Hero's Journey: A LitRPG Adventure (Beta Tester Book 2)

by Rachel Ford

  He’d gathered a pile of two dozen or so eggs when Migli came out, singing about true love. Jack rolled his eyes. He was about to make a snide comment about the dwarf’s laziness when a new thought popped into his head.

  Migli was a companion. Depending on the game, companions carried things, and fought beside you – and performed tasks for you. So far, the dwarf had more or less failed both of the first criteria, but Jack was willing to give the third a try.

  “Migli,” he said, “I want you to gather eggs for me.”

  “Of course, Sir Jack. Your concerns are mine.”

  He watched the dwarf head off to the field, and he smiled to himself. He felt suddenly much better about his day. Finally, he’d found something Migli could do to help.

  But Jack didn’t loaf about letting his companion do all the work. He headed out into the sun himself and found as many eggs as he could carry. He brought them back, grunting and groaning as he went, to his stash. Migli was standing there with a single egg in hand.

  “Ah, Sir Jack: I have retrieved an egg.”

  “Just one?”

  “As you see.”

  He grumbled to himself, but said, “Okay, put it on the pile and go get another.”

  Migli did what he was told, but slowly. Jack offloaded all of his eggs and started on his second batch by time the dwarf even reached the pasture. He’d gone back twice before he found his companion standing there again, a single egg in hand.

  “Can’t you take more than one at once?”

  “Negative. The weight is too much. I fear I would drop them.”

  Jack scowled at him. “Fine. You know what? Forget eggs.”

  “As you wish, Sir Jack.”

  “I want you harvesting feathers instead. I’m assuming you can carry more than one feather at a time?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Then get your backside out there and get me feathers.”

  “I am yours to command.”

  The morning passed quickly after that. Jack worked first on hauling eggs, and second, on hauling hay bales. And for once, Migli did as he’d been asked: he returned with a giant stack of feathers.

  Jack was delighted. It felt like some kind of tremendous victory, and not just because of all the time saved. Migli was finally earning his keep.

  The dwarf seemed to be in a good mood, too. “Alas, my heart beats with a fire for one and one alone, my friend,” he said.

  Jack rolled his eyes. He’d heard that before. “Let me guess: Katrice.”

  “Could there be any question? Could there be another?”

  He snorted. “Uh…yeah.” He’d already seen Migli swoon like this over a barmaid, a captain’s daughter, and a mayor’s wife. He’d heard him sing similar sentiments about women Jack hadn’t met. He had no doubt he’d say the same thing about the next woman they ran across.

  “Oh, young friend, you know naught of what you speak. Your heart has never been pricked by Cupid’s arrow. You have never suffered that most perfect of afflictions. So how can I ask you to understand?”

  “I’d prefer if you didn’t, to be honest.” He had work to do, and no stomach for such sentimental nonsense. Especially from someone like Migli, who would mean it for only as long as it took to reach the next village, or ship, or merchant.

  Jack grabbed a bucket full of feathers and hauled it over to the eggs. Migli went off on a tangent about Katrice’s skin and the smell of roses. “Her whole room smelled of roses. It is a beautiful room, for a beautiful woman.”

  Jack rather doubted that, considering the servant’s quarters he’d seen – and spent the night in.

  “Like the cottage itself, it looks bare, until you cross the threshold. Then – such womanly elegance. Ah, my Katrice: the hands of a cook, the heart of a lady.”

  Jack tried to ignore him. He was sifting through the feathers. So far, he had come across nothing but healthy coat traits. He reached the bottom of the bucket and frowned. That’s all he had.

  Then again, he’d only grabbed the first few handfuls. He figured he must not have picked up anything else. So he headed back to Migli’s pile.

  Then, he frowned, scanning the feathers one at a time. He could read their stats, and they were all identical:

  Base abilities: no impact

  + 75 to coat health

  “Migli,” he said, “did you only collect one type of feather?”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at the giant pile of feathers. It spanned a few feet wide and reached his knees. “You must have plucked that poor horse bald.”

