Expedition- Summerlands

by Nathaniel Webb

  “You can open your eyes, adventurer,” said Cass. I did, and saw her standing above me holding our duffel bag. “Come on, the limo is waiting.”

  “Limo?” I said as we made our way between the seats. Noah was at the end of the aisle, chatting with the pilot.

  “I know!” said Cass. “Noah can cross two more off his ‘modes of transportation’ checklist.”

  We caught up with Noah just as the plane door hissed open. The pilot unfolded metal stairs down to the tarmac. Cass went first, fairly leaping down the steps. Noah followed close behind her. I took a breath and went after them.

  As promised, a limo waited for us on the runway, sleek and black. The driver stood by an open rear door. He was dressed in black, but the boxy cut of his suit resembled a medieval herald’s tabard. The logo of Expedition Games was stitched over his heart in silver thread. If not for his mirror shades, he might have fit in nicely at some king’s court.

  The driver gestured us into the limo. He reached out for the duffel bag in Cass’s hands, but she pulled back from him sharply and he relented. As we got seated, the driver peered back at the plane.

  “Missing somebody?” he asked. He had a rough local accent. My heart leapt in my chest, and I could see Cass stiffen beside me.

  “What do you mean?” asked Noah. He was seated across from Cass, facing her, and he looked more intrigued than anxious.

  “I was told there’d be four on the plane—ah, there we go.” He swept his hand toward the limo as a young man dressed in black came down the stairs.

  “Where the hell did he come from?” Cass whispered. “I thought we were alone on the plane.”

  “Me too,” I said. “Was he hiding?”

  He was small, shorter than me and with a slimmer build, though he looked about my age. High cheekbones and a sharp, smooth chin gave his face an elfin look beneath hair that was shaved on the sides and long on top, slicked back but clearly as thick and black as Noah’s. His ears stuck out from his head like jug handles. A tight black T-shirt and jeans plus matching black boots were the only things he seemed to own aside from the tattoos covering his tanned arms.

  As he slid into the seat across from me, he gave me a huge grin.

  “Hello,” he said, in a thick accent that made the H sound like a cat’s hiss.

  “Hi,” I said. Next to me, Cass crossed her arms. I knew that look: she was sizing up the competition. The young man gestured vaguely to himself.

  “Karakatsa,” he said, or that’s what it sounded like.

  “What language is that?” asked Noah. His new seatmate looked over at him and shook his head, then indicated himself again. “Karakatsa.”

  “Russian, maybe?” said Cass.

  “Nice to meet you, Karakatsa,” I said to him. I was nowhere close on the accent, but he seemed thrilled nonetheless as he barked out a laugh and slapped me on the knee. “Linnaea,” I said, pointing to myself. It felt weird to be using our gamertags, but this guy obviously was, and he seemed to be a fellow adventurer. “Sepharad. Jessamine.”

  “Time to go,” said our driver from the front seat. He pressed a button on the dashboard, and the engine came to life with a purr. The limo pulled away smoothly, leaving the little plane behind, and turned onto a two-lane road that wound around one of the nearby lakes and headed into the hills.

  “Is this gonna be a problem in the Summerlands?” asked Cass.

  “Is what?” I asked.

  “Languages,” she said. “People come from all over the world. How does everybody talk to each other?”

  “You wanna take this or should I?” I asked Noah with a smile.

  “Go ahead,” he said. He had edged over in his seat to put space between himself and Karakatsa. The young man was slumped in his seat staring out at the scenery, tapping the window idly with one knuckle.

  “Very long story short, no, it’s not gonna be a problem,” I said. “Apparently, once you’re in the Summerlands, everybody can understand each other. Nobody’s really sure how it works, and obviously, it doesn’t apply to the feeds—you ever try to watch Valkyrie’s stream? It’s all in Icelandic. But if you’re there, you just understand.”

  Cass glanced at Karakatsa, then back at me. “Wasn’t there a whole thing about translating the Elvish writings they found, though?”

  “Maybe it doesn’t work on Elvish,” I suggested.

  “Weird,” said Cass.

  “Magic,” said Noah.

