Scout
Author: Terry Schott
Date: 2017-06-07 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: Gamers think that they are beta testing the world's first true Virtual Reality fantasy game, but are they? Or is the magical world of Preu Treya as real as our own? A daring experience filled with swords, sorcery, and adventure .
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services

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Epilogue

Blades VR

Book 1:Scout

Terry Schott

www.terryschott.com

www.terryschott.com/mailing-list

Copyright

Blades VR

Book 1:Scout

©2017 by Terry Schott

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express, written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

1

Big news in the world of computer gaming today.

Rumours have been circulating for some time that ARC Gaming, the company that gained their fame and fortune by releasing the fantasy Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game, The Blades of Verchinor, is working on a virtual reality game.

As of today, we can confirm those rumours are true. In a major press release, ARC co-founder Isaac Chase has announced that they have created a virtual game world for players to explore and adventure in.

What type of world have they crafted out of the digital matrix? Preu Treya. That’s right, folks. If you love the PC version of the game, you will soon be able to enter your favourite world from The Blades of Verchinor.

One disappointing note about the announcement is that the average player will be waiting for a while before they get the chance to create an account. Beta testing will open within the next couple of days with the first round of invites going out to initial investors in the project. For every two million dollars given, an investor can create one player account.

Isaac says that after beta testing is complete, regular subscriptions will be offered to the public.

Critics of the company have been quick to voice the opinion that Sebastian Darndhal, co-founder and the technological brain behind ARC Gaming, would never stand for such price gouging. Unfortunately, Mr. Darndhal has not been seen or heard from for the past two months, which leaves Isaac free to do as he pleases.

Trent Grand, UGN gaming blog.

Amanda smiled as the front door opened and stepped out from behind the clear glass counter, smoothing her expensive designer micro skirt.

The man’s hair was messy and his suit, once an expensive piece of fashion, was wrinkled and torn. His designer leather shoes were worn and scuffed, traces of the original deep brown finish only visible in small patches. He looked to be in his early fifties with silver stubble covering his tanned face. Behind his haphazard appearance, the man’s eyes were sharp and focused.

“Hello, sir. Is there something I can help you with?”

“‘Course there is.” The words came out raspy. He began to cough, a wet, crackling sound from deep in his lungs. Amanda remembered coughing like that when she’d gotten pneumonia on a photo shoot in Bermuda. The man covered his mouth with the crook of one arm, bending over at the waist until the fit passed. Then he stood and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket before speaking. “Blades of Verchinor.”

“I’m sorry.” Amanda frowned. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

He nodded and looked around, waving a hand at the sparsely decorated showroom. “I’m here to play.”

“The video game?” She frowned, then pursed her lips as she looked around at the sparse, yet expensive surroundings. “We are not selling copies of a video game here. You could try the local mall for that.”

He frowned and shook his head. “Not the video game, girl.”

“Then I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking abo—”

“Virtual reality.”

She paused and the man laughed. “They didn’t hire you for your poker skills, did they?”

Amanda looked toward the mirror in the corner of the room. “I’m sorry, sir, our business is conducted by appointment only.”

“I know how it works. I have an appointment. Two p.m. John Docker.” He raised a hand and waved at the mirror. “Tell your boss I’m here and don’t have all day.”

She turned on her heel. “Please wait here.”

He grunted and Amanda paused at the door on the far wall, knocked, then opened it. She entered, frowning at her boss. “Is this guy for real?”

Norman looked away from the two-way glass and shrugged as he stood. “I just checked and it looks like the appointment is real, but there’s no way this guy can afford a ticket.” He touched Amanda’s arm as he walked past. “Wait here. I’ll get rid of him.”

“Thanks, Norm.”

“My pleasure.”

Norman shut the door behind him and summoned a smile for the unkempt man. “I’m Norman.” He extended his hand. “It’s so nice to meet you, John.”

John frowned and crossed his arms. “I won’t take up much of your time, Norm. Let’s get to it.”

Norman withdrew his hand, careful to keep smiling. “I don’t remember speaking with you on the phone. Who did you make your appointment with?”

“Made it online.”

“I see.”

“Can we hurry it up, pal?”

“Sure.” Norman turned and walked toward Amanda’s desk. “If you’ll follow me, John, I’ll bring up your information and we can get things rolling.”

Norman stood behind the desk. He brought up the details on the monitor and frowned. “It looks as if full payment for your adventure has been received, John.”

“Adventure.” He snorted. “‘Course you’ve been paid.”

“An escort is on its way to pick you up from our location and take you to processing. Should be here in less than ten minutes.”

“Good.”

“Can I offer you something to drink while you wait?”

John grunted and shook his head.

“We have a very generous referral program. Would you like to give me the names of any friends who might enjoy playing the VR version of Blades of Verchinor?”

John laughed. “You’re kidding?”

“No.”

The older man opened his mouth, then paused, shaking his head. “No. I wouldn’t recommend this game to any of my friends.”

“I see.” Norman was silent for a few seconds. “I must say, we don’t get many people your age who are interested in trying this new technology.”

John stared.

Norman cleared his throat and looked at the screen again. He frowned. “There’s one issue here with your reservation.”

“Only one?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“You’ve paid for permanent log-in.”

“That’s right.”

“You understand what that means?”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory, Norm.” John laughed and tapped his chest. “I go into the VR game for good, this body dies. That about covers it, I think.”

“That’s right.” Norman nodded. “But there are no instructions for how to—”

“Go ahead. Spit it out.”

“What would you like us to do with your remains, John?”

“Don’t much care.” He waved a hand. “Dump me in the alley. Feed me to the dogs.”

Norman laughed and then put a hand over his mouth. “That’s not funny.”

“You laughed. It’s funny.”

“Still, you should give us some direction as to wha—”

“Fine. I want you to stuff me and prop me here by the desk.”

Norman’s smile disappeared. John laughed. “Like I said. It doesn’t matter to me what you do with it. Now stop yapping and let me sit here quietly ‘til my ride gets here.”

Norman shook his head. The guy just paid us two million dollars. Guess I’ll shut up. “As you wish, sir.”

***

Two days later, the phone rang in Norman’s office.

“Hello?”

“Heya, Norm. It’s Ben over in processing.”

“Hi, Ben. What’s up?”

“Coupla days ago we got a permanent log-in customer from your location.”

“Old cranky guy?”

“That’s the one.” Ben laughed.

“Everything went properly?”

“Oh yeah, no problems getting him hooked up and sent in.”

“Good.”

“Wondering what you wanted us to do with the body, though. There were no instructions left on the work order.”

Norman sighed. “Dump it in the alley.”

“What?”

Norman laughed. “He said he didn’t care. Told me to go ahead and dump it in the alley or feed it to the dogs.”

“Oh. Well, you know we can’t do that. They’re watching us very closely to make sure we respect those who opt for permanent log-in.”

“I know.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Not really.”

“Maybe someone over at ARC wants a say?”

Norman frowned. “Why would anyone over there care?”

“Well, we were going through his belongings. You know, after.”

“Yeah?”

“The ID on him says his name isn’t John Docker.”

“Sure it does. I checked it myself.”

“Well, yeah. He had that one piece of ID, but the rest all had a different name.”

“Likely fake.”

“No. There was a DNA card, and it matched the blood sample we took from the cadaver.”

“Damn.” Norman shook his head. “What was the guy’s real name then?”

“Sebastian Darndhal.”

Norman’s mouth went dry.

“Hello? You hear me, Norm?”

“There’s no way.”

“Oh, there sure is. He even had his old ID badge from when he was with ARC. Says president and co-founder right under the guy’s picture.”

“We just sent the creator of Blades of Verchinor into his own virtual reality game.”

Ben laughed. “Looks like it.”

“Oh god.”

“It a big deal?”

Yes! “Not likely. Still, don’t tell anyone.”

There was silence.

“I mean it, Ben. Not a word to anyone. You hear me?”

“Yeah, sure man.”

“I’ll get back to you about the body.”

“Okay, thanks. And say hi to Velma and the kids. It’s been awhile since we all got tog—”

Norman hung up the phone. After a moment, he opened the bottom drawer of his desk, withdrew a bottle of scotch and a glass, half-filled it, then tipped it back, draining it in one long gulp. He reached for the phone, his hand shaking.

2

I know. These gaming terms can be confusing.

The best way to understand the various terms is to use them. Of course, if that was your intention, then you wouldn’t be purchasing this book, would you?

Chances are good that if you’re reading this, a loved one is playing some form of The Blades of Verchinor, and you want to be able to understand what the heck they are talking about.

Whether that someone in your life is into the role-playing game with dice, paper, and pencil, or the PC game, or even the brand new Blades VR edition, there is good news for you: the majority of the terminology is the same for all versions.

That’s right. If they say, Blades, Blades of Verchinor, or Blades VR, then they are speaking about the actual game. If they say they are a crafter, then the character they are playing is a magic user of some kind. Tank is a warrior, and hybrid is a mixture of warrior/magic user. Keep in mind that most are hybrids; seventy-two percent of players prefer that their main—the character they will play most of the time—will be a combination of magic user and weapon swinger.

Here’s another term you will hear often that seems to confuse those who don’t play: Preu Treya is the name of the fantasy world.

So here it is all put together: the game, Blades of Verchinor, takes place in the imaginary fantasy world called Preu Treya.

Sebastian opened his eyes and sat up.

He was in a clearing in the middle of a small field surrounded by green grass that extended as high as his neck. He reached down with one hand and dug into the soft dirt, grabbing a clump of moist soil and raising it up to sniff as he took in the woods nearby. He looked up at the blue sky and white clouds. Crystal clear sounds of nature filled his ears; birds singing, insects calling, the faint creaking of trees moving in the breeze. He dropped the dirt, stood, and smiled. “It’s all so real.”

He turned slowly and stopped when he saw a small village appear a few miles away. It was close enough that he could see the clay tile roofing and rough field stone walls of the buildings. Dark smoke rose in patches, drifting into the sky from fireplaces.

Sebastian began to turn once more.

His smile faded when he saw the looming, dark tower. He stroked his beard, longer than it had been when he was alive. He frowned and shook his head. “Rebirth. That’s a better way to look at it.”

He looked down and examined himself. He wore a light brown wool tunic, dark pants, and rough leather boots. A small knife was strapped to his belt and hung on his right side. He slid the sheath so that it was on his left side and grunted. “All the cash I spent and they give me nothing by way of starting items.” He looked at the dark tower and began walking. “Better fix that first.”

***

The wizard’s apprentice, Ezref, reached the top step of the tower, leaned against the rough stone and panted. When he regained his breath, he stood and approached the black wooden door.

“Master?” He rapped once on the door and pressed his ear to the wood.

Seconds passed before he heard a muffled reply. “What?”

Ezref closed his eyes. He’s angry. Don’t panic, you knew he’d be angry. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, Master.”

The door groaned and Ezref hopped backward as it flew open. The powerful wizard stood in the middle of the room, silver runes on his black robe pulsing, indicating dark magic was present. Ebony tattoos writhed over the pale white skin of his bald skull and crimson light beamed through the narrowed slits of his eyes. One hand stroked his short, pointed, black beard, the other extended toward Ezref, fingers curled into claws.

His voice was low, a mix of strength and hoarseness from years of breathing in acrid smoke while chanting the dark incantations of his craft. “I told you not to interrupt me.”

“Yes.”

“Was I not clear?”

“You were, master.”

“You forget the penalty that I promised?”

“No.”

The wizard shook his head. “Perhaps the method of punishment was not described sufficiently.”

The apprentice banished his fear and met his master’s gaze with a flat stare. “I must cut the middle toe from my right foot, with the scissors, in one stroke. The method was properly described.”

“Very well.” The wizard shrugged. The crimson light in his eyes faded and they returned to their natural brown colour. His angry scowl transformed into what, for him, was almost a pleasant smile. “What is it, then?”

“There is a visitor.”

“Someone approaches?”

Ezref bowed his head to hide his smile. “No. He waits in the entrance below.”

The evil mage frowned. “That’s not possible. None can approach this tower without being detected by my ward spells.”

Yet someone has. The apprentice banished the smile and looked up. “He would like to meet with you.”

“That’s not possible. Send him away.”

“He asked for you by name, Master.”

Harsh laughter. “That’s also impossible. If anyone speaks my name within a hundred-mile radius, I know it.” He glared at the apprentice. “I am in no mood to be played with, boy. If I go downstairs and find no one there—”

“He is.”

“Or that you have lain a trap for me.”

“I am not powerful enough to make that attempt, Master.”

The mage scowled. “Yes. That much is true.” He pulled the hood of the dark robe over his head and pointed to a spot in the corner. “Stand there.”

The apprentice entered the room and stood upon a small black circle drawn on the stone floor. His skin tingled.

The mage came to stand in front of the apprentice, his expression hard. “If you are lying about this, you will lose much more than a toe. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The mage turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The apprentice smiled again.

***

Sebastian felt a calmness settle over him as the wizard approached. Numbers began to stream through his head, memories of code from long ago. He took a deep breath and blinked, feeling the power all around him, waiting to be commanded. He smiled.

“Well.” The wizard stopped a few feet in front of him and placed both hands on his hips. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“How long have you lived here?” Sebastian asked.

The wizard’s eyes narrowed and flashed with red light. “You are mad if you think I will answer a single question of yours. How dare you come into my lair and command me.” He brought both hands up and began to weave them through the air in a pattern. Red light gathered around the shape he traced. The air began to hiss and crackle.

Sebastian tilted his head, watching the pattern.

An orange ball of light formed. The wizard made a popping noise, and the ball streaked toward Sebastian, screaming and sizzling.

An instant before it made contact, Sebastian raised one hand and shook his head. “No.”

The fireball split as if it feared touching his hand, each half dropping to the floor, but melting away before they touched the stone.

Sebastian dropped his hand.

The wizard looked at him, eyes wide, an expression on his face of first anger, then fear. “How did you do that?”

“Child’s play.”

The wizard shook his head. “I could have absorbed or deflected that, but the discharge would have been devastating. You sent it away.”

Sebastian shrugged.

“Are you here to kill me?”

“If I must, but that isn’t my desire.”

“What then?”

“I like your tower.”

The wizard frowned.

Sebastian looked down at his meagre clothing. “And your possessions.”

The wizard stood taller and he laughed. “I have lived two hundred years.”

“Congratulations.”

“Two centuries I have collected, learned, gathered.” He spread his arms. “Everything I am is contained in this tower. You expect me to turn my back and leave it to you.”

“Yes.”

“Simply because you have learned how to dispel a fireball?”

Sebastian shrugged. “You were the one impressed with what I did. If your sense of awe has already faded, that’s your problem.”

The wizard paused.

“Walk away and live, or stay and die. Doesn’t matter either way to me.”

“Perhaps you will allow me to retain a few items?”

“Pardon?”

“So that I can defend myself while I rebuild.”

Sebastian sighed and shook his head. “Forget it.” He flicked his hand and a shimmer of air pulsed from it. The wizard’s eyes widened and he raised his hands. Then the wave passed through him and faded. The man disappeared as if he had never been there.

Sebastian stepped into the main room of the tower, nodding as he examined the various magical relics and artifacts scattered about the room which now belonged to him. “This will do nicely.”

3

The Non-Player Characters (NPCs) of Blades VR are the most advanced NPCs of any game ever created. From their point of view, they are real people, with a sense of history and the desire to build good lives for themselves and their children. That’s right, the NPCs of this wondrous new game believe that they fall in love, marry, and create offspring. The intention was to make the game as real as possible for players and we are delighted to report that this is the case. More than one beta tester has been amazed to enter villages where NPC children scurry about playing while their parents work and live exactly as real people do. The realism of Blades VR runs deeper than any game before, and hopefully any game to come.

When they envisioned the game, Isaac and Sebastian hoped to create an entire world that would grow and advance to keep players interested as the story evolved. After seeing live feeds and hearing from early beta testers, we are confident that players will be blown away by the realism.

Some may ask, if NPCs are so realistic, how does one differentiate between the two when you are playing? Players are referred to as Travellers inside the game. When a player hears the term, they know the individual is another player. When NPCs hear the term, they are programmed to accept the player as a visitor from another land or a spiritually touched individual. All reports indicate that the distinction is working very well in beta testing.

When Sebastian found him, Ezref appeared to be leaning his head against a very clear glass wall. His cheek was smoothed as if it were touching a surface. The lad pulled his head up and looked at Sebastian, squinting.

Sebastian scanned the rest of the room, taking in the scrolls, vials, and other magic items. Moments passed and nothing attacked. He nodded and retrieved a chair from behind a small desk and dragged it along the stone floor to the black circle where the apprentice stood. Then he sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and smiled. “Hi there.”

“Hello.”

“What’s your name?”

Ezref frowned.

“You do have a name?”

“Yes.” His gaze flicked to the door.

“He’s not coming.”

“Oh.” A smile touched his lips, then disappeared. “You kill him?”

“Yes.”

Ezref laughed. “So quickly?”

“There was nothing to gain by killing him slow.”

“His body?”

Sebastian waved a hand. “Gone.”

“That’s a shame. You could have used it to create many different spell components. His flesh has been infused with powerful magic for a long time.”

Sebastian raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t think of that.”

“How could you not?”

Sebastian did not answer. Instead he looked around the room once more.

“Ezref.”

“What’s that?” Sebastian’s eyes returned to the young man.

“My name. It’s Ezref.”

“Ah.”

“What’s yours?”

“Sebastian.”

Ezref leaned forward to bow, but his head banged against the barrier and he scowled. “ It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sebastian. Could I ask a big favour?”

“You can ask.”

“Could you let me out of here?”

“Sure.” He got to his feet.

“Thank you.” Ezref made certain that his body was not too close to the barrier. He smiled and waited.

Sebastian stood still, arms hanging at his sides.

“Well. What are you waiting for?”

“I’m not sure what to do.”

Ezref wiggled his fingers. “Magic.”

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. “Trust me, kid. You do not want me to throw magic at you.”

“Not me, the barrier.”

“Look, there’s no point in lying to you. I’m new at this.”

“Impossible.”

“It’s the truth.”

“But you destroyed my mast—”

“I did.”

“Then you are powerful.”

“Yeah.” He frowned. “I’m pretty sure that I am.”

“Then get rid of this thing.” Ezref rapped a knuckle against the barrier. “It’s a simple spell.”

“Maybe.”

“There’s no maybe about it. Come on.”

“You know a lot of spells, Ezref?”

The young man frowned. “Of course I do.”

“How long were you an apprentice here?”

“Ten years.”

“So you know quite a bit.”

“Yes, but I lack the magic.”

“How is that possible?”

“My master put a block on me. It prevents me from accessing the source.”

“Poor fella. That sounds terrible.”

“What?” He shook his head. “No. That’s standard practise. An apprentice agrees to blocking in exchange for being taught.”

“Sounds like a crappy deal.”

“It’s safe. An apprentice able to cast whatever spells they want without supervision from their master is a dangerous thing. No master would teach without blocking the student. This is basic knowledge.” Ezref frowned. “Even a warrior knows these simple facts. How is it that you do not?”

“I’m new here.”

“To this country?”

“World.”

“You are a Traveller?” Sebastian nodded and the young man raised his eyebrows. “I cannot recall one of your kind ever arriving with sufficient talent to defeat a wizard, especially a dark master.”

“I’m different from most.” Sebastian shrugged.

“That’s an understatement.” Ezref laughed. “For future reference, you shouldn’t admit that to another crafter. To show weakness is to invite attack.”

“I can protect myself.”

More laughter. “I know that has to be true. I don’t understand how you can be so powerful one moment, then lack the ability to bring down a simple barrier.”

“Sorry.”

Ezref shook his head. “Okay, there must be a way around this.” After a moment, he snapped his fingers and pointed toward a small chest near the far wall. “Open that chest and take out a dark stick.”

“A wand?”

“No, a stick.”

Sebastian walked to the chest, opened it, and withdrew a plain stick with smooth grey bark. “This?”

“That’s it.”

“It’s a wand.”

“Trust me, it’s not. I’ll show you the difference after you let me out.”

“Okay.” He returned to Ezref and the black circle. “Now what?”

Ezref turned his back so that they both faced the same direction and raised his right hand. “When I say to, hold the stick in your hand and make this pattern.” He made a slow circular motion, starting at the top and moving counter-clockwise twice before stopping at the top. “Trace two circles in the air, like so, and then tap the barrier lightly with the tip of the stick.”

“All right.”

“Wait.” Ezref turned with both hands in front of him, then nodded. “Okay. I wanted to be able to watch you. It’s very important to make the circles in the direction I showed you. And no more than twice. Got it?”

Sebastian scowled. “It’s pretty simple, kid.”

“That’s what I said earlier, but you had no clue how to do it.”

“Point taken.”

“Okay, then.” Ezref nodded. Sebastian raised the stick in his right hand and moved it in the motion as he’d been shown. When he finished the second rotation, Ezref nodded. “Now tap the barrier.”

As it made contact, Sebastian felt the stick vibrate. Then there was a faint whoosh.

Ezref laughed, stepped out of the circle, and flung his arms around the other man. “Thank you so much. I hate cramped spaces. It would have been horrible to die in there.”

Sebastian pushed the boy away. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What kind of evil apprentice hugs another wizard?”

Ezref laughed. “The kind that’s happy not to die a horrible and slow death.” He looked around the room, his eyes narrowing. “And where’s this other wizard you speak of? As far as I can tell, there’s just me and a kind middle-aged man who knows less than a newborn babe when it comes to magic.”

Sebastian’s lips pursed. “That’s the worst thank you I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” The young man bowed. “The truth is that I am not very good at being evil.”

“Huh.”

“Apparently I have the talent inside of me.” He shrugged. “My master assured me that the evil part would emerge over the course of my instruction.”

“That’s a cheerful thought.”

Ezref laughed. “Not as bad as staying behind in the village and living out my days as a weaver.” He paused and then his eyebrows furrowed. “Although maybe that’s where I will end up anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, my master is dead. There is no one to teach me how to become a mage.”

“I can teach you.”

Ezref laughed.

“Wait a minute.” Sebastian shook his head. “Hear me out.”

“Okay.”

“I need to learn all this.” His hand swept outwards to indicate the charms and artifacts in the room. “How to be a proper wizard.”

“If you can kill one, I don’t see why you need to learn any more.”

“Really?” Sebastian frowned. “Is that all you ever wanted to do with magic? Melt a person?”

“You melted him?”

“Kind of. No puddle, though. He’s totally gone. My point is, there is much more to magic than being able to kill another.”

“That’s true.”

“Well, I don’t know about any of it. And I want to learn.”

“Then it sounds like you need to find a master to teach you.”

“I found one.” He smiled and patted the young man on the shoulder.

“No.”

“Come on. You teach me the basics and I let you stay here and study. We can both improve our skills together.”

“I don’t think it could work. There is much that I don’t know.”

“Then we will bring in another to teach it.”

Ezref laughed. “That’s not how things work. Magic users guard their secrets jealously. They rarely take an apprentice and when they do, they teach with grudging reluctance. We can’t simply invite a wizard for tea and expect them to teach us their secrets.”

“Maybe we can.”

Ezref laughed again and shook his head.

“Tell you what, stay with me for a while. Teach me what you do know. If I show no improvement, you can leave.”

The apprentice stroked his chin.

“Like you said, you don’t have anywhere better to be, right?”

“No.”

Sebastian arched one eyebrow and waited.

“I think I can teach you how to remove my block.”

“I’m certain you can.”

“After that, I could share what I’ve learned.”

“Sounds like we have a deal?” Sebastian extended his hand.

Ezref paused, licked his lips, then nodded and shook.

4

Investors who wish to obtain multiple beta accounts in Blades VR can do so by investing more capital. For every two million dollars contributed to the project, an investor gains access to one beta account.

Beta account holders will be contacted one month prior to actual immersion in the virtual world of Preu Treya.

Accounts may be assigned however the investor desires. Looking for the ultimate birthday gift for the teenager who has everything? Consider Blades VR beta!

ARC Gaming Investor’s Prospectus, Section 127 d) Obtaining a Beta account

Aleron rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. A shaft of sunlight shone from his bedroom window and touched his neck. He considered pulling the covers over his head and going back to sleep, but instead grabbed his phone and looked at the time.

“One-thirty.” He groaned and pushed the covers off, sat up, and swung his feet onto the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing stray pieces away from his eyes. “Too late to go to school.” He could still catch last class, but it wasn’t worth the pain. He would have to jog, then sign in late at the office. The thought of having to listen to the secretary, Mrs. Mars, scold him for being late made him want to go back to bed. Then, after all that, he would actually have to sit through the class.

Typing. Why had he even bothered to sign up for it? Cause I thought it would be easy. He could type, did it for hours every day while playing online games. That’s where he’d messed up, thinking it was just making words from a computer keyboard. Instead, they had to use heavy, old-fashioned machines, doing drills where you would repeat the same word, then type numbers, and then the shift symbols. It hadn’t taken Aleron long to hate the course. And then there was testing yourself on how many words per minute you could type. To him that meant typing a bunch of words and seeing how long it took. Apparently, that wasn’t how it went in the old days. Instead, they spent their time first typing, followed by taking the pages (yes, they typed on paper!) and counting the mistakes before subtracting that number from the total words that you had muddled through. Or at least it was something like that, he couldn’t remember.

“Waste of time,” he grumbled. “Not going.”

His decision made, Aleron stood and went to use the bathroom. After that, he went downstairs, made a cup of coffee, toasted and buttered a cinnamon raisin bagel, and returned to his bedroom to boot up The Blades of Verchinor on his computer. While the loading bar filled, he opened his chat program. A familiar name was already present in the private channel. He put his headphones on and clicked on the name to enter the chat room.

“Good morning.” With a grin, he brought up the Game. Inside the world of Preu Treya, his avatar sat in a dimly lit tavern. Across from him sat a female Night Elf. Pointy ears poked out through the avatar’s shoulder-length red curly hair tinged with forest green. Her body was fit and shapely, covered in pale green and brown leather armour with a hint of thin chainmail that announced she belonged to the Ranger class.

The avatar raised one hand and waved. “Finally.” A female voice spoke in his earphones. “I was afraid you had actually gone to school and I would miss you.”

Aleron laughed and reached for his coffee. “Morning, Shale.”

“Afternoon here.”

“Yeah.” He took a sip and brought up a mini map in the top left corner of his screen. “No school for me, today.”

“Then what took you so long to log in?”

“Sleep.”

Laughter. “Getting old?”

“No. Maybe. I was tired after we got done raiding. It was five a.m. here when I finally logged out.”

“And you slept ‘til one. That’s eight hours.”

“Damn, you’re right.” He was normally good with five or six. “Sometimes it catches up to me and I crash.”

“I hear you. Same happens to me.” The tone in her voice became playful. “That mean you’re good to go for a long session today?”

He smiled. “Absolutely.”

“That’s a shame. It’ll have to be without me.”

“Why?”

“I’ve gotta log off soon.”

“No. Why?”

“Real life.”

“But we were gonna try and get you the Corsair’s Jacket.”

“I know.”

“It’s a timed instance. If we don’t try for it today, we’ll have to wait three days for it to reset—”

“And then farm our way in again.” She finished his thought. “I know. Sucks, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Damn.”

“Tell the truth, the real reason you’re bummed is cause you don’t get to spend the day with me.”

He swallowed a bite of bagel. “You’re right.”

“Sorry.”

“This real life of yours is starting to take you away from Blades.”

“Is not.”

“Really? When’s the last time we had a solid session together? Like more than six hours?”

“Last night.”

“Before that?”

Shale sighed. “It has been a few weeks.”

“It’s tough to not play. Especially when we duo so well together.”

“You can group or solo. Druids are the best quad kiters out there.”

“I know.” The ability to pull four monsters, slow them, and then destroy the entire group with lightning spells had been the number-one reason Aleron had chosen the Druid class to begin with. “Still, there’s more to the game than grinding for XP.”

“Aw. You really do miss me?”

“It’s true.”

Aleron heard a rustling in his headset, followed by the muffled sound of Shale’s voice. A second later she spoke. “AFK for a minute.”

“‘Kay.” He took another bite of bagel and maximized the mini-map, trying to decide where he wanted to play today.

A few minutes later, Shale returned. “Hey.”

“‘Sup?”

“How long we known each other, Aleron, five years?”

“Yeah.”

“And during that time, we’ve had a lot of fun together, right?”

He smiled. “Oh god, you proposing?”

She laughed. “No. Um, well, maybe, yeah.”

“The answer is no.”

She laughed. “I’m not game proposing, stupid.”

“Good.” It was becoming popular for players to ‘get married’ inside the game world of Blades of Verchinor.  Aleron liked Shale, but not in that way. He laughed, glad that she wasn’t doing what he had thought.

“I’ve got some cool news.”

“Yeah?”

“My Dad has business in the states.”

“Cool.”

“In your city.”

Aleron frowned. “Awesome.”

“I know, right? He’s flying there later this week and spending three days. I asked him if I could come too.”

A sudden tightness formed in his stomach. “And he said yes.”

“That’s right.”

“Awesome. There’s lots of fun stuff to do here. You’ll have fun.”

“I hope so.” There was a pause. “I’m coming to see you, doorknob.”

He winced. “Really?”

“Don’t sound so thrilled.”

“No. I meant, that’s great.”

“Not from the tone of your voice, it isn’t.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that—”

“Look, I know you don’t have the kind of cash my family does.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s no big deal.”

It’s a huge deal.

“Aleron?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be like that. This is a good thing. We finally get to meet.”

“I know.”

“You can show me the sights.”

“I can’t afford—”

“I can. My wealthy father is flying me and a credit card with a huge limit on it to your city so I can go out and have fun. You and I are a team, right? Take me to all the cool places and I’ll pay.”

Aleron sighed.

Shale was quiet for a second.

“I’m sorry, Shale.”

“It’s okay.” Another pause. “Forget it.”

“I don’t want you to be mad.”

“I’m not.”

“You’ll have more fun here without me, anyway.”

“I’m not going.”

He furrowed his brows. “What?”

“If you’re gonna be weird about it, I’m not going.”

“But—”

“I was coming to see you, goof.”

“There are a lot of cool things to experience here.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to make the flight and then have to solo the zone. Especially when I know you will be there. Forget it.”

Long seconds passed. Neither spoke.

Finally Aleron groaned. “Fine.”

“Fine, what?”

“I’ll show you around.”

“Without being weird about it?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not my fault that I have money.”

“It’s not my fault that I don’t.”

“It’s never bothered me, Aleron.”

“I know.”

“And you’re wrong by the way.”

“About what?”

“Having money.”

He frowned.

“I remember being a noob in this game, a tiny level one ranger with crap starter gear and only a few coppers. Then I met this level fifteen druid.”

Aleron grunted.

“You threw Wolven Spirit on me, a spell that players pay druids to cast on them. Remember what I said?”

He laughed. “That you couldn’t pay me for it.”

“That’s right. I said I had no money.”

“Then you cancelled the effects, said you didn’t want to take advantage and use a spell you couldn’t pay for.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “To which you replied—”

“That I had enough money and it wasn’t about that.”

“What was it about?”

“Helping a noob.”

“There ya go.” He heard her clap her hands close to her mic. “You’re wealthy inside the game and you were generous with me, and with others. Allow me to repay the favour and spend a few bucks on you in the real world.”

Aleron groaned. “It’s not the same thing, Shale.”

“It is and you know it.”

“But—oh, damn you and your fancy talking.” He rested both elbows on his desk and rubbed his forehead.

“I win?”

“You win.”

“Good. Oh, and I’ve got some exciting news to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

“Oh no, buddy. I wanna see your face. You’ll have to wait ‘til I get in on Wednesday. I’ll call you when I land.”

5

The magic system in Blades VR follows the form of the role-playing game rather than the PC version. In the computer game, players point and click a button which casts the desired spell.

In Blades VR, magic users—generically referred to in game as crafters—will be required to memorize the three separate components to a spell (verbal, somatic, and material), and cast them in proper sequence. Also, as set out in the RPG rules, Focus and Divine Focus items can be used to assist crafters in their spell casting ability and may increase the effectiveness of their spells. Memorizing spells will require time and study on the crafter’s part, disappearing from memory once cast.

While described by the official manual as realistic and challenging, crafter classes are often considered boring for those looking to wade into battle and fight for glory and treasure.

“An Introduction to Spell Casting”

Blades VR, Character Class Guide

Sebastian tilted his head back and closed his eyes, rubbing them.

“Ready?” Ezref asked without looking up from his book.

“I think so.”

“Confidence is the foundation of magic. One should never have the mind-set of ‘I think so’ as they prepare to summon powerful energy from another plane and bend it to their will.”

Sebastian raised one eyebrow. “That makes sense.”

“Good.” Ezref looked up and clapped the book shut. “Then let’s try again. Are you ready?”

“Absolutely.”

The young man nodded. “Take your position.”

The older man stood and moved to the centre of the practise room. They were underground and the walls, ceiling, and floor were all built from stone, decorated with scars from acid, fire, or dark energy. A heavy wooden door was the only way in or out. Sebastian stepped into the centre of a circle that had been drawn with white powder. He took a deep breath and looked at Ezref.

“What spell will you attempt?”

“Same as before.”

Ezref nodded. “Tell me.”

“It’s the only one you’ve shown me.”

“And it is called?”

“Light.”

“Exactly. Recite the verbal component.”

Sebastian pursed his lips and let the words enter his mind. He spoke them and Ezref raised one eyebrow. “Again.”

He repeated the phrase again and Ezref nodded. “Now show me the somatic component.”

Sebastian touched his forefinger and thumb together, and raised his hand to shoulder height. He traced the pattern as it was described in the book. When he finished, he lowered his hand and exhaled the rest of the air in his lungs.

“Looks good to me. What’s the material component, again?”

“A firefly.”

“Wrong.”

Sebastian frowned. “No, it’s a firefly.”

Ezref shook his head. “Live or dead? Dried or fresh? Dipped in cider, wine, or white vinegar? With every other leg plucked or all in place?”

“Does it matter?”

Ezref opened his mouth and paused. Then he shook his head. “For this spell, it does not.”

Sebastian laughed.

“Laugh if you like, but for many spells, it will matter. It’s important to keep these things in mind from the very beginning of your training. There are two spells that require deer blood and the hind leg of a white rabbit. If you dip the leg in blood and perform the spell, you summon a healing sprite.”

“What kind of deer?”

“Ah ha!” Ezref snapped his fingers and smiled. “It must be the blood of a doe. If you use the blood of a buck, you summon an imp that will immediately try to bind your soul and drag it back to its plane of nether as a gift for the demon lord that resides there.”

“Whoah.”

“See what I mean?”

“Yes. Thanks, kid.”

Ezref winced. “Do you have to call me that?”

“It bother you?”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“Why not?”

“I’m teaching you.”

“Which I appreciate.”

