by John Gold
This time, I don’t have to run halfway across the world. After the war with the undead, a global network of portals was built to make moving around much easier. It’s all about the way the continents and cities were laid out. Small channels separate Ovidius from Kongul, and Radaam from Katain. Those channels can be crossed in eight hours on one of the ships with a magic engine, and the continent pairs are also connected with Ferengar, the planet’s South Pole. That’s where they built another portal chain to make getting from continent to continent easier.
The remainder of my money goes toward paying our way via the portals to the south of Radaam, then via Ferengar to Ovidius. By the time we find ourselves in Karpi, I have just a thousand gold left. Still, my spirits are high—I’m about to see that peevish little girl again.
The city itself is deep underground, though the seeker spirit told us Femida is deeper still. One of the guards tells us where exactly “deeper still” is.
“The old road from Ferengar to Ovidius is below us. After the war with the undead, some of the empty buildings were repurposed as warehouses, and then we found a road leading down almost two kilometers. There’s a Level 4000 monster down there, not to mention the kind of beasts you’ve never seen before. But there’s also a peninsula in an enormous lake of lava that none of the monsters dare touch. They built a prison there for especially dangerous criminals.”
Kirk’s face sours, though I finally understand why she hasn’t been answering me.
“How do we get there?”
The guard gives us a look that tells us exactly how stupid he thinks we are.
“They put a portal stone there. It’s easy to get down there, but you’re not coming back alive.”
Kirk says nothing for a long time. His emotions mix, rage, disgust, devotion, and sympathy playing across his face. I ignore them all.
Actually, he doesn’t take much convincing. Burning with curiosity, he wants to see the legendary prison he’s heard so much about, plus the terrible monsters of the underground world that nobody has been able to kill. It’s a boyish inquisitiveness, in a word. Soon, however, he’s going to have to grow up, and I’m going to help with that.
The portal stone takes us to the bank of a lava lake so enormous that it lights up everything around it. Monsters, the likes of which I’ve never seen, roam the edges, all deadly dangerous.
Monster, RokhAlei the Mountain Dremora, Level 4968, local boss
With fauna like this, they don’t need guards. A red shroud hangs over the lava, a warning about the enormous fire damage it does. The large peninsula is enclosed by two active force shields. A wide path from the portal leads right to them, across a kind of isthmus that connects the shore to what is mostly island.
The area around the portal rock is safe.
Kirk smiles and looks around. It’s time.
“Kirk, start a video recording. We need to get this historic moment down on tape.”
The camera pentagram appears above the mage’s head, and I feel a wave of malice practically overwhelm me.
I’m no longer wearing LJ’s costume. All I have on is the simplest clothing money can buy.
***
Kirk turned on his camera and checked the box to set up an online feed. On the official Project Chrysalis site, the feed showed up on one of the channels specializing in reporting from little-known areas.
“Hello, hello… Can you hear me?” LJ smiled. “I want to say hi to my mom, my dad, my little sister Rosie. Oh, wait a second! They died in very mysterious circumstances.” The grin was wiped off Kirk’s face.
LJ, to the contrary, was glowing with happiness.
“Let’s get down to brass tacks, my dear viewers. As you can see, there’s a prison behind me, and, as far as I know, Femida is inside. Yes, yes, the very same Femida who took part in the battle for Airis Castle.”
Kirk’s heart betrayed him, skipping a beat. He started blinking, unwilling to admit the truth. LJ just smiled evilly.
“But forget her! I want to say hi to some of my old friends. To Bernard, who taught me magic back when I could still stand up under the kitchen table. To Rachel, who was with me when times got tough. To Nate, who’s always around in sticky situations. And, of course, hey, Leon…” LJ was collected and furious. He shook from the anticipation. “I remember my promise, young god.”
Kirk opened his mouth to yell, but a dull whimper was all that came out. Tears welled up in his eyes.
“You’re a murderer…”
LJ looked at the camera.
“Oh, right, how thoughtless of me. I forgot to introduce myself.” The air buzzed. “My name is Sagie…”
Human, Sagie, Level 913
“And I’m back!”
Kirk’s vision faded.
