by Matthew Kent
I grunted in acknowledgment.
“Master Silverleaf,” I said. “When I went through, I left him a letter explaining about the undead and the undead king. He might help, or if he can’t help us himself, he might know of someone who can or would aid us in our mission.”
“Just call it a quest,” Morner said as he mused. “Okay, here’s what we will do. Lorcan, BarbeQ, Synon, and Tekadan, go to Dros Drin. The Angels will be your backup.” Then he detailed the primary plan and a secondary and dismissed us. “Everyone, good job. Lorcan, get some rest—you have a long ride tomorrow.”
He was right. I found a place to sleep and let the darkness come over me. Sure, I had a lot to think about, but that would have just wasted the time I needed to rest and recover.
The next morning I woke early. I stretched and did the basic morning workout I had been doing in the real world. It centered me. Something I desperately needed—it’s not everyday you get threatened by a computer and find out you are still in a virtual prison. I went through my pack and emptied the crafting components into the guild stores. I loaded up on a few potions of healing, mana, and stamina. Finally, I was ready to ride as everyone else logged back in. Then we set off for the Dros.
X - X - X
The ride was thankfully uneventful, and we unhorsed inside the gates close to the Mage Guild, where I had hoped to find Master Silverleaf.
“So should we all go in?” I asked.
Tekadan was the first to reply. “No, we should send you and BarbieQ in. Synon and I will be your backup in case anything happens. We can wait out in the tavern down the street.” He pointed down the way.
I looked at BarbieQ, and she quirked an eyebrow, then nodded, her red-gold hair bobbing. “It's as good as I’ve got. Just remember, if I ask how big is this room, you duck and run.”
Those words sounded ominous. I was worrying about the kinds of people I was hanging around and what it said about my sanity, then I remembered that beggars can’t be choosers.
“Right, Barbie. On me.”
She reached over with a finger and stroked the tip of my ear. “Sure thing, lover boy. I’ll make an exception this time. Usually I’m not a first date kind of girl.” Synon and Tekadan laughed while I sputtered and turned red.
It would be an interesting day, I thought. Then to cover how flustered I was, I knocked on the door and tried to hide my embarrassment.
X - X - X
“I want you to watch this, Miles, may I Call you Miles, Dr. Honimaga? I found it intriguing when my son brought it to my attention,” said a cultured voice from the other side of the video conference. The screen flashed and a video segment began.
Dateline GNN.
“Good evening everyone, this is Bill Prescot,” said a dapper young man with long hair and a too cherry smile.
“And I’m Ted Williams,” said a second young man with stringy, dirty blond hair.
“We’re bringing you the most excellent gamer news of the day,” they said together.
“Well, Ted, the real news today is what’s going on in the world of Arabella Online. For the past week we have heard heinous rumors of something dark happening in the game.” Bill’s eyes grew wide with surprise as he punctuated each statement with a gesticulation of his right hand.
“That’s right, Bill, and we have the video showing a new event that has just happened last night. Now, dudes and dudettes, if you have a weak stomach, you aren’t going to want to be watching this show, so cue film,” Ted said pointing to an antiquated monitor behind them then reached over to grab the popcorn.
The scene cut to the recording.
“What the devil do you louts think you are doing? Away with you, or I’ll have your heads for this. See if I don’t,” a tall blond form said to a crowd of dirty disheveled forms that seemed to battle servants.
One of them looked up, then another their eyes glowing red with hatred and malice as the red eyes all came to rest on him.
“Slay the living,” they said in unison their voices a collective hiss.
“I, Lord Rialto Baen Blade, tell you to be gone or perish by my and my guards’ blades,” the insolent fop said as he drew a saber from its sheath.
In a flash of light that blazed over his body, he stood before the crowd. His clothing transformed into a bronze breastplate and greaves.
“Guards, with me and slay these beasts!” With that, the transformed fop launched himself into the midst of the attackers. Behind the men with glowing eyes, the forms of the guards and wait staff could be seen to stir off the ground. Their baleful red eyes alight with the same hunger for the living that their attackers had held.
“Slay the living…” a clarion call taken up by more and more. The undead horde arose from the corpses of the slain NPCs and players.
Lord Rialto’s sword work was spectacular, a parry, a thrust, and then a riposte as he faced two of the monsters. His blade decapitated the first beast, its head seen to sail through the air and plop down at the feet of the person shooting the video. The videographer could see his face as he fought more of the monsters even as they rose from the ground.
She then heard him call out, “Guard captain, evacuate my guests. Then we shall deal with these miscreants.”
The form of Lord Rialto receded as the player who had shot the video ran away. Then an explosion was heard to the player’s left. She looked over and saw more forms battling the guests. The viewers could hear panting breaths blocking out the sounds of fighting around the woman as she fled.
