Ow.
Grigfen shoved the Wingship off me and helped me stand. I swallowed a hibisi blossom. Ick. The thing tasted like kale, my least favorite of all vegetables.
I stepped on the body and retrieved my axe.
“Get to the bushes,” I told Grig. “And don’t use too much magic at once.”
“I know what I’m doing. Watch out for Ryo. Any damage could kill him in real life.”
The last Savak shook off the ghostwind. She flapped higher and lifted her anchor so we couldn’t reach her. She whistled twice, and that beast of hers followed her command.
Ryo stood on the top of a peddler’s wagon, above folded springs. He raised an orange above his head and shouted at the beast. “Come here, girl!”
No. Now was not the time to play a hero.
The beast lunged for him. Ryo held steady as the zomok tucked its wings. It wasn’t slowing. It opened its mouth, flashing sharp teeth. That idiot, that idiot.
Ryo threw the orange straight up in the air and leapt off the side of the wagon. The beast caught the orange and flew back to the Savak, its spiked tail wagging. The Savak warrior pointed at us twice and whistled, but the zomok wouldn’t dive.
“You tried to train it?” I said as I reached him.
Ryo brushed off dirt from his fancy clothes. “There was no try about what I just did.”
He ate a blossom, but his life only went up a little. Grig was still lined with scars from the Savak Wingship, and we’d only taken out two.
In the distance, from the direction my arrow pointed, a fleet of Wingships took off. About a dozen. Flying right toward us.
I glanced back at the untrained farmers who’d been too scared to attack and the peddler children huddled under the wagons. Ryo had recruited them to fight, but they assembled now to die.
And there was a good chance that I would join them. The choices I made mattered here, because they might be the only choices I got.
“We go for the boots,” I decided. “Now. The farther we get from these children, the more likely they will survive.”
“They aren’t players,” Grig said. “We could use the farmers to distract—”
“I’m not going to let a kid die. Not even an NPC.”
Ryo’s eyes warmed. He’d spent the whole day assembling this army, and he looked at me like he was proud to let them go. “Let’s go.”
He didn’t even hesitate.
We ran for our horses. I climbed onto the saddle and kicked its flanks, urging my horse to gallop as fast as it could go. The white horse kept the pace I’d set. Behind us Grig galloped with his eyes toward the sky. Ryo’s cloak billowed out, like a bull’s-eye to our location, and for the first time, I was so glad for the fancy clothes he wore. Look at us. Follow us. We’re the ones you want.
We galloped over the hillside and down to the valley of the King’s Crypt. My lungs galloped with our horses. We made our way through the houses and buildings that surrounded it. More ruins than houses. Burned by a fire that still smoldered and sizzled inside the wreckage.
The crypt itself remained untouched. Three stories high and covered in sparkling carved marble, etched black with smoke. Solid iron doors had been fused together, keeping the building locked. The Savak Wingships circled above. Voices carried in the night wind. But I couldn’t hear their plans.
Though the goose bumps on the back of my neck recognized their anger.
“They can’t get in without the gloves,” Ryo said. “They haven’t retrieved the boots yet. We still have time.”
Above the crypt, a pair of Wingships cut off from the group. They each unfurled a weapon from their wrists, a silver carved bracelet, which shot flames that lit the night.
I glared at the sky. “Why would you give them flamethrowers?” I hissed.
When this was all over I would be having words with Ms. Takagi.
Their weapons scalded the metal roof. It was only a matter of time before they broke in.
“There are so many bones here,” Grigfen said. “I’ll find a hiding place and summon a few skeletons and zombies for the Savak to fight. I’ll set up a distraction.”
“And then we’ll break into the crypt,” Ryo said.
I gripped Grig’s hand tight. “Watch your healing. Summoning ghosts drains your health, so eat a blossom every few minutes.”
“I will. Awa’ an bile yer heid, Dags. I’m higher ranked than you are. I’ll find a nice safe place and take a nap if I need.”
