Last Bastion

by Rachel Aaron

  "With my family," he said, no longer having to fake being in pain. Why did the bastard have to grab his injured wrist? "Please, sir, you are hurting me! I only wish to return to my wife and children! They are staying in an inn to the south. If the Royal Mile is safe, please let me pass so I may return to them!"

  SilentBlayde thought that was a very convincing sob story, but the older knight just sneered. "I don't believe you," Sir Dan said, wrenching SB to the ground. "If you're really just an elf from the north, why do you have a player's face?"

  SB winced, hoping the knight would mistake it for pain. He'd forgotten that all players had the same dozen faces available during character creation, but it was too late to improve his disguise. All he could do now was to stick to his role. Since this man clearly hated players, he decided to roll with that. If Mr. Highcloud had been on the receiving end of player brutality, that would explain his injuries as well.

  "Please, sir, have mercy!" he cried, turning his arm in the knight's grip to show him the wound James's bite had left. "A player attacked me! He beat me cruelly and stole my food and my money. I have been hiding in basements for days, hearing sounds of battle. I don't know if my family is safe or how to find them again in all this chaos. All I want is to pass so that I may be reunited with them. Please help me!"

  The lies came out naturally, rolling off his tongue like the thousands before. It wasn't until he finished that SB realized just how believable his words were. A grain of truth was the best salt for a lie, which was why he'd chosen this story over the other possibilities. Now it was out, though, he realized with a shock that there were probably lots of people in the city right now who could have told the same tale honestly. He'd certainly seen enough dead shopkeepers when he'd been scouting for Tina. But while the tale was so believable even he was starting to buy it, the mask of vengeance on Sir Dan's face did not change.

  "Sorry, peasant," the knight said. "I don't know who you really are, but you have the same face as the thousands of player-possessed elves I've had to stare at for the last eighty years. That's too bad for you, because a living player is a risk we will no longer tolerate."

  With that, the knight pulled his sword and raised it high. As the weapon went up, SilentBlayde slid his free hand under his cloak to grasp the handle of one of his swords. He was already planning how he'd stab the knight through the chest and then, hopefully, move on to the rest of the patrol before they realized they'd been tricked when the young knight who'd spoken up before reached out to grab Sir Dan's arm.

  "Sir Dan, stop!" he cried, wrestling the bigger knight's weapon away from SB. "This is murder! Can you not see that he is injured? He wears no player armor and carries no weapons. He is an innocent man, one of the vulnerable citizens we are sworn to protect! Think of your honor!"

  The two knights struggled for a terrifying moment, and then Sir Dan shoved the younger man away, but he did not turn his blade back to SB. Instead, he shoved the sword with Bastion's sunburst crest on its hilt back into his sheath.

  "Damn new recruit!" he yelled, not so much releasing SB's arm as throwing it the direction of the ground. "You like him so much, you deal with him."

  The young knight's eyes went wide. "Me, sir?"

  "Aye, you," Sir Dan said, sneering at SB, who was focusing on looking convincingly terrified. "If you care so damn much about honor, you can take him to his blasted family. But know this!" He shoved his gauntleted finger in SB's face. "This creature is a player. I can smell it! He lies through his teeth, but he'll show his true nature in the end, and when he does, that blood will be on your hands!"

  "I have faith that this is the right decision," the young knight replied, standing up straight even though his voice was shaking. Sir Dan spat on the ground at his feet, turned his back on them, and marched back to the other knights waiting in the Royal Mile. The rest of the squad followed, glaring over their shoulders. When they were gone, the young human knight kneeled down to offer SB his hand.

  "My apologies, Master Sky," he said, flashing SilentBlayde an apologetic smile. "I wasn't in the Nightmare, either, so I don't comprehend what has happened to Sir Dan and the others to make them act this way. Please know that they were honorable men once and will be again. They're just mad with anger right now, so please don't judge them too harshly. Meanwhile, I will help you find your family."

  "Thank you for saving me," SB said, the wobble in his voice in no way faked. "What should I call you, Sir knight?"

  "My name is Sir Jamie Tillerson," the young man replied proudly. "You may call me Sir Jamie."