“Calling me kid makes it seem as if you don’t.”

Sebastian grinned. “Want me to call you master?”

“Of course not.”

“Cause I can.”

“Stop it.”

“What?”

“I’m no master.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell ya.” Sebastian rubbed the stubble on his face. “I’m old, you’re young. I call you kid, but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect you.”

“You don’t have to respect me.”

“But I do.”

Ezref paused. “Really?”

“Of course. You don’t have to do this. Teach an old man how to cast spells. I appreciate that you’re taking the time to do it.”

“Well, thanks. That means a lot to me. And your respect.” He rubbed his chin, then shook his head. “If you mean no harm in it, then I suppose you can call me ‘kid’.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. From now on, instead of taking it as an insult, I will view it as a compliment. It means I’m young, which is much better than being old.”

“Ha!” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he laughed. “You’re a sharp lad.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Can I give the spell a try, now?”

“Absolutely.”

Sebastian calmed his mind, focused on the words he would say, the motions he would make. Then he reached into the small pouch at his belt and withdrew the required components: a grey stone and a firefly. He held the stone in his left hand and pinched the firefly in his right. He moved his arm as he began to speak the words. Some part of him watched as the firefly moved in the air. He finished casting the spell and soft white light appeared from the body of the firefly.

He moved the insect to his left hand and touched the stone. A wide smile came to his face as the stone absorbed the light and began to emit it brighter than before. He pursed his lips and looked at Ezref.

The apprentice stood with eyes wide.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

Sebastian frowned. “I must have. You look . . . actually you look scared.”

“No, it’s just that—well, I wasn’t expecting you to succeed so quickly.”

“Is that so?” He chuckled. “Thought it would take me another two or three tries, did ya?”

“An average student takes much longer than that to cast their first spell.”

“How much longer?”

Ezref pursed his lips together and furrowed his brows. “My master used to boast that his master was the most powerful crafter in the past three hundred years. Whenever I would feel particularly proud of myself, my master would remind me how inferior I was by comparing me to himself or his own master.”

“And how long did it take him? The powerful guy.”

“A little more than two years.”

Sebastian shook his head. “What?”

Ezref’s complexion had turned pale. “You’ve accomplished in an afternoon what should have taken years.”

6

There is exciting news in the world of professional e-sports this week. Millions tuned in online while tens of thousands attended the live event in the nation’s capital as The Blades of Verchinor arena world finals were played. The best on the planet, ours that is, gathered to battle for the world cup and the ten million dollar prize that comes with it.

Defending champions, Onslaught, managed to hold on to their title despite an incredible showing by team Dawn Mist. Team leader, Sorrow, showed complete mastery of  her Night Angel class as she divided the lanes and directed her group to create maximum pressure. Victory would have been theirs if not for yet another legendary showing from Xander Vallenhall, Onslaught’s leader. After five years, Xander continues to show why he is still the number one ranked player in the world and the best Death Stryker of all time. From what we’ve seen, it doesn’t look as if anyone is going to be knocking Xander or his team from the number one spot for quite some time.

That’s our opinion, and now we’d like to hear yours. Send us an email or drop us a video telling us who your favourite team or player is and what you think will happen next season.

Candice Higgs, Arena World News

“Isaac is ready for you, Mr. Vallenhall.”

“Thank you.” Alexander stood and followed the receptionist, admiring her athletic frame which was impossible to ignore beneath her form-hugging white and pink minidress as she walked down the hallway.

She stopped at a door and turned, grinning as she caught him admiring her. One hand reached up to rap once on the door and the other opened it.

“Best of luck, killer,” she whispered as he walked past.

“Thanks.”

“Ah, there he is, Xander Vallenhall. Welcome.” Isaac Chase, co-founder and CEO of ARC Gaming, stood up from his desk and smiled. In his early forties, he was a physically fit man with short black hair and icy blue eyes.

Alexander entered the room and the two shook hands. “Mr. Chase. Thank you for asking to meet with me.”

“Please.” He removed his designer suit jacket and draped it over the high-backed black leather chair. “Call me Isaac.” He sat, unbuttoning one sleeve of his crisp garnet dress shirt and folding it up two turns before repeating the process with the other sleeve.

Xander sat down. “Okay. Thanks for the invite, Isaac.”

The CEO smiled. “It’s exciting for me to finally get to meet you. Lord Xander, the most powerful Death Stryker in Preu Treya.”

“Thanks, but it’s just a game.”

Isaac scoffed. “Blades of Verchinor is the most popular Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game in the world. Of the two hundred million who play daily, only six thousand are good enough to reach the professional ranks, and the ranks don’t lie. You’re number one.” Xander shrugged and Isaac laughed. “You’re modest. I bet the fans like that. Did your agent say why I asked to meet?”

“Nope.”

“Good. I was afraid they might have, which would have been a disappointment. I wanted to see the look on your face when I made the offer.”

“Offer?”

Isaac nodded. “You’ve heard of the new VR version of Blades?”

“Yeah.” Xander shrugged.

“You don’t look impressed.”

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not likely to be actual VR.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Experience.”

Isaac laughed.

Xander scowled. “How many virtual reality systems have been released so far?”

“A few.”

“And they were all crap. Goggles and headsets.” He shook his head. “True VR will only exist once full immersion into the digital world can be achieved.”

“I agree.”

“I’ve been approached to endorse the last three VR systems.” Xander shook his head. “And I passed on each of them cause they were crap.”

“Haven’t you seen the promo spots for ARC’s VR?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you know it’s going to be different.”

Xander snorted. “I don’t know anything. Game companies are notorious for making promo videos that look nothing like game play. I can’t think of a single game that plays like the trailer promised.”

“That’s true.”

Xander pursed his lips and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“I understand your cynicism.”

“Thank you.”

Isaac smiled. “I remember being a kid and wanting to buy a sea monkey kit. You remember those?”

Xander shook his head and Isaac reached into a drawer and removed a picture, sliding it across the desk for the younger man to look at. It was a picture of a small tank filled with water. On the bottom of the tank was a small table with four humanoid creatures with curly tails poking out from their human clothes. Tiny tentacles adorned their head instead of hair. The father stood at the table carving a turkey as mother and children sat smiling with forks and knives in their hands. Xander read the title at the top of the ad. “Sea monkeys?”

“That’s right.” Isaac tapped the picture and shook his head. “This used to be a full page ad in many of the comic books I read as a kid. I would look at this and want to buy a kit, have a little family of creatures like this living on my bookshelf. It’s one of the first things I ever spent my money on. Paid twenty dollars and sent away for the kit. I was so excited.”

Xander pushed the picture back at Isaac. “I’m guessing the sea monkeys did not look like this.”

“You’re right.” Isaac frowned. “I followed the instructions, poured the packet of sea monkeys into the water and waited. A few days later, I saw them.” He shook his head. “Tiny little squiggly things crawling around in the water. My dad said they were called brine shrimp. Disgusting little creatures.”

“Not what you were hoping for.”

“I flushed them down the toilet.”

Xander laughed.

“I’m glad I ordered them, though. I’ve never wanted to be one of those companies that promises one thing and delivers another. And we never have.”

“That’s true.”

Isaac leaned forward, his expression serious. “Xander, I’d like to offer you a beta account for the new VR Blades.”

“That’s kind of you.” Xander shook his head, “But it’s not allowed. My status as a professional gamer excludes me from playing until it is available to the public.”

“I know it says something to that effect in your contract.”

Xander laughed. “It’s a core clause. I break that and I’m permanently kicked from the league.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not worth it, Mr. Chase.”

“Isaac.”

“But thank you for the offer.”

Isaac nodded. They sat quietly for a few seconds. Then he reached into his desk and removed a contract.

“What’s that?”

“A way around the rule.”

“Is that possible?”

“Of course. It’s my game, Xander. I can modify the rules.”

Isaac pushed the contract closer to the professional gamer. “Take it to your agent, to your lawyer. Tell them that it is the only contract of its kind and I am willing to abide by it for you, only. If they agree, then sign it.”

Xander took the contract and skimmed it. His eyes narrowed and he looked up. “Okay. I’ll have them take a look. If it’s legal—”

“Then you’ll play?”

Xander nodded. “Then I’ll play.”

7

Shale leaned back in her chair and swallowed the last bite of crème brûlée. “Mmm.” She smiled. “That was delicious. Who would guess that making it with earl grey tea would add such a cool flavour?”

Aleron tapped his own plate with his fork. “Want another bite of my cheesecake?”

She sat up straighter and nodded. “Please.”

He cut the remaining cheesecake in half, then laughed as her fork came streaking in to snag one. She chewed slowly and closed her eyes. “So delicious.”

Aleron finished the last bite and wiped his mouth before reaching for his coffee. “This week has been awesome. Thank you so much.”

Shale lifted her tea cup and winked. “My pleasure, studly. I’m glad you finally relaxed enough to enjoy the tour.”

He nodded. The first day of her visit had been difficult, but she had convinced him to relax and enjoy himself. After that, the rest of the week had flown by in a flash of activities and meals. She had wanted to see all the sights, and he had made sure to do just that. They had flown on a helicopter tour around the city, travelled to the tallest buildings, visited historical landmarks, and sampled some of the best food around. “I’m serious, Shale. This has honestly been the best week of my entire life.”

“It’s right up there for me too.”

He laughed. “Yeah, right.”

She frowned. “I mean it, Aleron.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve done a lot of cool things, but spending the week with you—having you plan and arrange the entire thing—this has been beyond fantastic.”

“Too bad it has to end.”

Shale grinned. “Who says it does?”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember I told you that I had a surprise?”

“Yeah, that you were coming to visit for the week.”

She laughed. “I told you I was coming to visit, and that I had a surprise.”

“How come you didn’t tell me sooner?”

“So we could enjoy ourselves.”

“There’s nothing you can say that would have made me not enjoy this week.”

Laughter again.

“Is it bad news?”

“Not at all.”

Aleron frowned. “Can you tell me what it is now?”

“Yep.” She leaned back and crossed her arms, a wide smile on her face and her eyes sparkling.

He waited for a second, then raised his eyebrows. “Well?”

“Blades VR.”

“What about it?”

“Big investors get a beta account.”

“Yeah.”

She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

He frowned for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Oh my god. Your dad is an investor?”

She nodded. “And?”

“And you get to go in and play on a beta account.”

She clapped her hands and squealed.

“Oh wow, Shale. That is beyond amazing.”

“Exciting, right?”

“You have no idea.” He shook his head and laughed. “Or I guess you totally have the idea.” He stood and moved to hug her. “Wow. Did I already say wow? This is insane. When do you start playing?”

“Tuesday.”

He settled back in his chair. “My mind is spinning. Think of all the advance info you’re gonna be able to get. This is such a huge advantage for when the game goes public.”

“Right?”

“Wow. Seriously, Shale, I couldn’t be any happier if I tried.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “I know it’s gonna be difficult, but try your best to remember as many details as you can. I’m gonna want to hear all about it when you come back out.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Of course I will. How long does beta go? Will I have to wait days to hear from you or weeks?”

“Neither.”

“It goes longer?”

She laughed. “They say it lasts for a few weeks.”

“Then I’ll hear from you in a few weeks.”

“Nope.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

She smiled.

“What?”

“I haven’t given you the best news yet.”

“Of course you have. What could be better than playing Blades VR beta?”

“Great question. What could be better?”

“Nothing.”

She laughed again and he frowned, considering the question. “Seriously, there’s nothing better than hearing you’re gonna be playing.”

“What if I said that you’ll be playing as well?”

Aleron scowled. “Well, yeah. That would be beyond awes—” He froze.

She raised an eyebrow. “There it is.”

He frowned.

“It’s starting to dawn on him now.”

He tilted his head and squinted at her.

“My dad invested enough to get two beta accounts.”

Aleron’s mouth opened and closed without making any sound.

“He has zero interest in playing.”

“But—”

“I always talk about you. Dad says he feels as if he knows you, like you’re part of the family.”

“That’s kind but, Shale, there’s no way I could ever accept such a gift.” Aleron shook his head. “Two million dollars…”

“We don’t expect you to pay us two million, silly.” She laughed. “He didn’t invest in ARC Gaming for the beta accounts. It was a business decision and he’s already made millions from it. Once Blades VR goes live, he’ll make even more.”

He looked at her, not knowing what to say.

Shale grinned. “So, yeah. I’m going to play Blades VR. And you’re gonna join me. That sinking in?”

He smiled. “Oh my god. This is gonna be epic.”

8

Character customization in Blades VR is different from every other game.

Instead of a high degree of customizability, the player’s character will have a preset appearance which cannot be altered.

Some have complained about this, while others feel that it adds to the realism to the gaming experience.

Why has this restriction been created? Because as a player you inhabit, or ‘take over’ an existing life-form within the game. Each character has already lived years inside the digital world of Preu Treya, building a backstory that is unique and genuine to the game world.

Should you select a male dwarf of the warrior class, then your consciousness will enter the body of a young dwarf who has lived from birth to late teens and is now eligible to begin his training as a warrior.

Gaming News Weekly – “An Inside Look at Blades VR with Tonya Ropkin”

Kara rapped on Isaac’s open door. “Got a minute?”

He looked up from his computer and squinted at her. “I assume it can’t wait?”

She shook her head, shut the door behind her, and took a seat across from him.

Isaac turned to face her. “What’s up?”

“Xander Vallenhall.”

“Nice kid.”

“He is. We’ve got a slight problem with him.”

“Will it affect his ability to be immersed?”

She snorted. “Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“Before the beta testers enter, they receive orientation to prepare them.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Xander wasn’t given any.”

Isaac narrowed his eyes. “I see.”

“It must have been an oversight. Can we push his immersion back by a couple days and schedule the sessions?”

“No.”

Kara frowned. “Pardon?”

“He has to go in tomorrow.”

“But he isn’t prepared.”

Isaac turned toward his monitor. “He’s the best Blades player in the world, Kara. I’m sure that his play will go splendidly.”

“The VR version is very different from the PC, Isaac. He might be the best at one, but without orientation, he doesn’t stand a chance of succeeding in there.”

His fingers stopped typing on the keyboard. He pursed his lips together.

“You know I’m right.”

“I don’t.”

“But—”

“He’ll figure it out, Kara.”

She frowned. “No. I don’t think he will.”

Isaac leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “We are in the beta testing stage of the game, Kara. The experience of each player is to help us improve the game and make certain that it’s as perfect as possible before the thing goes wide.”

“So you’re telling me that keeping Xander one hundred percent in the dark is being done on purpose.”

“That’s right.”

“You want him to fail.”

Isaac laughed. “Not at all.”

Kara closed her eyes.

“Look. He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t agree.”

“You’ve made that clear.”

“This isn’t a game, Isaac.”

More laughter. “Of course it is.”

“He could die.”

Isaac made a tsking sound and shook his head. “You’re being dramatic.”

Kara considered him for a moment, then stood. “All right. You’re the boss.”

“How kind of you to remember.”

“Will we be sending anyone else in this way?”

“Depends on how well Xander does.”

“I’m calling it a night.”

“See ya tomorrow.”

***

Isaac knocked on the door and pushed it open, a smile on his face as he entered the room and stood beside the table where Xander was lying. The world gaming champion was bare-chested, covered from the waist down by a thin white sheet. Tubes and sensors had been attached to various spots on his torso and skull.

Isaac touched his shoulder. “Excited to get in there?”

Xander started to nod but winced as cables tugged his head. “I sure am.”

“Good.”

“I’m not sure what to expect.”

“Don’t worry.” Isaac patted him on the chest. “A guide will meet you inside and show you the basics. Piece of cake after that for a pro like yourself.”

“I don’t know. Everyone says that the VR game is very different from the PC version?

“I’m sure you’ll see the similarities quick enough. Few have your skill. No biggie.”

Xander reached up and rubbed his eyelid. “Okay.”

“I bet you’ll be leading the Death Strykers in no time.”

“Is that what you’d like me to focus on?”

“Not unless you want to. For the most part, all I want is for you to play the game as hard as you can and have fun. Immerse yourself in the virtual world and play for all you’re worth. Still, knowing what I do about you, I’m guessing you will try and level through the Death Stryker ranks and become their Primus.”

Xander nodded. “Yeah, that will be my goal for sure.”

Isaac laughed. “I figured. Now as soon as you enter, you’ll appear in a small white room. That’s where you will meet your guide and get started.”

“Thanks, Mr. Chase.”

“Isaac.”

“Thanks, Isaac. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this opportunity.”

“I’m glad you agreed to give it a try.” He stepped back and raised his right fist to eye level, then spoke the traditional war cry of the Death Strykers. “Victory through death.”

Xander smiled. “Victory through death.”

Isaac nodded at the medical attendant, who came forward and placed a black mask over Xander’s mouth and nose. “We will begin immersion now, Xander. Close your eyes, relax, and count backward from ten to zero.”

Isaac heard the gamer mumble the numbers through the mask. When he reached four, there was silence. “Is he in?”

The attendant removed the mask from Xander’s face, placed two fingers against the gamer’s throat, then nodded. “He is.”

Isaac exited the room and pulled out his cell phone. He dialled a number and placed it to his ear. “I just came from Xander Vallenhall’s room. Immersion is complete.”

He listened to the voice on the other end of the line and stopped at the elevator, pressing the button to summon it. “That’s right.” He smiled. “Consider him permanently removed from the world of professional e-sports.”

9

Ezref pressed a thumb against the skin of the fruit, then raised it to his nose, sniffing before nodding and placing it in the basket.

“Those are from the Smightly’s place,” the vendor said. “They had an excellent season with their crops. You can expect fruit like that for the rest of the winter, young master.”

Ezref nodded and reached for a plump tomato.

“How’s things at the tower?” The vendor reached for a basket of cucumbers and began sorting through them.

“Same as always.” Ezref placed the tomato into his basket and plucked two small onions from a nearby pile.

“Haven’t seen any big storms, lately.”

“You’re complaining?”

“No, not at all.” The vendor smiled. “Last month there was a lot of storms over there. Figured your master must be working on something big, but now there’s none.”

“He has changed focus of late.”

“Ah, yes. The attack.”

Ezref frowned and looked up from the vegetables. “What attack?”

“You haven’t heard? There was a tribe of goblins causing trouble near the Geminen place. Killed six livestock and one of their dogs.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Aye.”

“Was the village militia able to scare them off?”

“They were set to try, but a group of adventurers was passing through and they volunteered to take care of things for us.”

“I see.” Ezref reached for an orange and pretended to examine it, but scanned the square instead.

“They sent their ranger out to track the evil buggers while the rest of the party gears up in the village. Apparently the buggers are hard to find when they’re raiding. Tough to see ‘em until they strike.”

“They like to tunnel.”

“What’s that?”

“Goblins.” Ezref set his basket in front of the vendor and tapped it. “They tunnel underground which makes them tricky to find.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that. Thanks for the information.”

“My pleasure. This is all I need today.”

The vendor accepted the silver coin from Ezref and handed him back three coppers. He dropped the coins into his leather purse and tucked it into the fold of his robe. “Good luck with the goblins. I hope the heroes are successful.”

“Thanks.” The vendor bent down and placed a basket of vegetables on an empty section of his stall. “I expect one of them will be knockin’ on your door today or the next.”

Ezref frowned. “Why?”

“One of them is a crafter. He needs spell components and whatnot and was asking if there were someplace to buy what he needed.”

Ezref raised an eyebrow and gave the vendor a flat stare. “And you told him that would be at my master’s tower?”

“Well, no.” He shook his head. “I didn’t. But someone did.”

“Where is this group of adventurers?”

“They are staying at the Floating Cork.”

“And their crafter, you’ve seen him?”

“I have.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Plain fella, skinny with stringy brown hair, narrow face, kind of like a rat.”

“He have a staff?”

“‘Course he does. Don’t all crafters carry a staff?”

Ezref ignored the question. “How old would you guess he is?”

“Oh he’s young. I would say around twenty-five or so.”

The apprentice nodded.

“Do me a favour, Ezref. When you meet, don’t say I told you about them.”

“I doubt the two of us will meet.”

“I don’t know. He seemed pretty keen on visiting your tower.”

Ezref smiled as he turned away. “We’ll see.”

***

Sebastian was in the master’s study, one leg slung over the arm rest of a chair, a book open on his lap. He looked up as Ezref entered the room. “How’d it go in the village?”

“We might have trouble.”

“What kind?”

“There’s a crafter in the village.”

“Doing what?”

“A group of adventurers was passing through and heard about one of the locals being attacked by goblins. They’ve offered to take care of it.”

“Of course they did.” Sebastian looked back at his book. “This shouldn’t affect us.”

“It might. The crafter needs spell components.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. And of course, a helpful villager suggested coming here to get them.”

“Helpful.” Sebastian sighed and closed the book. “I thought your master was evil.”

“He was.”

“Weren’t the villagers frightened of him?”

Ezref frowned. “Why should they be?”

“Because. He’s evil.”

Ezref shook his head.

“You know.” Sebastian furrowed his brow. “Beware the evil wizard. If you go close to his dark tower you will be turned into a frog.”

“Who said that?”

The older man sighed. “The villagers should be saying things like that.”

“Ah, I see.” Ezref nodded. “You think that my master must have kept the neighbours afraid of him, like in children’s storybooks.”

“Exactly.”

The apprentice laughed. “That has to be one of the dumbest things I’ve heard in a long while.”

“That’s not how it works?”

Ezref shook his head. “We need to eat, and wear clothes, and get medicine should we become sick. The villagers wouldn’t help us with any of that if they were afraid of us.”

“But your master was evil.”

“Evil, not stupid. They know if they help us, we will help them. Evil or good, those people are safer for living in the shadow of this tower. Attacking them affects the wizard, and so he will protect them.”

“Huh.” Sebastian frowned.

The apprentice grunted. “Where are you from, anyway? You seem intelligent, and you’ve got a natural affinity for the craft, but some of your ideas.” He shook his head. “It’s as if you have no clue how this reality works.”

“You’re right. I guess I have a lot to learn. I’m thankful to have met someone as patient and non-judging as you to teach me.”

Ezref smirked.

“How come the crafter could be a problem for us?”

“Because if he comes here, it’s likely that he will discover the master of the tower is dead.”

“I’m the master now.”

“True, but anyone with talent will see that you shouldn’t be master here.”

“How?”

Ezref made a face as if he’d eaten something sour. “Your aura.”

“What about it?”

“It’s weak. Almost as if you have zero ability or talent in the arts.”

“Oh.”

“If he meets you, then it will be obvious this tower and all of its significant magic are being held by someone with no right to do so.”

“I see.”

“The best way for you to hold this tower is to avoid attention, at least until you are strong enough to defend it.”

“I’m strong enough. I destroyed your master and can do the same to any challenger.”

“Yeah. About that.”

“What?”

“The magic that you used against my old master. You can’t tap into that source and cast it again.”

The older man snorted. “I’ll cast it whenever I need to.”

“Then you’ll die.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Trust me on this, Sebastian. It will become clearer as I teach you more, but for now you must promise not to cast that spell.”

Sebastian frowned. “You make it sound dangerous, kid.”

“You have no idea, which I think is why you got away with it once.”

“What if I do cast it again?”

“Then you could destroy the entire world.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Right.”

“I’m serious.”

“All right, I won’t cast it again.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now how do you suggest we deal with this crafter if he decides to stop by?”

“I have no clue.”

Sebastian stood and grabbed the basket of produce. “I’m hungry. Maybe a little food will help us come up with something.”

10

There have been many challenges during the creation of Blade VR. Two of the biggest have been, one, constructing the virtual world, and two, trying to figure out how to securely and safely immerse the player inside of it.

Wireless interface has been the standard connection method for decades. Most of our younger programmers don’t even remember having to use a wire to plug into a high-speed connection. At first, we tried to develop a wireless connection between player and world, but it couldn’t be accomplished due to the massive amount of data required to flow between player and game. In a game where signal loss could equal death, we had to look for a better method. Eventually, the only thing that could work was a hardwired interface.

Restricted to the old way of things, we created an entirely new form of cable connection. Using Saser technology, we were able to achieve faster-than-light transmission in order to ensure interruption-free ultra-speed data transmission. This allows us to push the highest data transmission rate, while ensuring the player’s safety.

Sebastian Darndhal,
Co-Founder and Head Designer/Creator, ARC Gaming.

Aleron sat in the chair and watched the orientation video for what felt like the hundredth time. He knew the information by heart by now, but the video was a good distraction. He and Shale had spent the last three days learning everything there was to know about the game that they would soon be playing. His eyes drifted from the monitor to the mirror and he caught a glimpse of his bald head. Technicians bent over him, sticking electrodes to his skull.

“All set with the sensors, Aleron.” He felt a pat on his shoulder and the lead technician took a step back and nodded. The man’s eyes were bright and cheerful. Aleron guessed that he was smiling behind his white face mask. “Let’s move to your table so that we can install your lead.”

Aleron‘s pulse quickened as he stood and moved to the white padded table where his body would rest while he was immersed in the game. One hand came up to touch his Port, the piece of hardware which would connect the high-data Saser cable to the back of his neck at the base of his skull. The installation process had been painful as they turned him onto his belly, clamped his head down with a couple straps, and actually screwed the connector into the base of his skull deep enough to make contact with his spinal cord. They’d sedated him heavily to help make the process as painless as possible, but the freezing had worn off and he had spent the night in throbbing discomfort. By morning, the pain had dulled and eventually disappeared.

He lay back on the table and looked at the ceiling.

“Okay, Aleron,” the technician said. “We are inserting the lead. It won’t hurt but you will feel a bit of pressure and a click.”

“Okay.”

He felt the pressure, followed by a click that he wasn’t sure if he felt or heard.

“That’s it.” The technician’s masked face appeared above him. “I will now put you in the queue and let you know when it’s time to head in.”

“Thanks.” Aleron closed his eyes and smiled. Only a few seconds later, he heard three faint beeps in his right ear.

“Okay, it’s your turn,” the technician said. “Relax and enjoy the ride. Have fun in there.”

Aleron nodded and began to drift off. A second later his body jerked, the kind of spasm that sometimes happened when you started dreaming right as you fell asleep. He opened his eyes. Where a moment before there had been the white, sterile ceiling of a medical room, he now saw the greenish grey canvas of a tent.

He sat up and examined his new surroundings. It was dimly lit. Tinges of green and blue outlined everything except for one item on the small table beside him. It was bright orange and flickered.

It’s a candle. He thought. I must be seeing with elven night vision. He held a hand up in front of his face. His fingers were long and thin. He touched the tip of one ear and laughed as he traced the length of its tapered point. Next, he touched his face and marvelled at how smooth the skin was.

He stood and walked around the area, touching items, bringing some to his nose and sniffing. He even grabbed a handful of dirt from the floor and touched his tongue to it, making a face as he dropped it back to the ground. Then he walked to the tent flap, opened it, and stuck his head outside. “Oh my god.”

The night sky was filled with so many stars of varying intensity that it almost took his breath away. He gazed up for a long moment before tilting his head to listen to the night sounds: insects, leaves rustling in the wind, and the calls of nocturnal creatures.

“You okay?”

Aleron looked toward the voice. A young woman sat beside a small fire. “Yeah, I’m fine. Having trouble sleeping, is all.”

She giggled. “Come take my watch, then.”

“Okay.”

“I was joking.”

He stepped out of the tent and let the flap drop behind him. “I wasn’t.” He walked to the small fire and sat beside her. “Go ahead and get some sleep. Honest. I don’t mind.”

“What are you up to, Aleron?”

He made as if to stand. “I was offering to help, but if you’re not interested—”

“Don’t be like that.” She stood, removed the blanket from her shoulders, and draped it over his. “I’m not used to you being nice is all.”

“Really?”

She shrugged. “It confused me.”

“Well that’s not good. I’ll try to be nicer from now on.”

She giggled again. It was a musical sound. Aleron liked it. “Nice and funny? Something strange has truly come over you.”

He crossed his legs and adjusted the blanket. “Take advantage of it while it lasts.”

“I will.” She walked toward the tent behind him. “See you in a few hours.”

“Okay.”

When she was gone, he grinned and looked up at the sky once more. “This is gonna be fun.”

11

Each Blade VR account will be allowed one playable character aged between fifteen and twenty years (game time). For Premium members, your character will be acquired prior to initial training in the class that you have chosen.

Non-premium, or ‘economy’ players, will be placed in ‘less than optimal’ avatars. This means that you will enter the game as a character with existing experience and skills. The consciousness that levelled those abilities will be gone, replaced by yours. In these cases, we advise you to take the time to learn the abilities that your character has learned before jumping head long into a campaign.

Optimally, it is recommended that everyone purchase a Premium account to experience the best overall play.

Due to the realism of the NPCs inside the universe, this is a strict role-playing game. Once immersed, you may say things which make sense in the real world but have no meaning in Preu Treya. When this happens, you will hear the word in your mind but will speak a different word—slang which is understood and accepted by native speakers of your character’s language.

By now, I hope that you are realizing how seriously we take our promise to make Blades VR the most realistic, lifelike, fantasy role-playing experience ever. At first, playing might be overwhelming, but don’t worry.

Once you are immersed, you will learn the nuances and details quickly.

Blades VR Orientation, Chapter 1.3 - Immersion and Role-playing

Shale opened her eyes and sat up. The three other cots in the tent were empty, all of them neatly made. When she had arrived in the middle of the night, they’d been occupied by the sleeping forms of other elves.

She stood and looked around. Beside her cot were clothes. She reached for the beige leather pants and pulled them on. They fit comfortably. Next, she donned the light green tunic of a soft, thin material that felt more like nylon than cotton, which surprised her. She sat back on the cot, slipped the dark socks over her feet, and donned on a pair of pliable yet thick natural-coloured leather boots that came halfway up to her knee. She stood and took a step. They had comfortable soles and a slight heel. Again, more design and comfort than she had expected. She walked to the flap, pulled it back, and stepped out into the morning light.

Elves moved about the camp everywhere she looked. To her right was a large, round fire pit with a flat table of thin metal resting above the flames. Two elven women and a man wearing cloth aprons stood over the makeshift griddle, tending what looked like pancakes. Beyond the cooking fire, elves lined up in front of a row of hay bales, practising archery. An older man—the instructor—stood at one end of the line, leaning against the tree with arms crossed as he watched the archers shoot.

To Shale’s left, more young elves drilled in a variety of skills. Some looked to be crafting snares, others fletched feathers onto arrow shafts, while others were sharpening daggers.

She was lost in thought, absorbing the sights, when something nudged her in the ribs, making her jump. A male elf stood beside her, a grin on his face. She smiled back. “Good morning.”

“Pfft.” He shook his head. “Another twenty minutes and you would have completely missed morning.”

“How come no one woke me?”

“A better question is how did the sounds of a busy training camp not wake you?”

“Guess I must have been tired.”

“That’s what Jielir said.”

Shale nodded and considered the elf beside her. At first, she’d thought it was Aleron, but now she realized it wasn’t. Aleron would be dressed as a druid and this one was clothed in ranger garb the same as her. She scanned the camp again and it became clear that all of the elves, at least the ones her age, were all dressed as rangers. She knew from orientation that her avatar was beginning ranger training. They must have come to a special place to train, away from the main elven village.

How do I find out this guy’s name?

“Come on.” He nudged her and began walking. “Let’s get breakfast, then we can head to the range.”

Shale followed him to the fire. Her companion smiled at the cooks. “Morning, beautiful people.”

One of the cooks, a pretty girl the same age as Shale, snorted and pretended to be annoyed, but a smile appeared on her face. “It seems as if you have inherited your father’s silver tongue as well as his good looks, Lelthaes Ravenfeather.”

“That’s not true, Maraea.” He put a hand to his chest and looked at the ground. “Normally I am a clumsy mute, but when I am in the presence of your wit and beauty, intelligent words seem to suddenly appear.”

The girl shook her head and scooped two pancakes from the griddle with her spatula.

“It’s true.” Lelthaes kept his head bowed but his eyes raised to meet Maraea’s and he grinned. “You are my muse. Without you I am a bumbling idiot.”

Maraea dropped the pancakes onto a plate and held them toward the ranger in training. “I don’t think my presence helps. You sound very much like a bumbling idiot at this very moment.”

Lelthaes laughed as he accepted the plate. “Thank you, fair beauty, both for the inspiration to speak and the delicious food.”

She shook her head and flipped a third pancake on top of his stack, then prepared a second plate and handed it to Shale. “I don’t know how you put up with this one chittering on all day, Shale.”

“He barely says a word to me. This really only does seem to happen when he’s around you, Maraea.”

The cook raised one eyebrow and glanced sidelong at Lelthaes. “If that is true, then perhaps I should allow you to take me for a walk along the river in hopes of inspiring you to compose a beautiful poem in my honour.”

Lelthaes frowned. “Don’t toy with me. I’ll be a horrible ranger if I must lug a broken heart in my chest with me for the rest of my life.”

She snorted. “‘Tis more like you are collecting the broken hearts of maidens to carry in a pack, tales of conquest to entertain your fellow vagabonds during your travels.”

He nodded and placed a hand to his chest. “I understand. You’re frightened of falling in love.”

Maraea laughed. Lelthaes winked and turned away. Shale followed him to an empty table. They sat and he reached for the bottle of syrup in the middle and poured some onto his pancakes. “Thanks for the help there.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

“You’re right.” He cut into a pancake. “I owe you.”

Shale smiled and took a bite of food, excited to begin training, hoping that she would soon find Aleron.

12

Players of traditional online video games have become spoiled, no longer exploring areas as they go, but instead relying on map functions to navigate. This feature will not be available to players of  Blades VR.

Players will see only as far as their eyes allow, and will have to rely on creating their own maps of the world as they explore outwards from their starting points.

Some vendors will also sell maps, depending on the quest and levels of the players, but getting lost is a very real possibility.

Becoming lost in Blades VR can become a very serious problem which could affect your enjoyment of the game. Exactly like real life, not knowing where you are can lead to frustration, panic, and a sense of helplessness.

Game sites are speculating that zoning—moving from one area to another separated by an invisible barrier—will allow players to re-orient themselves. While this may work in limited cases, we cannot guarantee it will work every time. If you don’t know where you are when you leave a zone, it will not be obvious which new zone you are entering, nor what part of it you are standing in.

Learn to explore. Work with others. Enjoy the Game.

Blades VR Player’s Guide - Chapter Five, Navigating the Virtual World of Preu Treya

Xander completed the immersion process and found himself in a small clearing. Above, the black sky was filled with twinkling stars. All around, colours—muted grey, dark blues and blacks—filled his vision. Even the trees beyond the clearing seemed to display a smoky grey light of their own.

