Alexa Drey- the Veils of Lamerell

by Ember Lane

  Not a huge accomplishment, I thought.

  “How could you miss it?” I squawked. “One river, one route, and there’s the shore.”

  He groaned, and squeaked a little too. “What about all the other tributaries, inlets, the other rivers we passed? The Endings River is like a web that covers the underworld. I’m amazed we found it at all.” The sockets in his skull pleaded for recognition.

  “You are so clever,” I relented and said, and he beamed and rowed with a little more urgency, soon beaching the boat and jumping out.

  “Come on, come quick, before they see us.”

  “Who?” I half shouted, half whispered.

  “The others,” he said, as he turned and pulled at the prow of the boat. “Hide the boat and we’ll be fine.”

  I jumped out and helped him, his urgency getting to me. We slid the rowboat up the beech and into a cave behind. Billy slumped to its rocky floor. “That was close,” he said.

  “Who’re the others?” I asked.

  He pointed to his feather.

  “See this, it’s red for a reason. Of course, to completely understand, you have to know my story, superbly titled ‘The Legend Of Billy Long Thumb.’ If only we had the time,” he mused. “Ah well.”

  “You could give me the CliffsNotes,” I suggested.

  He inclined his skull, clearly confused.

  “The short version,” I said.

  He laughed, not a belly laugh—obviously—but a throaty one—somehow. “The short version of my life?” he said, his voice filled with derision. “That would not do it justice. No, they are the Choosers, they decide who goes…” His thumb pointed up, turned, and down. “One half have black feathers poking out of their ears…” His thumb poked down. “The others have white feathers…” His thumb pointed up.

  “So, they’re skeletons, just like you?”

  Billy shook his head so hard I thought he’d shuffled his spine. “No, the black-feathered ones have attitude as well, as mean as a dwarf who’s just broken his pick, while the others, the ones with a white feather, are as nice as a water sprite swimming in some... erm, water,” he said and grinned.

  “Why’s yours red?” I asked.

  He leaned in, puffing his everlasting cigar. “I guess it’s because they can’t work out if I was mostly good, or mostly bad, so they don’t know whether to send me up or down. So now I just ferry the odd soul that just won’t comply to… their fate, and I sleep a lot. Not quite the swashbuckling adventures of yesteryear.”

  I saw the sadness in his bones and reached out to him. The minute I touched him, I felt a strange sensation running through me. It started as a glow in my stomach that spread warmth throughout my body, to the ends of my fingers, the tips of my toes. It was a feeling of complete euphoria, which coursed through my veins, pulsing, surging within me. I saw a slice of horizontal light, pure and white, spread out in a circle from my midriff. The circle then opened up like a paper fan, spreading both up and down until I was enveloped in a sphere of purity. The sense of it all was intense, unnatural, and yet so natural too. Ecstasy, like I’d never felt before, coursed through me, and I knew I was all in. I knew I wanted to feel that feeling again. The game had me in that single moment.

  You have shown an interest in those around you. It is wise to engage others in conversation. You can learn a lot.

  Congratulations! You have unlocked the attribute Wisdom. You now have 1 wisdom point. As you increase your wisdom points, you will be able to better sift the wheat from the chaff. Wisdom affects your mana regeneration.

  Congratulations! You have 5 attributes. You have been awarded 100 Experience points (XP). Experience points allow you to increase your levels. XP also gives you reputation in the land. People will know your name. Currently, your reputation is "Nobody."

  You have 100 XP; you have leveled up. You are now level 2. You have 6 attribute points to allocate.

  All that because I touched Billy’s shoulder? I shrugged, a little bemused. A look of panic crossed Billy’s skull.

  “Well that’s probably attracted every white or black feathered boatman from here to Pique and back,” he growled.

  “Is that bad?”

  Billy started running toward the back of the cave. “Bad?” he shouted. “Thousands die up there every day.” His thump pointed upward. “Can’t have any escaping. They’ll not let you go. They’ll end you proper—no clepsydra, nothing.” He turned, his eye sockets pleading. “They each carry a staff of judgment—seen them beat a runner to real-deal death with them.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that, so I raced after him into the murky depths of the cave. It tapered to a small path, rubble and rocks on either side. Fortunately, Billy’s skeleton—well, Billy in total—gave off a slight glow and so I could pick my way through. We ran and ran until I had to stop—a red, flashing warning coloring my vision.

