Shepherd's Wolf

by M. Andrew Reid

  Silence answered him. The Heroes shifted nervously, rattling their armor. Kogan’s face fell, and his eyes searched for his most trusted friends, “Who will fight with me?”

  Heroes shook their heads, and the back rows dispersed. Massive, muscled warriors sheepishly avoided Kogan’s gaze, and began to slink away quietly. A few of the boldest men and women, clearly torn, eventually turned to walk away with the others. Hundreds of boots clicked on stone in a low rumble as the Heroes shuffled toward the large doors leading back to the city.

  Kogan roared. Windows shattered; flocks of birds and tiny dragons took to the air. “Your armor and weapons are mine! Leave them here, cowards!”

  Nevaeh stepped forward to comfort him, but he shrugged away from her touch, “We few will stand against the Conquerors.” He screamed, “And you will remember this day, and know you were weak!”

  “Not everyone is crazy,” a voice carried across the courtyard. “Get a life. This isn’t real. It’s not worth it.”

  Many Heroes shouted their agreement, and the mass of warriors began removing their armor. Metal plates and swords clattered on the stones. None of them dared to leave with anything that belonged to Kogan.

  As the Heroes shuffled out the wide doors that opened to the city, they met a group of ragged farmworkers, servants, and craftsmen headed the opposite direction. The two crowds passed, brushing into each other in the wide doorway to the parade ground. The former Heroes were surprised to see that the group was made entirely of NPCs.

  A large Brutalli stonemason roughly shoved a man who had crossed his path out of the way, “We will fight!”

  Kogan lifted his gaze as the ragtag group exchanged places with the Heroes. Soon, the Heroes were completely replaced with NPC farmers, merchants and laborers, and skill trainers from throughout the city. The parade ground echoed with the rattle of tools and farm implements.

  “We will fight with you,” an old man repeated. He stepped forward. His face and skin were covered in soot, and he had a blacksmith’s strong arms. A crooked grin spread across the old man’s face, “We are your Heroes.”

  “Who are you?” Kogan asked the old man. “You look familiar.”

  “My name is Slip,” the man replied.

  “Trainers can’t fight for the factions,” Kogan said. “It’s against the rules.”

  “A lot of rules are being broken,” Slip said, and spat on the ground, “and I didn’t say we would fight for you. I said we’d fight with you.

  Limerick smirked, “I think we have some spare armor.”

  “You all know what this means, right?” Kogan pointed to himself and the players standing behind him. “When we lose our accounts, we have lives outside of this world. We can go do something else.”

  “Not all of you,” Slip replied with a knowing glance at Kogan. “We know what will happen to us. We’re ready.”

  Kogan eyed the old man warily, “Can you fight? None of you are warriors.”

  “Form up!” Slip shouted, his voice cracking.

  Behind him, the NPCs swiftly formed a broad wedge behind Slip; four deep. The magic trainers - sorcerers, priests, and warlocks - spread themselves behind the wedge. Archery trainers and hunters with light bows scattered to the wings and took positions at the flanks. In a matter of seconds, the small army was silent and ready; as disciplined as Kogan’s Heroes had ever been. Less than two hundred fighters stood behind Slip, but fierce determination burned bright on their faces.

  “We always been able to fight. We’ve never needed to until now,” Slip said.

  “But why would you fight?” Kogan asked. “Why do you care?”

  “Same reason you do,” Slip replied. “Because it’s right.”

  “Actually,” Myrmidon interjected, “I only care because I’m able to use a chain gun.”

  Iceblade nodded agreement, “Ice bullets. I couldn’t say no.”

  Chapter 21

  Light and Shadow

  Grimdark Hills

  The Grimdark Hills were named for an Agilus Hunter that had fallen victim to the designs of his mischievous buddies. Grimdark’s friends made a fake map, and paid an NPC to stand outside a tavern in a nearby village until Grimdark wandered by. The schemers watched with glee as the NPC, in a performance that would receive positive reviews in any theater, delivered the “secret quest” to an excited Grimdark.

