Mage

by L. J. Swallow

  I hold a hand out to close the laptop lid and my stomach tightens to match my chest as the screen flashes. Blue screen, filled with jumbled numbers and letters. Fantastic. Thank the stars my 'laptop quest' finishes tomorrow, because this one is about to die.

  Symbols join row after row of lowercase letters, interspersed with numbers, white against the blue screen. My external hard drive flashes too, and a dull whining emits from the black box.

  Shit. My dying laptop is about to take the hard drive down with her.

  My photos.

  When did I last back them up to the Cloud?

  I seize hold of the hard drive and rip the cable from the USB port. The whining continues, and I grasp my hands over my ears. A pressure grows behind my eyes, pushing white across my vision. Pain traverses my body, travelling along nerve endings as if I've been injected with poison. I gasp for breath as the sensation builds in my chest, a crushing weight knocking me backwards.

  The screen blacks out as I do.

  Chapter Three

  I'm hit by the familiar feeling of falling in a dream; the sensation I often feel halfway between sleep and wakefulness, where my body jolts as if I really did fall and land back in consciousness. This time, I heave a breath as I land, immediately aware I'm not in the soft warmth of my bed. Damp leaves stick to my cheek, the musty smell of earth and decay surround my head.

  Not my apartment.

  The top of my head presses against a hard object, and I reach out a hand. A tree trunk scrapes against my fingernails as I run fingers over the bark. I squint above, where clouds move across the night sky, moonlight phasing in and out as they do, then pull myself onto my hands and knees, fighting down the dizzy nausea to focus on my surroundings.

  The trees surround the copse I woke in, canopies touching. What the hell? I rub my head, as if it would push back in any memories of how I arrived here. I'm positive I headed to bed and not out for a mind-blanking, alcohol-fuelled night.

  Omigod. Creeper Dude. Did he follow me and break into my apartment? Somehow drug me?

  Is he nearby?

  I scramble backwards, rest against the tree, and hold my breath, listening again.

  Silence. An object catches my eye; a bag resting against the trunk next to me. I reach out, then catch sight of my wrist.

  A silver band, too tight to push over my hand if I tried, clamps around my wrist. A small screen flickers to life as I tap the surface and blue words appear:

  Eleanor

  Mage

  Magic Specialisation: Pyromancy

  Level 1

  Health 50

  Magic Energy 10

  The text disappears, and I shake my arm. What the hell? I need more information. I'd hardly call my job as a cleaner magical, although scorching the Faceless into oblivion with fiery spells would be tempting.

  Besides, I play a cleric in the game.

  The sleeve of the black cloth shirt I'm dressed in drops over the band. I don't own a black shirt. I touch the material, and stare at the loose black pants and thin shoes; neither came from my wardrobe.

  Fear trickles across my scalp and down my neck as my dream-like state fades.

  Where the hell am I, and why?

  I grab the light brown canvas bag and pull open the belt-like fastening. Yep, light because it's empty.

  Screw this, I need to move. Whoever brought me here could be back any moment with cable ties and murderous plans. Standing, I haul the bag across my shoulder and stumble through the trees into the dark. At each leaf crunch I wince and pause in case I alerted someone. The thin shoes allow stealth, but every rock and fallen branch presses into my sore feet.

  The forest thins, and I spot a path nearby. Do I walk into the open? Or stay in the tree-cover? I grip the bag strap as I deliberate.

  Something moves in the shadows behind, and I spin around. A small clicking sound, more rustling.

  Yeah, using a path seems like a good idea right now.

  I back up in the path's direction, straining to see what's making the sound. The shadow moves, growing larger as it approaches, plunging from the darkness towards me.

  Holy fuck.

  A spider. A huge-ass, red and black creature twice the height of me. I'm not an arachnophobe, but when a spider this big enters my world, I've no desire to stick around.

  I startle as the band around my arm pings. The screen displays:

  Red Widow

  Level 1

  Non-aggressive

  The creature moves forward, and I trip. The forest floor greets me as I fall backwards. Non-aggressive? Seriously? Fear tingles through and along my arm. No, not fear, something else. A pressure builds as the spider lifts a leg, feeling its way across the forest floor.

  The bracelet surrounding my arm buzzes and I glance down.

  Fire arcs from my right hand, hitting the spider squarely in the head in an explosion of orange light surrounding the creature. I shield my eyes with one arm, and when I brave peeking out, I'm not sure what shocks me the most. The size, the burnt corpse, or the fact I just threw a freaking fireball out of my fingers.

  "Oh yeah, nice. The whole bloody lot will come now," remarks a voice from behind me.

