by Rae Nantes
The dirt was cool and soft beneath her feet. The breeze that rustled the leaves was welcome against her skin. Above them, a smattering of stars - a galaxy, a universe.
A pair of glowing eyes in the far-off bushes. A four-legged creature scurried past a ditch. The creek hushed and whispered beside them.
She found it ever so fascinating to see the world this late at night. In her world, there was no such thing as nature, and there wouldn't be one until the planet could be terraformed. The stuff seen in simulations felt as though it were mythical in nature, and she wondered if the ancestors really lived among a living, breathing planet like this. It was saddening when she considered it, as there was never a guarantee that humans would ever set foot on Earth again.
Stef knelt down, prompting them to stop. Nick and Rika gazed out into the woods and up the path, looking for anything he might've spotted, but their silent questions were answered by a firefly. It manifested in front of Stef with a subtle glow and darted above the trees where it stayed for a few seconds, then vanished.
"They're near," Stef whispered. "Campfires, half a kilometer from here."
Part of her was glad that Ediha stayed home. If he was eager enough to challenge her, a strange sorcerer of unknown power to him, there was no telling what he'd try to do to an entire army.
Soon, they came within sight of the army encampment. The Spaniards had taken residence in one of the empty crop fields. Tents upon tents, stacked side by side in columns and disorganized rows. A village was nearby, yet it seemed empty. Perhaps the villagers were asleep. Even the army itself seemed to be snoring in their tents.
Stef and Nick cast a Lesser Invisibility spell when they reached a nearby tree. They didn't invest as many skill points into it as Rika had, so they weren't able to move while hidden like she could. Granted it likely wasn't necessary, as the two would fit right in with their Spanish armor.
Rika, on the other hand, kept the Aztec outfit Ediha's sister gave to her. It was easier to move in, and the armor didn't rattle when she walked. With her Lesser Invisibility skill maxed out, she was able to scurry into the camp undetected. Equipped with only an Aztec spear, she was light enough to be completely silent.
It was quiet. A cough in a nearby tent. A hushed conversation from a passing group. Maybe they were guards. Maybe they were insomniacs. They were no doubt Spaniards, dressed in long gloves, jackboots, and loose white shirts. She stared as they lazily marched by, and she looked for the smallest hint of a protective aura. None was found.
She knew the trick to finding players was to look for an aura, as no nipsy known to them had developed such a thing. Besides that, there would be no point for a player to pretend to sleep. With an average of three game-days in a real afternoon, most players were even more active during the night cycle. Maybe the players got bored and left. Maybe there weren't even players here to begin with.
Irritating. She had hoped that any hint of a magic-user would bring her closer to finding Mondego, but it seemed that this was a wasted trip.
Then, she spotted him. Far down the line of tents sat a lone man at a campfire. She hurried closer to find racks of clothes nearby - jackets and pants - sitting near the campfire presumably to dry. Leathery, moist, tan-colored things that honestly didn't look comfortable. She eased toward the man, and when she got a closer look, her skin crawled.
A man with wide, sad eyes, covered with eyeliner that made him look like a puma. Red paint smeared over his lips, almost comically to force a frown. He was hairless, not even eyebrows, save for the tuft that stuck out from his chin. It had to be a player. Unlike the other Spaniards, this guy only wore simple brown robes.
She stared deeply at the edge of his scalp, looking for the tell-tale signs. The dancing after image, the smudge, the smoke - the aura.
"Delicious."
She jolted back. The guy spoke. There was no one else around.
His voice trembled. He half spoke through his teeth as if on the verge of an outburst. "Scrumptious little feet."
What the fuck?
"Tiptoeing in the sand. In the sand, like a careless little rogue."
She looked down. Sure enough, her bare feet were making footprints in the sand. She was an idiot. She gripped her spear, ready to strike.
"Do you know why I'm sad, little girl?"
She said nothing. The fire crackled and lit his eyes. Glowing embers drifted skyward.