The camera view suddenly cut to a young girl with dark, nearly black hair, up in a pony tail. She was garbed in a midnight blue gown speckled with stars, clutching the severed head that had lain at her feet its eyes still alight.
“I don’t know—” she panted, “what’s going on or who our attackers are.”
She then turned and gestured with a hand. Suddenly a black horse with a blue mane appeared. “I was only crashing the party, time to go.”
Mounting up, she rode off, the sounds of explosions growing distant.
The scene cut back to the two anchors. “EXCELLENT!” they crowed together while Ted did a finger flourish in the air.
“Miles, could you please explain how this video was allowed out of our facility and into the hands of these mushy-headed numbskulls?” The man speaking was seated half a continent away as he teleconferenced with Miles Honimaga. “The only thing I can think of worse is if someone seated them on a davenport in their mother’s basement.”
“Sir, we are looking into it. However, the player in question talked the facility coordinator into uploading it to her system. She has been attempting to set up a streaming service for months to highlight her character,” Miles stated.
“And the coordinator?” he said ominously.
“I have reprimanded, for not following procedure. However, he was trying to follow prior dictates and had not been informed not to release video from streams.” Miles said with a shrug.
“The same video we did not have available to us in Atlanta that might have shown us where those players were?”
“Yes, sir. Precisely.”
“This is getting far too complicated. And that Lord Rialto—did that young snot surface?”
Miles winced. “No, sir. We believe he is one of the players trapped as an undead.”
“Wonderful,” the voice replied. “His father will be thrilled to have that bit of news.”
“His father?” Miles asked with trepidation in his voice.
“His father is the executive vice president of marketing for Dow Chemicals.”
“Oh. Oh no.” Was all that Miles could say? He remembered past run-ins with the odious man.
X - X - X
“What exactly do you know about Master Silverleaf?” BarbieQ asked me as we knocked on the door.
“Not much really. I met him when I was here the last time.” I looked at her. “I left him a note a couple days ago to give him fair warning about the undead plague.”
S
he snorted.
“Do you think he acted on it?” she said skeptically.
“I don’t know. I have the feeling there is a lot more to the NPC’s than we realize.”
Her arched eyebrow said it all. Then the door opened.
“Yes, who is it?” said a middle-aged grumpy elf.
“I’m sorry to trouble you. I’m looking for Master Silverleaf.” He scrunched his eyes and examined me.
“Come in, come in. I’ll take you to him.” The door opened, and as it did, it gave me a better view of the elf. He was about five and a half feet tall, blond-haired, and his green robe seemed ill-fitting and out of place. “You say you are here for Master Silverleaf,” his querulous voice stated. “Would it be about this letter?”
He held up a folded piece of parchment.
“I don’t know. I left him a letter several days ago,” I said, then BarbieQ placed her hand on my chest to quiet me.
“What is this about, and why all the questions?” she said to him. “We are inquiring about an acquaintance.” She stepped into the middle of the room.
“Certain irregularities in Master Silverleaf‘s dealing have come to light. Things the council would wish not to be known.” The elf turned to us. “The council wishes to discuss this with you.”
As he turned, we heard a series of clicks from the balcony above us. Looking up, we saw over twenty dwarves armed with heavy crossbows—aimed at us.
“Oh, Lorcan…” I heard BarbieQ say.
I knew what she would try to say as I saw a red glow appear in her hand, but before the fireball could form the elf waved his hand, and the magical energies surrounding her were snuffed out.
I stepped in front of her with my hands raised; I figured we were well and truly boned, but maybe I could talk to him and convince him of our harmlessness.
“Sir, there is no need for violence,” I said. “I had contacted Master Silverleaf solely to let him know of events that had been transpiring in Arabella and mayhap to see if he had a cure for certain ailments. We certainly do not wish any mayhem in this place or city.” I spoke until my mouth was dry.
“And these events?” he inquired.
“Are perhaps best heard by the council of Dros Drin,” I blurted.
“Perhaps, but you are to be taken to the council in Dros Morgain. May the gods have mercy on your souls.” Yeah, I thought to myself, we’re boned. A dwarf marched up and held out a set of manacles that enclosed my hands. They chained Barbie in the same way. Then they marched us outside.
I had high hopes that Tekadan could free us. But at the base of the stairs, Synon and Tekadan both knelt, their hands behind their backs and heads covered. In less than an hour we were at the keep and meeting the high -lord of the fortress. The guards escorted us through the front gate and up the stairs into the administrative wing.
His lordship was seated on a chair that had many throne- like qualities, behind a large desk I would have said was in a Napoleonic style. The legs were thick and heavy slab sided affairs ornate with gilding and scroll work. The top was a flat slab of wood with an inlay of tooled leather around the work surface. His lordship was a tall elf, his blond hair almost white. He was dressed in a hooker’s green coat and tan pants or hose that went into calf length black riding boots.