  ***

  Our nervous silence lasted unbroken for nearly half an hour. I mostly stared at the window at the yellow landscape rolling by, but every now and again I would look over to find Karakatsa staring at me. I was just debating saying something to him when the limo stopped and the driver said, “Checkpoint.”

  We piled out of the limo to find that we’d pulled up at a steel gate in a high concrete wall that stretched for at least half a mile in either direction. From the top of the wall, guards stared down at us at intervals of fifty feet or so. They reminded me of how Porter had come dressed the night he killed Jason, with riot gear strapped over T-shirts and big black rifles.

  “Good luck,” said the driver as the gate rolled open in a slow, stately motion. Beyond, a row of armed guards waited to receive us. The driver rolled up his window, backed the limo up to the edge of the road, and drove back the way we’d come. Soon he was gone amongst the hills, leaving us alone with the guards.

  “Step forward,” one of them said. Noah went first, and Cass and I followed. Karakatsa trailed behind us. We passed through the gate. Beyond it was an asphalt yard, maybe a hundred feet square, surrounded on all sides by what looked to be the guards’ quarters. Directly across from us, a small archway opened on a path that led further into the hills.

  “Place your belongings here.” The guard pointed to a yellow square painted on the asphalt. Cass set her duffel bag down and Karakatsa spread his hands to show he had nothing on him.

  “Fine,” said the guard. “Put your feet together and your arms out.” We complied, holding the pose as guards patted us down while others searched Cass’s duffel.

  “At least buy me dinner first, huh?” said Cass. I rolled my eyes. The guard who was currently running one hand around the inside of her waistband said nothing.

  “Okay,” said the guard who seemed to be in charge. He pointed to the archway across the yard. “Pass through that door and take the path there. Do not leave the path. Do not stop walking until you reach the complex. You can expect to be there in twenty minutes.”

  “What about our stuff?” said Cass.

  “What about it?” asked the guard.

  “Can we have it back, please?” The tone of Cass’s voice was sharply at odds with her polite phrasing.

  “No,” said the guard. “Everything you brought with you is forfeit at this point. Your clothes will be taken from you at your medical examination. After that you’ll be given your starting equipment.”

  “I’m cold,” said Cass. “I need a sweater from my bag.”

  “Fine,” said the guard. “It will be taken at the complex, though.”

  “Fine,” said Cass. She unzipped the duffel and began to rummage through it. There wasn’t much to pick through; we’d known our stuff would be taken eventually, so we’d only packed what we needed for the trip itself. Cass pulled out a threadbare heather-gray athletic sweatshirt and tugged it on over her head. It had “HECZ SD #12” printed on the front and was much too big for her.

  It was Jason’s.

  ***

  The walk from the checkpoint took us along a gravel path that wound between the low hills that characterized this part of Lewis. The uplands of the island were fairly unwelcoming, at least at this time of year. Patches of wavy gray stone stuck up from the yellowed grass, the only things to break the monotony besides a few scraggly shrubs. In some places the hills were scarred with rectangular lines that Noah said were the remnants of peat-cutting operations. Under the flat gray sky, it was cool enough that I found myself wishing f
or a sweatshirt of my own.

  As we walked, Noah gave us a brief history of the island, which seemed to have been mostly the domain of sheep-farmers before Expedition bought it. Karakatsa made himself a part of the conversation despite the obvious handicap of not understanding a word we said; he listened attentively to Noah’s lecture, nodding and smiling as Noah pointed out the landscape around us. I didn’t pay much attention, though, too wrapped up in pondering the decision to make new players walk a mile between the checkpoint and whatever waited for us at the complex.

  Twenty minutes of walking brought us to a final bend where the hills fell away to reveal a low, rambling structure nestled in a dell below us. It was two stories in most places but only one in the center, which seemed to hold an open courtyard. The whole thing looked like the buildings Expedition had put up in Wellpoint, a sort of faux Elizabethan design with lots of exposed beams and white plaster.

  I paused where the path began its descent into the dell, and Cass stopped at my side.

  “You okay?” she said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Just nervous, you know?”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be famous streamers before you know it.”