Though he was looking at the campfire, he was staring past it. His voice was distant and cold. "There is a demon inside me," he continued. "I once sought a priest to cleanse me, to exorcise me, to purify the darkness from within - yet he failed. He found his entrails spread out among the temple, his blood bathing the altar, his lungs breathing their last breaths, and when he looked into me and when I looked back to see the life drain from his eyes, he told me - yes, yes - he told me. He told me to find Father Garrock - yes, yes - find the only man who has the power, the only man within the realm who has the power. The power to expel the demons, to light the darkness, to cure you, he told me."
Rika stood motionlessly as he spoke.
"And so I looked down into his soul, and saw that he was dying, and I said, 'I am Father Garrock.'"
His eyes shot over to her. Into her. Eyes not of sorrow, but of madness. He jolted up and threw a slashing punch - no - a magic spell. A wave of black hurled toward her. She flung up her spear to block it, but it passed right through to slam against her face and topple her over, ripping away her invisibility.
He wasn't just creepy. He was turbo-spooky.
She dashed forward and sliced at him with her spear. Hallow claps resounded between them as he caught the spearhead with something in his hands. He countered with a thrust of his palm. A wave of darkness shot out like a geyser. It rushed at her. She flicked her hand, and the campfire jumped at him in a stream of flames.
The Gust spell pushed the cloud of darkness away, but as the embers of the charred firewood scattered into the dirt, the light faded. She used Wind Blade to throw some slashes in his direction. They missed. He had vanished into the silent dark.
Then, she did as any sane girl would do in this situation. She ran.
The nearby tents rustled awake, some grunting half-asleep, some shouting. She sprinted up and down the narrow alleys between the tents, anxious to reach the 30-second mark to reapply her invisibility. Some of the soldiers fell out of their tents to see her rushing by, but too drowsy or confused to do anything about it. She found a spot in some tall grass to wait out the cooldown, and when she was ready, she started to recast the spell.
Heavy footsteps pounded at her.
It was the spooky clown. He was sprinting with his arms dangling behind his back and a mad grin stretching across his face. He leapt high above her, spinning like a dart, whirling a black wave to crash on top of her.
She activated Lightweight and darted off to the side. The dark wave crashed into the dirt. Before he could land, she reached out and yanked him with a Gust spell. He tumbled in the air. She aimed carefully, cast Wind Blade on the tip of her spear, and thrust it at him.
The spell shot out like a javelin. It slammed into his chest, erupting, shattering. An aura. It was a player.
He toppled to the ground and rolled, and before he could stand, she dashed in and rammed her spear into his heart.
Rika had won.
She crouched down beside the corpse, and with a little hesitation, she started to rifle through his pockets.
She froze. As soon as her hand brushed against his leather robe, goosebumps ran up her arms and back. Her hairs stood up on end. The creep’s long coat wasn’t ordinary leather. It was fresh. Those weren’t jackets and pants she saw earlier. They were human skins.
Who was he wearing?
The camp sparked and glowed with torchlights, pulling her from her stupor. She looked up, expecting an army to pour out after her, but instead, it was dotted with fires. The camp was lit ablaze, screams and shouts and orders barked by panicking soldiers. Gunsh
ots.
It was too late to search for Mondego. Stef and Nick had made a mess of the place too soon, and in the distance, she could see them galloping back into the forest on stolen horses.
She turned on her heels, her body clicked invisible, and she darted back toward the city.
1:8
The people stared in amazement at the foreign beasts, calling them ugly deer or whatever else because, to Rika’s surprise, horses weren't native to the Americas. Stef and Nick spoke at length about how they were used in warfare and infrastructure, how they're bred and how important they were for society, and how soon the horses that have escaped the Spaniards the night prior will become mustangs in their own right.
Ediha smiled and took the reins to take them back to the king.
Yet it would change nothing. Even though Stef had neutralized the Spanish cavalry, even though Nick had spiked the Spanish cannons, the conquistadors were still coming, and no Aztec among them believed in the approaching storm.
