Tales of the Gemsmith

by Jared Mandani

  “You mean she’s got a crush on you, more like…” Paul sighed.

  “What?” Dean blinked.

  “It’s obvious. How defensive was she around you?” Paul pulled a funny face. “And how many nurses do you know who go to this much effort to help their patients out?”

  “It’s… It’s her job…” Dean flushed with embarrassment once more.

  “Right. Whatever you say, champ. I know the sorts of things they get up to in those online games.” Paul laughed sarcastically.

  Is my life really that much of a joke to him? Dean thought, thinking about what was really going on in ‘those online games,’ as Paul so eloquently put it. Red. Odge. All those VRM casualties.

  “You know nothing about it, Paul,” Dean shot back. “It’s not what you think out there…”

  “Out there?” Paul shook his head. “You should hear yourself. It’s not ‘out there.’” Paul tapped his friend on the forehead, making him flinch back.

  “Get off!”

  “It’s all in here, bro.” Paul started to do one of the other things he took great pride in; lecturing everyone else about life. “It’s a bad idea. All of that Aldarel crap.”

  “The name is Aldaron, Paul.” Dean glared.

  “Whatever. Aldarel-Aldaron. It’s all bad. That nurse is just keeping you inside your head, when you need to be getting out here with the rest of us, and living your life. Seriously, bro. We used to have fun, didn’t we? Back at college. Going to the movies, having a drink with the boys afterwards…”

  It was Dean’s turn to shrug. He didn’t remember so much the having fun part, more just hanging around the confident and assertive others, as they laughed and joked. It felt good, he recalled. And it was fun – but it was a long time ago now. And it had only been because he was too shy and nerdy himself. It was never my life, not really.

  Dean guessed that was why he took to the jewel-smithing so well, and so easily. It was generally a solitary task, with hours spent on his own in his old workshop (which he guessed was still a crime scene). It was his sanctuary away from the bustle and chaos of life.

  Until it got invaded, Dean grimaced, thinking about that night. The fists. The kicks.

  “Hey, Dean, man. Come back to me.” Paul was standing in front of him, clicking his fingers. “It’s like you just spaced out there for a minute.” Paul frowned at him. “Zoned out like you’d been at that bong in the corner…” Dean could see how his friend was annoyed with him.

  Which is crazy, really – I’m ill, I’m not doing this on purpose! “I’m good,” Dean nodded. “Really, I’m good. Just thinking.”

  “Yeah. Well. You can see why it would be difficult around the new baby. We need to have eyes like a hawk at all times…” Paul said.

  “Yeah,” Dean said, because it was easier to agree with Paul sometimes than it was to argue with him. “I’m not going to stay at yours, okay. I understand. Just please, don’t tell me how to live my life…”

  “You’re talking about that stupid roleplay game, aren’t you?” Paul said with a weary sigh. “Look, you might not be too good with your digits anymore, but there’s more to life, man!” Paul sat down beside him on the bed, thinking he was being supportive, when really Paul was just being ignorant. “Not yet anyway. But you’ll get back there with your hands – and until then? There’s plenty of things you can do to make some money. You could teach. Take a wander over to the college, see if they’re interested in a professional jeweler teaching a few classes. Or there’s always retail, or down at the casino.”

  Really!?

  “Paul. I am not about to be a casino monkey.” The very same place where I tried to set up shop, next to the tattooists’, Dean thought miserably. “I mean it, Paul. I want you to just support me in my decisions, support me in my life, and if you can’t do that…” Dean left the words hanging, and Paul stood up abruptly.

  “Fine. I can see that pretty nurse has got your head all turned around with her fantasy games and trolls,” Paul snarled, reaching for his coat.

  “I haven’t met any trolls in Aldaron yet,” Dean said. “It’s not like that. It’s serious…” He thought of what Red had told him. And I have the Ouroborax. I have a way of making the game better.