“Forgive us our haste,” he said in with a voice that was honey sweet. “Our last prisoners escaped. We will send you directly to Morgain.”
He then took out a scroll and read from it. The mystic words made little sense, but darkness bloomed in front of us, and a tear in reality appeared.
“I didn’t know they had gates,” I said aloud.
BarbieQ replied a look of horror on her face. “They don’t.”
They shoved us four through the yawning abyss, and I felt my stomach heaving. All the time, I kept telling myself this was only a game.
Chapter 17
We lay where we landed; I was feeling both frozen and queasy.
“Has anyone ever thrown up in-game?” I asked wanly.
“No!” Tekadan moaned. “But I might be the first.”
Synon groned and lay still while BarbieQ chortled with glee.
“They have gates,” she said.
I glanced over at her and saw the beatific smile she had on her face. I lay there for quite a while trying to regain my dignity before I looked around. We were in a holding area about fifteen feet by fifteen feet. Looking down, I saw straw covered the floor, but under it I glimpsed a pattern.
“Barbie, did you see this?” I said as I brushed the straw away to get a better look.
“What do you make of that?” she asked, looking up at me.
I sat and thought. “I think the pattern acts like a target. That scroll he used, I would bet, has to be keyed to this pattern.”
We were both startled by a clapping sound to the side.
“Superb. You may be worth my time,” said a voice that embodied both culture and arrogance.
“Who are you?” I asked.
The elf stood tall. “I am Perwin of Elfhaim Sun Ascending.” He gave us a disdainful look. “I am assigned to aid you through this trial.”
“Trial?” Tekadan asked.
“Yes, trial. You have trespassed into dangerous knowledge. The council wishes to know what you have discovered and end your delving into areas best left buried.” He brushed at the sleeve of his jacket. “Now you will follow me.”
He said with authority. Looking at our manacled hands, I got the feeling we had little choice.
One wall of our cell slid down into the floor. There was a troop of dwarves on the other side.
“Please, sir, lead on,” I said, trying to affect a nonchalant air. I thought I could tweak the insolent prig’s ego.
The halls they led us through seemed to be a blending of both the ephemeral elven aesthetic and dwarven craftsmanship and design.
“This is Dros Morgain?” I asked casually. “I don’t think I had visited it before.”
“None of you travelers has ever visited this keep,” Perwin said with his haughty air. “This is a place for the true elves and dwarves, not your perversions that walk the land.”
I admit his statements piqued my interest. “Perversions?”
“Yes. You two-souled who walk the lands, then die and are reborn.” His words were angry. “You who kill and kill and destroy, but once we get rid of your plague, you return.”
“You have suffered because of a traveler then,” Synon said.
“We have all suffered, and now this” He said, his words dripping with venom.
Great, we already had one enemy at court, and he was apparently our advocate.
Soon we were escorted into a large chamber. The ceiling reached fifty to sixty feet above us in a domed ceiling that glowed like the evening sky. The chamber was grand. The paneling was a fine wood, with ornate metal and stone work. Along the far wall was a seating area of nice chairs, four on each side of a taller podium-like structure. I surmised that it was the seat for the council and the central seat was for its head. As we stepped into the chamber, a gong sounded, its mournful tone pealing out, and I could feel something. I wasn’t sure what, but with its last fading tones, shadows seemed to gather, and there before us was the council. A neat trick, I thought to myself.
I looked at the council impassively. At least this time I might have time to defend myself.
“You are the Wood Sprite known as Lorcan?” a voice boomed.
I couldn’t tell if it was from the head of the council or one of the other members.
I stepped forward before speaking. “I am Lorcan Defay,” I stated.
One of the dark shapes stirred, then another.
“We have a disturbing report you seek knowledge long prescribed in this realm. To what end do you seek this?”
“My lords and ladies, if I may tell you of what I seek, perhaps it can aid you in understanding,” I said with confidence in my voice I didn’t feel.
“Speak,” boomed another voice.
> So I did. “My lords and ladies, when I first came into the lands of Arabella, I received a quest to seek the lost city of war, the center of the Mardukan Empire. As you have guessed, I am a traveler. I learned that Arabella the city once was the capital of an empire of men over a thousand years past. A city I once helped to fight, and with the elves and dwarves, we conquered it.” At those words I heard the council stir and saw two of the shadow-draped forms bend toward one another and confer. “There on a crisp morning we attacked the walls. I gave aid and healing with one squad as I could. We fought the men we found there...” I recounted my battle. “As we reached the central square, we saw the bodies of the dead and dying, but even before we could render aid, fire licked out from the central tower and washed over us.”