You died and will respawn in 8 hours and 13 minutes…
***
The Alcatraz network of private prisons, which included more than forty locations throughout the entire solar system, had built its own correctional facility in Project Chrysalis. Alcatraz 48, or Valhalla, as the locals referred to it, was the first to be built in a virtual game.
A small island in the middle of a lava lake was turned into a bastion of justice. It housed a dorm, barracks, a small foundry, and warehouses, all around an enormous mine in the center of the island. The people living on the island could work autonomously for half a year without worrying about a thing. Nobody could attack; Valhalla was the most well-defended prison in the world.
Cities and countries paid Alcatraz to house prisoners, while the company did its best to squeeze maximum profit out of them. Valhalla was different from other institutions in that there were far higher requirements for those serving time there than elsewhere. To survive in these conditions, they needed either unusually high resistance to fire and advanced strength and stamina or well-developed skills for working with ore and metals. Sentences were shortened due to the extreme conditions and for doing good work.
Valhalla was built on an island in the middle of a lake of running lava at a depth of two kilometers. After deposits of mithril were found, players sold the information to Alcatraz. The prison was then built on top of the deposits.
Two magic domes covered the island, not letting anyone come or go. The external dome, which was segmented and porous, blocked the constant thermal damage and protected from monsters. The inner dome made sure nobody could leave and was always on. Inside, an antiportal field was kept active, disturbing the upper layers in the astral. The only way to get into the prison was via the portal in the administrative building.
Femida had arrived five years before as the only prisoner with an invitation. Alcatraz had offered her the best room and board, not to mention a chance at early release. Her sentence was for twelve years. It had been handed down in response to charges of 286 murderers of locals, attacking caravans, kidnapping, contract killings, and an attempt made on the life of Leon as well as aiding and abetting Bloody Sagie. Nobody at the court cared to listen to her protests that she’d had nothing to do with any of it. Her claim that she was on another continent, as well as the statements of six partners, did nothing for her. The judge handed down twelve years in a maximum-security prison. And that was when Alcatraz showed up with their offer.
After her day in court, a man wearing a suit showed up in her cell. He had blue eyes, short, red hair, and glasses. Hizan looked like a model, and his fashion sense was superb. He was gallant, charming, incredibly smart, and absolutely bewitching. Femida had just turned twenty; he was around thirty. But for her, it was love at first sight. Everything he said touched her, his smile bewitched her, and she could have listened to his ideas and suggestions forever. The senior supervisor for Alkatraz prisons, Hisan Redish, made her an offer any prisoner would dream of getting.
“Six years instead of twelve, plus monthly pay. All we need from you is for you not to delete your character and make sure you’re in the game at least eight hours a day. You’ll have the best situation we can provide. Walks, lax standards, and yo
ur own personal guard.”
“What’s the point of that? I’ll still be a prisoner for a whole six years. It would be simpler to just delete my character and start over.”
“That isn’t the best idea, Femida. If it were that simple, Project Chrysalis would be full of maniacs and sadists who just kill locals and then delete their accounts. Lunar doesn’t say anything, of course, but I hope you get my drift?”
Femida nodded.
“So, they’ll make life miserable for me?”
“Thugs, accidents, everyone out to get you, and lots of other ‘random’ things happening to spoil your life. Project Chrysalis keeps track of individuals, and you can’t fool it by just trading in your name. My offer guarantees you a monthly salary and, judging by your age, plenty of fun growing up.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“Your name is Project Chrysalis’ best marketing tool, though nobody gets that yet.”
Femida ended up agreeing and was sent to Valhalla. Hisan showed up once a month, on the first Sunday, exactly at noon. Femida looked forward to that time the whole month. They talked about everything, including the work she was putting in on her skills, her crafting, her achievements, and the interesting ideas she had. She could have talked with him forever. Hearing his praise, hearing him talk about himself was wonderful. Hisan knew how to listen—that was one of his many good qualities. And he knew how to speak gracefully, too. He always matched the level of the person he was talking to, expressing himself so they could understand exactly what he meant.
Sometimes, very rarely, Hisan talked about Femida. She was like a holy book, it was like he read the revelations it held about her. The truth is deep, unattractive…and the most tender part of the soul. It’s what you keep even from yourself and cherish like your own children. Hisan saw that part of Femida, and that’s what he talked about. His strong, gentle voice whispered what any girl would want to hear. His words soothed her, penetrated her soul, summoned tears of joy. When they did, however, he turned sad and apologized for making her cry. Hisan never touched her, though he always gave her presents. It was wonderful conversation, and nothing more.