  “It’s just a friggin’ game, Dean!” Paul exploded. “Seriously. Listen to yourself. This IS crazy talk I’m hearing from you. Having kids changes your perspective on things, seriously. What good does playing around in that game do, huh? What problems does it solve? How would being a level-ninety wizard or whatever the hell you are stop what happened to you from happening again!?”

  “And working in an amusement arcade would?” Dean shook his head.

  “Maybe. You’d make more friends.” Paul glared.

  “I’ve got friends,” Dean said, thinking of Crusher and Mirelle – even Jay and Sari, perhaps.

  “Well, you go to them for help next time, will ya?” Paul snorted his disgust, and stomped out of the door just as Marcy was coming back in.

  “Excuse me!” Marcy said, but Paul was leaving, back down the stairs and out of the building and Dean’s life for good. “Ah… It didn’t go well, then?” Marcy looked at Dean. “Are you okay?” She was frowning as she crossed the room to his side.

  Dean huffed, feeling his chest tight – but not with panic, this time, with anger. It felt good to not be afraid for once. But I still feel bad, though. Dean gritted his teeth.

  “You two were arguing.” Marcy nudged him gently. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t make anything worse…”

  No,” Dean lied. It had, technically, been about her in a way, but Dean was beginning to think it was more about Paul wanting to find an excuse not to have to deal with his cripple friend anymore. “It’s okay. It was about Aldaron, really. He thinks it’s silly.”

  “Aha.” Marcy’s eyes were shadowed. “Well, geek-hate is no new thing in the world. You should have seen me in high school. I got so much crap for being into fantasy books and Harry Potter.”

  “Really?” Dean was surprised at her confession. Marcy was hot. Anyone could see that. Usually, hot girls were popular in high school.

  “Yeah. It was relentless.” Marcy rolled her eyes. “Until I decided, you know what? I didn’t care what they thought, and I just went back to my Dragonlance novels.”

  “Dragonlance? Hey, no way – I loved that series as a kid.” Dean laughed out loud, forgetting his pain for a moment.

  “Small world,” Marcy said, her voice hesitant.

  “I guess,” Dean said, feeling that uncomfortable nearness of her again. She’s so cool. A geek and a nerd, with enough attitude to stand up to Paul Vincetti.

  “Anyway. Paul will come around, I’m sure…” Marcy broke his chain of thought.

  “You don’t know him,” Dean replied.

  “But anyway – about Aldaron…” Marcy said. “I think you and me need to talk.”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Dean said with a half-smile. Aldaron felt much more important than this crappy apartment in the cheap end of town. “Red, Crusher, the others. They all think they can do this.”

  “Uncover Odge, you mean? Reveal their dirty secret to the masses?” Marcy frowned.

  “Yeah, pretty much,” Dean said, biting his lip. “The only thing that’s bugging me, is … they don’t know me. They think we can all be heroes together, take down the mighty multi-corporation, but…” Dean didn’t want to say it, but he felt it anyway. But I’m a coward. I’m a cripple and a coward.

  “Maybe we can,” Marcy said, her tone suddenly serious. “Look, I told you I was going to do some digging, right? Well, my medical credentials managed to get me into a very select email list for medical professionals last night, and, well, I started asking a few questions. Not about Odge directly, but about a spate of neurological conditions, medications, that kind of thing…”

  Dean nodded.

  “There has been a case of a lot – much higher than statistically av
erage – neurological medicines being prescribed privately, but no one seems to know what it really means.” Marcy said. “I mean, if this was an outbreak of some sort of virus that turned your brain into mush, then the whole medical establishment would be up in arms. But it’s not, right? It’s something else.” Marcy put the pieces of information straight before him. “I even got a name. Jesse Creek. It’s some kind of treatment facility where all of these drugs are going to.”

  Jesse Creek, Dean thought. Where have I heard that before…

  “Red!” he burst out. “The Red Hand mentioned Jesse Creek. He said it was some place where something bad happened early on in the prototype tests!” Dean felt a mixture of excitement and dread. The look on his face was mirrored by Marcy beside him.

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” she said, looking fearful. “The Red Hand wasn’t just making it up. It’s all true. This really did happen.”