  "Sir Jamie, then," SilentBlayde said, moving closer to his rescuer in case one of the crazier knights changed his mind and came back. "May we travel by the Royal Mile? It looks to be under the king's protection--long may he reign--and would be the safest way to reach my family. I left them in an inn by the bank. If they have not been forced to flee, I hope to find them there."

  The young man shook his head, his too-large helmet sliding against his brown hair as he did so. "I'm sorry, but the Royal Mile is closed to all but the king's soldiers, and the south of the city is off limits as well. According to our reports, the player army that destroyed Captain Malakai's outpost has taken over the Trainers' Hall. For their own safety, no civilians are to be allowed near it."

  SB barely caught his grin in time. That was a priceless piece of information. He didn't know why Tina hadn't gone for the bank as planned, but the Trainers' Hall was an inspired second choice. With its defensible positions and piles of supplies, they could hold out there for days. Now he just had to reach her.

  "But I have to go south," he begged, hiding his eagerness behind a not wholly feigned mask of worry. "My family--"

  "I know you wish to reach them," the young man said sadly. "But I cannot let you put yourself in danger." He thought for a moment, and then his eyes lit up. "I know! We'll be moving against the players' camp soon, so I will be in that part of the city. If you tell me where your family was staying, I promise I will search for them for you. In the meanwhile, I'll take you to the Diplomatic Quarter. That's where all the other citizens of Bastion are waiting while the peace is restored. You'll be quite safe there, and maybe you'll meet someone who knows of your relatives."

  It took all of SilentBlayde's discipline not to curse in the boy's face. The Diplomatic Quarter was right next to the castle, practically hugging the walls. Going back in that direction was the last thing he wanted. He supposed he could let the young knight lead him off and then kill him the moment they were alone, but while he would have had no problem gutting Sir Dan, doing the same to Sir Jamie--who'd stood up to his superior officer to save SB's fake life--felt like one sin too many.

  "Oh no, I have troubled you too much already," SB said, frantic to find another way out. "Your offer is most generous, but I cannot hide behind walls while my wife and children are in peril. If I can't go south down the Royal Mile, I'll just find another--"

  "Absolutely not," Sir Jamie said firmly, grabbing hold of "Master Sky's" good arm. "I insist on escorting you to safety. On my honor as a knight, I'll take you to the Diplomatic Quarter and see that your injuries are cared for."

  SB tried to come up with a reason he couldn't go, but he'd lied himself into a corner. Sir Dan was still watching from the road, too, which meant he couldn't even fight back as Sir Jamie pulled him his feet and began escorting him back the way he'd just come.

  ***

  "And that's why my brother, Mist, had to wear a yeti-hide dress all Winter Solstice," SB finished, struggling to keep his voice jovial and steady.

  They'd been walking for nearly two hours. Even with Bastion's new expanded size, the journey between the Royal Mile and the Diplomatic Quarter in the city's northwestern corner shouldn't have taken more than thirty minutes, but between SB's leg and the constant challenges issued to them by every patrol they passed, their progress was slower than a crawl. The real challenge, though, was dealing with Sir Jamie.

  The young knight had been nothing but
polite and helpful, but his presence still ground SilentBlayde's nerves raw. Not only did he have to constantly shift his body to keep him from discovering the swords hidden under his cloak, but Sir Jamie insisted on talking, forcing SB to weave an increasingly complicated life history for Sky of Highcloud. It had taken all his knowledge of FFO's Winter Nation zones to keep things believable. He'd never been so glad of the weeks he'd spent on the Unciatus faction grind.

  But as frustrating as it was, Sir Jamie's company was worth every thin-ice lie. The young knight's assurances had gotten them past nine patrols, several of which had had the eyes of true player haters. That was eight packs of knights more than SB was confident he could beat while wounded and without his gear, but leaning on the shoulder of a Royal Knight was as good as a free pass. The patrols still stopped and harassed him, but they always let them go in the end. One squad of City Guards even offered to take SB off Sir Jamie's hands so he could return to the front, but the young knight had refused, claiming he'd been ordered to take responsibility for the injured citizen personally, and he meant to do just that.