“We’ll be right back to get you.”
Grig tapped my nose. “You don’t die on me either.”
Ryo dropped his cape next to where we left the horses and then he pressed his hand against my back, like we were on good enough terms for him to touch me. We slipped through the shadows and waited under a branch, until Grig gave some sort of sign.
The ground in front of the crypt rumbled, and decomposing arms sprouted from the ground. Creatures climbed from the earth and leapt up. The Savak Wingships fell for Grig’s trick. They dropped anchors and focused their attack on the dead warriors he’d conjured.
“Now,” I whispered.
We shot from the trees and pressed against the marble building. Ryo pried at the iron doors with the gloves and I slipped inside. My heart thudded when the doors slammed closed. The soundtrack cut off abruptly with the light. I could only sense the warmth of Ryo’s arm next to mine and the sound of our breaths. The crypt was dark as a cave; only a circle of heated metal lit the ceiling three stories high above us.
A sharp blaze cut through the metal. They were almost in.
Claws tore at the ground. The screech made me flush cold. I turned, but couldn’t see a thing. Something shuffled in the dark. Something clawed against the stone floor.
We weren’t alone in the crypt.
18
MCKENNA
The tall waving grass sounded like soft wind chimes and dampened the sound when I landed on the Biallo coast. I strutted forward as though I was making my way to the front of the stage to accept an Academy Award. And why not? I’d killed four players now. Nationally ranked, egotistical players who were back home sulking that a no-name nobody came and showed them how it was done.
My Wingship armor even shone like an Oscar, maxed out to its most lethal. I did a quick check to make sure I was camera ready, and then I turned off stealth mode.
The orange column of light I sneaked toward brushed the horizon. Andrew Sanderson. Ranked fifth. Mage class, talent unspecified.
I hated when I couldn’t research my scene partners, and in this environment, it could get me ejected from the game. I needed to tame my ego and be careful. Sylvania almost caught me last time, because I was too busy celebrating a particularly dramatic strike. I should get this over with quickly; keep that pace quick and rising toward my showstopping finale.
Stealth mode.
The humming noise sounded shrill against the numb echo in my head. If I could feel pain, I’d be feeling it now. I glanced at my stats, and my health had dropped. I froze. No, was dropping. Something was wounding me, but no one was around. No one but the cameras. The light between the grasses pulsed. A bright swirling vapor lingered beneath the pads of my feet.
The threat came from below. I leapt and my wings caught me, but somehow that orange vapor rose with me, twisting around my ankle like a stinging trail of invisible liquid. The liquid grew taut, and I couldn’t fly higher.
I checked my healing. I’d crafted a helmet and hidden a hibisi drip line on either side of my cheeks, like a wireless headset mic.
It was poison magic. I’d stepped inside a large orange circle, the circumference thin and shuddering. I’d walked into a trap.
My healing dropped.
I searched the ground, the sky, anything for that column of light, or something I could do to fight off poison. The map showed him just beyond the reach of my weapons. Just offstage.
I flicked my wrists, and my Devani bracelet sparked. I ignited the flames and shot straight down. The vapor
caught in the flames. It exploded with a force of sound and air that shoved me straight into the sky.
That shackle of poison burned and released me. I flew high as I dared, swallowed hibisi tea, and then rushed for that column.
Stealth on.
Andrew hid in the bushes, his health weakened from his magical trap. He seemed disheveled, his clothes sloppy, his cheeks as hollow as his eyes.
Stealth off.
I reappeared. He lowered his chin, his shoulders curved in defeat. He didn’t even attempt to fight. He knelt to the ground and put his hands on either side of his head, elbows up.
I lifted my palm and aimed a dagger.
“Please,” he said. “Before you kill me, can you just tell me how to get out of this valley?”
I did not lower my weapon, but I didn’t fire either. He seemed so … pathetic. His health was at 14 percent, and his bare feet were bloody. He didn’t seem awake enough to be a real threat. “When was the last time you’ve eaten?”