  “Yeah…” Dean mumbled, as his heard thudded. And if it’s true, then that means there really are deaths out there thanks to Odge.

  Despite Paul’s suggestion that gaming was only fantasy, the perils of adventuring in Aldaron suddenly felt very real indeed…

  Chapter 24: Owlbears & Inpatients

  “You sure about this? I can always put in a recommendation to the Health Board, you know…?” Marcy looked at her ‘patient’ in the Occupational Rehab room.

  The room was tidy, with all of Dean’s things packed neatly into just one rucksack. A large box contained the VRM-Alpha machine and the associated cables and manuals.

  Dean himself stood by the bed leaning on his stick, his face a mask of worry. “No, I’m sure,” he muttered, looking at his few things. “I can’t stay in here forever, and you said I’d made the movement score, so…”

  “But Dean … you said yourself the Welfare housing isn’t secure,” Marcy pointed out. “We can hold on, try to talk to the Housing Officer about your situation…”

  “No.” Dean shook his head, sighing. Paul was right about that much, at least. He knew that now he had at least a base standard of mobility back in his hands and knees it was only a matter of time before the hospital authorities decided to kick him out. For once in his life, he decided to jump rather than be pushed. “I’ve decided to go for it, and it’s only partly because of what Paul said.”

  “Oh, that guy,” Marcy huffed and folded her arms over her chest. “Really, I don’t know why you listen to him…”

  “I don’t – or, I mean I won’t be.” Dean shrugged. “But still, he had a point when he said I had to get moving, to do something with my life. And this is a part of it.”

  “Moving out of here?” Marcy said, her face falling.

  “This is a hospital, Marcy – and besides, I have a plan…” He shared a kind of grin.

  “Oh great,” the nurse muttered.

  “No, hear me out – it’s because of this stuff to do with Jesse Creek and Odge that I’m moving out,” Dean said. “I figure, if we’re going to do this, then we’re going to have to devote a lot of our time to it, as much as we can, anyway,” he reasoned. “So, if I have my own place – even if it isn’t perfect, then it’s going to be better. Allow us time to really focus on cracking this Ouroborax Code thing.”

  And besides, I couldn’t continue doing it all from my hospital bed, could I?

  The truth was, Dean was scared – but not just the sort of anxious fear he had felt all the time since the attack. This was the much more distinctive fear arising from their conversation with the Red Hand. If everything he said was true – and it appeared that it was – then Odge itself was working to cover up a whole lot of deaths. There must have been people paid off, there must have been investigations. There must be some very important people involved.

  Isn’t Odge, like, one of the richest companies on the planet? Dean had reasoned. He knew that meant they could squash him like a bug.

  “I still think you can do that from here.” Marcy gestured to the bed. “And in fact, it would be easier here. You’d have the hospital electricity to use, and I’m only ever just around the corner to help out…”

  “No,” Dean said quickly. “It’s just…” He swallowed nervously. “I don’t want to bring you into any more danger than you’re already in, Marcy.” He spat it out. “This is your place of work, and we’re attempting something that could be dangerous. So, no. I don’t want you losing your job over this.” Or worse, he couldn’t help thinking.

  “What? But…” Marcy started to say, stopped herself, and then suddenly crossed the room quickly and, to Dean’s surprise, kissed him on the cheek.

  “Uhr…?” Dean said.

  The nurse put a quieting hand on his chest. “Don’t say anything.” She breathed. “Thank you,” she added, before clearing her throat awkwardly, turning, and stepping back. “Now … you have everything? Your discharge papers? Are you sure you don’t want me to come over and get you settled in?”

  “No, I’ll be fine, and yes, I’ve got everything,” Dean said for the umpteenth time. It seemed that as well as being a pretty fearsome elvish ranger, Marcy was also a worrywart. I need to do this on my own, he nodded. “Will I see you in Aldaron tonight?”

