The alien’s facial features were instantly recognizable to me, courtesy of a lifetime spent reading science fiction novels and playing RPGs. With flaring nostrils, two upwards protruding tusks from its lower jaw, and deep-set sunken eyes, the face in the object was a spitting image of an… orc.
An orc? Really?
The aliens who had caused strange artefacts to appear all over Earth were orcs? I shook my head in disbelief.
Seeing my reaction, Mum asked, “What is it?”
Before I could answer her though, the orc began speaking, his voice a low rumble that hinted at leashed power. “People of Earth, I am Warlord Duskar Silverbane, chieftain of the Fangtooth tribe and supreme ruler of the Orcish Federation.” He paused dramatically. “And now Earth. By the laws of Overworld and the Trials that govern it, I claim your planet and you, the humans that infest it, as mine.”
Duskar smiled. It was not a pleasant sight, and seemed to be filled with a promise of suffering to come. “You doubt my words. I can smell your rebellious thoughts even from here. But you will learn. Serve or die, those are the only choices before you. Yours is not the first world I have laid claim to, nor will it be the last.”
He chuckled, the sound reverberating ominously from the artefact. “By the dictates of the Trials, there are a few facts I am obliged to convey. Listen closely. I will not repeat myself.
“Your world is being subsumed into Overworld. In two weeks the process will be complete. Thereafter, your planet shall cease to exist. It will be gone from the universe, its energy, matter”—Duskar bared his filed teeth in another ugly smile—“and all its plentiful creatures, will be absorbed into Overworld as grist to fuel the Trials.
“If you don’t wish to be consumed along with your world, you will enter the gates before then.” Duskar’s clawed hand appeared and gestured lazily at the borders of the artefact rimming his image. “The gates will open tomorrow, and they will stay open for exactly two weeks. My men will await your arrival and take your oaths. Only those who pledge loyalty to me will be allowed into Overworld. Those who resist will be put to the sword. And in case you think deceit will save you, the Trials take pledges made in its name very seriously.” He sneered. “You will not enjoy the consequences of severing such oaths, believe me. Goodnight, humans.”
Duskar’s face vanished, and the newsfeed cut back to the anchor, whose mouth worked soundlessly, not knowing quite what to say. “Well there you have it—”
I switched off the television and swung round to face Mum. “What do we do, Jamie?” she asked, her face pale.
“I don’t know, Ma,” I said staring out the window at the distant gate. “I just don’t know.”
Chapter 2
03 May
We shall rule Overworld. If not today, then tomorrow. This, I promise you. —Duskar Silverbane.
As it turned out, Duskar was not the only alien the world got to see that night. Following closely on the heels of his speech another—more palatable one—was given from the gates of shimmering green.
“People of Earth, most of you have no doubt already heard the words of the tyrant, Duskar,” said the woman on the screen.
Mum and I were glued to the television again. Like Duskar before her, the woman’s skin was tinged green. Yet her other features couldn’t have been more different. Her ears peaked to a point, her face was thin and sharp, and her eyes were wide and round.
Unsurprisingly, given the woman’s looks, she identified herself as an elf. As the elven queen: Ionia, ‘leader of the free elven people of Overworld,’ to be exact.
“While Duskar spoke true,” Ionia said, her lips thinned and green eyes sparkling with fury, “the wretch has not given you all the truth. Your world is being forcibly consumed at the behest of Duskar. The tyrant has initiated the process without your consent. A most heinous crime, but regrettably one that cannot be reversed.”
The elven queen bowed her head and her flowing green locks shielded her gaze, but not before revealing eyes heavy with sorrow.
I frowned. The gesture seemed deliberate, and a tad too artful to be natural. Just how practiced was Ionia’s speech?
A moment later, the elven queen lifted her head and continued, “It is the practice of the Elven Protectorate to only voluntarily subsume new worlds. However, now that Duskar has begun the process, it cannot be stopped. The best I can offer you is the opportunity to join our cause and escape a lifetime of slavery under the orcs.
“Many of you must be wondering about Overworld. I will tell you what I can.” Ionia paused, seemingly to gather her thoughts. “Overworld is an ever-shifting land created by the long-vanished Elders in a dimension removed from your own. Just as you are being assimilated now, many millennia ago the orcish and elven people were also brought to this world.
“Even after centuries, we can only guess at the Trials’ ultimate purpose, but one thing is certain: the Trials have fashioned Overworld into a test, one whose objective is to evolve its inhabitants into stronger images of themselves. Why, however, remains a mystery.
“Know that if you enter the Trials, you will be journeying into a world of conflict, a world where you will be constantly challenged. Overworld is a harsh land. Survival there will be difficult if not impossible on your own. Know, too, that if you choose to accept our aid, my people and I will be there to help you every step of the way.” Ionia’s lips widened into a benevolent smile, entreating us with both her beauty and words.
Again, there seemed to be something off about the elven queen’s mannerisms. She is trying too hard, I thought. My suspicions hardened.