He held a hand in front of his face, smiling at the warm yellow and orange colours which told him his vision was not damaged but working perfectly. “Dark sight.” He touched the bundled cloak that had been his pillow a moment ago. He stood and swung the garment over his shoulders, adjusting the hood so that it lay flat against his back. He bent down and picked one of the two swords from the ground, pulling it from the scabbard and smiling as he examined the blade. Approximately two-and-a-half feet long, the darkened steel felt well-balanced, the hilt comfortable in his grip. He slid it home and picked up the second sword, drawing it, then frowning. This one felt strange, just a big off-balance. He transferred it to his left hand, then laughed. “That feels better. They must be fit and balanced to the proper hand.”

Xander sheathed the second sword and examined the loops of leather attached to the scabbard. He slung it over his shoulder and adjusted the leather straps, pulling them through the silver buckle so that the sword rested comfortably on his back, the hilt easy to reach without having to look back. He placed the second scabbard over the other shoulder, adjusted it, and raised both hands to grasp the swords.

He drew, grunting and laughing as the swords snagged, neither pulling out completely. He loosened the straps of the right scabbard and positioned it so that the hilt was a bit lower. He tried to draw again but the blade still would not come free.

A second adjustment did the trick. Now the hilt barely peeked over his shoulder and he had to stretch his arms back as far as possible, but this allowed him to grip and draw the blades free from their scabbards. Making note of the buckle hole, Xander adjusted the straps of the second scabbard to match. This time when he drew, both blades cleared their scabbards. He lowered his arms and brought the swords down, holding the right at eye level, the left hovering at his waist.

He took a couple practise swings, slow and methodical, before carefully returning the swords to their carriers. Next, he bent down to open the drawstrings of the small pack. It contained a small bit of wire, flint and steel, a sturdy knife, and a whetstone.

“And that’s it.” He stood and turned, scanning the clearing. “Wonder what I’m doing out here?”

As he asked the question a memory came to him. “This is a rite of passage. The beginning of my training.”  In his mind’s eye, he saw a thin, pale man sitting on a throne made from the bleached bones of long dead beasts. The man looked down at him, his lips pressed together, his pink eyes unfriendly. “I am to slaughter a dozen corpse rats and return with their heads.” He grunted and surveyed the area for signs of skulls but there were none. “Looks like I got here before the first kill. I can’t even remember where corpse rats spawn.”

He searched his memory, trying to recall his early days as a player, before the arena. Then it came to him. “Graveyards or ruins is the best place to find them.” He closed the flap of the pack and slung it over his shoulder. “Okay, then. I’m here. I’m awake, and I can see as good in the dark as daylight. There’s no point in trying to sleep. Might as well get started hunting for them now.”

Xander turned slowly, not sure which direction his avatar had been heading. He frowned. “Wait a minute. Wasn’t I supposed to wake up in a room? Chase said there would be a guide to give me the basics.”

The quiet sounds of nature filled the air.

He dropped the bag on the ground and sat. “Something doesn’t feel right. Maybe I’d better wait until morning.”

13

The tinkling of a bell sounded and Sebastian tilted his head. “What was that?”

Ezref reached for his napkin and wiped his lips, still chewing a mouthful of food. “Front door.”

“The travelling mage?”

The apprentice dropped the napkin on the table and brushed his hands together. “I’m hoping a villager, but most likely yes, the travelling mage.”

“Refresh my memory on how we are dealing with him.”

“There’s no memory to refresh. You changed the subject each time I raised it.”

Sebastian grunted. “Don’t answer the door. Pretend no one’s here.”

“He will wait and eventually learn that we’ve been here all along. That will reflect badly on us. On you.”

“I don’t care about the opinion of a travelling wizard.”

“You will if he reports you to the Pentaverate.”

“The what?” Sebastian frowned.

“The Pentaverate.”

The older man grunted, repeating the word. Then tilted his head back and roared with laughter.

Ezref frowned. “What’s so funny?”

The older man shook his head. “I forgot about that name.”

“I thought you were a Traveller. If you’re not from this land, how would you know the name in the first place?”

Sebastian laughed again and shook his head. “It’s used where I come from as well.”

“Truly?”

“Don’t try to distract me.”

“I wasn’t tryi—”

“Why should I worry about being reported to the—” He smiled. “Pentaverate.”

“Because they are the governing body of all crafters. I don’t know how it works where you are from, but here it is expected that crafters extend a minimum amount of courtesy to each other. To do less is unacceptable and always leads to disciplinary action.”

“I see.”

“I’m not sure that you do. Once accepted into the fold, other crafters come before all else. The magical community is not as large as other groups, and we are often feared by the rest of the classes. Our loyalty is expected, demanded, in order to help ensure everyone’s survival.”

The sound of a bell tinkled again. Sebastian chewed on his lower lip. “So if a crafter comes calling, I must answer.”

“Always.” Ezref nodded.

“Regardless of their degree of evil or good.”

The apprentice sighed. “You seem very occupied by that distinction.”

“And you aren’t?”

Ezref shook his head.

“We must speak of that later.”

“Yes. As for this problem, I have an idea.”

“It came to you right at this moment?”

“No, it occurred to me the other day.”

“Then why didn’t you bring it up earlier?”

Ezref raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, right. I changed the subject.”

“You did.”

“Is it a good idea?”

“I think so.”

Sebastian crossed his arms. “Let’s hear it.”

***

Olin waved a hand over the door symbol a third time and stepped back as the chime sounded from within. “Maybe they are out.” He waited for another moment, then turned and began to head for the road. There was the click of a door latch. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. A young man stood in the open doorway.

“Hi.”

Olin turned and smiled. “Hi.” He closed the distance between them and stopped at the bottom of the steps.

The young man bowed. “I am Ezref, apprentice to this tower’s master of the dark arts.”

He returned the gesture and walked up the steps. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ezref. I’m Olin. ” The two men clasped forearms. “I’m sorry to have kept ringing your bell.”

Ezref appeared to be out of breath. He waved one hand. “Not at all. It is I who must apologize. I was at the top of the tower and did not hear it at first.”

Olin stepped back and looked to the top of the tower. “That’s a long run down.”

“Which is why you see me gasping for air.”

The mage laughed. “If it is convenient, I would speak with your master.”

The apprentice stepped into the tower and ushered him in. “By all means, enter. Our shelter is yours to share.”

Olin removed his shoes at the door way and leaned his staff against the wall. Then he followed the apprentice to a sitting room which had a round table and four chairs.

“Please make yourself comfortable, I will fetch wine and bread.”

“Thank you.”

Ezref returned a short time later with a decanter of wine and board holding a loaf of golden crusted bread, a small crock of butter, and a broad-bladed spreading knife. He set the items onto the table and retrieved two glasses, pouring dark red liquid into each and passing one to Olin. Then he raised his glass. “To health and long life.”

Olin smiled and raised his glass. “To health and long life.”

Both sipped the wine. Ezref cut two slices of bread, spread a thin layer of butter on each, and gave one to Olin, who took a bite and nodded. “Delicious.”

“Thank you.”

“Will your master be down soon?”

“Alas.” Ezref placed his bread on the table and spread his hands. “My master is deeply entrenched in a complicated casting. He is communing with the netherworld.”

“I see.”

“He will be disappointed when I tell him that you were here, but I dare not interrupt him.” Ezref raised his eyebrows and leaned closer. “The preparation for the spell took thirteen days, and the portal three hours of focused attention to create.”

“He must be visiting with a powerful soul.”

Ezref nodded. “That is what he said. And apparently very fickle.”

“I do not practise the darker arts, but I am familiar with the dangers of such rituals. I can return when he has finished his commune.”

“If time is no concern, then certainly. I expect he will return in five to six days.”

Olin winced. “That long?”

“That early. It could go past that.”

The mage sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I must be gone by tomorrow.”

“That is unfortunate.”

“No, it’s my fault for waiting. I have been in the neighbouring village for days. I put this visit off when I should have come sooner.”

Ezref’s expression appeared sympathetic as he nodded.

“Perhaps you can assist me?”

“If it is within my capabilities, then absolutely. My expertise is limited. I am still fairly new, and my master is not quick to teach.”

Olin grinned. “No master ever is. I’m sure you can help. I came hoping to purchase some spell components.”

Ezref nodded and waited for the mage to say more, but he didn’t. The apprentice raised his eyebrows. “That’s it?”

“Yes.” He reached for an inner pocket in his vest and withdrew a folded piece of paper.

Ezref accepted the paper and opened it, scanning the list. Then he smiled and nodded. “I can provide you with these components.”

Olin let out a sigh. “That is excellent news. It won’t drain your master’s reserves, will it?”

“Not at all.”

“Then I would be most grateful.”

“Filling this order will actually please my master. He likes to keep his inventory fresh and this will allow him to rotate some of his stock.” He raised one eyebrow. “Of course, I’m the one that does most of the replenishing, but gathering components isn’t as unpleasant as some of the other things I have to do around here.”

Olin laughed. “I hear you. My apprenticeship ended a little over two short years ago. I still have nightmares about having to harvest pixie wings.”

“Nasty sting on them.” Ezref stood and refilled Olin’s wine glass.

“I developed a method to stop them from doing that.”

“Is that so?”

Olin nodded. “Before you remove the wings, fold their arms over their chest and hold them crossed. When you yank them out, they no longer lash out and attempt to sting you.”

Ezref smiled. “I can’t thank you enough for sharing that.”

Olin winked. “Be sure to pass it along. That’s all the thanks I require.”

“I certainly will.” The apprentice tipped his glass up and drained the contents. “Hang tight, and I will gather the materials on your list.”

***

“Cross their arms?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Huh.”

Ezref laughed. “I know. So simple.” He shuddered. “Pixie stings itch so bad you can’t sleep for a couple of days.”

“I’ll take your word for it and hope that I never have to experience it. The meeting went well, then?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good.”

***

Olin sat in the corner of the room he shared with the ranger of the group, an elf named Hesanai.

“Did the wizard have everything you needed?”

“Yes.”

“Something wrong? You look troubled.”

“I didn’t get to meet the master of the tower.”

“So?”

“That’s odd.”

“Maybe he was out.”

“The apprentice assured me he was present and involved in a complex casting.”

Hesanai shrugged. “Mystery solved.”

“That’s the thing.” Olin met her eyes, his brows furrowed. “I did not sense a master present at all. Nor the telltale signs of a powerful spell being cast.”

“A shielding?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You crafters are always so cryptic. Never saying what you mean.”

“It’s difficult to put into words.”

“Then let it drop.”

He pursed his lips. “I felt residue.”

“What’s that?”

Olin sighed. “It felt as if a part of the master was still there, but the majority of him had been . . . blasted away.”

“That doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“I know.”

“Where would he have been blasted to?”

“I have no idea.”

“Should we all go up as a group and demand to talk with the master?”

“No.”

“You don’t sound certain.”

“The master practises the dark arts. I was safe, but if we went up there as a group it would be seen as an attack.”

“Defend ourselves against a dark wizard in his own tower?” Hesanai shook her head. “No thanks.”

“Perhaps I will report the incident when we are close to a chapter house.”

“When.” The ranger smiled. “I like how you assumed we won’t die horribly during this campaign.”

Olin winked. “Thought you’d appreciate that.”

14

“Hey, whatcha looking at out there?”

Aleron turned away from the woods and raised a hand to shade his eyes as Yheris approached. The young male elf was dressed in the same style and colour of leather outfit as Aleron. He waited for his new friend to get close before responding. “Nothing.”

Yheris snorted, squinting as he turned to survey the tree line. “From the way you were looking I was afraid that a hungry bear was nearby.”

“No. I like looking out there, is all.”

“No time for that now. Master Keaedan sent me to get you. Time for us to learn the next spell.”

Aleron shook his head and Yheris laughed. “Don’t give up yet, friend. The lessons have only begun.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re getting the hang of things quickly.”

“It’s still early. We’ve had two hours to try and craft a single spell.”

“The easiest of them all.” Aleron bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head. “Snare.”

“Stop it.” Yheris nudged him with an elbow. “Like I said, the lessons are only starting.”

“Still. It’s frustrating.”

“You’ve always been so hard on yourself.”

Aleron pursed his lips and said nothing. He found it strange to hear NPC’s speak to him as if they were real and as if they had known him all his life. In their minds, they have known me since I was born.
Or at least, they knew the personality of the NPC before I took it’s place.

Yheris tugged on the corner of Aleron’s tunic as he began to walk toward camp. “All we have done so far is summoned basic earth magic. We will be introduced to water, wind, and fire.

“I know.” Aleron matched pace with his friend’s stride. “But the snare spell is key to what we do.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Sure it is.”

Yheris snorted. “Only for those who want to raid or adventure.”

“Exactly.”

Yheris stopped and turned to face Aleron. “You want to adventure?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“What?” Yheris scowled. “No way. Normal elves want to stay in the forest close to their village and people working to ensure that peace and tranquility are maintained.”

Aleron said nothing.

“Adventuring was never a thought for either of us. I’m surprised to hear that you’ve changed your mind.”

“Maybe I haven’t.”

“But you just said—”

“Now that we are training, things are different.”

“No, they aren’t.”

“They are for me.”

Yheris closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nostrils, exhaling slowly before opening his eyes and speaking. “It’s suicide for new druids like us to venture out into the Wild. Eight of ten who go out don’t survive their first year.”

Aleron stopped himself from laughing. Elves referred to the world outside of their villages and forests as, ‘the Wild’. He knew from playing the RPG and PC game that elves preferred to remain separate from the other races of Preu Treya, but he hadn’t realized how xenophobic they were. “I’m sorry, but I want to live a little. See the world. Experience life and all that it has to offer.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Yheris began walking once more. “That’s what training is for. To consider our lives and make decisions.”

Aleron smiled. “Will you join me?”

Yheris shook his head, but smiled. “If you don’t learn to cast snare, I may have to.”

Aleron laughed and began running. “I’ll get it with some practise.”

***

Master Keaedan stood in front of the group, arms folded and hands hidden within the dark brown folds of his robe. His hair was long and white, his beard also lengthy but well-trimmed so that it was not bushy at the sides. He walked slowly back and forth in front of the students who sat on the grass in front of him.

“Next I will speak of the spell called Wolven Spirit.”

The novices stirred, a faint murmuring rippling through them.

Master Keaedan smiled and waited for everyone to quiet down. “Of course, few of you will be able to cast this one for many years.” His eyes drifted over Aleron, who was beaming, “Or longer.” The young man’s smile faded and he looked at the ground. “Regardless of your ability, we all must learn to deal with its effects early in our training, since it will undoubtedly be cast on you sooner than later to help make any number of tasks easier as you move around the village.”

The students began to buzz once more. The druid master tapped Aleron on the shoulder and motioned for him to stand.

“Aleron, would you care to assist me with this demonstration?”

“Of course, Master.” Aleron  stood.

“Good.” He pulled the sleeves of his robe back and flexed his fingers. “Wolven Spirit is a gift of running speed and agility, granted to the druids millennia ago by our ancestors. Once cast, the recipient is imbued with the ability to walk and run approximately fifty percent faster than normal.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, then he summoned the magic and waved his hands in an intricate combination of gestures in front of him. Seconds later, a blue light formed and slid from his hands to Aleron’s feet, encasing them in bluish white light.

The master druid opened his eyes and looked out at the students. “Notice the blue aura around Aleron’s feet?”

Heads nodded.

“The presence of this aura always indicates that the individual is imbued with the spell. If you face a foe with this glow around their feet and you lack it, then it is pointless to try and run from them.”

“The aura can also be green, isn’t that right, Master?” a female student asked.

“Yes.”

“Or red.” A different voice.

Keaedan nodded. “Only blue is Wolven Spirit, but the other colours do tell us that a running buff is in play. What are the other colours that have not yet been mentioned?”

“Smokey grey.” Another student.

“Black,” Aleron said.

“Any others?” Keaedan waited, but no one spoke. “I think we have covered them all. I would always advise a quick scan of someone’s feet. Some of the colours are difficult to make out at first glance, and it is better to be safe than sorry.”

“Blue is fastest, though,” Yheris declared from his spot on the ground.

“That is not always the case. Black is the Ghoul’s Kiss. The speed gained from that spell increases with the number of souls which have fed it. If you encounter a Death Stryker, Necromancer, or other dark crafter who wears the Ghoul’s Kiss, it is very possible that they will be faster.”

One of the students snorted. “If I encounter a Death Stryker, I’m not waiting to see if they are buffed. I’m running as fast as I can.”

“And avoid being hit.” Master Keaedan raised a finger. “Wolven Spirit is dispelled when you are struck by spell or weapon.”

“Or once an hour has passed,” Aleron said.

“That’s right.”

“But we can cast spells without WS fading, right?”

The druid master frowned. “I realize that it’s common to shorten the spell names, Aleron, but not while we are learning them.”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“When faced with danger and I need a brother or sister to cast Wyvern’s Sting to defend the village, it would be terrible for them to misunderstand and place a Wolven Spirit on someone instead, don’t you think?”

Aleron nodded.

“Good.” He smiled. “Now everyone get to your feet. You are going to take turns racing Aleron.”

15

Shale shot the arrow, notched the next against her string, drew, and released again. Without pausing she repeated the draw and release for a third time. As the final arrow left her bow, she gazed at the target in time to see the first arrow hit home. She smiled as the second and third arrows thudded into the target, each striking so close to the first that they looked like a single missile.

“That’s how it’s done.” A hand squeezed her shoulder.

Shale threw a quick glance over her shoulder in time to see her instructor smile. “Thank you, Master Jielir.”

“No, Shale. Thank you. If the rest were as talented as you, I could promote the group and get started with the next batch of newbies.”

Shale laughed, amused to hear computer gamer slang used in this fantasy world.

Jielir moved to the next archer. Shale reached for the quiver on her back to pluck out three more arrows. Her fingers gripped the nocks, positioning one between her pinkie and ring finger, the second between her ring and middle finger, and the third on the string. Then she took a deep breath, raised the bow, and began her volley.

***

“All bows down,” Jielir shouted from the end of the firing line, placing his hands on both hips as he waited for the fifteen students to lower their bows and give him their full attention. “You are all progressing very well. I’m pleased.” The trainees nodded, some nudging or patting their neighbours. “Shale,” he said. “Please join me.”

She jogged over and stopped in front of him. He held out his hand and she placed her bow in his palm. “Now that you’ve learned how to plant and fire, I will teach all of you the basics of kiting your prey.”

Jielir pulled three arrows from Shale’s quiver and moved toward the targets. When he was halfway there, he stopped and turned back to face the group. “I’m sure that you are all familiar with the term ‘kiting’. It is the process of running away from your target and stopping periodically to turn and shoot it with some arrows. Kiting consists of five stages: run, stop, turn, shoot, and turn.” He smiled. “After you master the five stages, it’s a rinse and repeat process. The monster or enemy chases you, and you pepper it with arrows as you run away. This is done until your target drops or you run out of arrows. Allow me to demonstrate slowly.”

He took five deliberately slow steps towards the group. Then he stopped, turned back towards the tree, and raised the bow to point at the target. “I raise the bow as we’ve practised. Then I aim, and loose my arrow.”  He shot and turned to face them again. “I do not watch my arrow fly. Doing so robs the ranger of valuable time. Instead, I turn and run away from the target as soon as the shaft leaves my bow.” He took five slow steps and repeated the entire process a second and then third time. “Questions?”

Heads shook.

“Looks simple, right?”

Everyone nodded and Jielir handed the bow back to Shale. “The trick is not getting dizzy as you turn back and forth.”

“And notching the arrow correctly.” Shale’s handsome friend, Lelthaes spoke from his place in the middle of the line.

“There is that. Firing from a standstill is different than from a sudden stop. Still, it won’t take any of you long to become competent at it.”

“And the target will one day be moving as well,” Shale said.

“Eventually,” Jielir agreed. “You must become a quick shot. Speed is the key to being a successful ranger.” He grinned. “And by that, I mean surviving in the Wild. Retrieve your arrows and then we will begin to practise.”

***

They spent the remainder of the day kiting. After only a couple of hours, Shale was hitting the target as accurately as if she were aiming from a standstill. Jielir halted the line and had Shale demonstrate her technique for the rest. She ran as fast as she could and was puffing for breath as she stood beside Jielir after the third rotation.

“Good work.” He pointed to the tree where all of her arrows were clustered together, one group at head level, the second at chest, and the third at waist.

“Thanks.” She regained her breath and swept a lock of hair from her eyes.

Jielir spoke magical words and moved his hands. A blue light moved from his hands and enveloped Shale’s boots. Her eyes widened while others in the group smiled.

“What spell did I just cast?”

“Wolven Spirit,” Lelthaes volunteered.

Jielir nodded. “The ranger snares the target, and speeds herself. There is no deadlier solo combination in the world than this.” He grinned. “And once you learn how to cast and use Alacrity, both your hands and arms will become faster. Then, Lady Death herself will pause to watch you dance with your prey.”

Shale nodded, imagining how incredible it would be to have Alacrity coursing through her limbs, enabling her to shoot ten arrows in the time it took a normal person to loose two.

“Let’s back up and watch Shale practise without arrows.”

The group withdrew up the hill and Jielir gave the signal for her to begin. She pushed off with her back foot and then pulled back, sliding to a stop. “Whoa!”

“Tell everyone what you felt there,” Jielir said.

“I felt like I was gonna fall on my face. I feel stronger.”

“That’s partly how WS works. It increases your strength which allows you to move faster and farther. Running with Wolven Spirit cast on you definitely takes some getting used to, which is why we’re here.” He nodded at Shale. “Try to run halfway to that tree and then stop.”

“Halfway?”

“That’s right.”

She shrugged and began to run. Again her eyes widened as the ground flew past. When she was halfway to the tree, she stopped running. Unfortunately, her body kept moving forward, making her skid. When she finally ceased moving, she laughed along with everyone else.

“She tried to stop halfway there, but she stands only a few feet from the tree. Your body will be quicker, but it takes some time and practise for your mind to catch up. That’s why beginners practise out here in the woods.” Jielir smirked. “Running into walls and each other is not very elven. Now everyone line up in front of me for some WS. It’s time to run like wolves.”

16

Xander woke early and waited for his guide to appear.

When the sun was directly overhead, he stood. “Well, I guess there’s not gonna be a guide.” He scratched his head. “Let’s get to it, then.” He closed his eyes and turned, breathing in and out through his nose. The faint hint of decay made him stop and open his eyes. He sniffed again, once more catching the tangy sweet smell of death and rot. “Best place for a corpse rat is near that sort of stink.” He bent down to retrieve his bag and began walking.

***

Xander knelt in the brush, squinting at the lump of matted black fur lying in the grass clearing a few dozen feet away.

Lucky for me
I’m facing upwind, he thought. If there are any corpse rats on the body, they won’t smell me.

He heard a chittering sound and a corpse rat appeared, scrambling with short-clawed limbs across the animal carcass. Xander’s superb vision allowed him to make it out clearly. It was a nasty-looking creature. Two feet long, thin, with shiny black hair that clung to its body, and a long, pinkish-grey tail. Gobs of blood and flesh stuck to its black fur. Long white teeth jutted from its mouth. Xander knew from game lore that the bite of a corpse rat pretty much guaranteed infection and—if you received enough of them—slow, painful death.

He watched and waited, trying to get an accurate count of how many rats were feeding. “Three,” he whispered. “Pretty sure there are three.”

He stood and strode toward them, drawing both blades, pointing them at the ground. He stopped a few feet from the corpse and kicked a clump of wet leaves, trying to get the rat’s attention so that they would attack.

It worked. One rat’s head swivelled, its nose twitching as glassy black eyes locked onto Xander. It sprang forward, snarling. The other corpse rat’s heads appeared, sticking up from the corpse like a curious group of prairie dogs. It only took a moment for them to join the first. Xander swore as he planted his feet and prepared to defend himself. There were five corpse rats.

His count had been wrong.

The first rat reached him before the others and leapt into the air, streaking toward his face faster than he’d expected. Instinct took over and both swords flash up, crossing like the blades of shining black scissors. The steel made a wet sound as they parted the creatures flesh, cutting it in half so that dark blood spattered and the remains dropped to the ground. Xander used the back of his forearm to wipe the wet warmth from his cheek and quickly brought his swords down to prepare as the remaining four rats attacked.

Xander expected them all to leap for his throat and face. His plan was to cut them all down in one or two slices. One rat did go for his face and he cut it down. One stayed out of range, watching as another darted for his leg, and the other his midsection.

He felt a burning sensation on one calf and an electric jolt in his stomach. They were on him. He couldn’t use his swords without possibly cutting himself. He kicked and felt the weight of the rat on his leg disappear as it went flying through the air, landing on the ground with a thud and scrambling to its feet, turning to bound back for him.

“Ow!” There was another jolt, this time on his ribs. Feeling a sudden hot ache in his side, he tucked his arm against his side and dropped to the ground. There was a cracking sound as the rat pinned beneath his arm died. He arched his neck, trying to find the rat that was coming for him. He struggled to his feet and spun around.

The two corpse rats were gone.

He bent at the waist, sucking wind to catch his breath. He turned a few times to make certain the corpse rats were gone. He saw no sign of them. Xander dropped his swords onto the ground and touched the hurting spots on his body.

He looked at his side, lifting the tunic and assessing the damage before shaking his head. The skin around the bite already looked dark red and angry. He was not bleeding much, but the wound throbbed in time with his pulse. He looked down at his calf where the torn flesh was blackish blue, with yellow-green pus beginning to ooze. Xander lifted his right arm and winced from the bite that he knew was there but was unable to see. The spot throbbed and felt warm. No, it was hot.

“Three out of five killed. Not great.” He retrieved his swords and wiped the blood off on the grass. “Some Death Stryker. I didn’t even use magic.” He considered the thought as he cut the heads from the dead rats. “Didn’t use magic ‘cause I don’t know any yet.” If this quest was the beginning of his training, he knew that it would be a while before he learned the dark magic that made Death Strykers so fearsome.

His vision blurred. Xander dropped to the ground and lay back on the grass. He laughed. “This sucks. Cure Minor Disease is a level one spell. I could really use that right now.”

He struggled to sit up, then groaned as he got to his feet. “If I stop, I die. Couple of bites can’t kill me.”

He retrieved his sack and dropped the corpse rat skulls into it. Hot warmth was spreading from the wounds. He knew that poison was slowly dribbling into his healthy tissue and bringing fresh pain as it moved. He looked at the animal corpse once more and then limped away.

The pain grew with each step. He told himself that he could make it, but it didn’t take long for him to realize that was wrong.

He walked as long as he could. Thirty-two more steps.

Then he toppled forward and everything went black.

17

Sebastian watched the sticky web as it spread outwards, closing the gap between caster and target. He let out a whoop as the web wrapped around the wooden human-sized dummy, the silver threads forming a mass around the crude arms pointing away from the imaginary foe’s torso.

“Huh.”

Sebastian turned toward the apprentice. The smile became a frown. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Something’s wrong.” He huffed and moved to the worktable, setting the feather-wrapped wooden wand onto a cloth bag. “You don’t look happy.”

“It’s strange.”

Sebastian laughed. “That I’ve managed to cast each spell you teach on the first attempt?”

“No.” Ezref bit his lower lip. “That part of this farce is more than wrong. It’s downright impossible.”

More laughter. “It can’t be. You’ve seen it for yourself.”

“I know, but that doesn’t change the fact.” Ezref sighed loudly and sat at the round table in the corner of the room. He reached for the decanter of wine and poured himself a glass. “Come join me.”

Sebastian took a seat and poured a measure of wine for himself. He drank and waited for the young man to speak.

“I’ve told you how difficult it is to cast a spell so that it works.”

The older man snorted. “You repeat that fact almost as often as you breathe.”

“Because it is a tenet of our craft.” Ezref sipped his wine, and frowned. “Decades of practise are required to gain any skill and competence at crafting magic.” Sebastian shook his head but Ezref held up a hand to silence him. “The words must be spoken perfectly. The hands and body must trace the motions without error. And the component must be of perfect quality.” His frown deepened. “In the short time that we have been together, I have taught you three spells. Darkness, Web, and Light.”

Sebastian waved a hand. “All very simple spells.”

“As they should be. Simple, yet they have much to teach.”

“I have not learned much from them.”

“I’m not surprised.” Ezref smiled.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because the true learning comes not from casting the spells, but from failing to cast them.”

Sebastian paused and took a sip from his glass. Then he nodded. “I think I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I believe so.”

“Explain.”

“The spells that you have chosen to teach are all harmless should they fail to cast, or mis-cast, which occurs frequently. At least, according to your lessons.”

“Go on.”

“Verbal, somatic, and component parts of the spell are sufficient enough for each spell that a new student can learn how to speak, move, and select the proper material to cast the spell.”

“Bat fur is required to cast darkness. What have I told you about that component?”

“That beginners must learn what to look for in the fur, or else it will not work.”

“The thickness, moisture content, smell, even the size and roundness of the clump formed as the caster shapes the bat fur. It must be perfect to call the magic.”

“So you say.” Sebastian shrugged. “But I’ve had no problems with any of it. I must have a knack.”

Ezref laughed. “But that’s the thing. You don’t.”

“Huh?”

“You haven’t moved, spoken, or used components correctly at all.”

“That can’t be true.”

“It is. Each attempt has been poor. Worse than I have ever seen.”

“Yet.” Sebastian raised one eyebrow.

“Yet the magic comes.” He laughed and shook his head. “Despite everything that is known, you are somehow summoning magic and casting spells, even though your actions should have delivered absolutely zero results so far.”

Sebastian watched Ezref drain his glass and refill it. “How come you haven’t said anything before now?”

Ezref grunted and set his glass on the table, spreading his hands wide. “Every time you cast a spell, you are doing what is supposed to be impossible. And yet—”

“It is happening.”

Ezref nodded and folded his hands together, resting them on the table. “Just so.”

The two sat quietly.

“You’re trying to figure out how I am doing it. Breaking all the rules, yet still casting spells.”

“To a degree, although there is something else that has become my main focus.”

“Which is?”

Ezref leaned back in his chair, folding his arms, a grin on his face. “As I watch you, I’m attempting to forget everything that I’ve learned about crafting.”

Sebastian frowned. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Knowing that things are difficult is perhaps the only thing which makes them difficult.”

“You think that mindset is important?”

“I do, which is why I kept this from you until now.”

“I succeeded because I didn’t know I should be failing.”

“That’s right.”

“Wait a minute.” Sebastian sat forward. “You’ve told me the truth now. If your theory is correct, won’t that cause me to start messing up spells?”

“Indeed it could.”

“You evil little bastard.”

Ezref grinned. “And so begins phase two of our joint education in crafting.”

18

Aleron finished the last words of the spell and opened his eyes, leaning forward and squinting at Yheris’s leather vest. “Feel anything?”

Yheris made a face and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Aleron, but I don’t.”

Aleron’s shoulders sagged as he dropped down to the grass. “Another spell that I can’t cast. This is hopeless.”

Yheris sat and opened his mouth to speak but Aleron shook his head. “Don’t. Your pity makes it worse.”

“I thought my ability to cast most spells after the first few attempts made things worse for you.”

Aleron laughed. “Well, yeah. But the pity looks don’t help either.”

“It’s good you can laugh about it at least.”

“What else am I gonna do?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”  He looked up and saw the genuine look of sadness on his new friend’s face. “You’re supposed to say I will get it soon. Or the next line of spells will come easy.”

“That was the last line of spells.”

“Oh.” Aleron plucked a strand of grass and stripped away the seeds from the top with pinched fingers. “Yeah, I guess it was.”

“There is more to life than being a druid.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re well on your way to becoming a druid.”

“I will need an assistant.”

Aleron scowled.

“I know, that’s a terrible idea.”

“Yeah. I don’t want to be reminded of my failure daily, for the rest of my life.” He put the stalk of grass into the corner of his mouth. “Master Keaedan will send me back to the village.”

“I don’t think he will embarrass you like that.”

“He will in order to avoid being shamed himself.”  Aleron leaned back, lacing his fingers together as he looked up into the cloudy sky. “He told me this morning that if I failed at this, I would be sent back tonight.”

“Oh.”

“He also said it has been over three hundred years since someone invited to the grove for training showed absolute zero skill in the arts.”

“Ouch.”

Aleron grinned. “I hoped to be best, but at least I will be remembered.”

Yheris laughed and nudged Aleron with the toe of his boot. “That’s horrible.”

“Yet here we are laughing.”

“You’ll always have your sense of humour.”

“That’s something.”

Yheris stood. “Come on. Let’s get back.” He began to whisper and move his hands.

Aleron stood and brushed the back of his pants. “Casting Thorn Coat?”

Yheris stopped and sighed. “I was, until someone interrupted me.”

“Hey, you need to learn to maintain focus. I’m helping with your training.”

“Like a good assistant would.”

“Stop.”

Laughter. “I’m sorry, Aleron.”

“It’s okay. Cast it on me, then yourself. If you have the energy.”

“I do.” The elf began casting the spell once more. Aleron felt a tingling sensation as the protection spell settled over his upper torso. The tingling stopped, but his skin felt as if an extra layer of clothing had been added.

“I can feel it.”

“Good.” Yheris repeated the spell on himself. As Yheris’ lips stopped moving, Aleron heard the fanfare of a trumpet.

“Whoah! What was that sound?”

Yheris frowned. “What sound?”

“A trumpet. Clear as can be.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

Aleron laughed. “You must have.”

“Nope. Wait a minute.” Yheris grabbed Aleron’s shoulders. “Did it sound like this?” He pursed his lips and let out a short melody.

“Yeah, you did hear it.”

Yheris’s eyes widened and his hands dropped to his sides. “No I didn’t.”

Aleron laughed. “You must have. You recreated the tune perfectly.”

“Wow.”

“Yheris?”

His friend smiled, eyes still wide. “Seriously, Aleron. This is huge.”

“What is?”

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Come on.” He began running toward the druid camp.

“What’s the big deal?”

“Let’s go!” Yheris called over his shoulder without stopping. “We have to find Master Keaedan and tell him.”

Aleron frowned. “Tell him what?”

19

Aleron caught up to Yheris as he reached the training camp.

“What’s got you so excited?”

Yheris’s eyebrows furrowed and he cast a sideways glance at his friend. “You have no idea?”

“No.”

Yheris stopped and cocked his head. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Huh? Nothing.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it on the walk, and something is definitely up with you.” Aleron spread his hands and his friend laughed. “Far as I can tell, you’ve been acting weird ever since we arrived at camp and our training began. I guess I didn’t see it because we were all excited and, to tell the truth, I was more worried about myself at first.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“No. The more I think back, the more I realize that you’ve been acting different.”

“Maybe a bit, but that’s because I’m struggling.”

Yheris stared at him and Aleron laughed. “All right, not struggling, downright failing at being a druid, which has been my dream for as long back as I can remember.”

“Maybe.” Yheris began to walk and Aleron did the same.

“I heard a trumpet. Big deal. Don’t see why it’s worth bothering the Master about it. Obviously I was hearing things that were not there. Chalk it up to stress and let’s move on.”

