by James Hunter
In some ways it was like a fireworks display, except instead of dissipating, the strobing light grew in intensity, the colors shifting from orange to crimson to azure to emerald to violet then back again in a never-ending kaleidoscope of color and beauty. Some small part of me wanted to just stand there and watch the light show, to revel in it like a kid on the Fourth of July despite the fact that we were still in a battle for our lives. Instead, I shoved the impulse away and shook my head, glancing around.
Everyone else was staring up at the light show. Including the scads of Necrotic Thralls. Their green eyes were transfixed, and their mouths hung slack, strands of drool swinging down. Hypnotized. Each and every one of the deadly beasts.
“They are simple creatures,” the Pixy squeaked at me, her voice high-pitched and oddly adorable, “their minds easily enraptured. But the spell won’t last long.”
“Who are you?” I asked in a whisper, afraid to disrupt the hypnotic trance.
“Arlette Glitterfleck, at your service, Champion,” she replied, barking it off like a soldier reporting in for duty. “But you can just call me Ari. I’ve been dispatched by High Queen Sophia to render you aid and act as a guide to the land of Order.” She grinned, showing off a mouthful of perfect, sparkling teeth. “Looks like I got here just in time, too. Now come with me if you want to live.” A quest alert popped up as she finished speaking:
<<<>>>
Quest Alert: A Pixy in Need
While investigating the corruption spreading through the secret Realm of Order, you have encountered Arlette Glitterfleck, emissary of the Vale, and Esquire of the Court of Order. As you are the Champion of Order, she reports directly to you. She will assist you on your quest as she attempts to reclaim her place as a Knight of Order. Follow her to the hidden village of the Vale to discover more about the source of the corruption.
Quest Class: Rare, Champion-Based
Quest Difficulty: Normal
Success: Follow Arlette to the Vale.
Failure: Refuse to follow Arlette to the Vale; Arlette dies before reaching the Vale.
Reward: 8,000 EXP for all party members; your party’s relationship with Arlette and the wee folk of the Vale will improve from Neutral to Friendly.
Accept: Yes/No?
<<<>>>
I took one more glance at the ring of bristling fur and bared teeth surrounding us and accepted. “Lead the way, Ari.”
SEVEN_
Escape
The little Pixy nodded, her smile growing impossibly wide as she flipped in midair and flitted over to the wall of implacable stone barring our path. Her tiny hands shot up, waving and twirling in fluid arcs as she sang—the tune melodic, haunting. A section of the wall shimmered and distorted, melting away to reveal a jagged fissure just wide enough for me to squeeze through. “Come on, Champion. This way.” Her wings buzzed with manic life as she darted into the crevice, the glow from her body bouncing off the walls.
“Well, bloody bollocks. You sure as all shite don’t have to tell me twice,” Cutter mumbled, ducking low as he shimmied into the gap. Amara followed without a word.
“You’re sure we can trust her?” Abby asked, lingering at the fissure, her fingers resting lightly against the stone, her face an unreadable mask.
“As sure as I am that those things”—I hooked a thumb toward the small army of nightmare bunnies—“will maul the crap out of us once that spell wears off.”
Her lips pursed into a tight line, but she nodded and followed the others into the craggy opening.
“Sir?” Jay asked, arms crossed, his posture saying I won’t budge an inch until I get the word.
Osmark just sighed and twirled one finger through the air, move it along. The monk grunted and wedged his bulk into the crack. Even without armor, he was the thickest built character in the crew, his shoulders unnaturally broad, his chest enormous. I watched, amused as he wiggled and danced, inching his way through as bits of rock bit at his skin. At last, he vanished, swallowed by the dark of the cave’s interior.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Jack,” Osmark said, stowing his pistol then beelining for the opening.
I followed him into the cleft, and not a moment too soon. The strobing ball of brilliant illumination overhead gave one final flash before flickering, guttering, and dying in a puff of black smoke like a burnt-out lightbulb. And the Necrotic Rabbits responded at once, shaking their heads as they focused on the place my crew had been only moments before. I pushed my way deeper in—the snug hallway claustrophobically tight, pressing in on all sides—then rounded a sharp bend as a haunting chorus of howls rose into the air.