  "You have quite the sense of duty, sir," SB said as the guard patrol walked away. "Sir Dan would never know if you took help."

  "But I would know," Sir Jamie said sternly. "A knight's honor is more important than his life. Sir Dan may have meant it as a punishment, but this task was given to me, and I will see it through. I owe my dear father and mother that much at least. They sacrificed much so that I could pursue the knighthood, and I always swore I would never let them down."

  SB looked down at his feet to hide his grimace. Honor. That was a luxury he'd been born without. But while he didn't envy the knight his shackles of duty, the rest of what Sir Jamie had said filled SilentBlayde with bitter, shameful jealousy. Sir Jamie Tillerson clearly hadn't come from a rich or powerful family--just a loving one.

  They shuffled in silence after that. Sir Jamie was busy watching the now-dark streets for player attacks, and "Sky of Highcloud" claimed exhaustion, which wasn't a lie at all. Between the pain and the blood loss and the long, shuffling walk, SB was so tired he was having trouble keeping his act up.

  He was sticking to safer silence when they finally reached a hilltop that had a long, eight-foot-high terrace cut into it. The top of the terrace was crowned with an attractive--but still highly defensible--fieldstone wall that had been hastily augmented with converted-wagon archer boxes and a makeshift barricade of sharpened wooden posts blocking off the cut-in stairs.

  "Who goes?" came a call from the top.

  "I am Sir Jamie Tillerson, in his Majesty's service!" Sir Jamie called back. "I have a man here who needs help!"

  A pair of City Guards in yellow tabards and flimsy chain appeared at the top of the steps. "Well met, Sir Knight!" they said, hurrying to drag the barricade out of the way. "Come in, come in."

  Tiptoeing between the spikes, SB and Sir Jamie climbed the steps to what had once been an expansive flagstone plaza. SilentBlayde remembered the front of the Diplomatic Quarter as a novelty vendor area designed to look like a slightly anachronistic shopping mall, complete with food court. Now, though, the noodle stands and fried sweets counters were shuttered, and the umbrella-covered tables were gone. In their place, a sea of canvas army tents filled the square from edge to edge, and every one of them was packed with people.

  SilentBlayde's eyes went wide at the sight. Well, this explained where the population of Bastion had gone. The Diplomatic Quarter was packed full of refugees. As they walked farther in, he saw that the tent city extended beyond the square as well, filling the boulevards and courtyards behind it. Everywhere there was space, ragged people with fearful eyes and ash-smudged faces had crammed themselves in. Mothers attempted to bathe hungry babies in small wooden tubs. Fathers waited in lines for food and water rations with their children in tow. Others just sat on the ground, staring at nothing. They were all NPCs wearing the standard Bastion town clothes, but seeing them like this, SB found it hard to draw the usual lines. They just looked like people--hungry, terrified people trying to survive.

  "Lieutenant," Sir Jamie said as the City Guards closed the barricade behind them. "This man has been injured by players. He needs healing at once. Where do I take him?"

  The guard simply pointed across the square at a long tent in the very back. Nodding, Sir Jamie started leading SB toward it, but the closer they got, the slower SilentBlayde walked. They weren't even inside yet, but he could already smell the stench of rotten blood and bad wounds. When Sir Jamie pushed aside the door flap at last, the inside was even worse.

  The medical tent was nothing but the wounded lying on wooden and canvas cots that were packed in so tight, you couldn't walk between them. Nurses in various uniforms rushed around, but there didn't seem to be any medicine to dispense. Behind a sheet in the back, someone was screaming for mercy while a man in doctor's robes readied a bloodstained hacksaw. He didn't even wash it before going in, and SB turned away in horror.

  "You there," Sir Jamie said, snagging the sleeve of a harried-looking Cleric as he ran by. "This man is on death's door. He needs healing."

  The Cleric, a short jubatus with dark-brown fur and bloodstained robes, gave SB a single look before turning away again. "He's already been magically healed," he said brusquely.

  Sir Jamie frowned, and then he looked at SilentBlayde. "Why did you not tell me you had been healed already?"