  Careful: Energy 15/30

  I was breathing hard. “I’ve… I’ve got to stop, Billy.”

  “Just a little farther,” he shouted back, his voice desperate.

  I ran on. The rattle of the pursuing skeletons was faint at first, but getting louder, and I knew I was doomed. The path twisted and turned, narrowed and widened. I jumped a stream, hurdled a golden vein of rock, keeping Billy just in sight.

  Caution: Energy 10/30

  Damn it all, and I’d just leveled up. Would I lose that if I died? But I had to keep running, as surely the skeletons behind would kill me. Billy was getting farther away, he ran like a natural, taking everything in his lanky stride. We came to a large cavern with an underground lake in its center, and he waded straight into it. I plunged in after him, trying to keep up. Luckily, the lake didn’t get too deep, just up to my knees.

  Alert: Energy 5/30 Health 7/10

  The glow in the cavern grew. Billy had stopped in the middle of the lake. I made it to his side. Skeletons swarmed out of the tunnel we’d just emerged from, their staffs raised over their skulls. They dove into the water, fighting their way toward us.

  Danger: Energy 2/30 Health 4/10

  And then I remembered that all I had to do was drink. Just as I was about to bend down, Billy shouted: “Watch out.” I looked up. Faraway, a tiny speck of light twinkled in the cavern’s dark ceiling. From it, a tiny object fell. As it closed at an incredible speed, I realized it was a bucket tied to the end of a rope.

  I heard the grate of bone on bone and looked to see the skeletons surrounding us. Billy jumped to one side, as the bucket landed with a splash. He hauled me out of the water and dumped me in the bucket and pulled on the rope.

  “Just remember me,” he yelled, as the bucket began to rise. “Seek out The Legend Of Billy Long Thumb!”

  “I will!” I shouted back, as the bucket rose.

  “What?” he screamed, as the skeletons closed on him.

  “I said, I will!” I cried, just about holding on to the tiny, wooden pail.

  “What?” he yelled again, as he succumbed to the tide of thrashing bones.

  “I will,” I whimpered.

  His throaty laugh echoed around the chamber. “Thrice said,” he hollered, as the staffs hacked down on him.

  You have accepted Billy Long Thumb’s task. "Seek out the Legend of Billy Long Thumb." Prize: Unknown. Reputation gain: Unknown.

  3

  Greman Ramjook

  Two bulbous eyes looked down at me, great rounded spheres of white with wide hazel irises and pools of black in their center. Rangy, gray eyebrows sprung from a creased forehead, around which unruly, gray hair sprouted in all directions. Just under his eyes, an equally bulbous nose sheltered a full set of lips which gave off a perplexed expression. The old man jumped back in shock. The bucket dropped back down the hole, dangling near the cavern’s ceiling.

  “Who are you?” he shouted. “And what are you doing down my well?”

  I groaned and tried not to move a muscle.

  “Are you hurt?”

  I groaned again. The bucket jerked upward and e
ntered what looked like a large circular pipe. The man’s head poked back into view.

  “Definitely hurt,” he muttered, and wound the bucket all the way up to the well’s head, secured the rope and dragged me over the wall, dumping me on the floor. He stepped back. “Blah, a human,” he said. “ Have you got a name?” he asked, but I could say no words. My energy had dwindled to one, and my health was hot on its heels. I knew I was about to die.

  He lifted up my hand and let it drop back down, then grabbed me under my armpits and huffing, pulled me up, resting my limp body against the well’s wall. “Hmpf,” he muttered, and turned away from me, disappearing out of sight. He soon came back into view and held up a handful of mauve leaves.

  “Leaves of the jaspur tree. I asked, it gave, so you must be of some value.” He levered my mouth open and shoved them in. “Don’t worry about swallowing. Its power will infuse you—that is, if the tree wants it to.”