More and more, I was certain Ionia’s speech was staged to appeal to a trapped and confused populous. To my cynical eye, at least. So, was Ionia truly as altruistic as she appeared, or did the elves have less noble motives for coming to humanity’s aid?
I knew what my money was on.
“As new entrants into Overworld, your species will not be entirely without protection,” the elven queen continued. “The Trials has granted humanity its own territory. This land, the newly created Human Dominion, will be seeded with wildlife and monsters from all over Overworld and its multitude of subsumed worlds. The Human Dominion will be shielded for exactly one Overworld year, during which time it will be protected from invasion.”
Ionia raised a cautionary finger. “But do not think this means you are safe. The monsters and non-sentient creatures in humanity’s territory are dangerous enough. You will likely find your fledging outposts and camps overrun time and again. And that is not all. Duskar, as the initiator of your world’s assimilation, is considered mankind’s Patron.”
The elven queen all but spat out the last words. She took a calming breath before continuing. “The Trials permit Duskar alone to send troops into the wilds of your Dominion, both to protect and police humanity. Do not despair though. The elves have won the honour of serving as one of humanity’s Sponsors. While this does not grant us the same rights as Duskar, the Trials allow us to create cities within your Dominion to shelter humanity from both its Patron and the dangers of Overworld.”
Ionia directed her gaze into the cameras, seeming to stare into my—and every other watching human’s—eyes. “I implore you to enter Overworld through one of the elven gates. If you do, you will find yourself within one of our sponsored cities. I promise no pledges of loyalty will be demanded from you. My people will do everything to help you. We will provide you with shelter, in return for a fair exchange of goods and resources. Goodbye, and fare thee well, humans.”
✽✽✽
The elven queen’s speech caused as much consternation as Duskar’s had. Every major media and news outlet spent countless hours playing over her words and dissecting the meaning beneath.
But more than the words themselves, experts mulled over the minor miracle that throughout the world, everyone who heard the orcish and elven leaders, understood them—even those who spoke no English.
It turned out
that the initial reports had been wrong: the overworlders’ speech was not English. Nor was it Russian, or Chinese, or any other known human language, yet amazingly each person who had heard the overworlders understood their every word. It was a marvel that had human scientists flummoxed, and had the craziest claiming it to be magic.
The internet, too, was rife with speculation. A new and ‘fresh’ article, blogpost, and forum post appeared every minute, each fixated with the orcish and elven leaders’ speech and mannerisms.
But, there was a third speech, too. One that went largely unnoticed by the media, and that unbeknownst to me was already causing a stir among a very select group of individuals.
My phone rang insistently. I glanced down.
It was Eric. He had called three times already. Engrossed in the broadcast of the elven queen’s speech and its aftermath, I had somehow missed my phone’s ringing.
“Hi, Eric,” I said. “You watching this? First orcs, now elves. What is the world coming to?”
Eric chuckled. “You haven’t seen anything yet, man.”
About to launch into my own analysis of Ionia’s speech, I paused. “What do you mean?”
“Have you listened to the gnomes yet?”
“Gnomes? You pulling my leg?” But I already knew he wasn’t. If there were elves and orcs, why not gnomes?
“Nah, man, I’m not,” Eric said. “The gnomish leader was the one who gave the third speech. I take it you haven’t heard it yet then?”
“No,” I replied. “The news channel didn’t seem to have any footage of that speech for some reason. I’d been meaning to find a recording on the web, but got side-tracked watching the ‘experts’ dissect the other speeches.”
“Well, you gotta watch it,” Eric said.
“Which gates are the gnomes?” I asked. The colours of the artefacts, we had learned, marked the controlling species. Duskar’s speech had been broadcast from the red gates, and Ionia’s from every green structure.
“The blue ones,” Eric replied.
“Ah,” I breathed. The blue artefacts were the least populous and explained why footage of the gnomish leader’s speech was scarce. It was likely that none of the news channels had been in position to catch the speech.
It did leave me wondering about the orange and black gates though. No speeches had been given from them yet. Which species control those gates?
I shrugged, dismissing the errant thought. We would find out soon enough, I suspected. “So what did the gnomes talk about?” I asked Eric. “Something different?”
My friend chuckled again. “You could say that,” he said before being consumed by a bout of laughter that left me scowling. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it.
Eric was my best friend, but sometimes I wanted to strangle him. “Come on Eric, don’t leave me hanging. What did you hear?”
Eric’s laughter faded to sputters. “The gnomes,” he finally gasped, “claim to be the first Overworld species to have discovered Earth. They claim that for the last few centuries, they have been preparing humanity for voluntary assimilation. They claim to have injected their own stories into human histories—can you believe that? The gnomish leader seemed quite upset with the orcs. He went to great lengths to accuse them of stealing the gnomes’ Patron rights before Earth’s assimilation could be completed.”
“Alright,” I said somewhat perplexed. “That’s mildly interesting, I admit, but still not worthy of much attention, especially considering everything else that has happened.”
“Oh, I haven’t gotten to the best part yet. Do you want to guess how else the gnomes have been readying humanity for Overworld? In the last few years, at least?”