  I scramble to my feet. A guy around my age, tall, built like the proverbial brick house stares down at me. "You do know they don't attack unless you do."

  "What?"

  "The spiders. Get on the path.”

  I appraise him. Identical backpack, loose clothes that match mine. Curiosity in his eyes joins his unimpressed look.

  "Get on the path," he repeats.

  A branch cracks behind me, a multitude of clicking sounds filling the air. More dark shadows loom.

  "Shit!" I don't need telling again and hightail past the guy, not stopping as I run along the path.

  "Do you even know where you're going?" he calls after me.

  I halt and look back as the guy strides closer.

  "Do you?" I ask.

  "I don't even know where I fucking came from."

  His bracelet pings at the same time as mine and we both look at our screens.

  Jay

  Cleric

  Level 1

  Magic Specialisation: Revival

  Health 50

  Magic Energy 10

  "You're a mage?" he asks.

  "And you're a cleric?" I laugh. "You should be a warrior—look at the size of you."

  His eyes narrow. "Yeah, they should at least let us choose what we want to be."

  "Who?"

  "Who the fuck knows? I've spent the last hour wandering around in circles trying to find a road. All I've found is this path that goes on forever. And a shitload of spiders." A sound in the forest triggers the hairs on the back of my neck and he waves a hand at me. "Keep walking. If we get far enough away, they'll stop following."

  I attempt to match his strides. Is he going to leave me on my own?

  "Uh. Jay. What the hell is going on?"

  "Are you a gamer?"

  "Yeah."

  "I think you're having an immersive experience." He snorts a laugh.

  My head scrambles to catch up. Game? "I didn't sign up for this! This is a joke, right?" I tip my head to the sky. "Hello?"

  "Dunno. Maybe. I thought a guy with a paintball gun might leap from the trees, but not some mutant insect."

  "Spiders aren't insects."

  He scowls, lip curling. "Seriously? Semantics bother you in this situation? I don't give a shit what these are—they're not normal. Mutant spiders? Magic conjured by our hands killing them? I swear, somebody has dumped us into a game."

  "VR?" I wipe hands across my face, feeling for a headset.

  "Believe me, this is fucking reality."

  "Well, I wouldn't be level 1 if this is a game. I'm level 50 in the game I play. And I wouldn't choose to play a mage."

  "I guess you re-rolled. Me? Level 50 champion with Mythical armour when I play." He gestures at himself. "Look at this. Level 1 cloth armour. And I'm a cleric for fuck's sake.
" He shakes his backpack. "Zilch in here. Not even a bloody weapon."

  "You can cast spells instead of using a weapon?" I suggest. “Clerics have spells that damage.”

  His face darkens. "I never, ever play casters."

  "I guess you re-rolled," I mimic. With another withering look, Jay turns and walks away again. "Where are you going?"

  "To find a way out."

  My screen illuminates as I catch up.

  Darkwood Forest

  Old Kingdom Territory

  Well, that’s original.

  I tap the band again, and as I walk the screen fills, each step along the path expands the small map, filling in the blank spaces.

  "How long have you been here?" I ask Jay.

  "Couple of hours, I think."

  "You woke up here too?"

  Jay stops and holds up a hand. "Shush." He extends a finger and points into the woods. A faint light filters through, and he steps towards the thick trees which obscure the surroundings. "Maybe that's somewhere we need to go."

  "Um. Remember what lived in the woods? Huge-ass spiders? I'm not going near them. They might avenge me for killing their brethren." My semi-sarcasm hides the fear this is a possibility.

  He halts and turns his head. "Starter area, Eleanor. They won't hit hard. Don't touch them and you'll be fine."

  "Yeah. I think I might stay here."

  "Suit yourself." He steps away.

  Stay here, on a path to nowhere. On my own.

  "Fuck it," I mutter under my breath and edge after Jay, around the low-lying bushes that catch my trousers.

  Chapter Four

  The further we move from the path, the denser the woods. White webbing wraps around tree branches above, and I glance away, tensing in case something drops onto me. Besides, I do not want to know if anything, or anybody, is trapped.

  The clicking noise from before intensifies as the black and red monsters appear. Involuntary tingling in my arm starts again.

  "Don't touch them!" Jay calls over his shoulder.

  I catch sight of a broken branch on the ground near one of the spiders. I have a bloody hard time believing the creatures won't attack, or how long my spell energy will last if I need to kill a few. I grab the stick.

  Another wristband buzz and information.