“You mean something other than grass? I don’t know. How many days has the game been playing?”
The game. He has his game vision? “You’ve drunk seer water?
“First day in the game. You sent a treaty to the king of Biallo. I stole my father’s glass of seer water and told them not to sign, and then the Savak killed all my people anyway. I barely made it out. I can’t go back, because there’s flying morons circling the walls, and the cliff that way is too short to kill me; guess how I found that one out.” He closed his eyes. “Aim between the eyes or in my heart. I mean it. I have a hard time dying.”
“You have extra lives?” How was that fair?
“No. I wish. I’m a Devani healer, and all I have to do is rest for a bit and my health goes up.”
I checked his stats. Health at 21 percent. “You’re a healer?”
“Yeah. It sucks. I’m only really good on a team, and the player I was supposed to team up with, Jefferson, died in his sleep.”
“I could use a healer.”
He scoffed. “Right. And I’m supposed to trust you?”
“Oh, of course not. I will kill you. I have to in order to win the game. But I could save you for last, if you’re nice. In the meantime, I’ve got plenty of real food. A castle with all kinds of luxuries. And I can fly you out of this valley right now.”
He opened his eyes. Looked me up and down.
“You’d do that?”
I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak, like I’d forgotten my line. He played at my sympathies, but the queen of the Savak shouldn’t have any. He was useful. She’d use people. But did I want to help him because he looked pathetic, or because I could use him?
Or was it because I was lonely?
While I debated with myself, his health slowly reloaded. A speck of orange vapor seeped from his fingers.
He was stalling, I realized. I lifted my palm, but he shot that vapor out like a rope that slid around my neck and pulled me to my knees in front of him.
No. The Savak queen couldn’t kneel for anyone.
A numb tingle ran up my neck, but I didn’t feel any pain. I milked it, though, grasping the magic rope with my fingers, coughing. His grip started shaking. We both waited down my health. 9 percent. 7 percent. He pulled me close, until our noses touched.
“I’ll just take your wings for myself,” he said, his voice strained. Weak. Mine was not the only health that was dropping.
I waited until his grip went slack. I fell to the ground, my head turned so my health stat was hidden behind me. He collapsed to the ground, heavy breathing rumbling over me.
Health at 2 percent. The numbness echoed behind my ringing ears. I licked my hibisi-dusted lips and the numbness quieted. I waited until he stood to collect my loot, and then I sat up and shot him with feathered blades. One in the side. One in the neck. One in his gut.
I stood as he fell. “You wouldn’t know how to use them.”
I whistled. A zomok stopped circling the clouds above me. It dived; sharp claws paddled to the ground. I cocked my head to one side as the zomok joined me. Her head turned to the side in copy. Having a healer on my team could be useful, but I’d crafted a hibisi-delivering system, and honestly, I didn’t need the baggage.
“What do you think, Sunshine?” I asked the zomok. “Does he look like lunch, or should I use him?”
“Please,” he whimpered.
“Please what?” I asked. “Please kill me quick? Please forgive me? Which please are you pleasing now? Sunshine here is hungry. Aren’t you, you beautiful girl?”
“I don’t know,” he said. I didn’t trust him for anything. Trying to use my sympathy as a second trap. He was supposed to be harder to beat. He was supposed to be a challenge.
“You are a disappointment,” I said.
I flicked my wrist and palmed a feather-shaped dagger.
He covered his face. “Wait! Wait!” The haze of loyalty around his shoulders turned from gray to a dark red. Not my color, not really, but closer.
Scrolled writing tagged to a bracelet around his wrist. My crafting file unlocked. Something new I could build. I opened the crafting file, and twenty, no thirty, new upgrades unlocked. Poisoned blades, traps, and he’d hidden a Devani necklace that captured lightning.
I could use that.
I pulled that bracelet off his wrist, connected it to a chain already made magic by that Devani queen, and connected it to his wrists again. His own poison had turned against him now.
