up and suddenly it’s like you’ve lost your tongue.”
“There is only one solution.”
“Ah, good. You have an idea.” He could tell by the look on the apprentice’s face that he wasn’t going to like it. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”
“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking, but if you can come up with a better alternative, I’d rather do that.”
“Understood. What have you got in mind?”
***
Olin stood taller as the door opened, adopting a flat stare which he’d learned over the years for when he wanted to convey a sense of authority and purpose.
The apprentice—Ezref was the name Olin remembered—barely opened the door, but a smile was on his face as he peeked out. “Oh, it’s you. Olin, right? Hello again.”
Olin nodded.
“How was your adventure? Successful, I should hope.”
“It was.”
“Glad to hear it.” The apprentice’s grin widened.
Olin waited, silently counting to ten before shaking his head. “It is customary to invite a fellow crafter inside, you know.”
“I’m aware of that custom.” The door did not move.
“You’re insulting me.”
“I’m sorry that you feel that way, but it is not my intent.”
Olin’s stare remained flat as he stroked his goatee.
“Regrettably, the master is not available.”
“Why not?” Olin snapped. “What is he up to that demands repeated rudeness and spitting in the face of tradition?”
“He is performing various and complicated component extractions to replenish his inventory.”
“Which components?” Olin crossed his arms and stared as if he were scolding an apprentice.
Ezref opened his mouth to speak, then paused, frowning. “You’re not the most polite fellow, are you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
Ezref’s demeanour changed. The smiling servant disappeared, replaced by someone possessing authority. “I don’t believe you have the manners to realize that you should be begging my pardon.” He snorted. “I’m sure it must be very nice to live the life of an adventurer, but running a tower of this magnitude is
very taxing.”
“I’m certain tha—”
“Certain?” It was clear from his expression that the apprentice was disgusted. “This tower rests over a major ley line.”
“I know that.”
“Hsst.” Ezref made a chopping motion. “Don’t pretend for a second to fully understand what that means or the amount of work it entails. There are threats—constant threats—to this area from many dimensions. The master works hard. I can’t remember the last time he had even a day of relaxation, let alone weeks with nothing to do but stroll around the forest searching for goblins or other minor annoyances.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Living a week in your place would be akin to a vacation for my Master, which he has not had in over a decade.”
Ezref pursed his lips and his cheeks flushed. He opened his mouth to say more, but paused and took a deep breath. A grim smile returned to his face. “I’m sorry, I mean no disrespect. Your work is important to the cause as well. It is tiring to have travellers passing through, knocking on our door at unscheduled times and demanding visits for tea as if our purpose here is to entertain and gossip instead of keep the world safe from destruction.”
Olin pursed his lips and nodded. “I apologize.” He placed one hand on his chest. “Of course your days are busy and you’re right that I have no idea how a tower such as this is run. I am ashamed to admit that I was not thinking of things from your point of view.”
“Pounding on the door, now on several occasions, demanding to know not only where the Master is, but what it is that he is doing.” Ezref shook his head. After a moment his expression softened. “It’s fine. The Master told me to expect this sort of behaviour from you.” He smiled. “Ezref, young crafters travel abroad for a reason.”
“He said this before you came to the door? I thought he was indisposed.”
Ezref’s smile melted. “Wow.” He shook his head. “You are an annoying little plint, aren’t you?” Olin tried to speak but the apprentice cut him off. “Of course he didn’t say it now. I told you he is unavailable. Aren’t you listening to a word I’m telling you?”
“Yes, but I thought—”
“You thought to catch me in a lie. You fancy yourself a clever man, but prove the opposite. Ever think we might have spoken about you after the last visit? Or that maybe the Master tries to calm me down when he learns about the abuse I have to endure at the hands of demanding journeymen crafters knocking at the door while he is busy?”