The sound chased me through the passage, echoing and ringing in my ears as I broke free from the fissure and stumbled into a natural cave with rough walls.
I faltered, staring in awe at the cavern in front of me. I’d been expecting a dreary place—dark, cold, musty, and likely crawling with bugs that wanted to pick the flesh from my bones.
But no. The floor here was covered with lush grass which glowed with an eerie green light. Fluorescent flowers in neon pink, electric blue, and Ferrari red dotted the ground in patches and climbed the walls en masse, forming a tapestry of interwoven light and life. Leafy shrubs sat at the base of the walls, their thick branches loaded down with luminous berries that looked like a host of glimmering stars. And scattered through the cavern were looming toadstools, each the size of a small tree, shedding ever-shifting psychedelic light.
“Oh my god,” Abby muttered ahead of me, twirling slowly in a circle, taking in the otherworldly beauty of the place.
“One of the few places where the corruption has yet to spread,” our new Pixy guide, Ari, offered. “There’s more to see, though, and not much time.”
“Not much time, how?” Osmark asked as he adjusted his steampunk goggles, flipping a green lens into place over one eye. “Surely those creatures can’t follow us here. We barely made it through the opening.”
“No, not that,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Not much time until Vox-Malum the Lich Priest finishes his work. Once that’s done, the Realm of Order will be lost, and you all will be stranded here.”
“Wait. What? Stranded?” Abby asked. “For how long?”
The Pixy seesawed her head back and forth, tapping idly at her chin while she thought. “Indefinitely, I suppose. High Queen Sophia shut off access to this realm to ensure the corruption doesn’t spread to any of the other Secret Realms, which means there’s not a way back. Not unless she provides one. But if we don’t stop the corruption from spreading …” She trailed off. Shrugged. “Well, then High Queen Sophia won’t be strong enough to reopen the ways and return you to Eldgard.”
I could physically feel the tension mount in the air as our crew shifted on nervous feet.
If we failed, we’d be stuck here. Maybe forever.
“Okay,” Cutter said, turning on the Pixy, his face flat and deadpan, “this is crucial. Do you have a tavern here? Like with gambling and mead? Because I cannot be eternally stranded in a place without a decent tavern.”
The flying Pixy frowned, then shook her head. “Nope. Afraid not, friend.” She crinkled her nose. “Gambling is inherently a game of chance—of chaos. We don’t touch it here. It’s against the rules. And neither do the fair folk partake in mead, though we have excellent wine.” She quirked a tiny eyebrow. “Better than anything Eldgard has to offer.”
The color drained from Cutter’s face as he gulped. “Wine. Wine.” He seemed to roll the word across his tongue, tasting it. “Wine, but no mead. And no gambling.” He paused, hands coming to a rest on the pommels of his daggers. “Lead the way, Pixy,” he said, voice solemn, back straight, righteous fire burning in his eyes. “I swear to all the gods above and below, we’ll destroy every evil that stands between us and a gambling hall. And the sooner we do it, the better—I can already feel myself sobering up, and I hate it.”
Ari grinned and giggled, her wings blurring. “This way then.” She di
pped, twirled, and zipped off toward a connecting passageway that zigzagged deeper into the mountain.
The passageway ahead was far less cramped than the fissure we’d wiggled through, but it was far from a wide boulevard, and we found ourselves navigating in a single file line. Ari was in front, with me behind her, followed by Osmark, Abby, Cutter, and Amara. Jay brought up the rear. “What about respawn?” Osmark asked as we walked, his voice bouncing off the rocky confines of the hall. “Is it possible we’ll respawn back in Eldgard?”
“Afraid not,” Ari replied over one shoulder. “This zone is locked. There’s no access to the outside world—no communication, and no standard respawn. Die here, and you’ll end up back in the summoning circle.”
“Wait, the meadow with the insane bunnies?” I choked out.