  “I think I’m gonna keep my camera off,” I said. “I just want to make enough money for your dad.”

  “More fans for me.” Cass slapped me on the back and set off down the hill. Noah, Karakatsa, and I hurried to catch up, and we came down the last stretch of path as a group, huddled close against the wind that followed us from the hills.

  The gravel petered out at a heavy door set into the near wall of the complex. It looked like wood with iron bands across it, but as we neared, it swept up into the ceiling. The building itself was a charade too; the wood and plaster were actually painted concrete.

  The room that awaited us was bright and white, almost blindingly so after the dim sun outside. Sitting in plush chairs along one wall were two men in colorful patterned shirts, shorts, and sandals. One of them leapt up as we entered and nudged the other, who looked no better than half awake.

  “Alan! They’re here! Alan, get up!” The peppier of the two men crossed the room to us, his hand stuck out. He was tall, with a large belly beneath his shirt, which was printed with multi-colored birds. His face was red and only a few black hairs stuck out from the top of his head.

  “Pleased to meet you all! I’m Neal Markan, Dr Neal Markan, but you can call me Dr Neal, ha!” He shook our hands one by one, and stopped in front of Karakatsa. “Now, you, sir, Greek, isn’t that right? We don’t have an interpreter, I’m afraid, but I’m sure we’ll muddle through.”

  Karakatsa just grinned back at him.

  “Now,” said Dr Neal, “this is Alan Brodie, our resident man of the law. Ha! Say hello, Alan.”

  “Miss Keats.” The lawyer waved sleepily from his chair. His accent was like the limo driver’s.

  “Now then,” Dr Neal said with a clap of his hands. “We’re going to double-team you to get this over as quick as possible. I draw the blood and Alan sucks it, huh? Ha! Just a joke, Alan, you know I love you. Seriously, though, what’s going to happen is a combination medical exam and final body search. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories. Apologies ahead of time. We’ve got nurses for the ladies, by the way. Ha! While we’re doing that, Alan will give you the paperwork. Plenty of that. Here’s the deal. Here’s the deal. We’re just looking for your basic congenital defects, cancers, flat feet, pregnancies, that sort of thing. Just kidding about the feet, by the way! Really just looking for anything that would kill you before the hell rats do. Okay! Any questions?”

  “Uh, what’s with the shirts?” asked Cass.

  “Oh!” Dr Neal laughed. “Hawaiian day in the office, don’t you know.”

  ***

  The next few hours passed much as Dr Neal had promised. Noah and Karakatsa were promptly taken to a separate room by the jovial doctor, but I was relieved to learn that Cass and I would be allowed to go through everything together. Two laconic nurses drew our blood, checked our eyes and ears and throats, tested our reflexes, and searched every cavity in as invasive a manner as possible.

  As the nurses did their thing, Cass and I forged our way through reams of paperwork provided by Alan Brodie and his aides. With a yawn, Brodie detailed a young lawyer to stick around and patiently explain page after page of disclosures and releases. I signed away my right to sue and swore that I understood what I was getting into. I learned for the first time that all feeds were on a ten-second delay and Expedition Games reserved the right to censor any content they deemed inappropriate. I acknowledged the extremely limited rules of the game: no player-versus-player violence or other crime, no teaching magic to anyone who wasn’t a paying player, no approaching the wall that bounded Expedition’s territory in the Summerlands. I gave the lawyer my gamertag and had to spell it for him twice. He told me my feed would be set up and added to Expedition’s tracking immediately, so I could start streaming as soon as my drone was synced up.

  Finally the paperwork was done. Cass had worn Jason’s sweatshirt through it all, taking it off only as directed and putting it back on as soon as she could. The last round of body searches required us to switch into hospital gowns, though, and she sat twisting the sweatshirt in her lap as Dr Neal came back in.

  “One more procedure,” he said. “Then you’ll be set loose to seek your fortunes! Ha, always so exciting to induct our latest band of adventurers. Best part of my job, this.”

  From a cabinet on the wall, Dr Neal drew out what looked like the older brother of the gun that had pierced my ears at the mall when I was a kid.