  They tasted foul—like sucking on beeswax. I felt them curl around my tongue, mold to my teeth, the sharp, tangy taste filling my mouth. Then the taste began to fade, and became sugary sweet, and I felt my energy returning. Within moments, it had become the nicest thing I had ever tasted—like honey mixed with smiles. I looked around, feeling rejuvenated, sure I could hear a tune, like the tinkling of faraway raindrops.

  Energy 30/30: Energy restored!

  Your energy has been restored by the jaspur tree. The jaspur is in tune with Earthpower, Waterpower, and the power of the Sun. All three are the primary powers. It is an honor to receive energy from the jaspur and honor enough that no advancement can be gained. Know only this, what the jaspur gives, it expects back. You are in debt to the jaspur for your life.

  Hmm, I thought, that sounded like quite a serious debt. But then, I decided, at least I was alive, and I watched my health double to two and then on to three. I was on the mend. Looking up, I saw the old man looking down. He was dressed in a beige-colored shirt, made from a heavy cloth, and had baggy trousers—like cargos—but without the pockets. A solid pair of walking boots graced his feet. He was short, about four and a half feet, and stocky. I wondered if he was a dwarf.

  “No I am not,” he muttered, “nor am I a human. I am a beggle—we’re forest folk.” He tapped his stubble-ridden chin. “Think of: a mix between a dwarf, with some elf, a smidge of goblin, and a hint of human, and you’d be way off the mark. I’m a beggle, and that’s that, plain and simple.” He leaned over me, his bobble eyes leering down.

  “A beggle,” I muttered.

  “Indeed. How are you feeling…?”

  “Alexa, Alexa Drey.”

  Inclining his head, he let out a long breath. “Alexa Drey of… Alexa Drey the…?”

  “Sorry, what?” I asked.

  “Alexa Drey of what, from where, the who? Like, Alexa Drey, Regent to Pellevere of Kataspay, or…Alexa Drey, killer of mutants, seeker of gems, friend to the fae—that sort of thing.”

  “Just Alexa Drey, I’m afraid. I haven’t done anything.”

  He stood bolt upright, then took a couple of paces toward the well and looked down it. “Nothing?” he said, and it echoed down the well. “You escaped certain death from The Endings River. You avoided the clepsydra—and I’m guessing you had help, so you must have befriended Billy Long Thumb—scourge of Striker Bay. I’d hardly call that nothing.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Me?” he questioned. “Greman Ramjook.”

  “That’s a short name too,” I pointed out.

  “And that, young lady, is because a beggle doesn’t court attention.” He looked me up and down. “So have a mind about that while you’re here or here abouts, human.” Greman furrowed his ample eyebrows. “Would you like some honeyed tea?”

  I said yes, and he pulled me up.

  The well was in a small garden, and for the first time, I smelled the bursting fragrances of its aromatic herbs. Greman picked his way through the plants like a caring father inches through a nursery. A small flint wall separated the garden from a very strange forest. While the herb garden was on level ground, it was but a terrace on a downward slope that led to a small and grassy vale. The slope was clad in the weirdest of trees. Each looked like a willow tree, except their trunks were white, and their leaves were mauve. Yet this was not why they looked odd. It was their height. Some were nearly fifteen feet tall, and others as small as six inches. The strangest thing of all was that they… grew and shrank. It was like watching a hundred or more geysers, some spouting strong and high, only to wither back and let others take over.

  “They share the light,” Greman said, by way of explanation, clearly studying me through sideways glances. “I’ll bet you have never seen so many jaspurs together—they’re not fond of the wild anymore. Not surprising, after all the hunting.”

  “None,” I replied, not wanting to lie to him.

  As one jaspur shrank, it revealed our destination—a small cottage with a stone chimney, moss-cloaked roof, and whitewood walls. Quartered windows nestled within the planks, and another small garden surrounded it. It looked as homely as a building could, like all you would want to do was sit on its stoop and doze. The odd forest ended at a small, babbling brook, Greman hopped over it and into his garden. Everything was as pristine as I could imagine a place to be, right up to the fence that surrounded the other three sides of his small patch of land.