Defeated, they spent the rest of the third day with Ediha. He invited them into his home where they helped prepare decorations for the upcoming festival. This really meant that Stef and Nick would goof around with the other men while Rika had to help cook and clean and suffer the overwhelming kindness of Ediha's mother and sisters.
Doing simple domesticated things like chores and cleaning was absolutely not the reason she was playing the game, and she reminded herself that this was all just a long, drawn-out quest that would result in money from Ediha and hopefully the death of Mondego. For the longest time, she found herself only smiling to be polite, at least until she received the gift.
She was in the garden helping his mother tend to the plants when the youngest sister approached. The tiny thing was unbearably shy and had never spoken a word to Rika before. She was hiding something in her hands.
"Atzi," his mother called. "Is something the matter?
The nipsy child shook her head and stared up at Rika, only to look away when Rika stared back.
Rika sighed almost in irritation. Children were not her strong suit, especially children in video games. No matter how much you scolded them, you could never be sure if they would be reset the next day only to revert back into little heathens. "Do you have something to show me?" Rika asked her. "Something you're proud of?"
The little girl somehow found her resolve, looked dead into Rika's eyes, and Rika found her innocence. It was a red flower with white tips. Rika was stunned, both at the beauty of the flower - she had never seen anything like it - and the gesture itself. "It's... it's beautiful."
"For you," the girl said.
"Aww." Rika was smitten. She took the flower and stuck it in her hair. It matched the makeup they had forced her to put on. "How does it look?"
The girl smiled shyly, then ran away.
Rika turned to Ediha's mother. A warm smile was reflected between the two.
When the sunlight began to wane, they had joined the family back in the yard and enjoyed the peace, laughter, and the general coziness of simple life.
Then they heard the news.
One of Ediha's neighbors came into the yard to speak about strange pale men in sparkling armor - nearly a hundred of them crossing the lake and into the city.
The conquistadors finally arrived.
"Alright," Stef told Ediha, "you know what to do, right?"
Ediha nodded. "That would be the worst-case scenario, but we should be fine. Don't worry, Stefan."
"I'm not worried," he said. "I'm just ready."
Rika watched as locals were pouring out of their houses to bear witness to the parade. "Are you guys leaving already?"
"Yeah," Nick said. "We stick out too much, and besides, it's getting late."
Stef and Nick gave a quick round of goodbyes, then stepped around to an unseen alley between houses. Rika followed after. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“Our tomorrow?” Stef asked. “Well since Plan A went to shit, we’re just gonna have to pick up the pieces of this place after the war.”
“You really think the conquistadors can put up a fight without their cannons and horses?”
“It’s fate," he said. "The Aztecs lose every time. They have about three weeks of screwin’ around with each other before war breaks out.”
Rika felt a twinge of excitement knowing that if she times it right, she’ll get to join the fight against Spain. Fate was for the weak, she thought. “We’ll see,” she said.
Nick smiled. “I’m sure we’ll see a lot of things.” He offered a parting nod, then vanished. A tiny luminescent pebble manifested where he stood, then tapped on the ground.
Stef shrugged, then vanished after.
"Will you be staying?" Ediha asked.
Rika shook back. She wasn’t sure if Ediha had seen them log out, and they would be pissed to take the XP hit if he did.
“I don’t understand this login thing,” Ediha said, “but if it’s anything like sleeping, you can stay here.”
She smiled at his offer. "Thanks, but I should get going."
"Then take care." Ediha went back to his family, and she was alone again.
But there was something she needed to do before logging out. She hurried through the streets, past the gathering crowds, and right on the edge of the lake. There on the causeway, King Montezuma stepped out to meet the strange army. She hopped onto a nearby roof to get a better look.
A parade of soldiers - some in armor, some bearing red and yellow flags. Guns, crossbows, swords. No horses, no cannon. Three men stood in front to greet the king. The lead conquistador with a brown beard and tired eyes. A young soldier with red hair and a handsome face. And a friar - black robes, blond hair, eyepatch, and a taunting smile.