  Migli made no reply to that. He’d started humming to himself.

  Jack scowled at him, then at the feathers, then back at the dwarf. “That’s okay, Migli. I’ll take care of the feathers myself too. Why not? I do everything else in this dratted game.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jack got his feathers – a good selection, from all the sky horses. Then he set to work breeding new lines. He didn’t remember it being so frustrating. But today, the entire process irritated him to no end.

  It seemed every time he really developed a strong trait, some catastrophe would befall the line. As soon as his horses reached full strength, their intelligence would plummet in a single generation; or peak intelligence, their strength and endurance would drop to terrible lows. He was back to giant dolts and sickly geniuses, speedy klutzes and agile slowpokes.

  And on top of it all, he had so many foals that he had a hard time keeping up with feeding.

  Ieon had rejoined him, but – like the day before – he didn’t help. Also like the day before, he had plenty of unsolicited feedback. “They’re getting pretty big,” he’d say, “but you might want to work on integrating some intelligence. They’re not very smart.”

  Jack tried following his advice once or twice. But as soon as he introduced his puny brainiac stock, the big guys lost a ton of mass and strength. It seemed a no-win situation. Ieon congratulated him on his failures. “That’s it. Keep trying, you’ll find the right balance, traveler.” Which only convinced him that the wizard didn’t know what he was talking about.

  Still, he kept at it until late afternoon. The breaking point came when Jack’s endurance line produced a pint-sized pony with full endurance. He’d spent all day listening to Migli talk about getting laid and being in love. He’d spent all day working in the hot sun and fighting with a genetic code that made no sense at all. He was done.

  “That’s it. I give up. This is too blessed stupid.”

  Ieon didn’t seem to understand the nature of his words beyond the part about being done. “Ah, traveler, have you finished? Are my horses ready?”

  Jack had two responses available.

  Not yet. I’m still working on them, Wizard.

  And,

  As ready as they’ll ever be.

  He chose the second option, and Ieon’s face fell. “Oh dear. This poor little runt is no good to me.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s a stupid minigame.”

  Ieon sighed. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t have expected much. You tried, anyway, traveler. And I suppose you deserve some reward for the effort, if nothing else.”

  “You’re darned right I do.”

  “Here, take this,” he said, handing him a vial of glowing green liquid.

  Jack frowned at it. “What is it?”

  “An elixir of seeking. Use it wisely, when your path seems hidden from you. It will open your eyes.”

  Jack slipped it into his pouch and waited expectantly. But Ieon offered him nothing else. “That’s it? Two days of work, and I get a one-time use seeking potion?”

  “Fare thee well, traveler,” Ieon said. “Good luck to you on your journey. The fate of our world rests on your shoulders.”

  Jack glared at the other man. It seemed to him that if the wizard was really so worried about the fate of the world, he could have coughed up a little more. Ieon just turned to his horses, though. “Come on, little guy. Let’s find you a mini-stall, why don’t we
?”

  He decided to move out then and there. It might have been prudent to wait a little longer, to spend the night and restock his supplies. But Jack was done waiting. He’d wasted two days on a big, fat nothing burger. He had lost time to make up.

  So he left, with Migli moaning about saying farewell to his true love as they went. They walked north, toward the mountains. The countryside returned to normal, and the weird, retro color scheme reverted to more natural hues.

  The sun had set, and they’d reached the foot of the mountains, when the game paused. The trees and grass stopped midmotion as the breeze rustled through them. Migli paused mid-step – and then he spun around, a big, cheesy grin on his face. “Yo, Jack, how’s it going?”

  He didn’t hear the unfiltered voice behind the avatar takeover, but he didn’t need to. He recognized Richard simply by his manner of address. “Great.”

  Migli – Richard – laughed at the sarcasm in his tone. “Oh no. Jordan told me you were having a rough time of it. She told me to check in on you. Guess she was right.”

  “A ‘rough time’? That’s the understatement of the year.”

  “You mean, with the brain blending and all that? Yeah, she mentioned it. That stinks, man.”