  With map and shovel in hand, Grimdark set off for the cold, rocky hills. He dug for days, determined to find a buried cache of weapons and gold. Realizing that he would need help, he returned to the tavern for supplies, and convinced others to join him. He held the map aloft, promising to share the riches with those who would help him. Soon there was a full-fledged mining operation, with twenty to thirty players, as well as twice that amount of NPC laborers, tearing into a hillside in search of buried glory.

  When Grimdark’s friends confessed, he laughed at them and accused them of jealousy. The truth did not emerge until Grimdark complained to Dalton support about a “bugged quest.” In a rare case of intervention, a Dalton agent had teleported in from Verdia City, and delivered the bad news to feverishly working miners covered in dust and mud. The quest was fake; there was no treasure - only more rocks. Heartbroken, the workers drifted away, with Grimdark shouting at them that it was another trick from his friends. Digging equipment, housing for miners, and mounds of dirt still sat where they had been abandoned.

  Grimdark found no gold, but he did find infamy. He stopped playing soon after, but his name carried on in the cold, rarely visited northern hills.

  Venom plodded carefully up the side of one of these hills. Viper turned and peered through the fading light. He watched the others as they picked their way around stones and thorny bushes. The hills were no longer gentle and rolling; they grew ever steeper and sharper as the party approached the White Plateau. Scruffy pine trees provided enough cover to allow them to approach the plateau without being seen.

  Towering above them now, the great white cliff appeared close enough to touch - yet it was still far from grasp. It would be hours before they reached the cliff’s base. Craning his neck, Viper could see the Devil’s Gutter, a dark fissure that wound its way down into the hills to their west.

  Miles ahead, the Widow Tower gleamed off to his left. A faint twinkle even further west marked the Warrior Tower.

  Between these towers, a column of dust rose from the Devil’s Gutter. The Dalton vehicles, fourteen or fifteen Strykers that had escaped Christine’s fiery breath, were winding through the slit in the earth. Before long, they would be in front of Viper and the group, and would have ample time to set up positions guarding the path to the plateau. Viper knew at this point that their success depended on Kogan’s ability to distract the Conquerors. If they were lucky, Viper would find a safe path that would lead them into the gorge undetected. They could quietly slip up into the scattered boulders and scrubby trees that littered the terrain. Once into the gorge and on high ground, the wolf would be safe from attacks from below and could vanish into the forests of the plateau.

  Laura squirmed out of her perch and dropped out of the saddle. She leaned against Venom and grabbed an ankle to stretch her leg, “Why do your legs get stiff in a game? How is that supposed to be fun?”

  Viper grunted in reply; staring at the Widow Tower.

  “What do you think is going on over there?” Laura asked.

  “Nothing good,” Viper replied.

  “What are you going to do when this is over?”

  “Kill Grave, and maybe Tungsten if I can catch him outside of Gilgal.”

  Laura laughed, “And after that? You have to have some deeper purpose. It sounds like the others are calling it quits when we are done. I need to finish my research, and Bishop is going to spend more time with his dog.

  “I think Athena and Wisp,” she briefly wondered what their real names were, “will continue to pretend they don’t like each other. Haymaker is…Haymaker. What about you? What do you want?”

  Viper
stared at her, “I want you to stop asking questions.” He reached down and helped her back into the saddle as the others reached them.

  “Ben looks up to you.” Laura continued once she had settled into a relatively comfortable position. “It’s different than the way he looks up to Wisp or Bishop. He’s afraid of you.”

  “I tried to kill him.”

  “Not that kind of afraid,” Laura hesitated, “I’ve noticed that he imitates you. When you’re in a bad mood, his mood falls. When you’re in… your version of a good mood… he has this uncontrollable energy. Gabe picks up on it; he’s so protective.”

  “The kid is weird,” Viper said, “But I was wrong to try and take the wolf. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “The people in this group all have some sort of void in their lives,” Laura sighed sadly, “including me. It sounds like this journey will fill the void for them. I think we’re helping ourselves as much as we’re helping Ben. You seem to be missing something as well. Is that why you’re still here? I mean you can’t get a dragon now, so there has to be something...”