They arrived at the Master’s tent and Aleron stopped. Pellea, a middle-aged druid and one of the trainers, sat on the ground near the tent entrance, whittling the top part of a staff. Yheris approached and spoke to the man too softly for Aleron to hear. Pellea raised one eyebrow and glanced at Aleron, then stuck the knife in the ground, laid the staff beside him, stood, and entered the tent. His head poked through the flap a few seconds later and he nodded.

Yheris turned and motioned for Aleron to join him. The two entered the tent.

“Did I understand your message correctly, Yheris?” The Master spoke between clenched teeth that held a long clay pipe. He motioned for the others to join him on furs covering the ground.

Yheris nodded as he sat. “Yes, Master.”

The old druid took three quick puffs from his pipe, white smoke curling upward as his eyes found Aleron’s. “You heard the trumpet, did you?”

Aleron opened his mouth to speak, paused, then shook his head. “I thought I heard something like a trumpet, but now I am not so sure.”

Master Keaedan grunted and removed the pipe from his mouth. “The middle of the woods is not a place where one commonly hears a trumpet, my boy.”

“War parties sound them,” Aleron ventured. “Or hunters.”

“War parties attack after they sound the horn. Were you attacked?”

“No.”

“And hunters blow their horns repeatedly.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No idea how the idiots manage to bring down anything when they make such racket. Is that what occurred?”

Aleron shook his head.

“But you did hear a trumpet?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Hrmm.” The Master looked at the other druid and took another pull from his pipe. “What do you think, Pellea?”

“I suppose it’s possible.”

“Might explain why the boy can’t learn the simplest of druid spells.”

Aleron cleared his throat and felt his cheeks turn warm. He looked at the ground and the Master coughed. “I’m sorry, Aleron. I did not mean to hurt your feelings.”

“It’s okay, Master. You’re right. I haven’t been able to learn a thing. I possess no talent at all.”

Master Keaedan laughed. “Or you have more talent than everyone else in this camp put together.”

Aleron frowned.

The Master placed his pipe on a small table and smiled at Aleron. “We will set out tomorrow.”

“We?” Aleron’s eyes searched his friend’s and Pellea’s before returning to the Master. “Where are we going?”

The old druid’s eyes seemed to sparkle as his mouth widened into a grin. “To visit the Scouts.”

20

Arms pumping, lungs burning, Shale heard the thunk of the arrow striking the tree behind her. She took another three quick strides and then stopped, snatching the arrows stuck into the ground at her feet. She snagged two but the third fell as her pinky and ring finger failed to maintain a grip. She let out a small hiss and pushed off with her left leg, running toward the next target while she nocked one arrow to the bowstring.

About thirty yards from the tree, she stopped and fired. The second arrow chased the first and she streaked toward the next sprouting of three arrows stuck in the ground to her right.

This time she kept her grip on all three shafts. She closed the gap on the last target and unloaded her missiles. She watched the final arrow streak to its target and bury itself less than an inch from the other two, quivering inside the coin-sized bullseye. She gave a quick glance left and then right. The other four trainees were only now completing their final shots.

I win. Again.

When the final arrow struck its target, a whistle sounded and Jielir appeared from the edge of the forest, trotting toward the group. He stopped in front of them and crossed his arms. “Shale wins again.”

Shale smiled.

“At least in the speed department.” He raised one eyebrow as his eyes met hers. “You left a few arrows on the ground, girl.”

“Two,” she said.

“That’s what I said.” He paused and waited for her to challenge him, but she shook her head. To Jielir, more than one was a few. More than five was a lot. “Follow me to Lelthaes’s trees first. We will see who wins in lethality.”

By the time they had finished inspecting the individual trees of all the competitors, it was obvious that Shale was the most accurate.

“The ranger who pulled the least amount of arrows from the ground killed the most trees.” Jielir looked at his five students. “This reinforces my prime lesson, I think.” He pointed skyward. “All it takes is one arrow to do the job.”

Lelthaes nudged Shale in the ribs and leaned close to whisper. “One arrow per target”

“That’s right, Lelthaes,” Jielir said. “One arrow sent to its proper home.” His eyes drifted over the cadets. “Why, then, do we teach you how to shoot three?”

“In order to triple the odds of a kill?” Lelthaes guessed.

“Perhaps. Anyone else have a thought?”

The others remained silent until Shale spoke. “Each arrow does a different job.”

Jielir’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?

“The first arrow shows the range, tells the ranger how much pull is required.”

“Go on.”

“The second reveals current conditions. Temperature, wind, moisture, that sort of thing.”

“And the third?”

She smirked. “The third is the killer.”

He sniffed. “Did someone tell you this?”

She shook her head.

Jielir laughed and clapped his hands together. “She’s absolutely correct. Each arrow serves its own function. The goal is always to fill the target with three arrows, but a ranger’s life is fast and ever-changing. If you are able to shoot three arrows in the time it takes a normal archer to loose one, then you always have the advantage, so long as the third one strikes true.

The students nodded.

“As the years pass,” Jielir continued, “and you shoot thousands, and then tens of thousands of arrows, your comrades will expect all three arrows to hit the mark in all but the most difficult of conditions.”

“Years.” One of the rangers-in-training snickered. “We’re already shooting like that.”

“You’ve proven capable under the simplest of scenarios.” Jielir rolled his head from side to side. “The stationary tree.”

The group laughed as the instructor motioned toward Lelthaes, who trotted to stand beside him. Jielir placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and began to murmur words of magic. The air around them hummed and a vision of light brown appeared and then faded as it settled over Lelthaes.

“What spell was that?” he asked.

“Birch coat,” Shale said.

“That’s right.” Jielir rapped his knuckles against Lelthaes’s shoulder. “I’ve given him a bit of protection.”

“Only against wood.” Shale shook her head.

“And not all wood.” Lelthaes shrugged. “This won’t do much against a cudgel or staff.” He frowned. “I can feel it.”

Jielir nodded. “Good. Tell the group what the coat feels like.”

Lelthaes pursed his lips and shrugged a few more times. “Feels as if I’m covered by a heavy canvas. Like a big tent has fallen on top of me.”

“It adds about fifteen pounds of weight.”

“That’s all?” Lelthaes bounced up and down, arms at his sides. “Feels like more.”

“If you gained fifteen pounds over a few months you wouldn’t notice.” Jielir pushed him gently. “That much weight in a couple of seconds though—”

“Why did a crafter even bother to create birch coat?” Shale asked.

“It was an intermediate spell. A crafter can form a few different things if they keep casting. The birch coat is only the first portion of half a dozen spells.”

“Step one?”

“That’s right.” Jielir nodded.

“Okay, that makes more sense. On its own, the spell is useless.”

“All magic is useful, if one is creative enough.” He clapped Lelthaes on the back. “Birch coat is going to save your life over the next few weeks.”

The students frowned and Jielir pointed to a tree across the clearing. “Run over there, Lelthaes. Quick as you can.”

The boy began to run, grunting at first and swearing about the added weight. When he was halfway across the clearing, Jielir held out one hand. “Shale, give me your bow.”

She set the bow in his hand and he drew three arrows from the quiver on his back. Shale noticed that the arrow heads were not made from regular steel, but from hardened wood. The Birch coat spell surrounding her friend would stop the missiles from piercing him.

Jielir waited for another couple seconds, then launched an arrow. It sailed through the air and struck Lelthaes directly between the shoulder blades. him to the ground. The force of the impact knocked the young elf to the ground. The arrow bounced off the protective shield and ricocheted high into the air, landing point first in the grass a few dozen feet away. Jielir laughed and quickly fired the remaining two arrows. A second later they stuck into the ground, one on either side of Lelthaes’s prone form.

The group broke into laughter and Jielir turned to face them, a smile on his face. “Once I teach you how to cast Birch coat, we will spend a while shooting arrows at moving targets.” He raised one eyebrow. “Targets that move and shoot back.”

21

And so it came to pass that the Lady of Darkness and the Lord of Light met on a grey battlefield in the heavens, both vowing to fight until the other was dead.

The ground shook and the skies blazed. Time swirled about them to form the arena walls for their contest. Followers of both stood motionless, eyes raised on high.

The Lady was ferocious, wielding her great sword of onyx, each stroke an attempt to cleave the Lord of Light in two and claim the universe as her own. The Lord, armed with his two-handed crystal war hammer, fought with the same determination and skill.

After many days, a tremendous booming sound filled the air. Weary followers looked up in time to see the arena walls disappear at the same moment as the final blow was struck. The hammer of light made contact with the Lady’s side. The onyx great sword split the Lord from collarbone to pelvis. Cries of dismay filled the air. The weapons of both Light and Dark exploded like fireworks, showering the sky in blackness and light as the two limp forms plummeted toward the land.

Varnkyl, High Seer of Light, accompanied by a group of knights, recovered the dying body of their Lord. Elsylis, the Dark Prophet, likewise found her god and secreted the Lady to a place of safety.

The shards of the broken weapons spread, settling across the lands and imbuing their essence into the blood of mortals that they touched. Most were unaffected. A rare few gained wondrous powers and abilities which passed from parent to first born child. Most of the powers faded from generation to generation, but some of the abilities gained in strength. Known as Shards, the scions who retain these gifts roam the land.

It is believed that one day, one Shard of Light and one of Dark will facilitate the return of both gods to their rightful places where they will rule and battle again. Until that time, the war of good and evil rages across the land between the followers of the two factions.

Excerpt from The Teaching

“Rise, sister.”

Mercy lifted her head and stood, her right hand resting on the hilt of her sword, the familiar vibration travelling through the pad of her palm and shooting to the tip of her elbow. She touched her tongue to her bottom lip and waited for her superior, the Shard, to speak.

“Tell me.” The Shard’s voice was a smooth baritone, rich and dark as the black tendrils of wispy energy that exuded from his body and hung about him like a halo of smoke.

Mercy shrugged. “I came upon him near the rat nest. It appears that the creatures got the better of him.”

The man sniffed. “Pathetic.”

She raised an eyebrow. “If he had been prepared adequately.”

“You think he was not?”

Mercy pursed her lips and stared. One corner of the Shard’s lip curled for a moment. “Continue.”

“There were only headless corpses. The poison must have been what killed him.”

“Yet he did not die.”

She shook her head. “He was cocooned.”

“You’re certain?” He waited for her to reply, laughing when she did not. “What colour was the shell?”

“Burnt orange.”

Thumb and forefinger stroked the length of his moustache as he considered her words.

“I dissolved it and healed the boy. Then I replenished his pack with food and water, placed a protective ward around him, and left before he woke up.”

The Shard closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “It would have been more convenient if he had died as planned.”

“I did not know he was a Shard.” She saw her master’s jaw clench and the pause of his breathing and knew the truth. He didn’t know either. “Does this change things?”

He opened his eyes and sighed, then waved his hand. “I suppose for now it does.”

“I will retrieve him.” Mercy stood.

“No.”

“But the purpose of the plague rat quest is for the initiate to die.”

“I know what the purpose of the quest is. Resuscitation opens a path to the dark magic and begins their true initiation as a Death Stryker.”

“That won’t happen for this one.”

“No.” The Shard smiled. “He will kill the correct number of rats and return with their heads.”

“Which will bring shame upon him.”

“From the priests, but not the Strykers.”

Mercy smiled. “Accomplishing what no one else has will set him apart from the rest.”

“Make him a target.”

“Your plans have changed for this boy?”

“They must, now that we know he is a Shard.”

Mercy frowned. “The rats will poison him again.”

“Perhaps.”

“He will need to be watched.”

The Shard nodded. “You will be his shadow until he returns.”

Mercy forced her expression to remain blank, but the Shard raised one eyebrow. “You feel such a task beneath you?”

“No.” She bowed. “I shall be his shadow, as you command.”

22

Xander opened his eyes. Green pine branches were woven together to form a roof a few feet above his prone body. He turned to the right, both swords were sheathed and leaning against his backpack.

Someone saved me.

Long moments passed as he lay still, listening to the sounds around him. Convinced that he was alone, he sat up and crawled through the doorway, squinting in the bright daylight. He stood. “Hello. Is anyone here?”

Unseen insects and the breeze blowing through the trees were the only replies.

Xander ducked back inside and dragged his equipment out, beginning to strap his swords into place. While he adjusted the harnesses, he turned to confirm his seclusion. In the distance, he spied the decomposing animal corpse where he had encountered the corpse rats.

“At least I wasn’t dragged far.” He shook his head. “I’m still lost though.”

He opened the bag. Five rat heads peered back at him. “I only killed three.” He grunted and closed the bag. “Guess whoever saved me helped with my quest as well. But I can’t go back until I kill twelve.” The thought of hunting more of the disease-giving rats made his throat tighten and his knees weak.

He frowned, and then laughed. When he’d started playing the PC version of the game, Xander had scoffed as his low-level character struggled to kill small rodents and insects. He could still remember telling his friends how unrealistic the game was. “Killing rats and tiny spiders would be no problem.”

But here he stood, a low-level character in the virtual reality of that very same world. He sighed. “Guess rats and bugs can be challenging after all.”

Remembering his wounds, he poked the skin beneath the tear in his shirt. There was no pain. The skin appeared pink, healthy.

He set the bag on the ground and it made a tinkling sound. Xander opened the sack, tipping it so that the rat heads moved to one side. Beneath the bloody heads were five vials filled with a thin liquid shimmering with sparkling flecks of green and red.

He smiled, knowing from the PC game what he possessed. “Healing pots.” The potion would cure most diseases, close cuts and punctures, as well as restore health. He slung the pack over his shoulder and took a deep breath, suddenly feeling much more optimistic about his chances against more rats.

***

Xander felt the pain in his lower back. He threw himself backward, gritting his teeth as he hit the ground and felt the corpse rat squish beneath him. He ground his body back and forth for good measure, then sprang to his feet, blades at the ready in front of him, scanning for signs of another attack.

There was none. The rats were all dead.

He paused to catch his breath and rest his sore muscles, marvelling at the realism of his surroundings. Fatigue, pain, even needing air, were all tremendous touches that gave this program such realism. Despite being lost and poorly skilled so far, Xander was thankful that he’d been offered the opportunity to beta test this game.

Finally, he thought. Someone has created true virtual reality.

The small stings all over his skin began to burn and his vision became blurry. He staggered to his backpack, dropped one blade, and retrieved a healing pot. With a thumb, he broke the wax seal and raised the glass tube to his lips, tipping his head back so that the liquid rushed down his throat and spread throughout his body in a wave that felt like both ice and fire sweeping over him at the same time.

The dizziness faded and the burning lessened. He tucked the empty vial back into the pack and placed it on the ground, retrieving his blade and wiping it on the grass before sliding it home again. He grinned. He’d practised the motion constantly during the three days while he searched for more rats, and felt he was getting pretty good at it.

When he had regained his breath and felt none of the poisonous effects from his wounds, he bent down, pulled the knife from the makeshift sheath in his boot, and began moving from rat to rat, cutting the head from each and tossing it toward the sack. He threw the last head and sank to the ground, cross-legged, and smiled despite his weariness.

“That’s twelve. Quest complete.”  Xander rested a few minutes, then stood and walked to the pack, dropping the heads into the bag and removing the single vial of healing potion that remained. He held it up to the light and wondered again if it had always been there or if his saviour had left them to help.

And then, as always, the other more serious thought followed: was using them against the rules of his quest?

Xander considered destroying the final potion. “If I bring this back and it’s considered cheating…” He shook his head and dropped it back into the bag. “I’ll wait ‘till I get closer to the keep. Maybe I’ll need it before I get home.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Now which way is home?”

***

Mercy had returned from the keep and found Xander two days before he killed his final rat. At first, she was careful to keep a large distance between them, but it soon became apparent that the boy had very little awareness of his surroundings. It was also painfully clear that he couldn’t track. With growing disgust, she watched him pass corpse rat nests, oblivious to their proximity.

Finally, she had intervened, dropping obvious clues to lead him in the proper direction.

Now, watching him kill the final rats, she shook her head. “So clumsy. I can’t believe he’s a Shard, and a powerful one.”

When Xander picked up his bag and looked around, she saw the expression on his face and put a hand to her mouth, stifling a laugh.

“He’s more lost than ever. The kid has no clue how to get back to the keep.”

He began to walk and she snorted. “Lady take me now. He’s going in the exact opposite direction.” She picked her pack from the ground and slung it over her shoulder, her pace slow as she began to follow. “Here’s hoping he figures it out soon. I have better things to do than babysit an initiate.”

23

Isaac set the laser pointer down on the table and crossed his arms. “And that’s where we stand at the moment. Thank you for your attention, everyone.”

The quiet room now filled with the muted sounds of notebooks closing, papers being shuffled and tucked away, pens clicking. People stood and began making their way toward the exit.

Isaac turned the projector off and closed the lid of his lap top. “Kara, can you stay behind for a minute?”

The woman looked back, pursing her lips and nodding. “Of course.”

When they were alone, Isaac sat and motioned at the seat across from him. She joined him and folded her hands on the table.

“Any luck?” he asked.

“With what?”

His mouth tightened at the edges. “Finding Sebastian.”

“Oh.”

“Who did you think I was talking about?”

“I wasn’t sure, that’s why I asked.”

He frowned. “Did I ask you to locate anyone else?”

She shook her head.

“Wait a minute, you’re trying to locate Xander Vallenhall.” Kara’s shoulders tensed and her eyes flicked away from his. Isaac laughed. “I told you to forget about him.”

“But—”

“He’s fine.”

Her eyes narrowed and he laughed again. “I promise you. He’s safe and sound. Now tell me what you’ve been able to learn about my old friend, Seb.”

She spread her hands.

“Nothing?”

“It’s like he never entered the game.”

“Oh, he went in. There’s no doubt on that end of things.” Isaac reached for the pencil on the table and tapped it on the surface. “I can’t believe he’s staying so invisible.”

Kara snorted. “Not sure why you’re surprised. He designed the entire game, right? Programmers always hide stuff in the code that only they know about.”

Isaac shook his head. “There’s no way he could have done that.”

She laughed. “Pretty cocky to think that.”

“No.”

She waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she shrugged. “We will keep looking.”

“The best way to find him is through other players.”

“We have his characteristics programmed into the system. If an avatar matching his profile gets close to a player, there’s a good chance that we will be alerted. It might be the best way to find him.” She spread her hands. “But the odds are still very small.”

Isaac sighed. “Sebastian is the only one who can do the core programming. We have to find him and get him back here.”

“There are a couple others I would like to bring in to help find him. Ted over in—”

“No.” Isaac stood. “The more that know about this, the worse it could be.”

“There are rumours that being inside the game and losing connection causes the player to go into a coma.”

Isaac shook his head.

“Social media sites are picking up on it.”

“It’s ridiculous.”

“They say—”

“I know what they say, but it’s not the case. If the system crashes, people wake up. There are no health concerns.”

Kara frowned. “Then we should tell people that.”

“We will, but not yet. Let the rumours build.”

“It’s good press, I guess.”

He nodded.

“Anything else?”

“That’s it.” He set the pencil on the table. “Find Sebastian.”

“It might be impossible.”

“I don’t recognize that word.” She groaned as he laughed and stood. “You’re one of my best, Kara. Keep trying.”

24

Aleron was painfully aware of the stares as he shuffled into the village.

Women, men, even small children stopped to look at him. His first few attempts at eye contact told the tale. The elves would quickly look away, pretending to be interested in anything but him. He sighed and let his gaze return to the ground in front of him, watching the hem of Master Keaedan’s dark green robes as they swept across the grass and dirt.

The repository of NPC memories that resided in his brain clearly told him what the issue was. To be accepted to, and then found not suitable for a chosen role involving magic was embarrassing and shameful to both the candidate and their family. Aleron’s entire ancestral line would bear this blemish against their bloodline for a very long time.

Initially, Aleron had been disappointed from a gamer’s point of view. Being allowed into the beta version of Blades VR was thrilling for many reasons, but the ability to cast magic was by far his greatest desire.

“He’s unable to cast the simplest of spells.” A woman’s voice spoke from his right. He felt his cheeks and the tips of his ears grow warm and he fought the temptation to look up and glare at whoever had said it. Now that he was inside the game, he felt more than disappointment. Deep down, the family here was his. He was experiencing the shame as if he was the elven lad.

Because I am.

“Only part of the shame belongs to the boy.” This voice was deeper, barely more than a whisper. “The druids are responsible for accepting dirty blood during the selection process.”

The swing of Master Keaedan’s robe broadened and Aleron quickened his pace to keep up. The conversation faded as they moved out of range.

The druid halted and Aleron looked up. They stood in front of the village house that belonged to his family. The Master’s eyes were as bright as his smile. Since hearing of Aleron’s experience with the trumpeting sound, the old druid looked far from disappointed in the boy’s inability to wield druid magic. Aleron could not understand why but kept silent. His memories held no information regarding Scouts, and he feared asking about them.

“Gather supplies for our journey and visit with your family. We will set out tomorrow morning.” Aleron nodded and Keaedan laughed. “Don’t be so grim, boy. I know that you’ve always wanted to spend your life travelling. You will get that wish more now than you ever would have as a druid.

“Yes, Master.” He looked at the ground once more, knowing the tone of his voice conveyed his worry and doubt.

Keaedan patted him on the shoulder and moved on.

Aleron looked at the front door, took a deep breath, then entered the house.

He stood in the entry, boots and leather shoes lined up against one wall, cloaks and jackets hung from a rod. He removed his cloak and placed it on a hanger, then turned toward the hallway on his left as a woman appeared from a doorway further down.

“Oh my goodness.” She was older than him and very beautiful. No surprise—every elf he’d encountered was good-looking. The woman’s mouth went from a surprised O-shape to a wide smile as she came forward and hugged him. “You’re home early, Aleron.”

“Yeah.” He returned the hug and stepped back.

“Did you get an extra couple of days home leave because you’re way ahead of the others?” Her eyes narrowed as she watched him, her grin fading. “You look upset.”

He pursed his lips and nodded.

“Something’s wrong. What is it?”

***

Aleron finished recounting the details of his training. He watched the faces of the two elves sitting on the other side of the table—his mother and father—and waited for them to say something.

His father shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Dear.” Aleron’s mother rested one hand on her husband’s forearm.

“We’d heard the gossip from the village, but I didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it. Absolutely zero magical talent? That makes no sense.”

Aleron raised one eyebrow. “Yeah.”

“They tested you. I was present.”

Aleron did not reply.

“Druid magic runs deeply in the blood of this family. Both sides.”

“Unexpected complications can occur sometimes.” His mother’s voice was soft.

“I told you.” His father’s tone hardened, matching the intensity of his stare. “Before you left for the woods, I warned you not to play about.”

In his memory, Aleron could see his father’s stern gaze, hear the serious tone as he told him to pay attention and do his very best.

“There is no room for failure.”

“He knows.” The pitch of his mother’s voice was now more serious.

“Maybe I can convince Keaedan to give you another chance.”

“I don’t think so, Father.”

The man scowled. “I don’t need you to think. I need you to try harder.”

“I did.”

Laughter. “You couldn’t even cast snare?”

Aleron shook his head.

“Ridiculous.”

The three sat without speaking for a few minutes. Aleron’s mother broke the silence. “You’re right, love. Speak with the master. He will give Aleron another chance.”

His father nodded. “Our family is important to the clan. It is in Keaedan’s best interest to give this another try as well.”

“Maybe he will give me private instruction on our journey.”

“Journey?” His father frowned. “To where?”

“The two of us are leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Hold on a minute.” The older man leaned forward, his eyebrows lowered. “During training of new druids, the Master is taking a failed student on a journey?”

“That’s right.”

His father laughed. “That’s absurd, son.”

“Then maybe I misunderstood.”

“You must have.” His mother reached across the table to rest her hand on his. “The druid Master is always present for first training of fledgling casters. He sorts them and decides the best path for their talents.”

“I know.”

“It doesn’t sound like it.” His father crossed his arms. “You’re sitting here saying he’s leaving on a journey with you.”

“That’s what he said. You can ask him in the morning.”

Aleron’s father sighed. “Maybe the old goat has finally lost his pebbles. Any idea where he’s taking you?”

Aleron shrugged. “To the Scouts.”

His mother gasped.

“That’s not funny.” His father’s voice was flat.

“I wasn’t trying to make a joke.”

“Why is he taking you to see the Scout?”

“I think it’s more than one. He said ‘Scouts’.” Aleron nodded. “I did ask him about that. More than once.”

His mother’s eyes widened and father’s mouth opened. Aleron could imagine what they would ask next, so he answered before without waiting to hear. “He thinks I might be one.”

There was a long pause.

“A Scout?” His father’s lips hardly moved.

“A Scout,” his mother whispered.

“Yes.” Aleron frowned.  I can’t tell if the news makes them happy or more sad than before.

25

Of all the Classes, Death Strykers are the rarest and most feared in the land.

The Dark Order roams the land, selecting children from birth to raise at the Keeps. They nurture and teach the young to love the Lady of Darkness above all. At the age of nine, children are tested. Those without significant magical aptitude are given to the warriors to be trained as soldiers.

If magic runs strong, then the child studies with the clerics.

The Dark Lady demands much sacrifice. Few attain the priesthood.

It is unknown how they are selected or trained, but the Death Stryker is one who has been trained in the ways of both magic and battle. Said to be touched by the Dark Lady herself, they roam the land with one purpose, listening as the goddess whispers orders into their ears, striving to destroy all that is good in the world.

Xander knew it was stupid to enter the village, but he did anyway.

He waited until the sun was directly overhead, guessing that many would be inside their homes eating lunch. It was a small settlement, less than a dozen houses and a single street running through the middle. One building was clearly the store. Across from it and down a wide, flattened dirt track path, was a tavern.

When the guide failed to show up on his entry into the game, he had decided to play on the assumption that this world’s lore must match that of the role-playing and PC game. If his assumption was correct, then Death Strykers would be feared or hated by everyone. This put him in serious danger should anyone attack him, but he wasn’t very worried about that.

Few would attack a Death Stryker.

Xander strode into the village, uncertain if anyone would recognize his class. His swords and the way he wore them announced what he was, but he was not encased in any of the other trappings of a Stryker.

A young woman holding a baby walked toward him. Her eyes met his for a moment and then she smiled and looked away. Her pace remained steady. When he got close he stopped and smiled.

“I’m very sorry to disturb you”—he placed one hand to his chest—“but I was wondering if you could help me with a simple direction?”

The woman stopped and took a step back, a polite smile on her face but her eyes tightened. “Of course. Where is it you want to go?”

“Please don’t be frightened.”

“I’m not.” Her lips quivered but she continued smiling.

“I don’t mean any harm.”

“That’s good to hear.”

He waited. She waited.

I don’t think she recognizes me as a Stryker. He pursed his lips and took a step back, hands at his sides. “I am lost and need to find my way to the Dark Tower.”

Her smile melted.

“Where they train the—” He took another step back and spoke softer. “Death Strykers.”

Her eyes widened and cheeks flushed. She looked around and touched her child.

Xander’s hands remained at his sides. “I was hit on the head and disoriented. If you can just point me in the right direction, I will leave and never come back.”

The woman opened her mouth and screamed, turning and sprinting toward the store.

Xander’s head whipped left and right. The front door to a nearby house opened and a man with a thick beard and a muscular frame appeared. It was clear from the expression on the man’s face that he was not pleased.

“Damn it!” Xander turned on his heel and ran as fast as he could for the edge of town. He could hear cries of alarm behind him.

He ran another few hundred metres, then looked over his shoulder. No one was following. He continued running until he turned a bend in the road. Then he turned and darted for the woods. Leaping over stumps and dodging brush, he kept running until he was out of breath and his legs were burning.

26

The final air from Sebastian’s breath flowed across his lips, the final syllable uttered at the same moment as the feather-adorned ashen twig in his hand completed tracing a pattern through the air. He could almost see the final sounds as they left him and drifted into the invisible rune’s path. He knew that he’d done everything perfect, exactly as instructed. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, waiting for the spell to manifest.

Nothing.

He drew a deep breath, tilted his head back, and roared at the ceiling. When there was no wind left in him, he drew another breath, both hands gripped the wand, his knuckles whitened.

“No!”

Sebastian’s head snapped to the left and he scowled.

Ezref rushed forward and snatched the crooked wand from his hand. “What in the twelve halls of light were you thinking just now?” The small feathers tied to the stick flailed as he shook the wand back and forth. “This contains the essence of a powerful demon which was imprisoned inside over three millennia ago. Someday it will break free. When that happens, it will most assuredly suck up half the light in this world, devouring souls and causing suffering the likes of which neither of us can begin to imagine. The one who frees it will suffer more than the rest. Maybe you want to experience its wrath, but I would like to be long dead when that horrible day finally arrives.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t care that you’re sorry!” Ezref’s scream was louder than Sebastian’s had been. “Magic is dangerous! You are a child locked in the body of someone older. I swear by the gods of Light and Darkness, your impetuous disrespect will be the end of—” He stopped and covered his face. Then he turned on his heel, walked to the side table, set the wand down, and rubbed both eyes with the heels of his palms. “This was a bad idea. I should never have agreed to teach you.”

Sebastian stroked his beard. “Because I’m angry that I failed again.”

Ezref looked up. “Because you have no respect for the craft, no fear.”

“I do. I was frustrated.”

“You are spoiled.” Ezref crossed his arms. “Crafting came too easily in the beginning and, now that it is suddenly more challenging, you throw tantrums.”

Sebastian laughed. “My failures are your fault. I was doing fine until you told me the truth. Perfectly fine. Since you made me aware that I was ‘doing things wrong’, I can’t cast anything, not even the simple spells that worked at the start.”

Ezref’s mouth formed a tight-lipped smile. “As I said, things have become more challenging.”

“What did you do?”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Did you put some kind of block on me?”

Ezref scowled and folded his arms. “By telling you the truth, I changed your mindset. That is all. If there is a block, then it is you who created it.”

Sebastian sniffed.

“Mindset is the key component to crafting. In order for a spell to manifest properly, the caster must envision the correct outcome.”

“I thought it was perfect execution of verbal, somatic, and material components.”

“Those are the foundations. Tools to achieve the result. It is by executing the foundations that one focuses and creates the proper vision.”

“What do you mean?”

“Speaking the words, moving the hands, and selecting the correct material focuses the mind and tells the universe what the crafter wishes to create. As long as there have been crafters, these have been the ways to summon the magic.”

“I did it without them.”

“The most powerful crafters throughout the ages do not require words, motions, or components to command the magic. But it is rare to be able to do the simplest crafting without incorporating the foundations. Even the masters of legend started off using them. It took them decades, some centuries, to reach a point where they were not required.” Ezref snapped his fingers. “But you appeared out of nowhere and began to craft magic straight away.” He shook his head. “No one would ever believe such a thing possible. I still question it, and I was there to see you in action.”

Sebastian frowned. “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You told me that I was casting sp—”

“Crafting.”

“Right. You told me that I was crafting spells wrong.”

The apprentice nodded.

“Now, after I’ve been beating my brains out for days, doing it your way and failing, you’re saying that I was doing it correctly from the start?”

Ezref gripped the back of his head with both hands, and his eyes widened. “I should never have agreed to teach you.” He groaned. “If I had known you were going to actually be so skilled I don’t think I would have.”

Sebastian snorted. “Looks like you got your wish after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t do it anymore.”

“That’s your fault.”

“Mine? How do you figure?”

“All I did was point out the obvious.” Ezref spread his hands. “Technically, your motions were sloppy. Verbally, your pronunciation of the words were far from perfect. And the way that you handled the components…” He shrugged. “All of it was a mess. That you could craft a spell at all was fascinating to me.”

“Was.” Sebastian plopped down into a chair beside the table and crossed his arms. “My ability is gone.”

“No.” He shook his head. “It isn’t gone. Simply misplaced.”

Sebastian furrowed his eyebrows and stroked his beard. “You think I can regain my abilities?”

“I believe so.” Ezref arched an eyebrow. “The more important question is, do you?”

Sebastian considered the question, stroking his beard half a dozen times before he smiled. “Yes. Yes I do.”

“Good. Then we shall continue with the lessons.”

27

Shale opened her eyes and groaned. The cadet standing above her smiled. “Morning, sunbeam.”

“Morning.”

“You up?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” The cadet moved to the next cot and gently shook the sleeper. There were no trumpets or shouts to start the morning. Instead, those coming off the morning watch woke the others, quietly as they would when raiding. Part of their training was to learn how to wake up quietly and be alert right away.

Shale lay in her cot for another few seconds before standing to dress. She fastened her belt buckle and adjusted the hang of her hunting knife so that the hilt brushed her fingertips when hand dropped to waist level. Then she slipped on her soft leather knee-high hunting boots and grabbed quiver and bow, slinging both over her shoulder as she exited the tent.

Lelthaes was already in line for food. She joined him and the two made small talk while waiting their turn. Shale sat down across from him at an empty table and laughed. “You still haven’t bedded the cooking girl?”

“How can you tell?”

“Your flirting continues, and she still seems interested. If you’d slept with her then one of those facts would have changed.”

Lelthaes frowned. “That’s unfair.”

“What is?”

“Did you consider the possibility that we did sleep together and are both more interested than before?”

Shale opened her mouth, paused, then smiled and shook her head. “Nope.”

Her friend shook his head. “That hurts, Shale.”

A chuckle. “Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll apologize.”

His eyes twinkled as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “You’re not wrong.”

Shale laughed.

“I will bed her before training is over, I swear.”

They finished eating and moved to the training field. Cadets gathered in small groups, talking and laughing. Soon after, Jielir arrived.

“Morning everyone.”

“Morning, Jielir.” The group replied in unison as they formed a line.

“I spent the night considering where everyone is in their training.” He began to walk down the line. “I thought about what areas need more work, where we can improve as a group and individually.” He stopped and turned to face them. There was a grin on his face. “Turns out you lumps have done pretty well.” He shrugged. “I don’t think there’s much more that I can teach you in this safe little field.”

Shale smiled and nudged Lelthaes in the ribs. His grin mirrored hers and everyone else’s.

“That’s right, kids,” Jielir said. “You’re done basic training.”

The group cheered.

***

The young rangers spent the morning lazing about the camp.

“What comes next?” Shale sorted the cards in her hand while she waited for Lelthaes to take his turn.

“Not sure.”

“I know.” Jielir’s voice spoke from behind her. Shale started to stand, but felt a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t bother getting up. You’ve earned a morning to relax. Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not.” She shimmied to one side to make room.

“Thanks.” The instructor plopped onto the seat, set a mug of ale on the table, and nodded at Lelthaes. “It’s nice to be able to sit and visit with you now that I’m no longer your trainer.” He smiled. “More like old times.”

“Does that mean that I can call you uncle again?” Lelthaes placed a card on the table and drew a replacement from the face down deck.