  Marcy grinned. “You bet. If I can get past Captain Vaniel’s elvish guards, that is. I’ll try to dig up some more stuff on this Jesse Creek facility by the time I get there, too. Oh, and Dean – I put some things in a plastic bag by the door there. Just to settle you in.”

  “Thanks.” The young man frowned. “Looking forward to it,” Dean said, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he was. After his friend had left, though, he found himself in the bare shell that had been his home for the last six weeks, and the place suddenly looked a whole lot smaller than it had before.

  He swung the backpack over his shoulders awkwardly, balanced the box under the crook of an elbow holding his stick, and walked out the door.

  *

  The new apartment hadn’t appeared to grow any larger, or get any more glamorous since the last time he had been here. It was just one on a block of similar bedsit-type rooms in the cheap side of San Maria. Dean heard shouting, laughing, and loud music as the medical taxi dropped him off outside the front doors in the early evening, and left him to trudge up the stairs alone. He could have taken the lift, but he felt something perversely resolute about climbing, step by step, to his own front door.

  Standing outside and fumbling with his new keys, Dean wondered for a moment about what he was doing.

  Did I have the courage to make this sort of change a week ago? A month ago? Here he was, Dean Winters, in an entirely new home, a new part of town, with nothing to his name but what he carried on his back or held under his arm. He was starting afresh. Working from the ground up. Do I feel … excited? He wondered at the fluttery feeling in his chest, even as the door swung open and he kicked the bag in over the threshold. He knew it wasn’t panic he was feeling, or not just panic, anyway.

  Yeah. I guess this is excitement, he told himself, before laughing out loud in the empty room.

  “I guess things have changed for you, Dean Winters,” he said, lowering his heavy goods to the table and inspecting his new abode.

  But he wasn’t excited about the room so much, he was excited about Aldaron.

  That is one thing I CAN do, to make things better. To be a hero, he thought. It was the reason why he had decided to move out of the hospital. At least I can feel like a hero by helping Marcy and the others out, even if I’m not…

  The young man itched to get plugged in then and there, but ignored those wishes as he instead made to lock the doors and windows, turn on the lights, and force himself to look through the plastic bag Marcy had given him.

  A cache of microwaveable dinners, casseroles and bakes and curries, along with some spare hospital towels, toiletries, and even some spare clothes from the hospital clothes bins. Dean felt oddly touched by this kind gesture on the part of the nurse, especially when he found
the last gift, right at the bottom of the bag.

  A top-up card for his cell phone, with her number scrawled on the back.

  Dean was grinning all the way through his microwaved dinner, and still grinning when he finally lay down on the lumpy mattress and pulled the VRM-Alpha headset over his head.

  *

  VRM-Alpha

  By Odge Entertainment

  Loading…

  Game Cartridge Detected…

  Connecting to External Portal...

  Success!

  *

  The light flashed once, twice, three times and then started to fade, and in its place was revealed the dark, shadowed room of the wooden hut in the woods that was the Red Hand’s hide-out.

  “Hello?” the mage Winters said into the gathered quiet. But, despite the candle still burning merrily on the table, there was no sign of anyone. Only the sigh of the trees in the wild forests outside.

  “The others must be offline, the sorcerer thought, turning instead to look around the room. Just the same as it was before; a small cottage that could indeed have belonged to a witch, with wood stacked by the glowing stove, and bottles of strange, unmentionable things all along the shelves under the ceiling.

  “I wish there was a way to contact the others. Winters tapped the table. He didn’t want to wait in this room for hours until they had finished sleeping or eating or whatever it was they got up to when they weren’t in the game.

  If I was in King’s City, I would just send a direct message through the Embassy, but here…?

  “Hang on a minute – maybe there is something I can do!” Dean laughed out loud, accessing his skill tree.

  Spells. He had earned a lot of XP recently, with finding the Green Ouroborax, and defeating one of the Forest Guardians. Surely he had gone up a level by now? And if he had, then that meant he would have more spells to choose from.

  *

  Character: Winters

  Occupation: Mage (Sorcerer/Artificer)

  Race: Human (Near Realms)

  Current Level: 8