She swiveled around, her wings flapping so fast they were nearly invisible, and shot a finger gun at me. “Yep, that’s the summoning circle, Champion. And the Necrotic Rabbits respawn every ten hours, so they’ll be waiting for you. Hungry.”
“So, what I’m hearing,” Cutter piped in, “is don’t die, eh?”
“Got it in one,” Ari replied, turning back toward the front, then leading us up a set of crumbling rock stairs, which ran beside a gently babbling brook with waters that glowed an unearthly crimson.
“What’s the deal with those bunnies, anyway?” I asked as we carefully picked our way across the stream, courtesy of a handful of moss-slick stones poking out of the waters. “Is everything here that tough? But also, just as importantly, why rabbits?”
“That’s Vox-Malum’s influence,” she squeaked, searching the encroaching gloom up ahead. “He’s the reason you’re here, Champion Grim Jack. And those Rabbits demonstrate the extent of his influence. Before his vile presence, those were just regular, run-of-the-mill forest rabbits. Overgrown ones, since that was the Forest of Giants, but still just normal rabbits. What you saw there is the result of the Vox-Malum’s corruption. His power changes things. Twists them. Perverts them. The Rabbits were the gentlest creatures in the realm, and now they are the most vicious.”
“Voice of Evil,” Osmark mused from behind me. “And who exactly is the Vox-Malum?”
The Pixy slapped her forehead. “Silly me. Of course you wouldn’t know about him. You’re outsiders, after all. Jeesh, where to even start.” She paused, running one hand through her cerulean hair. “A long time ago—a thousand years or more, back in the days of the Nightmare Wars—Vox-Malum was Sophia’s champion, though he was Vox-Ordo, then. A high priest of Balance, the commander of Queen Sophia’s armies, and a beacon of hope for all of the folk, wee and fair, who dwelled in the Realm of Order. He was a wizard, a powerful one with the ability to control life and death itself—”
“Some kind of Necromancer?” Osmark said to me, equal parts question and statement.
“Has to be,” I replied, glancing over one shoulder.
“Well,” Ari continued, ignoring our intrusion, “he was a vain man. In love with himself and his own power. Pride was his downfall. At some point, he thought he could do a better job ruling the Realm of Order than Sophia.” She hesitated, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her pointed ear. “He turned traitor and struck an unholy bargain with Serth-Rog. He agreed not to oppose Serth-Rog’s incursion into the other realms in exchange for a weapon powerful enough to usurp High Queen’s Sophia’s kingdom.
“What he got instead was a cruel fate,” the Pixy continued. “His looks stripped away. His powers twisted by the dark magics of Thanatos. He became an undead thing. A being as ugly and cold as his heart: a Lich Priest. But he also got the weapon he wanted. The Necrotic Pillars. They allowed him to spread the same disease that corrupted him to every living thing in the Realm of Order. And thus, the Thrall Army was born to the world.”
“Necromancer,” Osmark muttered in confirmation.
“Okay, but you said that was during the Nightmare Wars,” I offered, sidestepping a large mushroom stalk protruding from the wall. “And that was what, a thousand years ago? So, what happened between then and now?”
“Well,” she replied, “Vox-Malum was defeated when Serth-Rog was banished back to the tundra of Morsheim, the Dark Realm. But without a Champion of Order, no one could destroy him—not truly. As a Lich he was immortal. So instead, the old ones sealed him away. Imprisoned him in the Grim Vault, deep in the heart of the Burning Expanse at the far east of the realm. And he stayed there until a dark traveler appeared in our lands. A man calling himself Aleixo Carrera. A man we quickly realized was the newest incarnation of Serth-Rog, the Demon Prince of Morsheim.