  “RFID chip implantation,” he said. “They’ll give you your drones on the other side. I’d say it won’t hurt a bit, but you and I both know it’s gonna sting. Still, it beats a bite from a trash snake, eh?” He waggled his free hand at us and I saw a large white scar in the shape of a set of teeth.

  “You’ve been in the Summerlands?” asked Cass.

  “Sure have,” said Dr Neal as he walked behind us. “Started as a player, actually. Thought I’d make a fortune as a doctor, but it turns out the old needle and thread can’t compare to healing magic. Wasn’t much cut out for magic, wasn’t a big fan of getting bitten in the sewers, so I talked to the woman upstairs about a change of jobs. Turns out they were just looking for a new head doc and here I am. Okay, you might want to bite down.”

  There was a snap and a searing pain in the back of my neck. “Ow!” I yelped. I slapped my hand over the burning spot and felt a small square lump that hadn’t been there a moment before.

  “Your turn,” said Dr Neal to Cass. I watched as he pushed his implement against the back of her neck and pressed a trigger. With a sharp click, the gun implanted Cass’s RFID chip under her skin. She gritted her teeth and stayed quiet, though her hands were wringing Jason’s sweatshirt almost into a knot.

  “All done!” said Dr Neal. “Now, don’t pick at them for a day or so. It’ll itch for a bit and then you won’t even know it’s there. Okay, that’s everything from me. Got all your paperwork done? Good! Let’s go find the boys. It’s time for you to meet the woman upstairs.”

  ***

  Apollonia Blomhaugen, CEO of the largest company in the world, met us in the central courtyard of the Expedition Games complex. The woman who’d taken the reins from Dr Agony had long white-blonde hair, high ruddy cheekbones, and wrinkles around her eyes; a pin-striped jacket and pencil skirt hugged her willowy frame. She was trailed by a gaggle of aides who seemed to write down everything she said and every now and then she’d murmur something to one or another that sent the aide scampering away.

  The courtyard stood in stark contrast to the clean, white rooms we’d gone through during our checkup. The entire complex was built to house the well that held the portal to the Summerlands and a few hundred square feet of land around it had been left undisturbed. We waited barefoot on soft, smoky-scented peat as a gentle rain pattered down from the square of gray sky above us. Noah and Karakatsa
had appeared a few minutes after us in hospital gowns, rubbing their necks, and I’m sure we looked the same. Cass still held Jason’s sweatshirt, but other than that we’d given over everything we had.

  The well itself was unremarkable, not much more than a half-collapsed pile of stones. I didn’t have the nerve to get any closer to it, let alone peer in. I was surprised to see what looked like a dozen tree roots, as thick as my leg, emerging from it. There were no trees in the courtyard; instead, the roots ran to points along the walls of the complex.

  “Data uplinks,” said Blomhaugen, as though she’d read my mind. She had a sort of lilting accent that made me think of stone and snow. “They run through the portal to the drone station on the other side. Nothing you need to worry about.”

  I nodded.

  “Now then,” Blomhaugen continued. Cass, Noah, Karakatsa and I stood in a line before her, and she surveyed us like an army officer inspecting her troops. “You are about to be issued your starting equipment. A basic set of clothing has been made to your measurements. You will also receive fifty copper coins. This is enough to pay for food and lodging for about a week. If you wish to live in any sort of comfort afterwards, you will be fending for yourself. Do you understand?”

  The members of Hearthammer nodded, but Karakatsa didn’t seem to realize a question had been asked. According to Noah, Karakatsa had been taken away during their checkup to go through all the legal forms with a telephone interpreter. I hoped he understood what he had agreed to.

  “Here they are now,” said Blomhaugen. One of her aides returned with a pile of clothing, atop which sat four leather pouches. The aide passed them to us smoothly then retreated back behind Blomhaugen.

  “Please get changed,” Blomhaugen continued. “I will speak as you do.” Cass and I shared a look, but Noah and Karakatsa were already stripping. Despite being a spellcaster, Noah had put on a lot of muscle in the last few years, and I was reminded of the evening not so long ago when I’d watched Jason get changed for work.