  "I-I-I did not know," SB improvised, covering up his panic with a look of confusion. "It must have happened while I was passed out on the street. Maybe some kindly Cleric or Naturalist took pity on me."

  That sounded weak even to him, but before Sir Jamie could ask any more awkward questions, the busy Cleric pointed at a wooden cot in the center of the tent. "We don't have mana to spare, but he won't die tonight. Just put him over there, and we'll get to him when we can."

  SB wanted nothing more than to get away from this place, but he was too tired and too deep in the lies to fight as Sir Jamie gently led him to the cot the Cleric had indicated. His hidden swords dug into his back as he lay down, but he couldn't possibly take them off without revealing what he was to the whole tent, so he gritted his teeth and bore it, hoping the pained expression would add a sense of verisimilitude.

  "Well, Master Sky," Sir Jamie said when SB was finally down. "I have delivered you to safety, as promised. I must return to my unit now, but I swear I will look out for your family when we go south to crush the player rebellion. Stay in this camp, and I will send them to you when I find them. Meanwhile, be sure to get your rest. Your family will need you healed up and strong when you are reunited."

  "Thank you, Sir Jamie," SB said, and he meant it. "I will always remember your kindness."

  The young knight shook his hand and left the tent, and SilentBlayde let out a sigh of relief. Sir Jamie was a good kid, but he was still so glad to be out of the knight's presence at last. Lying down felt good too. Coming into the tent, all he'd wanted was to run away, but now that he was flat, his body felt as heavy as lead. He knew he needed to get up and get back to Tina, but the lumpy cot had a gravity he couldn't fight. Before he could even start on a plan to sneak away, he nodded off, his eyes falling shut.

  And dreamed of Tina.

  ***

  "Thanks for watching, and mash the subscribe button for more!" Tina and SB said at the same time, holding the excited tone until the red Recording dot clicked off.

  SilentBlayde let out his breath. He was back in FFO--the game version, not the terrifying new reality. He was in VR again, wearing the body of SilentBlayde the character and standing outside an instance portal in one of the forest zones. Which portal and which zone, he wasn't entirely sure, mostly because he wasn't paying attention. He was too busy watching the video feed that floated in the corner of his vision, where Tina--the real Tina--was sitting in her computer chair in her bedroom at her parents' house and smiling at him like he was the best thing in her world.

  He wasn't on camera, of course. He only eve
r appeared in their videos as his character. Tina had been the same at first, but then she'd read that videos with real people's faces in them got more hits, so she'd bought a used camera and a program that let her play FFO in third person from her computer and started appearing in their videos as herself.

  It had worked like a charm too. Tina never believed him when he said she was pretty, but the world clearly agreed with him, because the moment she'd started putting her real face in their videos, views had gone through the roof. The only bad part was that people had started demanding to see his face as well, but saying no to random internet commenters was a small price to pay for the privilege of getting to look at Tina in real life.

  And oh, was she something to look at. As always when they were filming, Tina had gotten "all gussied up." SB wasn't sure about that particular piece of English slang, but it seemed to mean "comb hair and put on makeup." She complained every time that she was plastering her face, but his mother put on twice as much just to go outside, so he didn't understand. Maybe it was an American thing.

  Makeup or no makeup, though, SB loved getting to actually see her as Tina, not Roxxy. She had long, exotic wavy brown hair that poofed out like a soft cloud around her lovely face with its fragile, delicate features. Her skin was pale in the winter and freckled in the summer, and her large amber-brown eyes lit up with excitement whenever she talked. Or at least, whenever she talked to him. Her mouth was small and perfect, too, especially when she was smiling, as she was now.

  And she was so small. SB wasn't sure how tall she actually was, but she had to sit on a box to keep her chair from swallowing her during filming. SB knew better than to comment on it--that way lay death--but he secretly thought it was adorable. All of her was. Filming with her like this was his favorite thing to do because it let him look at her as much as he wanted without feeling self-conscious. He'd already blatantly stopped piloting his character so he could just stand there and drink her in. He was watching the way the tips of her curls slipped over her shoulders to nestle in the crook of her collarbone when he realized Tina was talking to him.