  “You think?”

  “But hey, I’m just checking in to make sure you’re okay. Actually, I was supposed to do it a few hours ago. Got busy and forgot.” He laughed again, this time apologetically. “You know how it goes.”

  “Not really. I don’t have the luxury of forgetting I’m stuck in a videogame. You know, since I’m stuck in a videogame.”

  Richard sighed. “I know, man. I’m there with you, a hundred percent.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. Richard couldn’t even convincingly convey sympathy, much less begin to grasp the extent of how terrifying his situation was. But, he wasn’t going to argue with him. “Well, you did what you needed to. I’m fine.”

  “You sure, man? You sound like you’re still having a rough time.”

  “Nothing worse than normal. I just wasted two in-game days building defective horses, and I’m no closer to getting out of this contraption.”

  “And the brain blending,” Richard reminded him.

  “Yeah. And the brain blending. But other than that, sure, it’s going great.”

  Richard considered this for a while, then nodded. “Alright. Well, I’ll let you to it then. If you need to talk or whatever, I’m right here. Oh, and hey, one more thing. Jordan wanted me to remind you to get some sleep. You know, real sleep. Cause you get a little crabby when you don’t sleep.”

  Jack did sleep. He figured he didn’t want to miss Jordan during her shift, especially if she found out anything about the Xi Incident. Even if she hadn’t, though, maybe he could get another latte.

  When he woke, he returned to the same dusk scene that Richard had interrupted. He was back at the base of the mountains, following a path that climbed up until it disappeared in the horizon.

  He did feel a little better, too. “Come on, Migli,” he said. “We’ve got a dragon ahead of us.”

  They walked for several hours. Jack was glad his avatar didn’t have to worry about things like physical exhaustion, the way his real body would have, because they covered several miles without breaking a sweat – physically, or metaphorically.

  By now, the last rays of daylight had gone, and deep darkness settled on the land. Migli had stopped singing – mercifully. But only because he’d taken to issuing dire warnings instead. “Be on your guard, Sir Jack: wild country like this is sure to have wild creatures prowling at night. We should be ready for anything.”

  Jack was. Or at least, Jack thought he was, until he heard a howl roll toward him on the night air. Shivers ran up his spine, and a low, foreboding ambient music kicked in. “Wolves?”

  “Not wolves, Sir Jack, but men who take the shape of wolves in the light of the moon.”

  “Werewolves?”

  Another howl, closer and louder, reached them. “Aye, so they’re called in some parts. Werewolves; the accursed; the damned.

  “Evil men they were, and worse creatures they’ve become. They’ve embraced the darkness and have become monsters in form as well as heart. Be on your guard, Jack, and show no mercy – for they will show you none.”

  He expected an imminent attack after a speech like that, especially with the music playing at the moment. But nothing happened. He took another step, and then another. He went on for five paces, and ten.

  Pretty soon, he’d put a quarter kilometer between himself and his starting point. He’d started to get comfortable. He’d even managed to ignore the music.

  Then the howling started anew. It seemed to come from all around him – near and far, among the distant trees and from the bushes that surrounded their path, higher up the mountain and further below them. The darkness itself reverberated with that high, terrible sound.

  Jack stood stock still, and Migli drew his axe. “If this be the day our adventures end, Sir Knight, know that fighting beside you has been the honor of my life.”

  Then a great, dark figure stepped out of a patch of foliage twenty yards ahead of them. And Migli bolted into the dark.

  “You miserable, stinking coward,” Jack fumed, drawing his sword. “Fighting beside me? Since when have you ever lifted a hand to fight beside me?”

  The figure advanced. Jack could see the silhouette of long, bristly fur on humanoid legs, and razor-sharp claws on the end of massive, hand-like paws. Then the creature drew up tall and loosed a hellish howl.

  He sheathed his sword and ran like hell in the direction Migli had taken off. He didn’t know if the dwarf had a destination in mind. He’d gone crashing through the underbrush, like some kind of crazed Billy goat without a word to Jack. So maybe he’d headed to the place they should have been. Maybe he hadn’t.