“You’d better hope your healing wasn’t a lie,” I whispered. I whistled twice, and Sunshine grabbed him by his ankles. I took off after them, flying back toward my castle. My armies were returning, and there was still so much to do before the finale.
I’d need something stronger to keep him in line, and I knew just the thing.
As my Wingship carried me over the Biallo coast, I reloaded my hibisi distiller, dusted my lips with powder I’d dyed bright red, and tried to settle my nerves.
This was the first player I hadn’t killed.
I really hoped that wasn’t a mistake.
19
RYO
Sweat drenched my skin.
Scratch. Thump.
I searched the darkness, my eyes throbbing.
Scratch. Thump. Closer to me.
Dagney struck a match and lit the torch she’d pulled from her inventory. The light illuminated the arched ceiling of the crypt.
Dad’s image was etched into every sparkling wall. Carved moments of his life; one of him receiving his diploma, one of him marrying my mother, and right beside these large double doors, a carved moment of the first time he held me, his grin completely taking over his face. My father’s entire life was recorded in the walls of this monument of fallen kings.
I softened my jaw. My mom made an Easter egg for my dad.
She hid an Easter egg in every world she’d created. In Ashcraft there was a secret room with my father’s initials. In Swordmaker’s Chronicles there was an underground tunnel with a painting of me taking my first steps.
The carved walls arched over skeletons in fine clothes on slabs, arranged in a circle in the center of the room.
Nothing else.
Nothing that could have made those sounds.
Something scratched. We both flinched at the sound.
Dagney handed me the torch and grabbed the battle-axe from her back. “Keep to the walls,” she whispered.
“Is your arrow pointing to any particular body?”
“No.” The torchlight made dancing shapes in her irises. “It disappeared as soon as the doors closed. The boots are in this room, but that’s all I know. We’re going to have to search for them.”
We moved across the crypt, each of our steps echoing against the crypt walls.
A thump. A scratch.
“They’re footsteps,” Dagney whispered.
Great.
The torch blew out.
Dagney swore.
“Give me a match! I’ll light it.” She t
urned.
Her axe was too close to my cheek. “Careful.” I stepped away and relit the torch. At the edge of the light, a foggy shadow loomed. I lifted the torch.
Nothing behind us.
Then, in an instant, the shadow returned, too tall to be human. A line of light cut through my game vision. As fast as it appeared, the shadow winked out, leaving only a suggestion of what might have been horns or fangs. The crypt was ripe with the aroma of fresh blood.
An indicator pointed to where the shadow had just been. “Lurcher,” I warned.
We waited, watching for movement or shadows deepening. The torch warmed the side of my face and flicked against the walls.
Darkness gathered against the wall, the center tinted green as ghostlight.
We stepped backward. Something brushed against my legs. I flinched around.
But it was just a dead body.
How screwed up was this, that that was comforting?
A footstep scratched behind us. I turned, but Dagney still faced the doors. “Do you think there are two of them?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Only the Devout can see most ghosts. Not unless they want to be seen.”
“And Lurchers?”
I read the info scrolling across my game vision. My stomach twisted. “Lurchers like their prey to see them before they eat them.”
“Great. Super great. How can we kill something we can’t see?”
“I don’t think we can kill it; it’s already dead.” I lifted my chin. “But it has to be possible. My mom would make the game playable.”
The ghostlight solidified at the center of the looming shadow. It did have horns. Something crackled like a skeleton coming to life.
The torch dimmed but the flame held steady. Come on, torch. Don’t fail me now.
At least not until I find those boots.
I didn’t know which of the finely dressed skeletons had once been my game grandfather’s body, but their feet faced the walls, their heads close together, like a demented star shape. A half-melted candle rose from a candlestick near the wrapped head of a woman dressed in a soft, purple, moth-eaten gown. I lit the candle and moved on to the next.
Glitch Kingdom Page 17