In the five and a half years she’d spent in Valhalla, Hisan played his guitar in front of her twice. He sang for a crowd of prisoners, accompanying himself on an instrument fashioned by one of the local artisans. The girls cried into their hands. The men wiped away curmudgeonly tears and looked away, doing their best to hide red eyes. Nobody understood the words, though endless sorrow filled every sound, every phrase. The song touched the heart, pulling forth light and sad memories, and he sang his way through each of them. So tenderly did his fingers stroke the strings that it was like he was brushing them against the most beautiful of women as he whispered to her the words of love. An itinerant bard playing his last song before his execution might have played that way. The people watching were carried away into a world of love laced with sadness, suffering, and gentle, undying hope. When the song ended, nobody clapped. Everyone was crying, and only Hisan could smile as he led Femida away to console her.
Those were her fondest memories of Hisan, the senior prison supervisor for Alcatraz.
On the second day after she arrived in Valhalla, Femida was assigned a guard and watchman. His name was Isaac, and he was the strangest warden in the whole prison. He wore unique plate armor that he never took off. Sometimes, he went weeks without saying a word, though he could spout off the strangest, smartest phrases out of the blue. His love for simple, one-word answers drove her crazy. It was like there were four different personalities living in one person, and Femida couldn’t stand any of them. There were also legends that went around about what he looked like, including some that said there was nothing whatsoever under his armor. The silver armor grew more complex with each passing year—just recently, a tuft had appeared on his helmet. A torn chainmail skirt hung from his belt, while there was a piece of worn cape on his back. Isaac never spoke about himself or what he wore. That, of course, only poured hot oil on the fire of intrigue.
It was almost immediately that Femida suggested to Hisan that they add a building where the prisoners could satisfy their need to express themselves. It was eventually erected by the inmates themselves not more than a month after the prison opened. Inside, it housed workshops for crafting, and anyone could use them to make goods for sale. The prisoners could make money that way—the deal was that they kept half the price of whatever they made. They also enjoyed the chance to express themselves in the process.
The second floor was used as an area for the prisoners’ social initiatives. One hall was where Criminals Anonymous met. The idea for that initiative was first met with laughter, as everyone knew each other’s name and level. Still, Femida insisted.
The first week, there were eight people in the group, including Femida and Isaac. But by the end of the month, they were already up to twenty. They had to split up into four groups the second month. And why? Why did people start showing up? Humans are social creatures who need communication and recognition. They need to speak their mind, earn the approbation of their peers, and get advice. The prisoners loved the way the meetings gave them the chance to talk and support each other emotionally. The five years had seen rivers of tears shed, thousands of admissions of guilt shared, and even a few saints made. People are always looking for a way to unburden their soul, and Femida gave them the chance to do just that.
Femida and her taciturn guard became part of Valhalla, part of prison life, part of the island culture. She earned the acclaim of those who trusted her, and Hisan had started visiting her once a week over the past six months. He’d also upped her pay and given her a separate room in the creativity building.
The group gave many people a way to understand their lives and actions. Even Femida changed significantly. The killing, the stealing, the dubious clans… In Valhalla, it was with regret that she thought back on her previous life. Fire years had passed, and love still burned hot in her heart. The man, the manager, the supervisor, the picture of the man she wanted to spend her life with, was still the same. Hisan was her ideal both of a man and simply a strong person. For his part, he gave her everything he thought wise, rewarding her initiatives, though he never gave her love. Even though he wanted it too, he refused to breach prison protocol. Instead, he was patiently waiting for the end of Femida’s sentence. She had just three months to go.
He never ever said a word about it, though Femida could tell that it was what he was waiting for. Hisan was perfect, open to everyone, and the entire female wing knew he had a soft spot for Femida. And that was the best kind of thing to talk about—forbidden love, romance, the two of them in a closed room. The only person who had a hard time with it was Femida. Isaac, certainly, never shared his thoughts. Even the worst things come to an end eventually, however, and she was three months away from that end.