“No, Eric, I don’t want to guess,” I growled. “Just spit it out.”
“You’re no fun, man,” Eric lamented.
“Eric—”
Knowing me too well, my friend headed off my impending explosion before it began. “Alright, alright, I’ll tell you. The gnomes haven’t just altered our myths and legends, they have also influenced our gaming culture—or so they claim.”
“What?” I asked, momentary anger forgotten.
Eric chuckled as he sensed my confusion. “You heard me right, buddy. According to the gnomes, they have guided the direction of video game development on Earth to provide humanity with a basic understanding of the Trials’ principles before we entered Overworld. And that still isn’t the best part.”
“Oh?” I asked, struggling to hold on to my patience. Eric had a flair for the dramatic that could be annoying at times. I knew he was purposely dragging out the mystery for as long as he could. I hurried over to my laptop and began typing in search words.
“You betcha!” he exclaimed. “They’ve uploaded what they’re calling the Trials Infopedia onto the web. I swear you are going to fall off your chair when you see—”
I put the phone down as the search results appeared. Maybe that’ll teach him, I thought with a chuckle of my own.
I didn’t hold out much hope, though. Eric was probably even now laughing at my reaction. The oddest things amused him. Banishing my friend from my thoughts, I turned my attention to the webpage containing the gnomes’ purported data on the Trials.
Scrolling through the information, one thought kept occurring to me over and over again. “It’s a game,” I whispered breathlessly. “Overworld is a goddamn game.”
Chapter 3
03 May
There is something troubling about the humans. We must keep a close watch on them. —Ionia Amyla.
I stayed up late that night.
Mum had long since gone to bed, but I remained at my computer, pouring over the Trials Infopedia.
I still had no idea what to make of Overworld, Duskar, Ionia, or the gnomes’ information. It all still felt like a hoax to me—I mean, who could believe the world was going to end in two weeks?—and the gnomes’ ‘data’ only deepened my belief that it was an elaborate lie.
But whether fake or not, the information contained in the Trials Infopedia was as fascinating as it was dense. The amount of data contained in the wiki’s webpages was more than enough to fill a dozen encyclopaedias twice over. It would take me months, I realised, to sift through the mountain of information. I started by skimming through the thoughtfully provided synopses.
According to the wiki, Overworld was a land controlled by a Game: the so-called Trials. Or at least, that’s how I interpreted what I read.
Overworld was supposedly filled with dungeons, monsters, resources, and regions called Dominions. Each Dominion was the territory of a specific species, and it expanded or contracted as that race’s players gained or lost ground, or factions within the territory revolted or joined other Dominions.
The Trials, it seemed, had no purpose other than advancing its players, both on an individual and species level.
But for all that the Trials was seemingly a game, it contained no game constructs, nor artificial intelligence. Every player was a thinking being, and every monster and beast a living, breathing creature, even in the dungeons.
The most intriguing aspect of Overworld though, was its levelling system. It was completely open-ended, with no classes, item restrictions, level caps, or even limits to the number of traits a player could obtain. And in that way, it differed strikingly from Earth games.
The game mechanics—or Trials as the overworlders referred to it—made no attempt at balance. It focused purely on measuring a player’s achievements and rewarding them accordingly with knowledge and physical enhancements.
And that was the extent of the Trials ‘interference.’
There were no system-generated quests or items. Everything was controlled by players and their struggle for survival, whether as individuals, nations, or factions. It was a player-driven world, and in an environment that sounded as intriguing as it did brutal and unbalanced.
I realised then there was nothing fair about Overworld.
Perhaps, Overworld is not a game, after all, I mused, rethinking my initial assessment.
Maybe the word ‘Trials’ was less a misnomer than I had thought it was, and more reflective of what Overworld actually was. And maybe, Ionia had spoken true.
Perhaps Overworld really is meant to be a training ground. But to what end?
“What will it take to survive in such a world?” I murmured, glancing again at the screen I had been staring at for the last hour.
Depicted on the webpage in a single, succinct diagram was the Trials measurement system. There were four key aspects to it: Potentials, Attributes, Disciplines, and Techniques.
Disciplines were skills—knowledge that could be directly acquired from the system. There were hundreds of Disciplines, and seemingly no restrictions on which ones a player could learn, but there were three limiting factors.
One, a player was granted only five Tokens every level he advanced. These could be used to advance a player’s Discipline in whatever manner desired, but the limit of five Tokens seemed a hard restriction that could only be lifted by rare Traits.
Two, the effectiveness of a player’s Techniques—or abilities—was determined by both his Disciplines and the related Attributes.
Attributes enhanced a player’s physical and mental characteristics through the use of Marks, and a player only received two of them every level.
Three, and most importantly, Attributes were not freewheeling characteristics; instead, they themselves were limited by a player’s core nature: his Potentials.
All Potentials were locked from birth, determined by the die of fate. There was no way to change them. If you had no Potential for Magic, you could not cast spells. It was that simple. Your Potentials were what they were.
Overworld (Dragon Mage Saga Book 1): A fantasy post-apocalyptic story Page 2