  Jack neither knew nor cared in the moment. He followed the trail blindly, egged on by the sound of pursuit – heavy breathing, low snarls, and occasional howling. He counted three or four sets of feet – and twice as many if the werewolves were running on two legs instead of four. He didn’t dare turn around and look, though. He just kept running.

  Migli’s bulk had done him a good turn. What he lacked in height, the little man made up for in bulk. The path looked like a miniature bulldozer had carved a nice, clear path for Jack – straight to…somewhere.

  Jack ran for a long time. The path curved and twisted, and went up and then down, and then up again. He went left and right, and around in circles, it seemed.

  He ran and ran, with no sign of Migli, until he saw lights on the far horizon. In better circumstances, he would have slowed his approach, and come in quietly. He would have employed stealth to scout his destination, to determine if friend or foe awaited him. In better circumstances, he wouldn’t have had werewolves on his tail.

  These were not better circumstances. So Jack crashed forward, through Migli’s artificial trail, until he reached a road. The dwarf’s tracks disappeared, so he assumed he’d gone in one direction or the other along this road.

  Which way, he couldn’t say. But with dark night to one side, and lights – and hopefully, humans – to the other, Jack didn’t hesitate more than a few seconds. He ran toward the people.

  His delay, momentary though it was, cost him. The lead wolf had gotten close enough to take a swipe at him. Jack felt three gashes rip into his back, and three separate hit point drains on his health meter. All in all, the hit cost him sixty-six health – twenty-two from each cut. “Mother trucker,” he swore, darting forward as fast as his legs could carry him.

  He caught a glimpse of six or seven figures behind him – all huge, and terrible, with fangs that glistened in the moonlight, and claws that glinted like steel.

  Jack ran for the lights. He could feel werewolf breath against his heels. He could smell it: rank, and laden with the metallic tangy odor of blood. Streams of perspiration ran down his face and back.

  A dark shape took form on the
horizon, low and squat. A minute later, he recognized it as some kind of cottage. Another minute brought him close enough to see an old wattle fence, gray in the moonlight.

  He ran harder. He could feel his deliverance at hand. A few more meters would get him to the fence. One good vault would get him over it, and another few meters would get him to the door. He hoped like hell it wasn’t locked.

  He sprinted, and he vaulted, and he sprinted again. He collided with an old, rickety door, and tried the latch.

  It gave under the pressure of his hand, and he spilled into the vestibule of a marble palace.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jack slammed the door behind him and breathed hard. It took a few moments, but he worked out what had happened. Somehow, through all the twists and turns, he’d wound up back at the wizard’s place – back in Ieon’s Valley, in the little cottage that was really a palace.

  He pushed up onto shaky legs. He could hear the wolves scratching at the door, snarling and angry. But this was a wizard’s place. He figured he’d be safe here.

  He glanced around for Migli. He half expected to see the dwarf poke his head out from a distant doorway, checking to see who had come through. But he saw nothing – not Migli, not the wizard, and not his butler.

  His internal clock told him the hour was just after midnight, so that wasn’t much of a surprise. He sighed, though, and took a step forward. He guessed he’d have to crash here overnight and leave with the sunrise – when the miserable werewolves would be aground.

  His footstep rang off the marble. But the next one was muted and soft, like he’d stepped on something that dampened the sound. He glanced downward, and saw a squat, blocky print – mud on marble. Migli. He is here after all, the miserable coward. And probably fast asleep – or with Katrice – without a second thought to me, almost being torn to shreds in the forest by monsters. He thought about leaving Migli once and for all. He could do without all his bad advice, and lousy singing, and romantic exploits.

  Then again, the only way out was through the werewolves, which put the idea to rest with about as much speed as danger prompted Migli to turn tail and run. So he wandered downstairs. Migli’s footprints vanished after a while, but he supposed the dwarf had a similar idea – although his would involve a certain beguiling cook in her quarters.