  “Are you a biologist or a therapist?” Viper snarled. “I thought I said no more questions.”

  “Were you two having an actual conversation?” Haymaker asked, trotting up behind them. He bent over and reached under his plate mail to massage his lower back. “What’s it like to hear him say more than three words at a time?”

  “I still don’t know,” Laura giggled.

  Viper was oblivious to the banter, concentrating on the stream of dust being kicked up by their pursuers. Night was falling; the last night of their journey. Part of him hoped that Laura was right; that the next day would bring him peace. Another part of him laughed scornfully at such a childish thought.

  The Devil’s Gutter

  The Devil’s Gutter was full of rocks, all of them eager to line up beneath the tires of Alex’s Stryker. He sat with his head buried in his hands, wondering where he had gone wrong in all of this and shuddering each time the vehicle rolled over a stone.

  “You were right,” Fischer said, leaning back against the Stryker’s hull.

  “About?”

  “Kogan and Viper,” he replied. “Well mostly right. You said it would look like a close match.”

  Alex’s foul mood was betrayed by a grin, “I told you not to underestimate Kogan. Technically, it was a draw because you can’t keep a leash on your pets.”

  Fischer sighed, “That was a huge mistake on our part. I don’t trust Grave. I never understood why your boss thought it was a good idea to work with the Conquerors.”

  “They know more about the game than us, and the Explorers are too moral to help with something like this. Kogan would never accept payment to aid in taking something away from another player.”

  “Well that’s the reason then.” Fischer grinned at Alex, “You aren’t a big fan of the military, are you?”

  Alex shrugged, “I think you have no business being here, and you’re helping Brook wreck something unique and special. You don’t need to be in the military to do that.”

  “So you don’t like me?”

  “You’re all right. What you’re doing is despicable. Did you really join the Marines to fight magic wolves and little kids?”

  “There may have been something like that on a recruiting poster. I joined because I wanted to eventually be a part of research.”

  “What is your end game here? Brook doesn’t give me specifics and Omni doesn’t seem willing to talk about it.”

  Fischer sighed, “We get access to Omni for our DARPA program. I’m one of the designers.”

  “A training program, right?”

  “Right.” Fischer nodded, “We compress months or years of training into hours. You go to bed one night a normal guy and wake up a killing machine.”

  “This is the best you can do? Why not cure cancer or end poverty once and for all?” Alex had asked Omni the same question numerous times, and was always met with a cryptic non-answer. “Why not put an end to war for good?”

  “I’m sure someone has a project like that. I only know about my little slice of the pie.” Fischer shrugged, “I guess White has more clout with your company than officers in charge of other programs. Maybe he was the most willing to help on this excursion, and got himself bumped to the front of the line.”

  The Stryker lurched to a stop, and someone banged a rifle butt against the hull from the outside.

  “We’re here,” Fischer said. “Go stretch your legs.”

  “Where is here?” Alex asked as he stood up.

  “Chokepoint. This is where we’ll set up shop and wait.”

  Night had fallen long ago. A clear northern sky wavered with green and blue aurora. Alex saw that they were nearly dead center of the Devil’s Gutter. The gorge’s steep gravel walls were tame enough that Strykers could climb out onto the high banks. A few Strykers would stay in the gorge; the remaining forces would watch from better positions higher up. The plateau’s sharp face jutted skyward to one side of them, and the Grimdark Hills rolled away on the other. Cutting its way through gray hills, the gorge disappeared over a ridge. Even with an elevation advantage, the terrain made it difficult to see a great distance.

  Two towers glittered a mile or so to the south. Each tower belonged to a faction, and served as a gateway to the White Plateau. These towers were seldom used; there was nothing of interest on the plateau and very few quests directed players there. The area had seen more activity in the last day than in the previous six months.