“Absolutely. Everyone goes home, spends a week with their families.” He smiled at Lelthaes. “It is custom for Great-grandparents or regular grandparents to gift a family heirloom to their newest pride and joy.”

Lelthaes leaned forward. “Do you know what I’m getting? Is it Grandmother’s bow?”

Jielir shrugged. “After that, you’ll be assigned to a unit and start life as a ranger.”

“We visit the Scout first though, right?”

Shale frowned. The Scout?

“Of course.” Jielir raised the mug to his lips.

“That’s exciting.” Lelthaes grinned as he sorted his cards.

Shale searched her memory of the game and her avatar. Up until now, every aspect of this virtual reality had been true to her extensive knowledge gained from years playing the PC version. Spells, effects, the ranger class and abilities, she had been playing Blades since it had begun online—over ten years—but couldn’t remember hearing about anything called a Scout. She considered asking, but didn’t want to appear foolish or tip herself off as a stranger. She sighed and picked a card from her hand, laying it on the table.

Guess I’ll find out what a Scout is soon enough.

28

After learning that he might be a Scout, Aleron’s parents had quickly planned a celebration and invited everyone to attend.

That night there was a large dinner party in the village square. The meal was extravagant; wine and spirits flowed. Aleron spent the night shaking hands and receiving hugs, his parents standing close as everyone congratulated him on his good fortune. He smiled when those who had muttered negative comments the day before stepped forward to congratulate him, genuine excitement and approval in their body language and expressions.

The party went on for hours, not ending until early into the dark hours of morning.

Hoping that he’d hid it well, Aleron spent the entire evening without a clue as to what the big deal was.

Later the next morning, Master Keaedan came by to collect him. Aleron hugged his parents, smiling as they congratulated him again, and the two men set out. They walked until late afternoon, travelling in relative silence except for the occasional small talk.

They made camp and Aleron gathered dead wood to make a fire before setting out to hunt. Every elf was competent with a bow, and Aleron knew from his avatar’s memory that he was above average. The skills that his computer host had spent practising were still available to him. Less than half an hour later, he returned to the fire with a rabbit.

Darkness had settled over them by the time their meal was ready to eat. The two enjoyed the food, still speaking very little.

Their plates had been cleaned and returned to their packs. Each leaned against a tree with a mug of herbal tea in hand and feet near the fire.

“Are you excited to reach our destination, Aleron?”

“More like nervous.”

“Worried?”

Aleron frowned. “Should I be?”

The druid master tugged at the fur blanket draped over his legs. “I don’t imagine so, no.”

They sipped tea, watching tongues of fire crackle and snap at the dry wood.

Master Keaedan drained his mug, then set it onto the ground and withdrew a pipe and bag of tobacco from the folds of his robe. “You’ve done very well, up until this point, at least.”

“What do you mean?” Aleron took a sip of tea.

Keaedan turned the pipe bowl upside down and tapped it against his palm. Burnt bits of black tobacco fell from the pipe’s interior and sprinkled the ground. “Days have passed since I made the announcement. You haven’t asked once what a Scout is or does.”

Aleron’s breath skipped a beat. “Why would I?”

“You’ve been surrounded by many people talking about the Scouts.” The old druid’s expression conveyed amusement. “But you have no clue what anyone has been talking about.”

Aleron opened his mouth to deny it. His cheeks grew warm.

The druid smiled.

“Was it that obvious?”

Master Keaedan laughed and opened the tobacco pouch. “Only to me, I think.” He reached into the bag and withdrew a pinch of dark, shredded leaves. “Looks as if you’ve managed to fool the rest. Even your parents.”

“Fool?”

“Mmhmm.” He inserted the tobacco in the empty pipe bowl. There was the hint of playfulness in his voice. “I’m the only one that knows about you.” He looked up and his eyes met Aleron’s. “That you’re a Deceiver.”

“A what?”

“Not from this land.”

Aleron’s mouth felt suddenly dry as the old man’s eyes narrowed, his expression serious. “I don’t know what you’re talking abou—”

“Don’t insult me, boy.” The druid’s smile returned and he looked back at his pipe. “Now is not the time for lies.” He finished pushing strands of tobacco into the pipe and placed it in the corner of his mouth, resting the stem between his teeth, making a light clicking sounded as he bit down. He withdrew a long match from a side pocket of the tobacco pouch. With a flick of his thumbnail, the match flared to life, bright orange fire hissing as it illuminated the old man’s bearded face. “I would know what you are up to, boy, and I’m done playing nice. Ready or not, I’m going to ask questions. You’re going to answer them, every last one, and truthfully.”

Aleron winced.

“Lie to me even once, and I will have to kill you.”

Aleron stared with wide eyes as Master Keaedan touched the match to the tobacco and puffed rhythmically to set a proper burn. When he was satisfied, he withdrew the match and shook it. The flame went out and white smoke curled from the half-burned stick. Keaedan dropped it on the ground beside him and sniffed. “Do you understand my directions, Deceiver?”

Aleron nodded.

“Good.” He drew on the pipe stem and puffed out a mouthful of smoke. “Let’s start with your real name, and where, specifically, that you come from.”

“Where I come from?”

He raised one eyebrow and took a draw from his pipe. He opened his mouth and the smoke poured out like fog on highland morning. “I believe you call it ‘Earth’.”

29

Xander huddled in the darkness against a tree, arms crossed against his chest while the cold rain pattered against the canopy of the forest above and made its way to land on him. He shivered, wishing for a fire, even though he knew it would be a bad idea. The paladin was definitely still pursuing him.

Three days earlier, Xander had entered another town to ask for directions. Something told him not to, but he was still lost and his only recourse was to hope for directions from a stranger.

Unfortunately, the settlement housed a chapel of the Light. When the screaming started—he couldn’t seem to avoid having a woman scream in terror from seeing him—the front door of the chapel slammed open and a holy paladin had emerged. The knight had drawn his sword and strode toward him.

Xander had fled the town. Just before he’d ducked into the woods, he’d thrown a glance over his shoulder. The paladin’s silhouette was still visible on the horizon.

Xander had entered the forest and hadn’t stopped moving until darkness fell. The rain had begun not long after.

His cold, wet clothes stuck to his skin as he shivered. “The paladin is not following me.” His teeth chattered as he tried to reassure himself. “He must have more important things to do than chase me day and night.”

Xander wiped water from his eyes. The thought that his pursuer had turned back flashed through his mind. He tried to stand but flopped back onto the ground. His joints were stiff. He laughed, a harsh sound. I’m not cold and wet. This is a stupid computer game. These sensations are nothing more than signals being sent to my brain as I lie on a table somewhere.

There was a thud to his left. Xander turned and squinted. Even with his night vision, all he could see were shades of blue, yellow and green. The coldness caused by the rain blanketed all the heat in the nocturnal world. If anything living was close, he could not tell.

For the second time, Xander wondered what would happen when his avatar died. In the PC version of Blades, when your character died, it was simple. Your monitor went dark for thirty seconds and your character re-spawned in the nearest graveyard. Then you’d run as fast as possible to where your character had died to grab the items you’d been carrying. If something were chasing you, then it was a race to put on your gear before getting attacked and possibly dying again.

He guessed it was different here but couldn’t be certain. Xander had been assured his guide would cover those details. The guide who had never appeared.

He struggled upward, leaning against the tree trunk. “Isaac screwed me. Maybe I should give up. Die and exit the simulation, get more information before I come back in instead of floundering around without a clue how to play this damned game.”

With my luck they won’t let me come back in.

He tugged his sopping cloak up over his shoulders.

Xander lowered himself back to the ground and closed his eyes. Despite the miserable conditions, he was so tired that it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

***

Pain in his shoulder woke him. He sat up with a groan, rotating his arm to check for injury.

A voice spoke from nearby. “I’m surprised you can sit up at all after sleeping in such a twisted position.”

Xander turned and saw the paladin. Six-foot tall, shoulder-length straight blond hair shining in the morning light, the warrior was armed in a shirt of silver chain mail and dark brown leather leggings. The thumb of one hand was hooked into his leather belt and in the other he held a dried strip of jerky. A war maul rested on the ground beside him. The rectangular head was silver grey stone, flat on one end with a burnished orange colour while the opposite end had a jagged shape coloured mottled grey. Xander thought it looked like molten fire with the flames cooling to stone. Gold and silver wire was twined around the head and attached to a two-foot long, leather-wrapped handle. Pulsing runes of gold sparkled and moved along the hammer head’s surface as if fire lived in the weapon.

The paladin tore a piece of jerky from the strip and chewed, grinning at Xander.

“Why didn’t you kill me in my sleep?”

The paladin’s broad shoulders shook as he laughed. “There’s no fun in that.”

“There won’t be any fun in killing me while I’m awake either. I could barely stand my ground against a corpse rat. I’m guessing you’re a tougher opponent.”

The paladin was clearly amused. “Don’t sell yourself short, boy. Corpse rats put up a good fight. Nasty bites, too.” The paladin sat on a fallen log and rested his elbows on his knees. “I did not think the followers of darkness had any settlements close by. You surprised me when I saw you in the town. I wanted to have a chat with you.”

Xander noticed that his bag and swords were still beside him. He stood and stretched his arms above his head, then bent at the waist and touched his toes, groaning. He considered reaching for the swords.

“Don’t.”

He straightened and put his arms behind his back. “Don’t what?”

The paladin took another bite of jerky. “Best to leave your swords where they are.”

“You want me to die unarmed?”

He popped the last piece of jerky into his mouth and stood, brushing his hands together. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Xander frowned.

“That surprise you?”

“Yeah. It does.” Xander sniffed and then took a step forward, hand extended. “I’m Xander.”

The paladin considered him for a second, then stood and grasped Xander’s hand. “I’m called Helias.”

“Thank you for not killing me, Helias.”

The paladin bowed. “Are there more of your order about, little Death Stryker?”

Xander shook his head. He could feel his cheeks and neck get warm.

Helias laughed. “Are you lost, then?”

He nodded. “And embarrassed.”

“I can imagine. How long have you been wandering about?”

“A few days.”

“You don’t sound certain.”

“I was unconscious. Off and on.”

The paladin laughed again. “Which direction are you coming from?”

“That way.” Xander jabbed his thumb to point behind him.

“If you’re from where I think, then you are very far from home.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Hold on.” His eyes drifted to the bag in Xander’s hand. “You mentioned corpse rats. Are you on your spirit quest?”

“Yes.”

Helias drew a deep breath and then exhaled, drawing the words out as he spoke. “That might change things.”

“Why?”

“It is a very fortunate thing for a Death Stryker to encounter a paladin of the Light during one’s spirit quest. But it’s only good fortune if you kill the paladin. If you let them live, then you will be cursed by the Darkness.”

Xander felt a lump form in his throat. “Damn.”

The paladin reached down, hefting the war maul as if it weighed nothing. “Looks like we will have to fight after all.”

“But I can’t beat you.”

“Not with that attitude.” He jutted his chin toward the swords. “Grab your blades and let’s get on with it.”

Xander laughed.

“Go ahead. I won’t attack until you’re ready.”

Xander held up a hand. “Give me a second to think.”

Helias let the hammer rest on his shoulder. “What’s to think about?”

“You said it’s bad luck if I let you live?”

“That’s right.”

“But if I fight you I will certainly lose.”

“There’s always a chance you could get lucky.”

Xander crossed his arms. “I won’t fight you.”

Helias scowled. “You don’t want to be cursed. Better to stand and die than live and be haunted.”

Xander shook his head. “I won’t be cursed.”

Helias cocked his head. “How do you figure that?”

“If I was trained, knew how to do more than slash at corpse rats—which got the better of me by the way—then I would be letting you live by not fighting.” He spread his hands, palms up. “But, since I possess no skill, there is no dishonour in refusing to duel. That means no curse.”

“Huh.” Helias nodded. “You might be right. Are you willing to bet your life on it?”

Xander thought about it for a second. “Yes. I think I am.”

***

Mercy watched the paladin turn and disappear into the forest. A few minutes later, Xander slung his pack over one shoulder and started walking. Mercy waited until he was gone and then made her way into the clearing. She held one hand in front of her, palm facing skyward and spoke a word. Tendrils of black smoke formed and began to stream toward her palm. The dark mist thickened, spinning and gathering until a jagged humanoid shape with smooth, oily wings took shape. The mist faded, leaving the form of a shadow standing on Mercy’s palm. The shadow imp knelt, leaning forward until the tiny horns of its bald head touched her skin. With a grunt, the ugly creature bucked against her skin, pricking the flesh before leaning back on its knees and smiling as two drops of blood formed in the puncture marks. When the blood began to dribble along the creases of Mercy’s palm, the demon lurched forward and lapped at it.

When the blood was licked away, Mercy spoke. “Well?”

The imp licked its lips and looked up at her. “The disgusting paladin offered to kill him, but the boy declined.”

“The Darkness will curse him for it.”

The imp’s giggle sounded like dry grass crunching against glass. “No it won’t.”

Mercy scoffed. “Stupid demon. He let the paladin live during his spirit quest. Suffering will envelop him for such a slight.”

Another giggle. “He didn’t let the paladin live.”

Mercy narrowed her eyes.

“Without the skill to defeat his opponent, the concept of choice or decision is not a consideration.”

“An excuse.”

“A loophole.” The imp stroked her palm as if it were a beloved pet. “But a valid one. Sound judgement which will bring no harm to the whelp.”

“Clever.”

“Indeed. Intelligence from the same bag of flesh that is unable to find its way home.”

“The paladin gave him directions?”

“Oh yes.”

Mercy laughed. “Good. I am tired of following him.”

“You are a patient woman, a generous mistress.”

She smiled. The shadow imp cackled and attempted to bury its horns into her flesh to draw more blood.

“No.” Her hand closed into a tight fist. There was a muffled cry, followed by black smoke trailing between her fingers. She squeezed harder but the smoke escaped her grasp and the imp re-formed on the back of her hand, laughing. Mercy shook her head. “Follow Xander. Make certain he is safe until I catch up.”

The shadow imp bowed and dove from her hand. It unfurled its wings and they caught the air with a tiny snapping sound. With a giggle and a snarl, the creature flapped off in the direction that Xander had last been seen.

30

Aleron waited quietly while Master Keaedan stared, puffing on his pipe. He knew that the old man could kill him, but he wasn’t afraid. Dying was part of playing the game. He would either re-spawn, or wake up in his real body. A part of him hoped that he would die. That would allow him to exit this avatar and enter one with the ability to become a druid.

He was curious about this new possibility, though. He had no idea what a Scout was, but everyone around him appeared to be in awe of the class. If it was a class.

He nodded. Okay ya old fart, let’s get down to business. “What did you mean when you said ‘Deceivers’? Do you mean Travellers?”

The corner of the master druid’s mouth curved upward. He did not remove the pipe as he spoke. “It’s good that you’re not trying to deny what you are.”

“You said you wanted the truth.”

“Indeed.”

“Then that’s what you’ll get.” Aleron pursed his lips and smiled. “Just remember, you asked for it.”

“Those words can cut both ways, lad.” He frowned. “You are young where you come from?”

“Yeah. Same age as this body.”

Master Keaedan nodded. “Everyone does refer to your kind as Travellers, but in my experience, I’ve found that to be an inaccurate term. Your people are Deceivers, plain and simple.”

This is beta testing, Aleron thought. How can he know about us since we are the first group here? Unless— “When did you meet another Traveller?”

“Two months ago. A promising, very gifted girl. She woke up one morning and”—he snapped his fingers—“her gift was gone. Took a few days to understand what had happened, but we eventually realized that it was because she was a Traveller.”

“I see.”

“Before that, I hadn’t seen one of your kind since I was young and became a full-fledged druid.”

Aleron frowned. “That would have been a long time ago.”

“One hundred forty-seven years ago.”

The hair at the back of Aleron’s neck tingled. “That’s not possible.”

Keaedan arched an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

Aleron sucked his teeth, closed his mouth, and shook his head.

“Finished with the truth already, Deceiver?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Then stop acting as if you deserve the label.”

“Fine.” Aleron heard the anger in his voice and took a moment to regain his composure. “Travellers are something new. We’ve only been coming to your world for a few months.” He shook his head. “I don’t know who you met forty-seven years ago, but there’s no way it was one of my people.”

Keaedan puffed on his pipe. “Earth did not exist that long ago?”

“Of course it did.”

“Then how can you be so certain one of your kind did not visit us back then?”

Aleron sighed. “We travel here using these machines—devices—called computers.”

“They are magical?”

“Yeah.”

“They send your spirit here.”

“That’s right.”

“And what about Aleron’s spirit?”

He frowned. “Who?”

Master Keaedan leaned forward and tapped him on the chest. “Aleron. The boy you inhabit.”

Aleron looked at the ground and smoothed the dirt with a small stick. “All I hear is my name when you speak. It’s part of the…magic. Write the boy’s name in the dirt. Maybe that will work.”

Keaedan grabbed the stick and wrote. Aleron smiled. “So the name of the boy who’s body I am in is called Reylar.”

“That’s what I said, Aleron. Where is his essence?”

I have no clue, but I’m not about to admit that. He spoke confidently and without missing a beat. “He’s fine.”

“Where is he?”

“On my world.”

Keaedan squinted. “That sounds terrible.”

“Have you been to Earth?”

“No.”

“Reylar is an honoured guest while I am here. When I return to my body, he will come back to this one. For him it will feel as if he never left.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Aleron smiled. “I am telling you the truth.”

Master Keaedan frowned.

“I want to speak more of computers, the magical devices which send us here.”

“All right.”

“Forty-seven years ago, computers did not exist on my world.”

“Then what magic did you use to travel here at that time?”

Aleron shook his head. “There was no way, which is why you must be mistaken about the person you met.”

Keaedan took the pipe from his mouth and inspected the bowl. It had stopped smoking. “He told me he was from Earth.”

“Who did?”

“The Deceiver, all those years ago.” The old man looked as if he was suddenly in pain. His eyes became glassy.

“Why do you call him—us—Deceivers?”

Keaedan did not answer. He was staring off into the distance, his expression blank.

“Master?”

The man’s lip began to tremble.

Aleron knelt beside him and grabbed his arm. “Master Keaedan?”

“Huh?” He focused on Aleron. “What is it?”

“I asked why you called him a Deceiver, why you called me one?”

He gathered his robes and lay down, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. “That is enough talk for tonight. I must think on what you’ve said.”

“Okay.” Aleron decided to let the matter drop.

“We will set out early,” Master Keaedan said.

“Good.” Aleron turned his back to the fire. A few minutes passed. “Master?”

“Yes.”

“I’m telling the truth. There’s no possible way my people could have visited when you were young.”

There was a pause.

“I can tell that you believe that, Aleron, but I know what I experienced. I spent much time with a man who said that he came from a faraway dimension called Earth. I could never forget that name. You might not know how they did it, but this is not the first time your people have come to our world.”

31

It is inevitable that players will use slang and phrases not common in the virtual world of Preu Treya. When this happens, NPC’s will either hear a phrase that they are familiar with which matches the sentiment, or they will not hear the words at all. Other players will hear what is said, as will viewers when that function is eventually activated in the gaming experience.

Excerpt from the Blades VR Player’s Handbook - Slang Language and Phrases

Shale emerged from the tent, barely aware of her surroundings. Sounds seemed dull, her vision faded at the edges. Something touched her arm and jerked her back to reality.

“You okay?” Lelthaes gripped her arm, a grin on his face.

“Yeah.”

Laughter. “Felt strange, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You okay now, though?”

She recognized concern in his expression and smiled. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“Good.” He released her arm and jutted his chin toward the lake to their right. “Eroan was up to her waist in the water before she snapped out of it.”

Shale laughed. “I’m surprised you didn’t let me try and break her record.”

“I’m sure you could have made it up to your shoulders.” He smirked. “But I would have had to go in and fetch you. The idea of you getting soaked is funny, but I don’t need a second bath.”

She pushed on his shoulder and he laughed. “You had lunch?”

Lelthaes shook his head. “Waited for you. Let’s go.”

They went to the cook pots, each got a plate of food, then found a table to sit at.

Lelthaes took a bite and then started asking questions. “Quite the experience, huh?”

“It was.”

“They say the stories told after never come close to describing the actual experience.”

“They were right. Scouts are a cool new addition.”

“Addition to what?”

Shale laughed and shook her head. Wow, it’s so easy to forget that I’m playing a game. These computer-generated characters act so real. “Pay no attention to me. I’m still shaky and confused from my visit with the Scout.”

“She’s my aunt.”

“I didn’t know that.”

His eyes flicked to the Scout’s tent and then back. “My dad’s sister. I learned about her when I was younger, but you know.” His gaze returned to Shale. “Once they become a Scout, they leave their old lives behind.”

“Yeah.” Shale pretended to know, but she didn’t. Since learning about the Scout class, she’d done her best to discover more details but it was difficult. Asking questions drew strange looks.

“You know”—Lelthaes scrapped the last bit of food from his plate—“I’m tempted to ask if she revealed anything special to you.”

Shale frowned. “Aren’t there rules against that?”

“Not rules, specifically. More like superstitions.”

“Hmm.”

Lelthaes frowned and pushed his plate to the side. “Never mind, forget I asked.”

“No big deal. She didn’t tell me anything exciting.”

He tilted his head and squinted, gauging her expression before smiling. “Me neither.”

Shale could tell that he was lying and wondered if he knew that she was as well. “Any clue when we’re leaving?”

“Two days. I heard Jielir talking with a ranger.”

“From the group that was here when we arrived?”

Lelthaes nodded. “Our wet nurses.”

Shale laughed. “I’m glad they aren’t sending us out on our first raid without seasoned help.”

“I suppose.” Lelthaes looked past her. “Speak of the demon.”

Jielir sat down beside her. Shale laughed. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“How did it go for the two of you?”

“You tell us.” Lelthaes leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “The Scout gives you reports on everything she covers, right?”

“Highlights.”

They waited for him to say more but he didn’t.

Lelthaes laughed. “Ha ha, very funny.”

Shale chuckled. “Really?”

Jielir yawned. “Are you surprised? It’s possible there was nothing particularly special about either of you.”

“For myself, it’s likely.” Lelthaes nodded toward Shale. “But there is bound to be a couple of extraordinary things about this one.”

“Always so modest.”

“Relax,” Jielir said. “The Scout gave me warnings about each of you.”

“Warnings?” Shale frowned.

“Things to keep an eye out for.”

Lelthaes arched an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound good. Let’s hear all the gory details. I’m willing to let Shale hear mine if she doesn’t mind sharing hers.”

“Fine by me.” Shale shrugged but Jielir shook his head.

“When you need to know, I’ll share. Not today, though.”

Lelthaes groaned. “No fair.”

“It’s for the best. You’re at a delicate stage in your training. Too much praise will give you a false sense of confidence. That could lead to costly mistakes in real life.”

Shale laughed.

“Something funny?”

Real life. “No.”

“So what does our first raid involve?” Lelthaes asked. “It must be something big to include cadets and a full company of rangers, right?”

Jielir shook his head. “You know we don’t talk about missions ahead of time.”

“Real missions. I assumed you would give us an easy training assignment to start.”

“We did, but that doesn’t change protocol. No info until it’s time.”

Lelthaes grinned. “At least I tricked you into admitting it was a simple mission.”

The instructor shook his head. “Rangers refer to every job as simple.” He grinned. “And they are.”

“Even when they aren’t?”

“Especially then.” Jielir stood and reached across the table to pat Lelthaes on the shoulder. “Have more faith in your skill, boy. Believing in success is key. If you can’t master that, we’ll leave you behind. Enjoy the rest of the day. We head tomorrow out at first light.”

32

The bell rang again as Ezref entered the study. Sebastian sighed and closed the book in his hand. “I’m guessing from the sour expression on your face that whoever is ringing the bell isn’t someone we want to see.”

Ezref shook his head. “It’s the adventurer wizard from a few days ago.”

Sebastian scowled. “He’s back?”

Ezref’s lips pursed as he nodded.

Sebastian swore and stood. “Why?”

“No clue.”

“Guess.”

“Maybe he’s passing through on his way home and wants to thank us for helping him.”

“Is it too much to ask for him to have died during his little adventure?”

Ezref raised an eyebrow. “Apparently.”

Sebastian dropped back into the chair and knelt forward, rubbing his face.

“You look tired.”

“Trivial little crap like this makes me want to scream.”

The apprentice said nothing.

“I mean, things are going smoothly. We’ve got a good gig here.”

“Gig?”

Sebastian scowled. “Why can’t people leave us alone?”

“They do. Mostly.”

“It’s the ‘mostly’ part that is causing the issues.”

“I won’t deny that.”

Sebastian waited for Ezref to say more, but he didn’t. “Well? How do we get rid of him?

His question was met with silence.

“Can you meet him at the door like you did last time?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t sound happy about doing that.”

“He will want to meet you. We got lucky last time, but I can’t use the same excuse.”

“Which is why the little bastard returned, isn’t it?”

Ezref grimaced. “Most likely.”

Sebastian bit his lower lip and gazed up at the ceiling. “Then I will bite the bullet and invite him in.”

“No!”

“Meet him at the front door, then?”

Ezref shook his head.

“For god’s sakes, why not?”

“He will know instantly that you are an imposter.”

“From my aura?”

“Your lack of an aura, yes. As I’ve explained to you more than once, magical residue from the spells we work saturates a crafter’s aura over the years. It cannot be rushed nor counterfeited. He would look at you and know instantly that you are new to the craft, and most definitely not a master.”

Again he sighed. “And since I’ve lost my powers, I can’t even flick the little bugger out of existence.” Ezref opened his mouth to speak but Sebastian raised a hand. “I know, even when I could, you warned me against it. At least I’m trying to come up with solutions here. You never shut up and suddenly it’s like you’ve lost your tongue.”

“There is only one solution.”

“Ah, good. You have an idea.” He could tell by the look on the apprentice’s face that he wasn’t going to like it. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking, but if you can come up with a better alternative, I’d rather do that.”

“Understood. What have you got in mind?”

***

Olin stood taller as the door opened, adopting a flat stare which he’d learned over the years for when he wanted to convey a sense of authority and purpose.

The apprentice—Ezref was the name Olin remembered—barely opened the door, but a smile was on his face as he peeked out. “Oh, it’s you. Olin, right? Hello again.”

Olin nodded.

“How was your adventure? Successful, I should hope.”

“It was.”

“Glad to hear it.” The apprentice’s grin widened.

Olin waited, silently counting to ten before shaking his head. “It is customary to invite a fellow crafter inside, you know.”

“I’m aware of that custom.” The door did not move.

“You’re insulting me.”

“I’m sorry that you feel that way, but it is not my intent.”

Olin’s stare remained flat as he stroked his goatee.

“Regrettably, the master is not available.”

“Why not?” Olin snapped. “What is he up to that demands repeated rudeness and spitting in the face of tradition?”

“He is performing various and complicated component extractions to replenish his inventory.”

“Which components?” Olin crossed his arms and stared as if he were scolding an apprentice.

Ezref opened his mouth to speak, then paused, frowning. “You’re not the most polite fellow, are you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Ezref’s demeanour changed. The smiling servant disappeared, replaced by someone possessing authority. “I don’t believe you have the manners to realize that you should be begging my pardon.” He snorted. “I’m sure it must be very nice to live the life of an adventurer, but running a tower of this magnitude is very taxing.”

“I’m certain tha—”

“Certain?” It was clear from his expression that the apprentice was disgusted. “This tower rests over a major ley line.”

“I know that.”

“Hsst.” Ezref made a chopping motion. “Don’t pretend for a second to fully understand what that means or the amount of work it entails. There are threats—constant threats—to this area from many dimensions. The master works hard. I can’t remember the last time he had even a day of relaxation, let alone weeks with nothing to do but stroll around the forest searching for goblins or other minor annoyances.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Living a week in your place would be akin to a vacation for my Master, which he has not had in over a decade.”

Ezref pursed his lips and his cheeks flushed. He opened his mouth to say more, but paused and took a deep breath. A grim smile returned to his face. “I’m sorry, I mean no disrespect. Your work is important to the cause as well. It is tiring to have travellers passing through, knocking on our door at unscheduled times and demanding visits for tea as if our purpose here is to entertain and gossip instead of keep the world safe from destruction.”

Olin pursed his lips and nodded. “I apologize.” He placed one hand on his chest. “Of course your days are busy and you’re right that I have no idea how a tower such as this is run. I am ashamed to admit that I was not thinking of things from your point of view.”

“Pounding on the door, now on several occasions, demanding to know not only where the Master is, but what it is that he is doing.” Ezref shook his head. After a moment his expression softened. “It’s fine. The Master told me to expect this sort of behaviour from you.” He smiled. “Ezref, young crafters travel abroad for a reason.”

“He said this before you came to the door? I thought he was indisposed.”

Ezref’s smile melted. “Wow.” He shook his head. “You are an annoying little plint, aren’t you?” Olin tried to speak but the apprentice cut him off. “Of course he didn’t say it now. I told you he is unavailable. Aren’t you listening to a word I’m telling you?”

“Yes, but I thought—”

“You thought to catch me in a lie. You fancy yourself a clever man, but prove the opposite. Ever think we might have spoken about you after the last visit? Or that maybe the Master tries to calm me down when he learns about the abuse I have to endure at the hands of demanding journeymen crafters knocking at the door while he is busy?”

“Of course.” Olin looked at the ground. “That makes more sense. I’m sorry.”

Ezref sighed. “Listen, if it’s so important, then of course you’re welcome to wait. He will be available in a few days. I’m sure he will be even more interested in you than you have been in him” A thought seemed to occur to him as his eyes brightened. “As a matter of fact, there are some extremely unpleasant chores that need doing around the tower. He has been cursing me for my lack of skill in certain areas. He can delegate the work to you.” Ezref’s expression became cruel, sneering. “Oh yes, please tell me you’re willing to wait. He has been extremely kind to you as custom dictates, but now that you returned of your own free will it is within his rights to order service in lieu of payment for the help he gave you before.”

“No.” Olin felt a sharp twist in his stomach and he took a step backward. His time as an apprentice was not so long ago that he’d forgotten the horrible things which could be demanded from a more senior crafter should the need prove sufficient. “I’m afraid that I can’t stay.”

“What a surprise.”

“I only wanted to return the unused components, as thanks for your master’s generosity.”

Ezref stuck his hand through the doorway and accepted the pouch. Then he squinted, as if considering something. “Perhaps I should compel you on behalf of my Master to stay. There is a patch of night bloom that will require dedicating soon.”

Olin’s mouth felt suddenly dry. Assisting a dark master dedicate night bloom was painful. Sometimes the helper even died.

Without saying a word, he turned and strode away as quickly as he could without breaking into a run.

Ezref watched the man until he was outside of the protective wards surrounding the tower. Then he closed the door.

33

Blades VR is thrilled to announce the introduction of a brand new playable class, the Scout.

It is our hope that the Scout class will add new levels of excitement and realism to the virtual world for players.

Live during beta phase of game development, Scouts will initially be played only by NPCs. We will use this opportunity to create game lore, expose players to the class in limited ways, and work out any bugs from the programming before players get access.

If all goes well, our intention is to make the Scout class available during the second half of beta testing.

Once gamers truly understand the power and potential involved, we are confident that Scouts will be a class which many players will choose and spend considerable time playing.

Isaac Chase, CEO of ARC Gaming

A flicker of movement through the glass walls of his office pulled Isaac’s attention away from his monitor.  He watched Kara approach the receptionist and wait until the older woman looked up. The two spoke and Kara nodded, looking toward the window. She noticed Isaac watching her and smiled.

He arched one eyebrow and motioned for her to enter.

She poked her head through the door. “Hey, Boss, got a quick sec?”

“Does it matter?”

“Nope.” She entered the room, grabbed a chair near the wall, and pulled it over to his desk.

“What’s the problem?”

She plopped down into her seat with a sigh. “Am I that easy to read?”

He laughed. “Impromptu visits almost always equal problems.”

“That’s gotta suck.”

He grunted. “My own fault. I tell everyone that victories and celebrations can wait for the daily team meetings, but emergencies must be brought to me as soon as they happen.”

She smiled. “You look tired.”

“Stop.”

“What?”

He shook his head. “We aren’t dating anymore, Kara.”

“I know, but I can still be—”

“No.”

“Isaac, I worry about you.”

“Please don’t.”

Her lips pursed but she did not speak.

“We’ve talked about this. It’s neither of our faults that things didn’t work out. The timing was bad.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes were glassy.

“The virtual reality platform was about to enter beta testing. We both knew what that would mean. I won’t have a life for the next—” He ran fingers through his hair. “However many years it takes to get this thing into full production. It takes us five or six years to create a PC game. There’s so much more to this.”

“I know the business, Isaac.”

He paused. “It wouldn’t have been fair to you. You could have a husband, kids, by the time this project is running smoothly enough for me to pay attention to the real world again.”

“None of that interests me.” Her eyes narrowed. “I told you—”

“I heard what you said, but things can change. I wasn’t going to ask you for that kind of commitment.” Isaac shook his head slowly from side to side. “To expect you to put your life on hold, I don’t want that on my conscience.”

Kara looked away, her expression as sad as it had been the night he’d broken up with her.

He sighed. “You didn’t come here to talk about the past, did you?”

She wiped a tear from her eye and shook her head. “No. There’s a problem.”

He leaned back in his chair. “What is it?”

“We have a player who might become a Scout.”

His eyebrows dipped. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s supposed to be.”

He sat forward and placed his hands on the keyboard. “What’s the player’s name?”

“Aleron.”

“Last name? Actually, never mind. There’s only one Aleron in beta test.” His eyes scanned back and forth across the screen. “He’s listed here as a druid.”

“Keep reading.”

He did. A few seconds later he frowned. “Oh, damn.”

“Yeah.”

“This says he isn’t a full Scout, only pre-selected.”

“Once they begin training, his status will change to Scout.”

Isaac pushed the keyboard away and swivelled to face her. “I think we’re fine.”

“How do you figure?”

“I’m guessing that it’s just a clever story line to introduce him to the new class.”

“I disagree.”

“The system is creative. There are millions of possible combinations when it comes to scripts and evolution of story for player interaction. We’ve promised each player unique experiences. I think that’s what this is. Nothing more.”

“I’ve looked into this a bit deeper.”

“Which is what I pay you for.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Scouts hear trumpets. He heard trumpets.”

Isaac laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“When I was a kid we did this thinking experiment in school. I can’t remember the point, but it went like this: all fire trucks are red. There is a picture of a truck. It is red. Since all fire trucks are red, and that’s a red truck, then it must be a fire truck.”

“What does that have to do with what I’m telling you?”

“You’re making a big leap in logic with very little to go on, Kara.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It could also fit with my theory.” He spread his hands. “The computer is ready to have him meet a Scout. He hears trumpets and those around him take that as a sign to get him to a Scout.”