“So occupied was our Great Queen with the war raging across your land, that she didn’t detect his presence until it was too late. Somehow, this Carrera knew the old stories. And more than that—he knew the location of the Grim Vault and how to open its gates. He let Vox-Malum loose, and now the Lich Priest has returned. And with him the Necrotic Pillars. Unless you destroy the pillars and lay Vox-Malum to rest, the Realm of Order will be lost to his Dark magics.” As she finished her spiel a notification appeared:
<<<>>>
Quest Update: Rise of the Lich Priest
You have learned that an Ancient Lich named Vox-Malum is responsible for the corruption spreading through the secret Realm of Order. As Champion of Order, you must locate the three Necrotic Pillars—the source of Vox-Malum’s power—and destroy them, then lay the Lich Priest to rest once and for all. You have three days to accomplish this task before the Realm of Order is lost to the power of Vox-Malum!
Quest Class: Ultra-Rare, Class-Based
Quest Difficulty: Infernal
Success: Find the source of the corruption spreading through Realm of Order and eradicate it, bringing balance back to the land.
Failure: Fail to eradicate the source of corruption spreading through the Realm of Order.
Reward: 75,000 EXP; (2) Divinity Points; 1000 renown; Unique, scaling item for every member of the party!
<<<>>>
I dismissed the screen with a thought and turned my attention back toward the glimmering Pixy bobbing along ahead of me.
“So,” Cutter said, his voice echoing off the stone walls, “all we need to do is find these bloody pillar things, shut ’em down, take out the ol’ Lich Priest, then collect our loot and head home. Seems straightforward, eh?”
“Seems that way,” Osmark said, his tone brimming with skepticism. “I very much doubt it will be straightforward, however. A quest like this is always far more complicated than it seems on the surface. This is just the start—the other shoe will drop before we know it.”
“As much as I do not like you, Osmark,” Amara said, “I am in agreement. My next question is where do we find these pillars?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ari squeaked. “But the mayor of the Vale, Nirug Bisgaard, he’ll be able to help. I’m sure of it.” She faltered, her wings glowing with a spectral violet light. “He’s a sage. He’ll know where we ought to begin our quest.”
“And how much longer until we met up with Nirug?” I asked, a grumble of hunger working its way through my stomach. The Realm of Order didn’t have mead, but hopefully they had something good to eat. I was famished, and V.G.O. had a way of punishing players who went too long without food, drink, or rest.
“Not long at all now,” she said as we rounded a bend, only to find ourselves at a dead end of unmarked stone. “We’ve arrived.” As before, her tiny hands shot up, arms swaying and twirling as she sang her hypnotic tune. The whole wall shimmered and quivered as a masterful illusion vanished, revealing an intricately carved stone archway, a broad wooden door, and a pair of surly looking guards.
EIGHT_
The Vale
For a moment we just stood there in shock, staring at the sentries as they stared right back at us. I’d been a lot of places in Eldgard and seen more than my fair share of strange things, but I’d never seen a pair like these two. One had skin as dark as muddy earth, while the other was pasty white w
ith ruddy red cheeks. Both of the guards stood about three feet tall and had pouching bellies and gnarly beards that trailed down to boxy belt buckles. They looked almost like Dwarves, but shorter, smaller, scaled down. And if the beards didn’t give them away, the conical hats perched on top of their heads certainly did.
Gnomes.
Each had a small buckler the size of a hubcap attached to one arm and carried a wicked dagger in the other hand. Well, it looked like a dagger to me, but considering their diminutive size, it was probably closer to a short sword.
“Arlette,” the dark-skinned Gnome grunted, nodding his head. “Good to see you made it back in one piece, child. And I see you’ve come with visitors. Again.” His eyes, a deep amber, flashed with suspicion as he gave us a once-over, taking an especially long look at both Cutter and Jay.
“And who, pray tell, have you brought home this time, hmm?” the other Gnome said, his voice warm and fatherly. The frown pulling down the corner of his lips told me there was some crucial piece of information I was missing.
“This is different,” Ari replied, her color shifting from electric blue to the cherry red of fresh embers. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was blushing. “High Queen Sophia dispatched me to aid these travelers. This”—she zipped back until she buzzed right next to my head—“is Grim Jack Shadowstrider, Lord over the Crimson Alliance, heir to the Nangkri Dynasty, and most importantly, Champion of Order. He is High Queen Sophia’s right hand, Elder Yasan. And these are his chosen traveling companions. Heroes one and all.”