That day, the regular Criminals Anonymous meeting was held. Half the group was newly arrived at Valhalla, and a couple of people had already shared twenty minutes later. But that was when the door to the room creaked open. In walked a young man about twenty years old wearing a striped costume, someone Femida had never seen before.
“Excuse me, but somebody told me I could find Femida here.”
By the way he was looking around, the people there could tell that he was from the latest batch. Probably a newcomer late for the meeting.
“Yes, have a seat. The meeting just got started, but feel free to ask any questions you have when we finish.”
When he got closer, the group noticed that his clothes were a bit singed. It was a surprise that someone that young could even find his way into a maximum-security prison.
The newcomer walked across the room, glancing at the other participants and frowning in dissatisfaction. After just a quick look at Femida, he fixed his gaze on Isaac to the surprise of everyone there. The taciturn guard returned the look. Curiosity seeped out of the dark recess of his helmet, and a second, two, five went by as they eyed eac
h other as squeamishly as if the other was just a pile of dirt and fecal matter. The boy looked over at Femida before turning back to Isaac. His disgust was replaced by confusion.
“Sit down! You’re disturbing the group.”
The newcomer sat down quietly as if nothing had happened. But no sooner had Femida opened her mouth, then he laughed noiselessly, covering his face with his hands. He needed to be taught a lesson.
“It looks like somebody wants to share!”
Everybody turned to look at the young man, who had sat down in the first row right in front of the podium. When he realized she was talking about him, he stopped laughing and flashed a snide smile.
“What do you want to hear?”
“You’re at a Criminals Anonymous meeting. This is where we talk about the mistakes we’ve made and the lessons we’ve learned. Most newcomers share at the end of their first meeting, but we can make an exception for you.”
The guy thought for a few seconds about what she wanted, finally glancing over at Isaac and flashing another snide smile.
Femida gave up her place at the podium. For a second, the boy closed his eyes, concentrating. The room fell silent—even the guards could be heard yelling out on the street. When he opened his eyes, the frivolity, youthful excitement, and tomfoolery were gone. The group was faced with a clump of bare nerves ready to kill anyone who dared interrupt him, and that was clear to everyone in the room.
“Hi, everyone. My name is LJ, and I’m a criminal. When I was much younger, I was a swordsman, an adventure-seeker, and, like many of you, a traveler of the world. But then I earned the genius achievement and an invitation to a trial with the League of Hunters. During their probation, I met a mage who smashed me into the ground, prepared to kill me for doing nothing more than trying to get closer. Although, I was in the wrong, too. She was wearing a boy’s clothing, and I called her an idiot.” For a second, the newcomer paused to let everyone imagine a girl mage at the trial for the Hunters. “She somehow figured out how to use meteors before she got to Level 1, killing raid bosses 500 levels above her and really just walking around as a death machine. She wouldn’t let me call her by her name, and I was just ‘L’ or ‘idiot’ for her. God, how I wanted to kill her for that! And that was the most flattering term she used for my level of intellect. Mine! She called someone with my incredible analytical capabilities an idiot.” The group had to laugh a little at the description. “At one point, we got involved in something really rough, and we had to flee the city we were in together. We were up against guards, spies, and enemy clans wherever we went. Ultimately, I had to carry her on my shoulders across the rooftops to get away. But at the end… Oh, god… You should have seen it! I had to carry that fat clod and our horse on my back across the wall… Down a rope… At night… And all she did was complain that she was going to fall.” Isaac reached for his sword, though he stopped at the last moment. LJ noticed and just smiled. “I’ve never heard so many creative and bloody ways for me to die. Anyway, it went off all right, and she just squished me into the ground at the next crossroads, more as a prophylactic. Then, we set off on a long journey to complete an epic quest I got from a god. We visited the Sea of Storms, the Sea of Calm with its…interesting inhabitants. We stopped by the River of Life and the floating cities. For a little while, we just enjoyed life, but when our money ran out, we had to head to the tropics and then to some very cold places. My heavy armor kept me sinking into the snow, and she called me a fatty; I called her an idiot. Ultimately, we got on each other’s nerves, and it was great. But all good things must come to an end.” LJ fell silent, thinking back to the most unpleasant part of his story. “No, I’m not ready to talk about what happened after that. All I’ll say is that it’s the reason I’m here.”