“Maybe. They are heading toward one now.”

“There you go. We’ve made it impossible for players to become Scouts.”

“I’m aware of that. I thought it might be a glitch.”

He smiled. “You weren’t wrong to bring this to me. If there is one thing we do not want at this point in testing, it is for someone to open up the new class and start playing as a Scout.”

“You’re right.”

“Here’s why it can’t happen. The codes which will facilitate integration of a player’s abilities in the Scout class aren’t even programmed into the simulation yet.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Isaac made a waving motion with his hand. “It’s a small detail not worth mentioning to most.”

The little lines on her forehead disappeared and she smiled. “All right. Sorry to bring you a false alarm.”

“No need to be. I say it’s better to say something and have it be nothing than to ignore a potential disaster.”

She stood and walked to the door, pausing with her hand on the handle. “What about Xander? Any luck finding him?”

“No. How about Sebastian?”

She shook her head.

“It’s frustrating to see how easily we can lose people in there.”

“It shouldn’t be possible at all. Each avatar has its own energy signature.”

Isaac sighed. “There are bugs to fix. That’s why we do a beta testing period.”

“Yeah.”

“Keep an eye on this druid for me, will you?”

Kara opened the door. “Of course.”

34

Mercy strode down the hall, her boots striking the stone floor with a clicking sound as she approached a large wooden door. The guard saluted and bowed, stepping to one side. “He waits for you inside, Lady.”

“Thank you.” She reached out to touch the man’s shoulder as she moved past. To those who worshipped the Darkness, the goddess was the only one referred to as Lady. Yet over the years, as she had proven herself in both battle and leadership, some had begun calling Mercy by the title, whispering it when no one with authority could hear.

The Shard stood on the terrace, mist from his breath visible in the cold morning air. Mercy joined him and looked out below. The front gates were opening to admit Xander. The young squire walked with head held high, freshly polished sword hilts gleaming darkly over his shoulders and the sack full of corpse rat heads swinging in his left hand.

“Took you long enough.” The Shard leaned on the railing of the terrace as he watched Xander.

“Your orders were to follow the boy, not act as his personal guide.”

“How many times did you have to intervene to save his life?”

“None.”

The Shard’s eyes slid to hers, then he nodded and his gaze returned to the courtyard. “I am mildly impressed to hear that.”

“Thought I might have to get involved when the Lightbringer challenged him to a duel.”

The Shard’s laughter came out as a soft, velvety sound. “He was blessed to encounter a paladin of the Light during his spirit quest? Must have been a poorly trained adversary if our fledgling managed to defeat him.”

“Must have been.”

“And he has all of the rat heads?”

“In the bag.” Squires and Death Strykers had stopped what they were doing to gather near Xander, curious expressions on the faces of the younger boys and girls, knowing smirks on those of the veterans. “Are you certain about this course of action?”

The Shard spoke without hesitation. “Absolutely. The experience will teach him much.”

“If he survives.”

“The path to becoming a Death Stryker is filled with danger.”

“You are making his more dangerous than most.”

“Fire, water, and the hammer create the blade.”

“When each is applied properly by the master smith.”

He dipped his head in a slow nod.

Mercy grunted. “You don’t intend for him to succeed.”

His eyes were bright. “My intentions are irrelevant, Mercy. It is the Dark Lady who ultimately decides.”

She grimaced.

“You have something to say?”

“No.”

He turned away from the ledge and walked toward his chambers. “Then let us go down to welcome our new brother in Darkness.”

***

As Xander stood in the centre of the courtyard, he scanned the faces in the crowd. Memories from his avatar recognized some, but he could not recall having any friends here.

No one spoke to him. The odd individual nudged a neighbour and said something, but he couldn’t make out was being said.

There was a stirring near the main keep and the crowd parted to reveal a tall, muscular man with pale skin and sharp angular features approaching. Xander’s memory recognized him as the Shard, leader of this chapter of Death Strykers. His clothes were rich and black, the material catching the light and almost shining with a light of its own as he moved. He stopped a few feet from Xander and spread his arms. His smile exposed perfect white teeth, reminding Xander of a panther about to pounce. He wanted to shudder, but fought it off.

“Brothers and sisters, a young spirit has returned.” He lowered his hands and took another step forward, looking Xander up and down with a serious expression. He tilted his head to one side. His smile disappeared. “Something is wrong.”

Xander’s expression mirrored the Shard’s. “What?”

“You have returned without completing your quest.”

A murmur drifted through the onlookers.

“I completed it.” Xander touched the bag with his toe. “A dozen corpse rat heads, as instructed.”

The murmuring of the crowd rose in volume.

The Shard raised a hand and the crowd fell silent. He bent down and opened the bag. Gripping the edge, he stood and turned it upside down, staring at Xander with a flat expression as a dozen corpse rat heads thudded onto the ground.

“That’s impossible!” someone shouted.

“He did not do that on his own.”

“He insults the Dark Lady with his dishonesty!” another voice yelled.

The ring of people tightened. Xander looked around him with a frown. “What’s wrong? This is what I was told to do.”

A loud whistle pierced the chaos. The mob hushed and parted, allowing Mercy to emerge from the throng, almost gliding as she moved to stand beside the Shard. His eyes met hers, nodding before looking back to Xander. “You were told not to return until you had killed and collected twelve corpse rat heads. The instructions were clear. You were to kill them yourself, without any assistance.”

Again, there were shouts from the crowd. Xander felt his cheeks grow warm. “I did kill them.” He was shaking as he almost spat the words.

“Without one managing to give you even a scratch?”

“I got plenty of scratches.” He reached for the bottom of his tunic. “Bites too.” He almost yanked the shirt up but his eyes widened and he paused.

The Shard’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. Show us your wounds.”

Xander’s hand dropped to his side.

“Well?” The Shard raised one eyebrow.

“I was healed.” He lowered his gaze.

“You were what?”

He clenched his jaw and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “I said that I was healed.”

No one spoke. The Shard nodded. “The Dark Lady favours you indeed if she deigned to heal you. Without her intervention, you would have died.”

“I believe that.” Xander pulled his shirt up and touched a spot that had been torn open by a rat. “The bites might be gone, but I can still feel them, the hotness of the tears in my flesh, the poison coursing through my blood.”

The Shard stepped forward and placed a hand on Xander’s shoulder. “No one has ever returned with the full number.”

“They haven’t?”

“No. That is not the actual purpose of the trial.”

“What is it then?”

“To be bitten and meet death.” The Shard’s voice was calm. “To travel to death’s door and look through to the other side. The bites will not kill you. The rats have the unique ability to take one as close as a person can come to dying, yet allow most to recover and live.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Of course not.”

Xander frowned. “Without any wounds or scars, I have no proof the rats bit me. No way for you to know that I was close to death.”

“That’s true. And we must be certain you have if you ever hope to become a Death Stryker.”

“I don’t know how to prove that I am telling the truth.”

The Shard tightened his grip on Xander’s shoulder. Xander gasped and looked up into the leader’s face. The man’s eyes were bright and wild, his smile cruel. “There is a different test, one rarely used, but it will show if you are lying or not.”

A voice inside of Xander screamed for him to flee, to run from the keep as fast as he could and never return, but he took a deep breath and nodded. “Then test me. I will prove that I am worthy to become a Death Stryker.”

35

Shale heard the footsteps approaching but didn’t open her eyes until she sensed a shadow blocking the sunlight. “Took you long enough.”

Lelthaes laughed and sat on the ground beside her. “I’m early. We don’t have to report in until noon, which is still far away.”

She squinted at the sun directly overhead. “Oh yeah, you made it with plenty of time to spare.”

“Not my fault. The family wouldn’t let me go.”

“Mine couldn’t wait to part ways.”

Lelthaes snorted. “I find that hard to believe, especially your dad. He didn’t want you to become a ranger in the first place.”

Shale smiled and closed her eyes, arms still behind her head as she soaked up the sun. “Yeah, he was kinda proud of me.”

“Ha! My mother says that your dad has been bragging about you non-stop since you left. Then when they found out what level you reached during training—”

“It’s only single digits.”

“You hit the highest level of any ranger trainee in decades.”

“So did you.”

He laughed. “Not quite as high as you, though.”

“We both did fairly well.”

“I nailed level five and you just squeaked into six. Fairly well is an understatement.”

“I don’t know.” She sat up and groaned. “All those new skills and spells to learn. Seems like a pain.”

He sat up on one elbow and stared at her. She laughed and shoved him playfully and he laughed as well. Then he stopped and furrowed his brows, looking around. “It’s definitely past noon. Shouldn’t the rest of the troop be here by now?”

“Only the three of us.” Jielir’s voice sounded from the edge of the woods. They turned to watch the ranger emerge and make his way to them. He unslung his bow and quiver, placed them on the ground with his backpack, and sat.

“Gonna be tough to raid a village with only the three of us.” Lelthaes’s tone was cheerful.

“Is that what we’re doing?” Shale still couldn’t understand the hatred elves felt for each other in this virtual world. Traditional game lore from as far back as the role-playing game dictated that the elven race was united and friendly. There had always been different factions, but that was a result of their particular geographical locations and the magic that they specialized in. Even the dark elves who worshipped the Dark Lady were allies with the rest of the clans. But in Blades VR, elves spent the majority of their time fighting one another. Her avatar memories told her that the racial enmity was an elf’s primary focus.

“No village attack.” Jielir shook his head. “We’ve been given a covert operation instead.”

“Raiding a village during the night isn’t covert?”

Her instructor laughed. “That’s a normal outing. No, we have orders to track and acquire a special target.”

“Sounds fun.” Lelthaes plucked a blade of grass and stuck it between his teeth.

“Dangerous.” Jielir frowned. “Too much so for new rangers, but I was overridden on that call.”

“Sorry.” Shale smiled, not feeling the sentiment as she spoke the words.

Jielir stood and heaved a sigh. “We might as well set out. I’ll give you details when we are deeper in the forest.”

Lelthaes dropped the blade of grass and stood, gathering his supplies and weapons. “How long do you expect us gone?”

“If the first part goes well, we could return in a week or so. If it doesn’t…” He shook his head.

“That challenging?”

The ranger nodded. “Our target is well-protected.”

“By what?”

Jielir raised an eyebrow. “A master druid.”

36

Olin smiled as the coin-filled bag dropped onto his open palm. “Thanks, boss.”

Hesanai laughed and reached across the table to slap the mage on the shoulder. “If I were boss, your share would be bigger.”

“As long as I got the share promised to me, then I’m happy.”

“You’re too modest.” The elven ranger poured some alcohol into a glass and held the bottle toward Olin, but the mage waved it off. “If it wasn’t for your quick thinking, we’d have died on three separate occasions. Four if you count the time they would have taken us prisoner and fed us to the gryphon. I still can’t believe the goblins made their camp so close to its nest. And how could it attack us and not them?”

“I think they were feeding it so that it tolerated them. Gryphons are intelligent creatures.”

“Smart enough to accept bribes in exchange for granting protection.”

Olin laughed. “I’m glad we were able to scare it away long enough for us to grab the loot and kill the goblins. Would have been a shame to kill the beast.”

“So you say, but the feathers—” Hesanai sighed. “A cloak made from gryphon feathers would help do my job in so many ways.”

Olin rapped the table. “Please, Hesanai, don’t go back and kill it.”

“I won’t.” The elf’s tone did not sound convincing.

“Even if you did manage to get the feathers, any crafter strong enough to create a cloak for you will demand a price higher than you can pay, or will outright steal the materials and send you away empty-handed.”

Hesanai raised the glass to her lips and grinned. “At least we know where it lives. Perhaps we can go back when you are of a level to do the crafting for both of us.”

“That might be too good of an opportunity to turn down.” Olin nodded. “When I am of sufficient level.”

“Something else is troubling you, isn’t it? You’ve had that grim look on your face since you returned from the evil wizard’s tower. The very same expression you had after visiting the first time, now that I think about it.”

“Something’s wrong there.”

“Our tank left, but the rest of our party is still hanging around. We can all head over. Break in and dig around some, if you like?”

Olin laughed. “We wouldn’t make it past the first line of protection. It’s a wizard tower. The outer wards would sizzle us like morning breakfast before we got within a hundred feet.”

The ranger shrugged. “Then let it drop. The next adventure is around the corner for a crafter of your skill. You’re on my permanent roster now. When we need a mage, I want it to be you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Bralm left to find out if there’s anything to rumours that a band of kobolds are terrorizing a settlement along the borderlands. If it turns out to be true, we will need your help.”

“How soon?”

“Couple weeks.”

Olin nodded. “Perfect, that gives me time to stop off at a Chapter House.”

“What for?”

“Couple reasons. First—” he hefted the bag of coins “—I owe them a percentage of what I earned.”

“Boo.”

“Trust me, it’s worth every gold piece I tithe.” Olin stroked his beard. “And while I’m there, I think I’m going to speak to someone about this wizard.”

“Yeah?”

The mage nodded. “I might not be able to look into what’s going on, but someone will.

37

In traditional video games, players enjoy the training stage. It is during training that a player learns commands, skills, and abilities using the safe starting area of the game world, and get to practise how they will play. It is also at this point where most players decide if they like the game or not and how much of their time they will be dedicating to playing it.

Do not expect this to be the case with Blades VR.

With Blades VR, players are not turning on their monitor and using the keyboard to control an avatar for a few hours in the afternoon. Instead, a player is fully immersed into a body which feels as real as their own. Players will not watch their character play inside a fantasy world, they will become that player in a world that feels real.

For those playing Blades VR, training does not involve spending a few hours perfecting simple commands, it means devoting weeks, months, and sometimes years of dedication and practise.

Early feedback has led us to believe that two things will occur when this game goes live to the public: most players will want to find an easier, faster way to get up to speed so that they can play their character casually, and there will be a small group of players who will want to experience the longer immersion process. Our goal is to enable both groups to play to their preferred style.

We knew that providing truly immersive entertainment was a lofty goal. As beta testing continues, we realize that success with this endeavour might be the most important advancement in our race’s history.

We can guarantee you that, no matter how long it does end up taking to perfect, when Blades VR goes live to the public, it will definitely be worth the wait.

Blades VR Weekly Report hosted by Kara Booth

Mercy stood with arms crossed, expression blank. Xander’s still form lay on the bed in front of her, his black, shoulder-length hair messy from tossing and turning during bouts of fever. A white square of linen cloth, stained with patches of dried blood, covered his left eye. A thin red scar extended past the area of the dressing. “Will he live, Everit?”

The dark cleric shrugged. “I have done all that can be done. His life rests in the Dark Lady’s palm.”

“As it should. Is the wound infected?”

“No. My best guess is that he will wake in a few days.”

“When he has completed his visit with the Lady.”

“Should he be so blessed.”

“Thank you, my friend.” She reached out and touched the cleric’s elbow. “Please send word to me when he wakes.”

Everit smiled, bowing his head. “You can count on me.”

Mercy returned the gesture, turned on her heel, and left the room.

***

In his comatose world, Xander relived the scene as if it were happening all over again for the first time.

Waves of pain washed over him as he hung from the X-shaped wooden cross. Cold rain fell, striking his skin and stinging like icy needles.

A hand gripped his hair, forcing his head backward. He winced as hard leather cords cut into his forehead, holding him in place.

He looked at the crowd gathered. Their eyes were cruel and bright.

Xander had no idea what was about to happen to him, but he vowed to himself not to scream or cry out, not to give them that satisfaction.

The Shard came to stand beside him, arms raised as he faced the crowd. “The time of reflection begins. Return in four days.”

The crowd slowly dispersed. Soon, Xander was alone.

***

For the next three days Xander was left bound in the courtyard. He received no food, and only small sips of water every few hours.

When the sun rose on the fourth day, he was weak, tired, and cold.

The crowd assembled once more. Some shouted curses and taunts, others watched him quietly, as if he were a statue.

When the sun was directly overhead, the Shard appeared. He made his way to the dais, the heels of his boots rattling the wooden planking as he moved to Xander’s side and leaned close. “Now we shall see if you deserve to be one of us,”

He turned to face the crowd, arms wide, voice loud. “It is time for the Dark Lady to decide.”

Xander tried to pay attention to the Shard’s words, but he was too weak to maintain focus. His thoughts drifted and the Shard’s voice faded into the background.

He wasn’t sure how long the Shard stood there, talking. At one point, Xander thought he heard words of evil-sounding scripture credited to the Dark Lady, but he wasn’t certain.

A hand gripped him by the hair. A sensation of intense heat to his left pulled him from his daze. His eyes darted to the right where he could see a small brazier, orange flames crackling beneath a stained metal bowl. He wondered what it was for, and when it had been put there.

The Shard spoke again, louder, though still unintelligible to Xander. The Shard raised his arms. There was a curved blade in his right hand. Loudly, the crowd repeated the phrase, and their leader bent closer to Xander, his lips pursed into a grim smile.

Xander struggled, but was too weak. In a flash, the knife descended toward his face. Xander closed both eyes tight. A sharp hot pain in his left eyelid blossomed into something that was both fire and ice at the same time.

His vow from days earlier was forgotten as he screamed. When there was no breath left in his lungs, he drew another and screamed again. And again.

After what felt like eternity, the sharp pain was replaced by dull throbbing.

He heard a thumping sound where memory told him the brazier sat, followed by a hissing, sizzling noise like strips of bacon being placed on a hot pan. The crowd cheered and he turned, trying to open his eyes to see what was happening.

From his left eye, he saw nothing. His right caught a glimpse of something before pain forced him to close both eyes and take a deep breath. An overwhelming urge to throw up washed over him.

The sizzling had come from something smoking in the brazier, shrinking and melting like a puddle of lard.

He was sure that it was his left eye.

38

Ezref handed the vendor a silver coin and waited for change.

“Brakl needs to speak with you.” The vendor spoke quietly.

“Thank you.” Ezref waved the change away. “Regular place and time?”

“Same place, but now.”

The apprentice frowned. “He’s waiting for me there now?”

“Since he gave me the message this morning. Said he ain’t doing nothin else ‘til he speaks ta ya.”

Ezref turned and headed out of the trading square.

***

He entered the tavern, scanning the bar without appearing to. There were only two tables occupied. One was his contact. Ezref walked to the bar and leaned against it, propping one foot on the rail that ran the length of the bar.

“What’ll ya have?” The bartender set down the glass he had been cleaning and turned toward the bottles arranged on the counter behind him.

“Autumn nectar.”

“Good choice.” But instead of reaching for the bottle of clear golden nectar, the bartender reached for a dark bottle. He retrieved a glass and poured a measure of smoky black liquor into it. His eyes met Ezref’s and his chin dipped as he set the drink on the bar top. “This one’s on the house.”

This meant the bar was safe from prying ears. Ezref reached for the glass and nodded. “I appreciate it, Gilear.” He pushed away from the bar and turned toward Brakl’s table.

“Be safe, lad,” the bartender said. “I hope your god favours you.”

***

Sebastian’s head whipped around as the heavy wooden door of the study flew open and crashed against the wall. Ezref stepped into the room, eyes wide.

Sebastian stood. “What’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

“We’ve got trouble.”

“How bad?”

“I can’t think of anything worse.”

Sebastian smiled. “Come on, now. Things can always be worse. Getting eaten by a dragon comes to mind, or—”

“Stop talking.”

Sebastian frowned.

“We have to leave the tower.”

“What?”

“That idiot crafter reported us to the Council.”

Sebastian laughed. “What could he report? That I wouldn’t make him a pot of tea? Big deal.”

“He told them that a demon had broken through the spirit barrier, possessed my master, and now controlled the powers of the tower.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but the Council can’t take that chance. They are sending high-level crafters to visit. When they learn what we’ve been up to.” He shook his head.

Sebastian frowned, unsure how proceed. Without the ability to cast spells, especially the one spell he had originally commanded which could handle crafters of any skill level—

Ezref threw his hands up. “We have to run.”

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to abandon this tower.”

“Too bad.”

“It’s filled with power and magic that I could never accumulate if I lived a dozen lifetimes.”

“I know.”

“I won’t abandon it.”

Ezref shook his head. “There is no other choice.”

“There has to be. The wards and spells will protect us.”

The apprentice spread his hands. “Not from the Council. They can walk through everything that protects this tower.”

“That’s absurd.”

“I’ve told you a hundred times, all crafters are loyal to the Council first.”

“I know that, but—”

Ezref held one hand in the air and shook his head. “Dark, light, evil, good, none of that matters. All who use magic bow to the Council.” He looked around the study and motioned with his hand. “When crafting, the magic is instructed to ignore Council members. There is no spell that can stop them from entering the tower.”

“That’s not very smart.”

“Sure it is. With the system this way, no single crafter can ever become powerful enough to eliminate the others, or to threaten the safety of the world. A rogue crafter cannot stand against the Council and win. It has been designed that way to protect us all.”

“Balance.”

“Exactly. Balance is key, and the Council is responsible for maintaining it. When they get here, they will stroll through any spell we cast as if it did not exist.”

“Then they will take us prisoner.”

“And then worse.” Ezref nodded, his face turning pale. “We have to leave.”

“When?”

“Immediately.”

39

Aleron dropped the dried branches on the ground beside the freshly dug area that would serve as a fire pit. “I think we’re being followed.”

Master Keaedan grunted as he prepared the dead rabbit hanging from the tree. “Of course we are.”

“You knew?”

“For days now.” The old druid dropped the pelt on the ground and continued dressing the meat.

“Who is it?”

“Three rangers.”

“Ours?”

“Please.” He made a sour face.

“Then we are in danger?”

Master Keaedan tsked and shook his head. “When an elf leaves the protective perimeter of their village, they are always in danger until they return.”

Aleron broke a stick over his knee and winced at the noise. “You don’t sound worried about them.”

The druid scooped the innards from the rabbit and set them on a large leaf. He folded the leaf and tossed it away from the camp. Then he began to cut the carcass in half. “There’s nothing to be worried about. I’m an experienced druid travelling through the ancient forest of our race. There is no safer place for me. It would be foolish to attack us.”

“Then why are they following us?”

Laughter. “Because they must attack us at some point.”

Aleron frowned and knelt down to stack the wood in the fire pit.

“It’s you they want.”

“Me?” Aleron frowned.

“Ancient tradition dictates that, after training is completed, a new Scout must return to serve the clan which submitted him or her to the Scouts.”

“I see.”

“The service period is at least ten years.”

Aleron opened his mouth to speak, but paused. Master Keaedan laughed. “You were going to say that is a long time?”

“Yeah.”

“Deceivers are not as long-lived as elves?”

“No.”

“What race of Preu Treya do your kind most resemble?”

“I’m not sure.”

The druid arched one eyebrow.

“I’ve not seen any other races since I got here.”

“You told me your knowledge of this world is based on a game you play.”

“That’s right.”

“Then I assume that your game closely mirrors our reality here.” The druid raised a hand. “I know, elves do not war in your game, but that is a small detail. Name the race you resemble and I will tell you if they exist here.”

“Mankind.” Aleron tucked pieces of dried moss between the twigs. “Where I come from, we exactly match the game version of mankind.”

Keaedan laughed as he finished spitting half of the rabbit and leaned it against a tree. “That is indeed interesting. Thank you for sharing that bit of information.”

“Humans exist here?”

“Yes.” He reached for a stick and began spitting the second half of their dinner. “Let me name the other races now.” He named them one by one, finishing as he completed his task and leaned the spit beside the first.

Aleron nodded. “They all match the game lore that I’m familiar with.”

Master Keaedan chuckled. “Game lore.”

“I guess that likely sounds strange.”

“To most, but the other visitor from your realm used the same terminology.”

“The visitor from a long time ago?”

“That’s right.”

“Huh.”

Keaedan finished preparations and washed his hands in a bowl of clean water, then joined Aleron near the fire pit. “You still don’t believe me. About the Traveller from decades ago.”

“I believe you.” Aleron picked up flint and steel. “But it doesn’t make any sense.” He struck the flint, sending a shower of sparks onto the tinder. After a few strikes, small tendrils of smoke began to curl up from the dry moss. He got closer and blew. At first the smoke grew in thickness, the moss glowing brighter with each breath. Then the glowing edges faded to grey and the smoke disappeared. He leaned back on his haunches and shook his head. “I suck at this.”

“Are you a druid where you come from?”

Aleron laughed. “No.”

“A ranger or some other type of woodsman?”

“I’ve never spent any time in the woods back home. I’ve definitely never tried to make a fire.”

Keaedan’s expression became sad. “What a horrible thought. Never spending time in the woods.”

“It’s not so bad. I grew up in a town. When that’s all you know, you don’t miss this.”

Keaedan snapped his fingers. There was a whoosh and flames materialized, dancing over the twigs and moss. “Keep trying. You will feel a great sense of accomplishment when you finally succeed.”

“Maybe you should have let me try a few more times with this one.”

“You’re right.” The old man’s eyes twinkled as he smiled. “But I’m too hungry to be patient at the moment.”

They watched the fire in silence. When it was burning evenly, Keaedan placed the rabbit skewers over the flames.

Aleron held his palms toward the flames. “So the other elves want to steal me in order to have my service for a decade.”

“That’s right. After you complete Scout training.”

“How long does that take?”

“Depends on the student. Months for some, years for others.”

“Sounds boring.”

“I suppose.” Keaedan turned the skewers. “Maybe it’s possible to learn a craft in a short amount of time where you come from, but here there is no substitute for time spent practicing.”

Aleron groaned. “It’s the same where I come from. It’s just…” He shook his head. I didn’t sign up to play a game where I spend all my time learning. “Since they want me alive, will they try to take us without violence?”

“I wouldn’t say so. I expect they would be happiest if I were to die in the exchange.”

“Killing a master druid is not easy to do.”

Keaedan looked up from the fire and winked. “That is true.”

“When do you expect them to attack?”

“Never.”

Aleron frowned and the master druid smiled. “I have a plan.”

40

“Food’s ready.” Lelthaes removed the meat from the fire and set it to cool on two stones. He covered his hand with a cloth and retrieved the pot from the flames, setting it next to the meat and lifting the lid. Then he took a wooden spoon and stirred the vegetables, mixing them with the broth.

Shale pulled plates from her backpack. As she was handing them to Lelthaes, Jielir emerged from the darkness. “Excellent timing. I’m starving.”

“See?” Lelthaes rolled his eyes. “He did it again.”

Shale laughed and Jielir shook his head, bending down to place bow and quiver on the ground. “Stop it.”

“I’m serious. You go hide in the shadows and pretend to be busy until you know dinner’s ready, don’t you?”

“No.” Jielir laughed as he sat beside the fire. “Some gifts are more practical than others is all. Over the years I have come to sense when food will be ready.”

“Right.”

“When I’m out on a hunt, at least. Trust me, when you’re with a full squad of rangers, it’s an ability you will either gain or you’ll get the tail end of every meal, which means you go hungry.”

Lelthaes laughed as he cut a piece of meat from the skewer, dropped it on the plate in Shale’s hand, and ladled vegetables over it. “If you’re telling me the truth, it’s not important for me to learn. I’ll keep a close eye on you. When you head for camp, I’ll follow.”

They laughed and Jielir nodded as Shale handed him a plate of food. “You wouldn’t be the first to do so, lad. It’s not a bad back-up plan.”

They ate without speaking. Meals could be dangerous in the wild, the scent of food attracting animals that would otherwise steer clear, or inviting attack from lurking enemies. Jielir had taught them that the best time to attack an enemy was when they were holding a utensil instead of a weapon.

When they finished, Jielir gathered the plates and moved to the edge of the fire, wiping them clean with leaves. They would wash them properly next time they were near a stream.

“I assume you found nothing out there?” Shale asked.

“You’re correct. Nothing dangerous or unnatural for miles around us.”

“Have we closed the gap?”

“No. They are still half a day ahead.”

“When will we make our move?” Lelthaes asked.

“Tomorrow.” Jielir stroked his goatee. “In the morning, we will increase our pace so that we catch them by nightfall, and then attack when they are sleeping.”

41

Aleron draped his cloak around his shoulders and began to walk away from their new camp. “Back in a few. Gonna grab some firewood.”

“Wait.”

He turned. “What?”

Master Keaedan was facing away from him, arms at his sides with palms facing forward. “We won’t make a fire tonight.”

Aleron rubbed one eye. “Why not?”

“It will interfere with our night vision.”

Aleron returned to stand beside the druid. He noticed the man had his eyes closed, chin tilted upwards. “Are you praying?”

“No.” Keaedan’s posture did not change.

“What are you up to?”

“Something that requires my concentration.”

Aleron closed his mouth and waited. After a minute or so, the druid took a deep breath and began to make a low rumbling noise in his chest. When he ran out of breath, he sucked in another lungful and continued rumbling.

Eventually, Master Keaedan opened his eyes and lowered his arms. “There. That should do it.” He turned and knelt, opening his backpack and removing a small leather pouch.

“That should do what?”

“You’ll see.”

Aleron returned to his own pack. “They should attack soon, right?”

The old druid nodded. “We are close to the Scout outpost. Should arrive by late morning tomorrow. If they are going to attack us, their best time is tonight.”

“Maybe we should press on.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Running gives them an advantage.”

“We are safe here, then?”

Master Keaedan shook his head and laughed. “We aren’t safe at all. But this way, I choose the battlefield, which is something you should always do if you’re able.”

“I can’t believe they are actually going to attack us.”

“Why?”

“You’re a master druid.”

“So?”

“The power you must wield.” Aleron shook his head. “They are fools to fight.”

“Elves have been warring with each other for a very long time.” Keaedan sat down and pulled another pouch from his backpack. He withdrew a piece of jerky and held the pouch toward Aleron. “I am strong, but it’s possible to best me. Rangers have developed many interesting tactics for handling druids. I teach the strategies to our own rangers.”

Aleron took a piece of jerky from the pouch. “They could take you out, then?”

Master Keaedan smiled. “I do like my odds today.”

Aleron started to ask another question but a sound from behind Keaedan made the words catch in this throat. His eyes widened as a giant grizzly bear emerged from the woods. It lumbered toward them, its great black coat shimmering with each step. It made a soft grunting sound, similar to the sound the master druid had been making earlier.

Master Keaedan smiled at Aleron. “Wait here.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Aleron muttered as the druid stood and walked toward the great bear. It watched Keaedan approach. When he got close, the bear leaned its head toward him. The druid threw his arms around the creature’s neck, laughing as he buried his face in its fur. The bear nuzzled Keaedan’s shoulder and made a sound that reminded Aleron of a cat purring.

After a few moments, the druid stood back and held one palm flat. Then he produced the first pouch he’d taken from his pack and poured yellow granules onto his hand. He said something and held his hand toward the bear. It jerked its head up and down as if it was nodding, and leaned close. A large pink tongue darted out and lapped the granules from the old man’s palm. Keaedan laughed.

When the granules had disappeared, the bear sat back on its haunches and listened as Master Keaedan began to speak. Each time he paused, the bear nodded, occasionally adding a grunt or soft growl.

Aleron guessed maybe fifteen minutes passed in this manner. Then the bear stood, the druid hugged it once more, and the it shambled off into the woods.

Master Keaedan returned to Aleron.

“That was incredible to watch.”

“Even more incredible to be a part of.” The druid dropped the empty pouch into his backpack. “Everything’s set. Let’s try and get some sleep.”

“Right now? It’s the middle of the day.”

“Try.” Keaedan lay down and rested his head on his backpack. “When you wake up, stay put and look to me for instructions. If all goes as planned, there will come a point when it will be safe to move out. Be ready for that.”

“Will you wake me?”

“No.”

“What if I don’t wake up in time, then?”

Master Keaedan laughed. “When the time is right, I’m certain you won’t be able to sleep.”

42

Shale squinted as she peered through the trees. “I thought you said we were close to their camp.”

“We are.” Jielir’s whisper was as faint as her own. “They didn’t make a fire.”

“That’s a first.”

“They are expecting us to attack.”

She looked at him. “They know we hunt them?”

“Of course. We are tracking a master druid.”

“How would he know? I haven’t seen any signs of him spying on us.”

“He is friends with the animals of the forest. Birds, squirrels, foxes, anything in the woods could have been reporting our progress to him.”

“Huh.”

“You hit your head or something?”

“No, why?”

“You sound surprised.”

“No.”

“I know it’s your first hunt, but you’ve heard stories. Some of your direct ancestors are legendary druids. Their talents and abilities should come as no surprise.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous. Not thinking straight.”

“Well snap out of it, girl. You were picked for this mission for your wits and skill. Get them ready to use. I’m going to need your arrows to fly straight and true not too long from now.”

“I’m ready.”

“We’ll see.” He paused and then tapped her leg. “I’m kidding. I know you’ll perform when the time arrives.” He pointed and she looked in the direction he was indicating. “There. See that dull grey patch way up there?”

She squinted for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s them. The druid has cast an illusion over them, but I’ve seen enough of them to be able to recognize it. Took a while, but I’m sure enough to call that our target.”

Shale frowned. Jielir had been scanning the landscape for over half an hour. “What if you’re wrong?”

“We attack it quietly. If it’s not them, then we advance and I look for another patch.”

“It could be a long night,” Lelthaes muttered.

Jielir sniffed. “You’re welcome to run forward, banging through the brush and making as much noise as you like.”

“No.”

“Make things quicker, that’s for certain.”

“And brighter too.” Lelthaes shook his head. “I have no desire to feel druid’s fire on my skin, thank you very much. It doesn’t burn wood or leaves, but I’ve seen the damage it can do to flesh.”

“Slow and steady wins the race,” Shale whispered.

“That’s catchy.” Lelthaes nudged her. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“Enough chatter.” Jielir pulled three arrows from his quiver. “Let’s move. Shale, you will work your way left, Lelthaes right.”

“Will you cast Wolven Spirit on us?” Lelthaes asked.

“No. Too many trees to navigate. A speed spell would do more harm than good.”

Shale looked at their destination once more. “A two hundred count?”

Jielir considered her suggestion and nodded. “Sure. That will give us time to reach our spots without making too much noise. Sound good to you, Lelthaes?”

“Yes.” The young ranger drew three arrows and half stood.

“When you reach two hundred, watch my arrow and aim yours for the same target.”

“It will be the druid?”

“That’s right, the largest shape. Fire fast, shoot true. We don’t want to hit the young Scout by mistake. If all goes well, the druid will die before he knows we are there.”

“If any animals warn him?”

Jielir’s white teeth appeared in the darkness. “It’s a poor ranger who is unable to cloak their movements from animals for under a count of five hundred.” Shale pursed her lips and Jielir leaned toward her. “You can both do this. I believe in you.”

She nodded. “You’re right. We got this.”

“That’s the spirit. Luck and fortune. One.” Jielir stopped counting aloud and watched as the two young rangers set out. He knew they were silently keeping count like they had practised hundreds of times.

He remained motionless, watching the target in the distance. When his count reached forty-six, he started forward.