  An army of Conquerors milled around the base of the Widow Tower, waiting for orders. Their torches flickered and bobbed in the darkness. Fischer explained that they had encouraged the Conquerors to make their way to the west bank, so they could deal with any Explorer nonsense without involving the Dalton team. The Conquerors would take up their positions to the south, so that if necessary, Dalton guns could provide support against interference. “Interference,” it turned out, was loosely defined and appeared to Alex to be disturbingly subjective.

  “We’ll make it quick if they let us,” Fischer finished his briefing.

  “Do you think you’re doing the right thing?” Alex asked him.

  “It’s not my job to make moral judgments on a mission,” Fischer replied. “But I believe this could be handled better. On a personal level, I’m not thrilled.”

  “Neither am I,” Alex said. He looked at Fischer, “When this is over, if you would like to make a difference in the world, come find me. Omni likes you.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “He told me,” Alex tapped his head. “He talks to me. He said you aren’t like the others.”

  “Who are the others?” Fischer asked. Alex could only shrug in reply.

  They approached the command Stryker, where White was waiting with Grave, Lockjaw, Tungsten, and a dozen Conquerors. A ring of Marines gathered around them, and Fischer pushed his way through until he and Alex were standing near White.

  “We believe they skirted east, and will try to scale up the plateau wall as far as they can and cut in behind us. If they can get into the gorge upstream of our current position, we will have trouble moving our vehicles and will have to pursue on foot. Grave has suggested we set up scouting positions on the face of the wall that will allow us to react to this possibility.” White looked around at the Conquerors in the group, “You are to be the only players north of our position, is that clear? We are trying to avoid public backlash as much as possible and I do not want to see people crying on CNN tonight that we erased their accounts.”

  The Conquerors nodded.

  “With that said,” White continued. “If you come into contact with the wolf, you are to detain it and wait for backup. Omni has made it clear that our weapons are the only sure way to deal with this nuisance. The Wolf Rider, and the party members protecting him, are fair game, but leave the wolf to us.”

  Fischer nodded, “Remember that our bullets will reset your accounts whether you a
re interfering or not. Stay clear of our lines of fire.”

  “So here’s the plan, gentlemen.” White pointed to Tungsten, “Tungsten will ride with us. He will identify any threats unique to this game that would not be covered in our training.” White shook his head wearily, he was growing tired of wizards and dragons. “Grave will take six Conquerors and scout a natural tunnel at the base of the gorge that could serve as an entrance. Lockjaw will take six of his men along with a small fire team and scout south and east. He will attempt to locate the wolf, hold it in place, and allow our shooters to take out the wolf.

  “Barring that, we will maintain overwatch of the gorge until the wolf surfaces elsewhere or we are able to flush him out. This is the only entrance to the plateau, and our target is out of options. He will have to break through if he wants to continue, or face being hunted here in the open.” White turned to Fischer, “Captain, I want you to take your Stryker and take Tungsten to a known flat spot up the gorge. There is enough room for one vehicle, and you will have a better vantage point than we do now. You can take Dr. Olson with you if he wants to go.”

  “Yes, sir,” Fischer replied. “I’ll alert you when we’re in position.”

  When Fischer returned to his vehicle, Alex reluctantly followed him. Grave slunk behind, a rifle’s barrel poking more than a foot above his head.

  “Can’t wait to plug me a wolf,” Grave sniggered. “I’ll show you Marine boys how it’s done.”

  “You can’t fire on the wolf,” Alex reminded him, his voice coated with disdain. “You aren’t a Dalton agent.”

  “Well I am now,” Grave replied. “Got hired as a consultant just a few hours ago. Temp-o-rary contract.”

  “Let’s hope it’s very temporary.” Alex muttered. This is what he had lost his wife for; a gravel-filled ditch and a sociopathic redneck talking cat.

  The White Plateau

  Limerick’s group threaded their way down a narrow path in the cliff-side. The air was frosty, and puffs of steam marked their breaths. They were descending toward a ledge that overlooked the gorge, avoiding the sharp edge while making fun of Pierce’s hair.