It was Mondego.
1:9
Vic stood at the foot of a ruined tower, surveying the damage and sketching it into his book. The heavy bricks and stones had been scorched, lines carved into it by some unknown - unworldly - force. A hurricane of flies buzzed around the place, clinging to the countless week-old corpses strewn about. Vic had long been accustomed to such scenes, and he found himself more bothered by Marcion’s swatting than the bugs. At the very least, Vic was marginally impressed that Marcion hadn’t complained about the smell - something that every new partner would do.
“They’re calling it the Alonso event,” Marcion said as he surveyed the ruins and the field of ash. “A freak storm that came in and killed several. The locals say that a massive bolt of lightning struck here. God's work, they told me.”
"Or the devil's." Vic traced his fingers along the carved grooves in the stone. It was smooth. Unlike the metal slag found throughout the ruins of the Duke's estate, the stone had been carved through by something other than lightning. Something cleaner.
He stepped inside the tower, bits of wood and glass cracking beneath his feet, dust swirling in the sunlight through the doorway. On the other end of the tower's wall, large splinters were jutting out of the stone.
"A mage duel," Vic said.
"Unlikely," Marcion said. "It almost looks like the Monsanto event. With something this powerful, it was probably just a freak weather—"
Vic swung his glare to him. "What am I?"
Marcion looked away and grimaced. "Look, sorry, I—"
"What. Am. I?"
"The inquisitor."
"What are you?"
"The... the inquisitor's aide."
Vic took a sharp, irate breath, and stepped out of the tower. "The lightning magic is obvious. The wind magic is subtle but evident." He turned back to study the stones. "Open your eyes for once."
Marcion scratched the back of his neck. "The locals told me that a witch had passed through just hours before the event. Later followed by a friar."
Vic shot him a stern glance. “Friar.”
“My network tells me that he was last seen heading towards the new world.”
Vic looked again at the damage of the tower. The evidence of competing cults was obvi
ous to him, but a friar? A witch-hunting friar simply could not have stumbled upon a cult war and survived, unless of course, the friar had taken part in the fight. If that were the case, it would be—
“Mondego,” Vic said with an edge to his voice. He pulled his notebook from his coat to jot down his new itinerary.
“Never heard of him,” Marcion said.
“Then get out more. What about the witch?”
“Also left toward the new world at roughly the same time. One was in pursuit of the other, surely.”
Vic shook his head as he wrote, and his voice bled with impatience. “An entire spy network and you can't give me a name?”
“Rika,” Marcion said.
1:10
Rika felt the gravity shift, the darkness fade away to light, and the air thicken. She opened her eyes.
Distant, clapping echoes shook the birds from the forest trees. The sun was hanging low, skipping off the lake water and glistening off the shore, bathing all in a rich golden hue.
The air was thick with gunpowder.
“Rika!” Ediha shouted.
She smiled at him, but when she saw the fear in his eyes, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
For a moment, he didn’t speak. He was out of breath, sweating, defeated. Rolling thunder echoed across the sky, followed by distant shouts, blades clashing. Rika looked at the city around her. Buildings had been burned, the roads stained scarlet, and beyond the city on the shores of the lake, a Spanish siege. Red and gold flags stood proudly in defiance of another failed push by the Aztecs.
“It’s time,” he uttered, “It’s time you earn your pay.”
She was excited to finally get into a major battle. Until then, she had only been involved with minor skirmishes and player raids. This was a chance to prove history wrong. “Alright, let’s do it,” she said.
She followed Ediha through the streets and alleys, pushing past scores of half-naked Aztec warriors who were making their way back and forth to the siege lines. Soon she was anxious, as the atmosphere seemed to have turned. Passing faces glared at her, distraught with worry and caution. Even stranger, Ediha wasn’t taking her to the frontlines. Instead, she found herself staring up at one of the massive pyramid temples.