***

Shale waited twenty feet from the camp, silently counting. She had reached her spot at one hundred sixty-seven, finding an even piece of ground that she could stand and shoot from when the time came. Three arrows were stuck in the ground in front of her. Three more hung from her fingers. She continued counting, her eyes locked on the large grey shape.

I don’t think it’s an elf. The thought crossed her mind but she shook it off, continuing her count. It didn’t matter if it was the real target or not. When she saw Jielir’s arrow fly, hers would follow. That was her focus for now.

At one hundred eighty-five she stood and nocked her first arrow.

One hundred ninety-three. She drew the string back to her cheek, aiming down the shaft,  adjusting the angle of the bow for the distance.
Her shoulder felt the first hint of a tremor from the strain of holding the arrow drawn as her count reached two hundred. She knew from practise that the strain would cause her muscles to waver and affect her aim in another ten to fifteen seconds. The shot would occur before then. Her timing was perfect. She was ready.

Jielir’s arrow, its shaft glowing with the faintest hint of white light, whirred toward the target. She released her arrow, immediately nocking the next and drawing, then repeating the process once more before watching them travel their course.

The combined arrows hit the mark in rapid succession. Shale smiled and reached down, blindly snagging the three arrows from the dirt and nocking one.

Nothing stirred in the camp. Shale began to count to twenty as they had agreed. If their target was the druid, he was dead. So far the ambush was proceeding perfectly. The smaller shape remained motionless.

When she reached twenty, Shale moved toward the camp, bow ready. They did not want to harm the Scout candidate, but if he put up a fight, an arrow to the knee or foot might be necessary to subdue him.

From the corner of her vision, she saw Jielir approaching. Lelthaes was directly across from her.

They stopped a few feet from the second shape, Jielir’s bow was slung over his shoulder, long knife drawn. He nodded once, then pulled back the cover to reveal a bundle of sticks and leaves.

Jielir swore and let the blanket fall, spinning on his heel to remove the dark grey sheet from the larger mound. He kicked the pile of sticks, then turned to face the other two. He smiled. “Perfectly executed. Great work.”

“Those twigs never stood a chance.” Lelthaes smirked and Shale nudged his foot with the toe of her boot.

“There was a chance this was a decoy, but that’s fine.” Jielir nodded. “It’s better to think of each target as a tree or bunch of twigs. Easier to keep your mind on the task.”

“What now?” Shale asked.

“They are close, and we have been quiet.” Jielir retrieved his arrows and returned them to his quiver. “Spread out a hundred paces from each other and sweep forward.”

“And when we find them?” Shale asked.

“Shout as loud as you can,” Lelthaes offered.

Jielir scowled. “We go by counts. Slow count to three thousand, then rendezvous to report findings. When we locate them, we all meet up and attack together.”

“Okay.” Shale pulled her arrows from the target. They had trained on search techniques. They would sweep an area and then find each other before heading back out. It had been a tricky maneuver to learn, but a condition that all rangers mastered during training.

“Let’s go.” Jielir strode from the camp with Shale beside him.

They moved to where the woods became thicker and stopped, waiting for Lelthaes who had been last to retrieve his arrows. He was walking toward them, one hand slipping the arrows into his quiver. Shale frowned as a dark blur appeared behind her friend and grew quickly in size. “What is that?”

Jielir pushed her behind him and took a step forward, drawing an arrow. “Lelthaes, drop to the ground, now!”

Shale saw the look of confusion on her friend’s face. He half turned and fell onto his back, screaming in surprise as he raised both hands to protect himself.

The giant bear roared and pounced, its enormous head streaking for Lelthaes’s face, jaws wide and snarling.

43

“No!” Kenny bolted upright, whipping his head back and forth.

“Easy, Kenny.” He heard the calm voice at the same time he felt a hand touch his shoulder. “Everything’s okay now. You’re safe.”

“Huh?” He felt a pounding in his chest and gasped for breath. “Where am I? What happened?”

A pretty young woman stood before him, smiling. “You were playing Blades VR but you’re out now, back in your own body.”

“Blades VR? Body?” He nodded and took a deep breath. “Right, yeah. Oh thank god.”

The woman stepped back, still smiling. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

He lay back on the bed, enjoying the softness of the pillow. “Dying. Last thing I remember was dying.”

“Not for real.”

“It felt like it.”

“How do you know?” The woman’s voice sounded playful. “You’ve never died for real.”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair and let it drop beside him. Then he laughed. “I guess not.”

“It was bad, though?”

He shuddered. “Yeah. Pretty bad.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be an ass.” He closed his eyes. “You’re really freaking me out right now.”

“How?”

“I just died and you sound happy about it.”

“I’m not though, Kenny.”

“Yeah. Whatever. It’ll be fine in a few minutes, but can ya stop talking for a second and let me deal with this? I just died. It felt as real as anything I’ve ever felt.”

Silence.

Kenny relived the pain and trauma as it flashed through his brain again. Let it flow past, he told himself. Don’t hang onto it. Focus on breathing. You’re alive again. It was only a game. Like a bad dream.

The tightness in his neck lessened, his pulse slowed. He took a few more breaths, then opened his eyes and looked around.

The medical attendant sat in a chair, watching him. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked on you like that.”

She stood, turned, and walked to a table against one wall. “Of course you should. Freaking out makes sense, considering what you went through.” She approached and held up a syringe. “This is a vitamin shot with a little calming juice mixed in.”

“No, I’m okay now, thanks.”

She stood over him and winked. “I know you are, which is why I’m allowed to give you this shot. If you’d been unable to calm down I had a stronger recipe to stick into you.”

He watched her swab a spot on his arm and insert the needle. He winced. “Will this knock me out?”

“No.” She withdrew the needle and patted his forearm. “There ya go, champ.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure thing.”

He closed his eyes. A feeling of calmness settled over him. “Yeah, that’s better.”

“Good. Want to talk about it?” Her voice was close. “Or is it too soon?”

Kenny opened his eyes turned to face her. “What’s your name?”

“Abby.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls you meet.”

“Only the ones named Abby.”

She laughed.

“How long was I out?”

“You died a couple of hours ago.”

“Did you see it?”

She made a wry face and nodded.

“It look as bad as it felt?”

“Gnolls are nasty creatures.”

“Yeah.”

“It was tough luck to run into one so soon into your game.”

“It was stupid.” He propped himself up on one elbow. “We heard that it was injured, almost dead. There was a group of us who thought it would be easy experience.”

“Not a horrible guess.”

“Except it wasn’t injured.”

“Oh.”

“Damned thing was pretending to be hurt.”

“Smart.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Too smart. They were never so clever in the PC game.”

“Blades VR is more like the role-playing game.”

“That’s what they say, but I’m not so sure.” Ken fidgeted to get more comfortable. “I played the role-playing game when I was a kid. Gnolls weren’t very smart there either.”

“Maybe they were supposed to be but you had a bad Dungeon Laird.”

“Maybe.” He sighed. “Yeah, I guess John was a crappy DL, now that I think back on it.”

“How realistic was the pain?”

“As real as any pain I’ve experienced in this body.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“But it was chewing on your—”

“My face. Yeah. I can still feel it’s teeth against my cheekbone as it bit into me. And the smell of it…” He shuddered.

“You’re a brave man, Kenny.”

He laughed.

She reached out to touch his arm. “Really. I mean it. Not everyone volunteered for the full experience. A lot took the less painful option.”

“What’s the point in that?”

She raised one eyebrow. “Aside from the obvious perk?”

“I mean, why bother paying to have a real experience only to skip out on parts of the package? The players that opted out on the full experience robbed themselves.”

“You think so, even after what you’ve just experienced?”

“Especially after what I’ve experienced.” He smiled. “Sure, it was horrible, but I have a cool new story to tell.  And look at me.” He gently slapped his cheek. “I had the experience and, when it was all over, I get my face back.”

Abby laughed. “I guess that’s a good way to look at it.”

“Right?” He flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “When can I go back in?”

“Your avatar died.”

“It did?”

“Yeah.”

“What about resurrection?”

She shook her head.

“I thought I had a character with access to a chance for a Rez?”

“You did, and they tried.”

“Ah.” His eyelids felt heavy. “The avatar failed its system shock check?”

“That’s right. With the damage to the corpse and length of time dead before it was recovered, there was only a twelve percent chance that resurrection would work.”

“Did the priest even bother to try?”

Abby laughed. “Your character’s rich father paid for it. Once a priest accepts coin, they always make the attempt. But it didn’t take.”

“Bummer.” Kenny closed his eyes.

“You will get a new avatar when you’re ready to go back in.” Abby’s voice became faint. “Rest up, then decide if you want to try a different race or class. No rush.”

44

Zecaras completed the ritual and waited for the expanse of vibrating air in front of him to drip down and create a semi-visible doorway. He wiped the excess powder from his hands that had been used to create the portal, then stepped through.

There was a brief moment of dizziness as he travelled hundreds of miles with a single step from the audience chamber of the crafter Chapter House to his destination in the countryside. He emerged and raised a hand to dissolve the doorway, not bothering to look back.

A woman dressed in lavender robes approached and bowed. “Custodian.”

Zecaras looked at the black tower behind her. “What have you learned so far, Lirana?”

“The tower is empty.”

“Abandoned?”

She nodded.

Zecaras sighed. “Have any of our crafters entered it yet?”

“No, Custodian. We waited for your arrival.”

“Let’s take a look, then.” He strode forward, Lirana at his side. As they neared the dirt path which led to the front door, an invisible pressure caused Zecaras to stop. “Curious.” He raised a hand in front of his face, palm facing outward. His hand encountered an invisible barrier and froze. The air crackled as magical energy pushed against his hand. Zecaras raised one eyebrow and muttered words of magic. Violet and black sparks appeared, dancing along the skin of his palm, sputtering as if angered by the contact. He pushed harder and the sparks intensified, not able to push through. He let the hand drop to his side.

Lirana’s expression conveyed her concern. “A barrier capable of stopping you? That did not look like Xarquala’s signature essence.”

“It isn’t his.” He turned and made a wry face. “And yes, they have managed to bar my entry.”

“But that shouldn’t be possible.”

“There are few capable of such a thing, that is for certain. Definitely not possible for a crafter bound to the Council.”

Lirana’s eyes widened. “Xarquala turned rogue?”

“Of course not.”

“Then who?”

“I don’t know.” Zecaras withdrew a smooth, round stone from his pocket. He muttered a few words and waved his other hand over it. The rock rose from his palm, spinning slowly in the air. He made a flicking motion and the stone flew straight up into the sky, stopping at the edge of the crafter’s vision. Zecaras wiggled his fingers and the stone moved forward a few feet, then stopped, sending out a shower of magical sparks. His open palm became a fist as he willed the stone forward, increasing the pressure against the field. The sparks intensified, then ceased as the rock disintegrated.

Lirana laughed. “Of course the barrier has to fully surround the tower.”

Zecaras shrugged. “Sometimes mistakes are made.”

“I will probe under the ground as well.”

“Good.”

“Have you tried to contact Xarquala? It is not like him to abandon his tower, and certainly not in this manner.”

Zecaras frowned. “There has been no contact from him for weeks which is what gave the young wizard’s report enough credibility for us to investigate.”

“Perhaps someone has defeated him.”

The Custodian snorted. “I find that hard to believe. There are few of his level. He can certainly protect himself. Even had someone managed to best him, a Custodian would have felt such a disturbance in the field and alerted the others.”

Lirana crossed her arms. “What do you want me to do?”

“See if you or one of the others can find a trick door or other sort of way in. I will report to the High Council and we will determine what happened to Xarquala. If he lives and has caused this”—Zecaras’s lips pursed together—“we will find him.”

“And if it was someone else?”

The Custodian frowned. “Someone powerful enough to defeat a high-level dark wizard without alerting the rest of us?” He shook his head.

45

Xander wasn’t sure how long he had been wandering. With a frown, he stopped and turned, looked at the black stone bricks and shook his head. “I’m lost.”

“Finally, you admit it.”

Xander turned and saw a small humanoid creature hovering in the air at eye level. Naked except for a grey loincloth, the creature—small enough to fit in Xander’s hand—had leathery bat-like wings which were flapping to keep it in place. Its skin was shiny and black. Two curved horns, darker than the rest of the creature, protruded from its forehead.

Tilting its bald head to one side, the creature smirked. “I’ve been following you around for hours.”

“You have?”

The creature nodded. “Was starting to think that maybe the overwhelming beauty of her castle had caused you to become a mute.”

Xander scowled.“Very funny. What are you?”

The creature raised its eyebrows and touched a hand to chest. “What do you mean ‘What am I?’” It paused and then shook its head. “Oh, wait. Have you finally lost it? You have, haven’t you?”

Xander frowned but did not speak.

“You don’t remember me?”

“I don’t.”

The creature sighed. “I’m you.”

Xander took a step back. “What?”

The creature laughed, a nasal, high-pitched sound like steam from a kettle. “Well, part of you. The good part, if you ask me.”

Xander’s eyebrows furrowed and the creature sighed. “I’m Xyclotl, that not ring a bell?”

“No.”

“Xyclotl!” it shouted. “I’m a shard imp. You know, the physical manifestation of your Shard spirit.”

Xander stared for a second, then shook his head. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

The imp’s wings stopped beating. It fell to the ground and struck the stones with a wet thud.

“Hey.” Xander bent down to inspect the imp. Its eyes were closed. “You okay?”

“I am not okay,” it muttered, eyes still shut. “I’m trying to die.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause my human form is on its way out.”

“It is?”

“You are.” The small head nodded. “Loss of awareness is the first step. You’re obviously there. Next will come the messy part. Whining, thrashing. I don’t want to see it.”

“I’m not dying.”

The imp grunted and rolled to one side, then pushed itself up and looked at Xander. “Well something’s wrong with ya. We’re old pals. Known each other for most of your life.” The imp shook its head and looked at the ground. “Snap out of it, chum. How can you not remember your old pal, Xyclotl?”

“I don’t. Sorry.”

Xyclotl opened its mouth, grinned, and launched itself into the air, quickly rising until it returned eye level. Then it hoovered again. “How can I stay mad at you? It would be like punishing myself.” The imp winked. “Maybe your memory will return once you wake up.”

“Wake up? Am I’m sleeping?”

“You are.” Xyclotl frowned. “I mean, if you call being in a coma and fighting for your life sleeping.”

Xander’s breath caught in his throat. “The trial.”

“There ya go. Memories begin to return.”

Xander looked around. “What am I doing here?”

“This is where the Dark Lady lives.”

“The goddess?”

“Uh huh.” The tiny head nodded. “You’re here to meet her.”

“I’ve been wandering around for a long time. The place seems to be filled with nothing but long hallways.”

“That’s why I’m here, pal.” The shard imp landed on Xander’s right shoulder. He could feel the imp’s tail swish back and forth against the material of his shirt. “Follow my directions, and we’ll get to the Dark Lady.”

“Okay. Where to?”

“Straight down this hall. Turn left at the next intersection.”

46

Lelthaes died quickly.

The giant bear, as big as an elephant back home, swiped at her friend’s head with a massive paw and it went sailing through the air, separated from his still standing body.

“RUN!” Jielir screamed at her but her feet wouldn’t move. “Shale! Move!” He yelled again as the bear turned toward her, its eyes cruel and angry.

She ran. From the corner of her eye she saw Jielir aim his bow and fire, sending as many arrows as he could while the beast closed the distance between them.

The bear roared behind her, first with rage, and then in pain. She stopped and turned, sure that he would defeat it. He was an experienced ranger, a battle-hardened elf with decades of killing experience.

She turned just as the bear, half a dozen arrows protruding from its neck and muzzle, reached her mentor. Jielir ducked and dove to one side, narrowly avoiding the sweep of its enormous paw. Shale saw the elf draw his blade and slash upward as he rolled. The bear screamed as a bright red splash of blood appeared on its front leg. A normal creature would have retreated at that, at least for a moment.

Instead, the giant bear reared up on its hind legs, turned toward Jielir, and dropped down with a loud roar.

The distance between them did not muffle the sounds of Jielir’s bones breaking as the impact crushed him to death.

The bear reared up and pounced once more, then sniffed the air and turned. Shale’s heart froze as its gaze locked on her.

As it began to charge, a calmness settled over her. The ground shook. A small voice inside told her what she must do. The bear was closing fast. One part of her knew she was going to die, but the gamer in her had an idea.

She felt strange. Like she was outside her body and watching everything unfold. She saw the bear coming, its teeth bared, eyes filled with rage, but she could no longer hear it.

What she could hear was her own voice, whispering words to a spell that she had seen cast but did not possess the skill or level to know yet. She felt her hands moving, tracing the pattern that she had watched Jielir perform so many times during training. The immense creature was closing on her fast, but she did not miss a beat.

She finished speaking the words. A tingling settled over her legs, and she revelled in a sense of accomplishment for casting a spell for the first time. Shale knew that it had worked.

The bear leapt but when it landed she was already gone, possessed by the Wolven Spirit spell and racing down the path for safety. A second later, something hit her in the face.

God it’s fast. The thought flew through her mind as her body sailed through the air. She landed and immediately pushed herself from the ground, legs pumping as hard as she could make them.

Trees that had been on the distant horizon suddenly appeared right in front of her, forcing her to dodge them like landmines. Jielir had once told them that enhanced speed through a dense forest was suicide. Reflexes could only avoid so many collisions. She put the thought out of her mind and ran. She would rather die like a bug on a windshield than by being torn to shreds by that beast.

Sounds of pursuit faded, but she continued running. Not long after that, her luck did run out. She clipped a tree with the side of her leg and flew through the air once again. She hit the ground and tried to get up but couldn’t.

Her last thought was to wonder if she had outrun the bear.

***

“Oh god.” Shale’s voice sounded weak to her ears. Everything hurt. Her arms, neck, definitely her right leg. It throbbed so bad she felt as if her entire body was bouncing off the ground in time with the pulsing. She touched the left side of her face. The skin burned and felt wet and sticky.

She looked around.

There was no bear.

A sharp pain knifed into her ribs, taking her breath away. She winced and touched her side. Likely broken, she thought. After panting lightly for a few seconds, her breath returned. Despite the tragedy of it all, she smiled. “I can’t believe I lived through that.”

“It must have been spectacular.”

Slowly, carefully, she rolled to her other side and squinted up at a man dressed in tan-coloured leather who watched her from his perch on a dead log. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“How long have you been sitting there.”

“Awhile.” He turned and pointed to a small camp fire a few dozen feet away. “That’s where I was sleeping when you woke me up, running through the woods like the wind. And you were making a terrible noise. Sounded like a giant bear.” He raised one eyebrow. “At least, I thought it was you. Then I actually saw the giant bear on your heels.”

“I didn’t outrun it?”

The man shook his head.

“Then how am I alive? How are you alive?”

“The noise woke me up in time for me to see you catch the edge of a tree and lose your gait. Bad bit of luck, that was.”

“Could have been worse. I managed to dodge a thousand or so before I hit that one.”

“Wolven Spirit?”

She nodded.

The man whistled. “Brave.”

“Stupid.” She rolled onto her back and looked up at the trees. “Only chance I had, though.”

“I suppose. I saw you hit the tree and land where you are right now. I was already running toward you when the bear came crashing from the same direction. It was very focused on you. And pretty angry.”

“And you somehow managed to scare it away.” Shale sighed. “Talk about brave.”

“Stupid.” She could hear the smile in his tone. “Only chance you had, though.”

She turned and looked at him. “How did you manage to send it away?”

He shrugged.

“Well, whatever you did must have worked.”

“Must have.”

“You saved my life. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I haven’t saved it yet. Not completely, at least. You need to be tended to by a healer.”

Shale frowned. “I am far from home.”

“That you are, little elf.” He stood from the log and brushed his leggings. “Don’t worry. I will take you someplace where you can get the attention you need. It is close.”

“I can’t walk.”

“You won’t need to.” He clapped his hands together and whistled. There was a rustling sound from nearby.

Shale’s eyes widened as the giant bear from the night before lumbered toward her.

“Easy now.” The man’s voice was calm.

“Easy?” She scrambled into a sitting position, ignoring the pain that blossomed in her leg and side. “That thing tried to kill me.”

“It won’t now.”

Eyes wide, she looked at the man and then the bear. “How do you know that?”

“I had a talk with it. Convinced it that you were no longer a threat.”

“I was never a threat!”

The man raised one eyebrow and leaned closer to her. “Oh really? You weren’t hunting a druid and his student?”

Shale’s mouth went dry.

The man smirked and straightened. “I assured my new friend that you are no longer part of that adventure. Told him you were under my protection.” The man reached out and ruffled the bear’s fur. “It didn’t want a quarrel with me.”

Shale laughed. “You say that as if you are more dangerous than the bear.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is that how I made it sound?” He chuckled. “At any rate, what’s past is past. He will carry you back to my home.”

She glared at the bear. The man noticed her expression and his tone flattened. “You will not attempt to harm him.”

“He killed my friends.”

“It was a fair fight. You had an opportunity to kill him as well.”

She laughed. “There was no way. Jielir put six arrows into him and it didn’t even—”

“You were with Jielir?”

She nodded.

“Did you see him die?”

“Yes.”

The man sighed. “That is sad news. He was a good elf and an excellent ranger. He will be missed.”

“Then you see why I have to get revenge.”

“I can see why you crave it, but like I said. You will not get it. The contest was fair. There are ways to kill a bear, you know, even one this large.”

Shale looked at the bear and shook her head. “Fine.”

“I mean it. If you attempt to hurt him—”

“I won’t.”

The man watched her for a moment and nodded. “I will bring you something to eat, then we can be on our way.”

47

“There it is.”

Aleron looked in the direction that Master Keaedan was pointing. The trail they followed curved out of sight. Behind the trees, smoke curled into the sky, marking their destination. “How far?”

“Half hour.”

“So close. Do you think we are safe from attack, then?”

“I think so.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t strike last night like you feared.”

The old druid grunted and shook his head. “I never feared an attack.”

“But you said—”

He puffed on his pipe. “I said last night would have been their best opportunity, not that I was afraid they would.”

“Wonder why they didn’t.”

Master Keaedan snorted. “They were busy.”

“You ambushed them?”

“I put something between us and them.”

Aleron stopped walking. “Oh god.”

The druid stopped and turned. “What?”

“That huge bear. You sicced it on them, didn’t you?”

“The bear’s name is T’lar.” He took a long draw from his pipe and released a lungful of smoke. “And yes, I asked him to stay behind and cover us.”

Aleron frowned.

“And I might have set a bit of a distraction to put them off our scent.”

“Clever.”

“Thank you.” Master Keaedan started walking.

“Are they dead?”

“Only if they attacked the decoy camp I created. If they didn’t, then T’lar was instructed to leave them alone.”

“They likely attacked.”

“You’re right.”

Aleron shook his head. “Such a painful way to die.”

“There are worse.”

“Not many.” Aleron caught up to Master Keaedan and matched his pace.

“That’s true.”

***

The Scout outpost was surrounded by a twenty-foot-high wall built from thick logs. The path they followed led to a closed front gate. Keaedan and Aleron stopped a few dozen feet from it.

“How do we get their attention?” Aleron asked.

“We don’t. They know we’re here.” Master Keaedan dropped his pack on the ground. “They will make us wait.”

Aleron smiled and lowered his own pack. “Flexing their muscles a bit?”

Keaedan laughed and tapped the pipe against the heel of his palm. Ash drifted to the ground. “It never hurts to be reminded that there is always someone more powerful than you, even for an old druid like me. If it gives them pleasure to make me sit in the grass for a while, then I’m happy to oblige.”

“Maybe now is a good time to give me the details.”

“What details?”

Aleron sat on the grass beside the path. “We have completed our journey without you telling me anything about the Scout class.”

Master Keaedan raised one eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Mmhm.”

“Oh. Well it’s too late to tell you anything now. I suppose that your trainer will fill you in as you go.”

“Then you plan to tell them that I’m a—” he paused. “Deceiver?”

“Heavens, no.” The druid joined Aleron, adjusting his robes as he got comfortable. “Not many agree with my assessment of your kind. I will only tell them that you’re a Traveller. I imagine they will get a kick out of that.”

Aleron opened his mouth to ask why, but a horn sounded from the keep. They looked toward the gate as it swung open with a groan.

“Shortest time I’ve ever had to wait.” Keaedan stood. With a frown, he turned to look back along the trail. “Hmm. Maybe they aren’t opening it for us.”

Aleron followed his line of sight. A tall man dressed in the leather clothing of a woodsman emerged from the forest. Lumbering behind him was a giant bear with what appeared to be a passenger lying on its back.

“That’s odd,” Keaedan mumbled.

“Is that T’lar?”

He did not reply.

The tall man reached out to touch the bear and both stopped. Both were elves. The girl—an elven ranger judging from her clothing—was unconscious and strapped to the bear’s back. Her clothes were blood-spattered and her entire leg was wrapped in white bandages with a splint.

The man nodded. “Greetings, Master Druid Keaedan.”

Keaedan returned the gesture. “Greetings, Master Scout Kieran.”

The Scout glanced at Aleron. “You bring a Scout candidate for our consideration?”

“I do.” The druid eyed the giant bear, which huffed and bobbed its head up and down in a gesture resembling a nod.

The Scout patted the giant creature’s neck. “This fella is a familiar of yours, isn’t he?”

“He is.”

“Nasty creature to send after a ranger party.”

The druid raised one eyebrow. “I doubt they had anything pleasant in mind for me.”

Kieren laughed. “I expect you’re right.”

Keaedan jutted his chin toward the sleeping girl. “The other two perished?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone I knew?”

“An apprentice and Jielir.”

The hint of a smile played across the druid’s lips. “Jielir was an excellent ranger, a great foe of my people. A shame for them, but at least he died honourably.”

“That’s the way to go. In battle, surrounded by the woods that he loved.”

“I’m surprised to see that you saved the girl.”

The Scout shrugged but said nothing.

Keaedan grunted. “I suppose T’lar did not consider her a threat. Probably left her unconscious and immobile. Her leg is broken?”

“In three places.”

“I’m still surprised that you helped her. It isn’t the Scout way to get involved with elven affairs.”

“Normally I would have left her, but she is different.”

“How so?”

Kieran glanced at the sleeping girl. “Shale is a Traveller.”

Aleron gasped. “Her name is Shale?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh my god.” Aleron laughed. “That’s awesome.”

The druid arched one eyebrow. “Do you know her?”

His smile widened. “I sure hope so.”

48

The dwarven shield-maiden raised her head and gasped as bolts of pain shot through her body. When the spasm faded, she groaned and rolled onto her back, panting as a new wave of pain struck. In her mind, Janet knew that her avatar was dying. She was surprised it hadn’t already happened.

She waited a few seconds and then rolled to her side. Warm wetness soaked her cheek. The dead bodies of three comrades, limbs torn from their torsos, expressions of terror on their faces were strewn on the ground nearby. Slowly, she turned to the other side and saw more of the same. She listened for a moan, a cry, but all she heard were forest sounds.

With great effort, Janet rolled onto her belly, fresh waves of agony flowing through her. She took a deep breath and ignored the pain as best as she could, finally managing to stand.

“All dead.” Her words were slurred. There was a silver glint to her right. Curious, she moved toward it, hopping on one foot while dragging the other.

She reached the patch of ground and stopped. Black and grey stones the size of her fist were arranged side by side, each touching its neighbour, to form a circle in the thin grass before her. The stones forming the front half of the circle were visible, but disappeared under thicker brush and fallen trees where she guessed the back portion might be. Small flashes of silver light pulsed from beneath the dry, cracked earth, like there was something metallic just beneath the surface

She inched closer to the outer edge and stopped, her toes almost touching the stones. The hairs on the back of her neck and arms began to tingle. She frowned as a faint memory tugged at her, an old story told to her avatar when she was young. She tried to focus on the knowledge, but it faded as quickly as it had appeared. Janet shrugged, placed one foot inside of the circle, and then stopped, carefully pulling her injured leg up and over the stones, to avoid disturbing them.

When she was fully inside the circle, the sounds of the forest disappeared. She turned and frowned. “What the—” Her own voice sounded hollow and quieter than it should. “Magic?”

A small patch of blood had dripped from her wounds onto the ground, startling her as it steamed and hissed, as if it was touching a hot fry pan. The silver light around the blood brightened and pulsed.

She turned and a new drop hit fresh ground, making more silver light flare to life. It began to swirl and spread outward like a pool. Eventually, the entire interior of the stone circle was shining.

Janet tried to leave but her feet wouldn’t move. Fixed in place, she watched the ground in front of her open up and a column of silver light shoot into the sky.

Inside the column, the figure of a young child appeared. Janet leaned closer. A girl around ten years old with shoulder-length, straight, white, hair and pale, smooth skin stepped out of the light. She wore a dark purple dress and fine black leather boots. The girl crossed her arms and the column of light disappeared. She watched Janet, her ice-blue eyes bright.

“Hi,” Janet said.

The girl blinked, her face devoid of emotion.

“Are you okay?”

One corner of the girl’s mouth curled upwards.

“Can I take you somewhere safe? Are your parents nearby?”

“You’re a dwarf.”

Janet nodded. “Your voice sounds pretty. Very musical.”

“Yes, it does.” Janet thought the girl’s tone sounded older than she looked. And bored. “Why did you summon me, dwarf?”

Janet shook her head. “I didn’t.”

The girl looked at the blood on Janet’s arm. She licked her lips, eyes narrowing as she sniffed the air. “You are wounded.”

“I am.”

“Are you here to seek my protection?”

Janet began to laugh, but the look in the girl’s eyes made her stop. “You’re serious? Um, no. I don’t need protection, thank you.”

“By law, I may consume you.”

Janet took a step backward and felt her heel touch stone. “By law?”

“That’s right.” The girl smiled, her eyes bright as if someone had given her a favourite toy. “Those who enter my circle of their own free will and bleed I may consume without consequence.”

Her avatar’s childhood memory came flooding back and Janet’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh no,” she whispered. “You’re a godling.”

The girl giggled. “Yes, I am, and you have woken me.”

“Wait a minute.” Janet’s mind raced. She didn’t want to be devoured by this creature that had been created hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago. Lore described godlings as extremely powerful and always evil spirits. The stories that her avatar remembered matched the game lore that Janet knew. Godlings were always innocent children, sacrificed by their own villages. Buried alive, condemned to waste away in the darkness of the earth, their spirit trapped until summoned by blood to protect the land they had been imprisoned in and the people who lived on it. Janet had never levelled high enough in the PC or RPG game to face a godling, but she knew for certain that the avatar she inhabited was not strong enough to survive.

“You want me to spare you?”

They read minds. I forgot that part. Janet took a breath and nodded. “I do.”

The godling pursed its lips, tilting its head. “That would be an odd thing to do.”

Janet said nothing.

The little girl’s expression softened. She shrugged and smiled. “Okay.”

Janet frowned. “Are you serious? You’ll let me leave?”

The girl’s lip trembled and she nodded. Janet could see tears in her eyes. “I wish they had let me leave. So much pain.” She sniffled, then smiled. “Yes. You can go.”

Janet couldn’t believe her good luck. “Thank you so much, I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am—”

“Hurry.” The godling’s smile disappeared and energy began to move from the ground and into her legs. “I am fighting what they made me to do. I can’t stop the hunger for long. Go. Now!”

Janet turned and limped toward the stone ring. When she reached it she took a large step over and then dragged her back foot. She felt it brush against a stone and threw it higher to clear the obstacle.

She hit the ground and turned, breathing a sigh of relief as she noticed the stone that she had brushed was still in place. If she had broken the circle, the godling could have gotten free.

“That was unkind.” In a flash, the godling rushed to the edge of the circle, first looking at the stone and then glaring at Janet, eyes blazing with blue-white energy. “That was unkind.” The tone of her voice rose. “You should have moved the stone.”

“That’s why you let me out? To break the circle.”

“I told you to hurry!” The girl sank to her knees, head bowed. “Your leg did not work. You were supposed to drag a stone out of place.”

“I did.”

The godling looked up, her eyes cruel and hungry. “Not enough.”

Janet got to her feet and turned away from the circle.

“Come back!” the godling called. “I’m hungry. You were supposed to let me out. If I don’t feed, I will go back into the ground.:

“Good,” Janet muttered and kept walking, fighting the urge to look back. She kept walking until the child’s calls faded, then collapsed to the ground and closed her eyes to rest.

***

The godling knelt at the edge of her prison, the ground beneath her dark and black. When the full moon was directly overhead, she stirred. She touched the ground with her finger and a streak of silver light appeared in the ground. The godling twirled her finger. The light expanded, filling the circle once more. The godling’s gaze drifted toward the stone that the dwarf had disturbed.

She smiled.

A tiny sliver of light crept between a crack and leaked out into the ground beyond the circle.

49

Xander imagined that the Dark Lady would be beautiful, but he did not expect it to affect him so powerfully.

He looked up at her, sitting on a midnight-black throne upon a dais, and was overwhelmed.

Overjoyed to be alive. Willing to die. Ecstatic and grief-stricken at the same time. He felt all of those emotions and more. Kneeling on the ground at the foot of her throne, Xander knew that he loved her more than anything now, or ever.

“I am yours.” The words came out in a whisper. A voice in his head told him that he should look at the ground, avert his eyes, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Her beauty demanded to be seen.

The goddess’s ruby red lips curved upwards into a smile. “Of course you are mine, sweet Xander. How could it be otherwise?”

His eyes fluttered. The music of her voice seemed to touch his soul. Pluck at its strings like an instrument.

The Dark Lady raised one hand and traced a pattern into the air. He felt another surge of pleasure, then suddenly he could control himself, although just barely. His lower lip began to tremble.

“Your devotion is flattering, but we’ll get nowhere if you keep on like this.” She sighed and wiggled her fingers.

The flood of emotion dimmed and his self-control returned.

“Better?”

“In a way.”

“I know what you mean.” She pursed her lips and blew a stray lock of midnight black hair out of her eyes. “You miss loving me so much, but are thankful that you can breathe again.”

“My love remains, Lady.”

Her laughter reminded him of wind chimes and warm honey. “I am pleased to hear you say so.” She turned her head and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “I think you will provide me with considerable entertainment. I have waited for this moment for a very long time. You are my first gamer, you know.”

Xander frowned. “Gamer?”

She smirked. “That’s what you are called, right?”

“Yes, but how did you know that?”

“I know a few things of you and the place you call arth. I understand that my world is nothing more than a game to be played by your people. But I would like to learn more of your world. Much more.” She watched him for a moment, and then her smile faded. She leaned toward him, eyes narrowing.

He gasped, overwhelmed again by his desire. “I am yours,” he whispered.

“Yes.” The she leaned back in her throne, the smile returning. “I think you will entertain me a great deal.”

Xander bowed his head and closed his eyes. “I will do whatever you command.”