  Next to his house, bordering his well-tended garden, was a tangle of prickles and nettles some ten feet high, a crumbling chimney limping up above them, the only sign of a house. The brambles rolled high over each other in a fight for supremacy, the ultimate prize being a glimpse of the overhead sun. And a fine day it was too, with a cloudless sky and a light breeze blowing down the valley we were in.

  “Who lives there?” I asked, pointing at the scruffy patch of land.

  “Marista Fenwalker.” He sighed. “She’s away a lot. This way,” and he opened his back door.

  “Do you mind if I have a little look around?” I asked.

  Greman shrugged. “Do what you like, but don’t venture out of the vale, it is surrounded by… It’s the Vale of Lamerell, why would you want to anyway.” He ruffled his wild hair. “I’ll boil up some water, if you want a tea, just pop back in a while.” With those words, he vanished into his house.

  I walked through his garden and out into the Vale of Lamerell. A fast-running stream cut its grass-covered folds and jutting rocks in half. In all, the vale stretched for about a mile in both directions all completely surrounded by a tall, thick, green forest. Walking down to the stream, I sat on one of the rocky outcrops and tried to gather my thoughts.

  Clearly, I’d landed, or rather been winched to, an idyllic spot of land. It looked like two folk lived here; Greman Ramjook and Marista Fenwalker. Billy Long Thumb had hinted at darkness having a hold on the land, but I could see no evidence of that here.

  There was no doubt in my mind that the game was easing me in—barring being chased by an angry hoard of staff waving skeletons—as things seemed to be opening up for me slowly and easily. Was Greman my unofficial guide, like the man on the ship had hinted at?

  So far, I had jumped up a level. I had energy, health and mana—though little idea what the last one did. I had opened up some attributes—vitality, stamina, charisma, intelligence and wisdom. I could make a decent guess about all of them. Energy and health had nearly killed me, so if I had a little respite, that was what I was going to work on. If I didn’t, I’d still find the time. Quests—as far as I could see—they were given to you by others. Until I’d worked out why, I elected to ignore them. No, vitality and stamina were the attributes I needed to improve for health and energy, and if I had the chance, charisma—that had proved useful already.

  That got me to thinking about the point of the game. I was, after all, aboard a settlement ship on the way to a new planet. I had no idea what to expect there. I did, though, appreciate that this program was probably designed to teach us stuff we’d need to
know. Stuff like how to build a cabin, how to fish, fight, basically survive from scratch in an alien land. So whatever I thought, playing could only benefit me. Looking back at Greman’s house, I also decided I had one source of knowledge and he was it. If I was to do him a turn, maybe he’d teach me about the land—Barakdor. I ambled back to Greman’s house.

  His dwelling had a little, red front door, and flowers in baskets that hung on either side of it. Inside, a dusky, half-light pervaded. His front room was a homely little room, all clad in wood, like a cabin. Two chairs surrounded a stone inglenook, inside which a fire was set but not yet lit. Greman was sitting in one of the chairs, his head drooped in sleep, and I decided to sit in the other one, tiredness washing over me. And soon my own eyes closed, and I slept for about an hour—I guessed.

  When I woke, Greman had already gotten up. I felt okay, but decided to check my vitals.

  Health 10/10

  Energy 30/30

  Mana 10/10

  All seemed good. All maxed out.

  “Do you always do that?” Greman asked me, poking his head through a doorway.

  “What?” I asked, torn from my thoughts.

  “Walk into someone’s house and sit in their chair.”

  “But you invited me in for some honeyed tea,” I protested.

  “I did?” he said, clearly confused. “Hmm.” His head snapped back into the other room. I heard some bangs and rattles, scrapes and taps before Greman returned with two mugs of what smelled like honey. He set them down on the hearth and sat back in his seat. “So, what can I do for you? Where do you live?”

  “I…” I tried to reply, but suddenly wondered if I could trust him.

  “You can’t read me, can you? Hmmm.” He paused to consider. “And it’s obvious that you don’t live anywhere, so I can only assume that you’re a newborn.” He leaned forward. “I don’t waste my time on them,” he spat.