“Well first you must become a Death Stryker. I have no use for those who lack skills. You must leave me and become a hero among your class.”

He raised his head and opened his eyes. She strode down the steps of the dais, the midnight silk of her dress parting with each step to reveal shapely legs. When she reached the bottom step she leaned toward him, and tilted up his head. Xander sighed.

“Yes,” she whispered. “You will become the greatest Death Stryker the world has ever known. That would please me.”

Xander nodded, unable to speak from sheer love.

The Dark Lady nodded. “I dare not keep you with me too long.” She tilted his head to one side. “Before you leave, I must give you a gift to show how much you mean to me. Would you like that, sweet Alexander?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

She gripped his chin tighter and frowned. “I see two perfect eyes in your head. This dream form must match your waking body.” Her fingertips touched his cheekbone just below his eye and he gasped at the icy coldness emanating from her nails.

“Be still now,” she muttered. “This will only take a moment.”

Intense, cold, agony lanced through his skull, shooting through his entire body. He gasped and the image of the Dark Lady blurred. Blackness overwhelmed him and he sank to the ground as consciousness fled.

50

Sebastian heard the tavern door open and half-turned towards it. Ezref entered and lingered at the bar for a few moments. When he was certain that no one was paying attention to him, he made his way to Sebastian’s table.

“Well?”

Ezref nodded at the serving maid wiping the table beside them. “Two ales, lass.”

“Any food?” She straightened and tucked the cloth into her apron.

“Drinks will do the trick for now.”

She grunted and headed for the bar. Ezref watched her walk away, a smile on his face. “She’s cute.”

“We’ll be putting down roots here, then?”

Ezref laughed. “Maybe for a night or two.”

“Then what? Did you learn anything from your friend?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Like I told you, we’re safe.”

“No one is looking for us?”

Ezref smiled, leaning back in his chair as the serving girl set the ale on the table. “On your tab, boys?”

The apprentice made a show of looking her up and down. “It’s like you’re reading my mind.”

“Aye.” Her stern expression. “And a filthy one it is at that.”

“You have no idea.”

She nudged him with her hip. “Maybe I’d like to.”

“That can be arranged.”

“I work ‘til after supper. Meet me out back after.”

Ezref winked. “Can’t wait.”

She smiled and moved to the next table. Ezref watched her go, frowning as he noticed Sebastian’s expression. “What?”

“You were saying?”

“Huh? Oh right.” He took a sip from his mug. “The Council is looking for us, but they have no clue who or what they’re looking for. The way we closed the tower down made them suspect a powerful crafter. I’m an apprentice, no one’s ever seen you, and my master—” he shrugged. “It’s him they’re looking for, but they won’t have any luck there, will they?”

“No.”

Ezref raised his mug. “It seems that we are safe, then.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Sebastian reached for the second mug. “It does raise a different question though. What do we do now?”

Ezref leaned closer and spoke softly. “We have enough coin to keep us fed and lodged for a very long time.”

“Here?”

“If you like.”

“No.” Sebastian frowned. “I do not like.”

“Why not?”

“There’s more to life than living in a tavern.”

“I guess.”

Sebastian grunted. “I thought you wanted to be a wizard?”

The apprentice laughed. “I don’t think we want to provoke things by travelling around the countryside crafting magic.”

“Why not? You said they can’t track us.”

“They can’t.” Ezref sighed. “Crafting is expensive business, though.”

“You just said that we have a good amount of money.”

“To eat and sleep.” The young man shook his head. “But magic…buying basic components and equipment, even to cast the few low-level spells I know, would soon use up our money. Plus we don’t know enough magic to get work. Not many want to hire someone to cast a light or web spell.”

“Your spells are useful on a campaign.”

“Yes.”

“We could adventure.”

Ezref stared.

“Find someone willing to take us on. Build from scratch.” He waited for a response. “What?”

“That’s a dumb idea.”

“So is staying here, living in a tavern and chasing bar maids.”

Ezref frowned.

“Was this your dream when you became an apprentice?”

“No.”

“You took a lot of crap from that dark old bastard so he would teach you his craft.”

“That’s true.”

“Doesn’t make sense to throw your hands up and give up on your dream simply because there’s been a bit of a setback.”

“Ha! Bit of a setback.”

“Okay.” Sebastian grinned. “A serious challenge, then.”

Ezref took a drink of ale and wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. “You don’t want to give up?”

“Hell no. If you ask me, we’re only getting started.”

“You’re an odd one, Sebastian.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not sure I meant that as a compliment.” The apprentice tilted his head and watched the bar maid. She noticed and smiled. He sighed. “I suppose we could adventure some.”

51

The door to the boardroom opened and Isaac appeared. His eyes flicked toward Kara as he walked past her.

She pushed away from the wall and caught up to him. “Well?”

He shook his head. Kara pursed her lips. Neither spoke until they were alone in his office. He dropped into his chair, leaned forward and rubbed his face with both hands.

“That bad?” Kara sat and crossed her legs.

“They are idiots.” He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling.

“What was it today?”

“Projections.” The word came out as half groan, half sigh.

“In what area?”

“You name it. Release dates, expected subscription figures, how long people will play each session, how best to monetize the system, spend per player versus time played.” He waved a hand. “Charts, graphs. Nonsense. These morons want to spend all their time looking at numbers on a spreadsheet that can’t be spent and don’t determine the definition for success here.”

“That’s what happens when people with money get involved.”

“I guess.” He nodded, still looking at the ceiling. “In this day and age, I expected more billionaires to be gamers.”

Kara laughed. “Really?”

“What’s so funny?” He frowned. “The first video games came out over a hundred years ago. Every kid plays them before they can walk. It makes sense that even a seventy-year-old business tycoon spends at least some downtime playing video games.”

“That’s a good point.”

“Right?” He leaned forward and drummed his fingers against the desktop. “But apparently that’s not the case with this group. Out of five thousand investors, only two hundred of them wanted to enter the beta version of Blades.”

“Two hundred and thirteen.”

Isaac scowled and Kara laughed. He shook his head and smiled. “Wow, yeah. Way more than two hundred. What am I complaining about?”

“The rest sent their children or grandchildren in to play.”

“Still, if more who actually wrote the cheques went in, they wouldn’t be out here to hound me about trivial garbage. Plus they’d be experiencing the game firsthand which would increase their excitement and solidify their belief in what we are going to accomplish when Blades VR does go live to the public.”

“That’s still a long way off.”

“Oh god.” He shook his head. “I’m not strong enough to hear this kind of talk from you too, Kare.”

She laughed. “Sorry.”

Isaac sighed. “From concept to release, it takes the average video game five to ten years to hit the market, and that’s programming which only involves a couple of dimensions. The scope of creating one hundred percent accurate digital reality…” He spread his hands.

“I know.”

He raised one eyebrow. “I had to admit to them that it might be another ten years on top of the regular timeline.”

“At least.”

“I left those two little words out.”

“Did you assure them they would see return on their investment before then?”

“I did. Told them that during that time there will be a lot of people entering and playing the game as we perfect it. They and their people will continue to be the first invited to participate.”

“And they will see money returns in less than six months.”

He smiled. “That seemed to calm them down. I also added that they would get their original investment back more than three times over before the next four years have passed.”

“Bet they liked that.”

He grinned. “It was at that point that every single one of them begged me to take more money now.”

“Which you agreed to do.”

“I didn’t want to seem rude.”

Kara laughed. “It’s nice to know that money isn’t going to be a problem.”

“If only it were such a simple issue as cash.” He shook his head. “The actual challenges are a much bigger headache.”

“On that note”—Kara looked at her phone and stood—“the development team is outside and ready to meet.”

He groaned. “Bring them in.”

***

Isaac watched the middle-aged man with balding hair and a patchy blond beard place the last sheet of paper face down on the table in front of him.

“That’s all I have for updates, Isaac.” He adjusted his brown-rimmed glasses, glancing furtively at one of his colleagues before looking back to the pile of notes in front of him.

Isaac sniffed. “What was that, Abe?”

The man shook his head but did not look up. “What?”

“That look you shot to Ben.”

“Nothing.”

“Okay.”

Abe cleared his throat and met Isaac’s eyes. “Well, it’s the issue with avatar/player swap.”

“I thought we agreed that would wait until the next phase before we worry about that.”

“Yes.”

Isaac raised his eyebrows. “Something happen to shift priority?”

Again, Abe cleared his throat. “Some of the players might need a rest.”

“A rest? Aren’t they all lying unconscious on tables while they play?”

“Of course.”

“Sounds like they couldn’t rest any harder if they tried.”

Abe shook his head. “That’s definitely not the case. We are seeing degrees of mental fatigue from the constant connection to VR.”

“What kind of fatigue?”

“It’s very faint.”

“Within expected levels?”

“For the most part.”

“How many exceed ‘the most part’?”

Abe shuffled his papers.

“Less than ten? More than a hundred?”

“Over a thousand.”

Isaac frowned and glanced at Kara who pursed her lips and made a note in her book. “That’s more than I was expecting to hear.”

“Like I said, it’s minor at the moment.”

“Minor enough to leave them connected to the game?”

“Of course.”

Isaac felt the muscles in his shoulders relax. He hadn’t even realized they’d been tense. “That’s good.”

Abe adjusted his glasses. “Another few weeks, though.”

“Any chance it will fix itself over time?”

Abe shook his head.

“Sebastian said that a self-correction could occur.”

“Yes.” One corner of Abe’s eye tightened.

“You don’t think the mental fatigue will lessen as the player’s bodies acclimate?”

“I know we aren’t supposed to bring this up, but—”

Isaac smiled. “It’s fine.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“We need Sebastian to deal with this.”

“No. You don’t.”

Abe leaned closer. “Only for a few hours. Days, tops.”

“Sebastian isn’t available for this tiny stuff at the moment, Abe.”

“But it’s not going to stay tiny. I know if he took a qui—”

Isaac held up his hand. “He’s still working on a special project. You think you need him—”

“I know we need him.”

“Think you need him,” Isaac continued. “But you’ll have to handle this on your own for the time being.”

“Oh.” Abe’s head bowed.

“Hey.” Isaac rapped on the table to get the man’s attention. “Sebastian will be back soon. He simply cannot leave what he is doing until the job is finished.”

“Okay.”

“You and the rest are doing great. Keep an eye on the player’s vitals. If things approach a dangerous level, then we will deal with it. Sound good?”

“Okay. Sure, Isaac.”

Isaac stood. “That’s it then. Thanks, everybody.”

The sound of chairs being pushed against the floor filled the room. Isaac remained where he was, a smile on his face while the group left. When they were gone, the smile faded. He pursed his lips and looked at Kara, who had remained seated.

“I know,” she said. “Find Sebastian.”

“Anything else?”

She nodded.

“Tell me you held back some good news. I could use some.”

“Sorry.”

He sighed. “What?”

“Remember that issue with the Scout candidate?”

“Kid named Aleron, right?”

“Yeah. Turns out that it wasn’t a side quest to introduce him to the class.”

“They intend to make him a Scout?”

She nodded.

Isaac felt light-headed. He put one hand on the table and sat down. “Where is Aleron now?”

“Meeting a Master Scout.”

“Oh god.”

52

In Blades VR, we are thrilled to announce the introduction of a new class called the Scout.

During first stage of beta testing, players will not be able to select the Scout but they will be encountered as non-player characters in the game.

Rather than simply release the lore of the Scout in printed form, we feel that it is better to allow players to interact with the class and learn about it from practical experience. They will then share their knowledge with others, thus creating and presenting the lore of the Scout in a realistic manner, which matches our primary goal for Blades VR; delivering an authentic and realistic experience from start to finish.

Sebastian Darndhal - Blades VR press release

Shale moaned and stretched, keeping her eyes closed. She held the pose and yawned.

“Haha. what the heck was that?”

Her eyes popped open and her cheeks grew warm. An elf sat in a chair beside her. Shale smiled and shook her head. “Sorry. I didn’t know anyone else was here.”

“I didn’t know you were awake. One second you’re snoring—”

“I don’t snore.”

The elf snickered. “One second, you’re snoring, then suddenly you start flailing and yawn like a bull elephant.”

She smiled, then squinted at him. “Wait a minute, did you say elephant?”

His eyes sparkled. “I did.”

A quick scan of her avatar’s memories confirmed what instinct told her. “There are no elephants in Blades.”

“And only a Traveller would call this place Blades,” the young elf said.

She smiled and propped herself up on one elbow. “Well, this is kinda cool. I haven’t met another player yet.”

The elf laughed. “If you think that’s cool, wait ‘til the next part.”

Her eyes widened. “Code words?”

He examined his nails and shrugged.

“Banana absinthe?”

He looked at her and grinned. “Apple raspberry.”

Shale squealed and sprang from the bed, embracing Aleron as tight as she could. The two laughed. “Oh my god, Aleron! I’m so happy.”

“Glad to see me, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Me too.”

Each took a step back. Aleron smiled at her as she examined him from head to toe. Then she frowned. “Wait a minute.” Her hand dropped to her leg and started kneading and prodding it. “I had a broken leg.”

“Not anymore. There was a druid here who healed you.”

She sat on the edge of the bed. “Healed me, huh? Well, that’s a nice change from the last druid we were looking for. He tried to kill us.”

Aleron laughed again.

“What’s so funny?”

“The one who was trying to kill you is the same one that healed you.”

“No.”

He nodded and Shale laughed. “How is that possible?”

“The Scout made him do it.”

“Ah, that’s right. I was with the Scout.” Her eyes widened. “And a bear. Oh my god, Aleron, you wouldn’t believe how big this bear was!”

“‘Course I would, I saw it, couple of times.”

“A couple times?” She frowned. “We were chasing a druid and young elf that might be a Scout.”

He tapped himself on the chest. “That would be me.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You look surprised.”

“You’re a Scout?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged.

“That’s impossible.”

“Why you say that?”

“The press releases.”

Aleron frowned. “What press releases?”

“About Scouts.” She watched him shake his head and laughed. “You didn’t read them.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t bother. You devoured them all. I figured you would tell me anything important when we got here.”

“But we were separated.”

“Yeah.” He grimaced. “That sucked.”

“Tell me about it.”

“At first I figured it wasn’t a big deal.” He shrugged. “I knew we were both elves. My plan was to head out and find you. Simple enough.”

“But elves all hate each other.”

“Yeah. That was a surprise.”

“Right?” She leaned forward, eyes wide. “How crazy is that?”

“Stupid if you ask me. I wonder why they changed the lore like that.”

“My guess is that it makes things more exciting for players.”

Aleron raised one eyebrow and dropped down into the chair. “There’s no denying it adds more to the dynamic. Still, it’s a shame to see elves killing elves when they could do some great things united.”

“Have you seen that yet? Elves killing elves?”

He shook his head. “How ‘bout you?”

“No. I was about to, though. We were on your trail.”

“To kill me?”

She shook her head. “Just the druid. We meant to capture you.”

“Because I might be a Scout?”

“Yeah.”

He frowned and shrugged again. “Not sure what all the fuss is about.”

“What do you mean?”

“Scouts. Never heard of them before, but they seem to be important.”

“Are you serious?”

“What?”

“No one has told you about the Scout class?”

“No.”

Shale laughed and Aleron’s cheeks turned red. “I wanted to ask, but everyone seemed to know about them and I didn’t want to reveal that I was a player that way, so I kept quiet.”

“But you’ve visited one?”

“No.” He scowled. “Why would I visit one?”

She thought about it, then laughed. “Of course you wouldn’t have. You never dinged. That’s awesome.”

“Why? What’s so funny?”

Shale leaned forward and grabbed his knee. “Scouts are like gods here.”

Aleron laughed. “Get out.”

“I’m serious. Without Scouts, the system does’t work at all.”

“Why not?”

She frowned. “Okay, I admit I don’t know a ton about them either. Same as you, I didn’t want to ask too many questions and give myself away.”

“But you read up on them before we started playing?”

“A little but ARC Gaming didn’t reveal any real information.”

He grinned. “So my plan not to read press releases wasn’t that bad after all.”

She snorted. “You got lucky in this case. There was a lot of good info in most of the press releases.”

“Which you have in your head.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome.”

“Why not much info on Scouts?”

“The company wanted to add realism by letting players learn about the new class as we went. Build the lore from experience.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

“It’s pretty cool, in theory. For us beta testers, though, the Scout is a mystery we have to unlock.”

Aleron tilted his head. “I thought you said you knew about them.”

“A bit. They are powerful.”

“Magic users?”

“Yes. And no.”

Aleron laughed. “That clears things up.”

“They do magical things.”

“Like what?”

She spread her hands. “According to stories, the strong ones can do pretty much anything they want.”

“That sounds too powerful.”

“I agree. That part is likely rumour or legend.”

“Maybe. What do you know for sure?”

“No one levels without them.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know how things have gone for you, but I got here the day my avatar was to start class training.”

“Ranger?” She winked and he smiled. “Congrats!”

“Thanks. Anyway, I spent weeks in the woods training and learning the basics.”

“Same happens for druids.”

“Likely all classes.”

“Yeah.”

Shale smiled. “When we had finished basic training, they took us to visit a Scout.”

“This one?”

“No. Stop interrupting me.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Each new ranger visited the Scout alone. She was a nice woman who asked a few questions, poked and prodded me a bit. Then she waved her hands over me and said some magic-sounding words.”

“What did that do?”

“Everything.” Shale laughed. “I felt stronger, quicker, and my memory seemed to be sharper. Suddenly I could remember the spells that they were teaching me during training. Not all of them, the ones appropriate for my new level.”

“That’s kinda cool.”

“It’s insane. She levelled me up. That’s how it works here. You go out and get experience and then visit the Scout every so often. When you have enough experience, she can level you and unlock new skills, spells, and also help you improve your existing abilities.”

“Damn that is pretty cool.”

“I thought so too. After my experience, I listened closely to the others and the same was happening for them. I thought that to level up we would hear something like a ding, and then we would go visit a trainer like we did in the PC game.”

“I heard a ding.”

“What?”

“When one of my friends was practicing spells. They cast a spell and suddenly I heard fanfare, like a trumpet calling. The exact sound we hear in the PC game.”

“That’s cool.”

“When the Master druid heard about my experience he decided I might be a Scout and sent me here.”

“So we don’t hear the ding when we level, but a Scout can if they are close to us.”

Aleron shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Something to watch for.”

“So the Scout levels players up.”

“I think there’s more to it than that.”

“How much more?”

Shale raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “Not sure, but from the way everyone carries on about them and the respect they are given, I think Scouts do more than just level people.”

“That alone is enough to make them precious.”

“That’s true, but I have a feeling it’s a lot more.”

“And I might be one?”

She stood and waved her hands. “Which is the craziest thing of all!”

Aleron laughed. “Whoa, why so excited?”

“Because it’s impossible!”

“What is?”

“For players to be Scouts.”

He frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“ARC Gaming. They didn’t give a lot of information about Scouts, but the press releases all made one thing very, very clear.” She leaned forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. “The class is locked. There is no possible way for any beta player to be a Scout.”

53

Xander squinted as he was led from the darkness of the keep and into the light-filled courtyard. A large crowd was gathered. Xander shivered as he recalled the last time he had been in this type of situation.

But this time, they didn’t tie him to a rack. His hand reached up to touch the patch covering his eye. He could still feel traces of bone-biting coldness from the Dark Lady’s touch. Even now, awake and far from her domain, the skin around the patch felt cooler than it should.

The Shard walked in front of him. When he stopped, Xander followed suit. The Shard raised his arms to shoulder height and looked out with a calm expression as the crowd fell silent.

The Shard did not shout, but his voice carried. “Our young brother, Xander, has returned. He has visited the Dark Lady, and she has claimed his wretched soul for her own divine purpose.” The Shard paused as the crowd murmured. “He has entered death’s domain and returned so that he may continue to follow the path of the Death Stryker in this world.” The Shard reached back and gripped Xander’s shoulder, pulling him to his side. “Welcome, brother. Now your training can truly begin.”

The crowd cheered and the Shard drew Xander close, clapping him on the back before stepping away. Silence returned. “Now it is time for a hero amongst you to declare interest in his development. Who among you will be Xander’s sponsor?”

Xander looked out over the crowd. The Death Strykers were easy to identify. Some wore their armour and weapons, but many did not. It was their poise and bearing which declared their class. He met the eyes of each Stryker one by one. Most returned his gaze without expression. Two nodded and began to move forward. A third smiled and nodded, but remained where she was.

“I declare.”

Xander saw the expression of surprise on the Shard’s face before he turned to look behind him.

Mercy approached from the doorway of the keep. She appeared calm, but her eyes sparkled as she stopped in front of the leader. “I will be Xander’s sponsor.”

Xander’s eye socket began to tingle. He touched the patch and looked at the crowd.  The Death Strykers who had been coming forward bowed and retreated. The tingling became an itching.

“I am surprised that you come forward, sister.” The Shard frowned. “You have never declared before.”

“That does not mean I am a poor choice, brother.”

“Not at all. It is only—”

“Only what?”

“Your other commitments.”

Mercy cocked her head as she considered Xander, her eyes narrowing. “There is something about this one. I am willing to add him to my commitments.”

“You are needed elsewhere, Mercy.” The Shard’s smile faded. “I allow you to withdraw your declaration.”

“I cannot.” She shook her head. “I feel as if the Dark Lady is guiding me in this.” The Shard started to speak but she held a fist in the air. “I am certain that she is compelling me to declare.”

There were murmurs from the crowd. The Shard pursed his lips, then bowed, obviously not pleased. “Very well, Mercy. If the Dark Lady has compelled you, then the matter is settled.” He turned to the crowd. “Mercy shall train our new brother.”

The crowd spoke the words as one. “The Darkness has chosen.”

The itching sensation became overwhelming. Xander ripped the bandage from his face.

“What’s wrong?” The Shard snapped, turning to look at him. Then his eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

Mercy raised one eyebrow and smiled. “Well isn’t that interesting.”

“What?” Xander asked. The itching faded but was replaced with a vibration, a tingling that radiated from his socket. “Is something wrong?”

Mercy retrieved a shield from a rack at the foot of the dais. She returned to Xander’s side, rubbing the surface of the shield with her forearm and holding it up in front of him. “See for yourself.”

Xander looked into the reflective surface and frowned. Instead of a raw wound where his eye had once been, a blue-silver pattern resembling a large snowflake covered his eye socket. Around the edges were streaks of white frost. He reached up to touch the area. “What the…” White, sliver, and light blue lights filled his vision, forming the outline of his finger. “I can still see from this eye?”

Mercy lowered the shield. “The Dark Lady returned you to us, but it seems that Death gave you her kiss as well. You lost an eye, but gained magical power in the trade.”

“What kind of power?”

She clapped him on the back and laughed. “Over the next few months, that is exactly what the two of us will discover.”

54

Through the laughter, Shale heard a knock on the door. She tapped Aleron on the leg and pointed toward the doorway. “Come in,” she called.

The door opened and an old man entered. Aleron stood. “Master Keaedan.” He turned to Shale. “This is the druid master that I told you about.”

“Oh, hey.” She stopped smiling. “The old fart that sent a bear to kill me and my friends?”

The Druid grinned. “And you are the young woman who tried to kill me in my sleep.”

“Well, this is about as awkward as I imagined it would be.” Aleron offered his chair to Keaedan.

The druid chuckled as he sat. “You’re both new to this way of life. There are many times when warring tribes are forced to be in the same room. Elves do possess the capacity to behave like civilized creatures.”

“Yet not the ability to devote their lives to something other than destroying every other elf village in the great forests.” Shale lay back on her bed and looked at the ceiling.

“Right you are, young lady.” Master Keaedan nodded. “I wish it were different, but it’s not.”

“Do you?” Aleron asked. “Wish that it were different?”

The old man raised his eyebrows. “Absolutely. If our people could join together in friendship and peace, there is no telling what we could accomplish in this world.”

“Shale said the same thing earlier.”

“Did she now.” He raised an eyebrow. “Well, maybe it is possible, and this is what it will take to achieve the impossible.”

“What do you mean?” Shale turned to face him.

“I understand that you are a Deceiver as well.”

“A what?”

“Master Keaedan is not a fan of our kind,” Aleron explained. “He calls Travellers by a different name.”

“Deceivers?”

The old man nodded.

“Why? Have you already had a bad experience with one of us?” She smiled. “I suppose Aleron can be annoying enough to make you hate anyone else like him.”

The three of them laughed and Aleron shook his head. “It’s not me. Master Keaedan claims that he met a Traveller long ago.”

“Is that so?”

Master Keaedan nodded. “One hundred forty-seven years ago.”

Shale frowned. “That’s impossible.”

Aleron spread his hands. “I told him the same thing, but he’s positive it happened.”

“There was no game to even play back the—”

“I know, but I believe him.”

“How would could such a thing occur?”

Aleron shook his head. “I have no clue.”

“Nor do I.” The old druid stood. “Let me look at you one last time before I leave, Shale.”

“Leave?” Aleron frowned.

Master Keaedan nodded. “I have delivered you safely. Now I must return home.”

Keaedan examined Shale and declared that she was healed and would be in perfect health after a few days rest. Then he turned to Aleron and gave him a hug. “Do your village proud, Aleron.”

***

“And that”—Kieran turned to face Aleron and Shale—“concludes my tour of our little keep.”

“Quaint,” Shale said.

“I like it.” Aleron turned, looking at the structures of the keep again.

“I’m glad because it will be your home for a while.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

“How long will he stay here?” Shale asked.

“Years,” Aleron said.

“What?”

The Scout master laughed. “I’m joking. It won’t be that long.”

“But Master Keaedan said—”

“He might be a master druid, but he does not know how things work for Scouts. Only Scouts know that.” He smiled at Shale. “And a few of their close friends.”

Shale laughed. “Most of the things people think are true about Scouts are rumours, aren’t they?”

“Absolutely.” He winked. “It helps to keep our class shrouded in mystery.”

Shale laughed again and shook her head.

“What is it?”

“I’m glad that you know we are both Travellers. It means I can ask questions and not have to worry.”

“You don’t have to worry out there either. Across the entire world of Preu Treya, Travellers are well-received.” Kieran grinned. “It is considered a great honour to meet and help a Traveller.”

Aleron grunted.

“You sound surprised,” Kieran said.

“Maybe a little.”

“Don’t worry, you will see for yourself eventually.”

Aleron nodded. “You seem different from everyone else I have met in this world so far, Master.”

“I likely am.”

“I feel as if I can be brutally honest with you.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Aleron. And you can.”

“We’ll see.”

Kieran laughed.

“If Travellers only began to arrive on this world a few weeks ago, how is it possible that every race knows of them?”

“Your assumption is wrong, lad.”

Aleron frowned. “Pardon?”

“It is true that recently a large number of Travellers have begun to arrive, but they are not the first.”

“What?”

“The very first group of Travellers arrived in Preu Treya one hundred and ninety-two years ago.”

“That’s impossible.” Shale shook her head.

“It’s true.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because”—Kieran smiled—“I was one of them.”

55

Isaac opened his eyes and reached for his ringing cell phone. One leg slipped from the couch and he swore as his knee banged against the floor of the darkened office. He brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“It’s Kara.”

“What’s up?”

“I found him.”

Isaac sat up and reached for the lamp beside the couch, turning it on. “Where?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone.”

“I’m in my office.”

“Be there in fifteen.”

Isaac ended the call and set the phone on the arm of the couch. He ran a hand through his hair.

***

Ten minutes later, Kara entered his office.

“Coffee?” Isaac held up the fresh pot.

“God, yes.” She dropped into the chair across from his couch.

He poured a second cup and brought it to her, then sat on the couch and took a sip from his mug. “Where did you find him?”

“Not where we were looking at all.” She wrapped both hands around the cup.

“He’s not an elf?”

“Huh?” Kara frowned and shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t mean inside the game.”

“Oh.” He paused. “You’ve found his body out here? That’s even better. We can bring him out right away.”

“Isaac—”

“This is excellent news. I thought we’d have to do things the hard way, but this saves us a ton of time.”

“Isaac—”

“He must have gone to one of the remote centres.” Isaac set his cup on the end table and reached for his phone. “He used a different name, right? We knew he did. What name did he use? Was it—”

“Isaac!”

Isaac furrowed his brow. “What?”

“We can’t get to his body.”

“Sure we can.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head. “It has been disposed of.”

“What do you mean?” He frowned, then his eyes widened for a second. “No.”

“I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you.”

“Oh god. No.”

“His ID said he was named John Docker.”

Isaac leaned back, shaking his head. “This can’t be true.”

“It wasn’t until the body was fully dead that they realized who he really was.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Isaac.”

He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. “You’re mistaken, Kara.”

“I wish I was, but it’s confirmed.”

Isaac pursed his lips.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Sebastian opted for permanent log-in?”

Kara covered her mouth with one hand and nodded. Her eyes were glassy.

Isaac closed his eyes and tapped his forehead. After a long moment he sighed. “Do we know where he is inside the game?”

“Not yet.”

“Of course.”

“This can’t be that bad.”

“It can. It is.”

“There has to be someone else who can do the coding, fix the things that are going wrong. He trained and oversaw a massive team of programmers.”

Isaac laughed. “There’s no one.”

“How can that be possible?”

Isaac shook his head. “We were working to bring his best students up to speed, but he left before finishing their training. He had decades of experience that could never be taught.” He opened his eyes and took a deep breath. “We’re screwed.”

“It can’t be. We have to do the best we can.”

Isaac ran both hands through his hair. “I can’t believe he killed himself to get out of his obligations to the game, to the company.”

“He was pretty mad.”

Isaac sighed.

“You would have been too, Isaac.”

He reached for his cup and nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“We could shut it all down.”

“And lose billions?” Isaac shook his head. “That’s not an option.”

“I think options are severely limited now.”

Isaac frowned. “We have to find him inside Blades VR. If we can communicate with him inside, then we still have options.”

“But we can’t talk with players inside the game.”

Issac’s expression remained blank.

“Can we?”

“No.”

“What if he has already died and failed resurrection?”

“Let’s not worry about that unless we learn it’s actually occurred.”

“But—”

“Kara.” He raised one hand. “We’re already in a big lake of crap. Please don’t step on my head to keep me from treading.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“They must know what avatar Sebastian was transferred into.”

“We do.” She nodded. “It wasn’t an elf. Human male, around forty years old. A commoner with no identifiable talents or skills.”

“We can work with that.”

“But the avatar disappeared not long after Sebastian took possession. Faded from sight.”

“Magic.”

“What?”

“The only way to disappear from our system inside Blades VR is to use magic.”

“But the avatar showed no aptitude for magic ability.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Isaac stood. “Start looking for crafters that fit the avatar’s description.”

“Do you know how many avatars that is?”

“I know it’s less than all of them, which means we’re already narrowing the search down.”

Kara stood and started for the door. “I’m on it.”

Epilogue

Ezref placed the mugs of ale on the table and sat.

Sebastian scanned the crowded room as he raised his mug to his lips.

“See them?”

Sebastian shook his head. “It’s early. They’ll be here.”

“I like the idea of forming a group”—Ezref rubbed his nose—“but I’m not keen on bringing  two Death Strykers into our party.”

“One Death Stryker and her apprentice.”

“A demon and a baby demon.” Ezref shook his head. “I still count two creatures that eat souls.”

“It’s a good fit. Mercy said she will tank for us and let the young one do most of the damage-dealing as he learns. We need the DPS.”

“Well, I guess they will be useful. And it sounds like they are doing things the same kind of way we intend to. I’ll cast and teach you as we go.”

Sebastian laughed. “Except you will struggle to cast a few simple spells while I do even less.”

“Is that how you sold it to her?”

“No.”

“Good. Because if she went for an arrangement like that she’s not very smart.”

Sebastian tapped his temple. “I told her I had been wounded and lost my ability to cast.”

Ezref smiled. “That’s close enough to be true.”

“I will get it back.”

“Gods help us if you do.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you will be able to cast any spell simply by thinking you can.”

“That’s not how it went.”

“That’s exactly how it went.”

Sebastian smiled. “It was pretty fun.”

Ezref laughed. “It could have been dangerous if I had figured out what you were up to sooner. I was only showing you weak spells. If you had learned a powerful one.” He shook his head. “Should your power return, we will use it to our advantage next time.”

“Count on it.” Sebastian took another drink and looked around the tavern. “I heard there is a ranger and her friend also sniffing about town looking to join a group.”

“Elves?”

“Aye.”

“Let’s find them and get them to join us. Elves are nasty as hell. Anything that lives a long time, has magic in its blood, and kills its own kin for centuries, has to be handy to have on our side.”

Sebastian gave the apprentice a sour look but nodded. “I’ll ask around.”

The two sat quietly for a few minutes.

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair. “You sure that the tower is locked down?”

“Yes.”

“No chance they will break through the barriers? I plan to go back and claim that place when we are strong enough to hold it.”

“It is filled with treasures beyond imagination.”

“I believe you.”

Ezref drained his beer and stood. “Don’t worry about that, my new old friend. Nothing can enter that tower until we unlock it with the artifact that we used to create the barrier.”

***

The mage’s eyes closed and then snapped open. Drowsy from her shift on watch, she stood taller, and scanned the forest line. All was clear. She turned toward the north road and started. A young girl approached. She looked no more than ten or eleven years old with shoulder-length, straight white hair, and pale, smooth skin. She wore a dark purple dress and fine black leather boots. As she got closer, the mage noticed that her eyes were icy blue.

The mage stepped onto the path and planted her staff on the ground, her other hand at her side. The dark tower stood behind her. “Where are you going, little girl?”

The girl was looking at the tower, a grin on her face. “In there.”

“You can’t.”

The girl’s eyes left the tower and settled on the mage. Her smile remained. “Of course I can.”

“It’s protected by a magic barrier.”

“Oh.”

“I’m here to guard it.”

“Good for you.” The girl stepped forward. The mage reached out and grabbed her by the arm. The girl stopped and frowned. White energy coursed up her arm and enveloped the mage. The crafter arched her head back, eyes wide and mouth open. The light crackled and sizzled as it swept over her, raising her off the ground.

The godling reached over with her other hand and touched the mage’s arm. The white energy rushed into her hand and disappeared into her body. She laughed, her eyes bright and sparkling. After a few seconds, the last of the energy entered the girl and the mage’s body fell to the ground, crumpling lifelessly in a heap.

The godling watched the dead mage for a heartbeat, then resumed her walk toward the tower. As she approached the invisible barrier, the air began to shimmer and swirl.

The godling stepped past the barrier, untouched.

A few moments later, a patrolling guard stumbled upon the body of the dead mage. After checking for signs of life, the guard looked towards the tower. He stood and stepped closer to the barrier, shouting at the retreating form of the godling. Unable to stop her, the guard could only watch as the godling entered the tower and the door closed behind her.

To Be Continued…

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