  Darkwood Stave

  (Sometimes you need to make the most of what you find)

  Level 1

  +1 Wisdom

  Stave? Ha. My mum's dog chases bigger sticks than this. Although, it's a good weight, sturdy, long enough to hit the bastards with from a distance. The spiders’ movement follows a pattern, back and forth, sometimes leaving space between them. Aidan and me play ‘old school’ video games sometimes, and I kick his backside on the scoreboard for Frogger. Their movements continue to follow a pattern, legs rising and falling, but they appear oblivious to me or Jay. I study the pattern for a few minutes until I snatch my chance and rush through a gap left by their dance.

  I point the branch at a spider on the way past. Starter area or not, how do we know these are non-aggressive?

  As I catch up to Jay, the spiders remain in their weird pattern, their sound fading behind. A single-storey, stone cottage rests several metres away. The dim light Jay spotted from the path shines out and illuminates a window on the left-hand side, closer to us. As we tread along a makeshift pathway, created by regular walking through the trees, a small, tilled field appears in front.

  Jay's dark clothes cloak him, and I slam into his back as he stops. "What's wrong?" I ask.

  "Um. Might want to slow down."

  "Why?"

  Again, the derisive noise that seems to be a key part of his verbal repertoire. He points at my so-called stave. "What's that?"

  "A weapon."

  "Give it to me."

  "No." I clutch the stick closer. "I found it."

  He jabs a finger towards the nearby building. "I'm going over there. I need your tree branch in case the occupant is less friendly than our spider mates."

  "You're a caster," I remind him. "Your spells are weapons."

  "Screw that." He reaches out for my stick and I step back, ducking from his hands.

  "Are you usually this rude?” I hold the stick between us in warning. I swipe at his hand as he attempts to grab the stave again. "Find your own tree branch!"

  I'm in a forest with no clue how or why, and I'm fighting with somebody over a large stick? A bloody stick. Jesus, El.

  "I bet there's something better to use to fight with in the house," he sneers and drops his attempt.

  "What? Like a broken table leg? Epic."

  "You are... irritating." I bet that's not the word in his head. "I hope we part company soon."

  "Same," I mutter, but we both know the truth: safety in numbers.

  Heel to toe, he steps cautiously towards the house and flattens his back against the bricks. His height allows him a glance through the window, and I peer through the dim, heart thumping. Jay seizes hold of something and laughs loudly, waving the item in my direction.

  A gardening fork.

  Skip's Fork

  (Pointy and sharp)

  Level 1

  + 1 Attack Power

  "Screw you and your stick!" he calls.

  "Shush!"

  "There's nobody in the house. Come on." Before I reach him, Jay rounds the corner, his bulk disappearing from view.

  "What about Skip? He might be nearby and might not like you stealing his fork." Gripping my weapon, I follow him inside.

  Jay stands in the middle of a small room with a dirty wooden floor and chipped, bare brick walls. The place smells dank and as earthy as the woods. This can't be a home? A table, chair, and—

  "Fuck, yeah!" The fork clatters to the ground as Jay stoops down. I crane my head past him. The pale moonlight shines through the dirty window and reveals a large wooden chest tucked in the corner. Jay pulls at the lid to open it. More colourful language escapes his lips as he wrestles with the locked metal catch.

  I'd help, but chances are Jay won't share what's inside. Besides, if he needs my help, he can bloody well ask nicely.

  I plonk my backside onto the wooden chair with uneven legs and sink back into the questions in my head. How am I here? Why? I'm not in the habit of waking up in a virtual world, surrounded by huge spiders and a huge guy. I'm a lifetime urban dweller; I've no clue how to survive outdoors, with or without my new fiery personality.

  "Maybe blast it open?" I suggest.

  "Good point." He reaches behind him for the gardening fork and attempts to prise open the lid with a rusted prong.

  "Why won't you just use your magic?" I huff and outstretch my arm, focusing on building the pulsing power from before. "Stand back."

  "As if that would—"

  Fire sears the chest as it shoots from my hand, but the wood barely scorches. "Huh."

  "See?" He takes the fork again.

  "Leave it. I'm too tired for this crap. Let's go. There's no accessible loot or quest here."

  "Loot or quest?" He half-laughs. "All I want is to get out."

  "Then come on."

  A blurred figure appears at Jay's side, and an arm wraps around Jay's neck, holding what looks like an animal claw against his throat. "Fucking loot ninjas!"

  Jay shrieks in alarm. Actually shrieks. Blood streaks the second guy's face, and if his clothes weren't black, I imagine they'd be as crimson as his hands.

  Words flash on my screen.

  Dean

  Assassin

  Specialisation: Stealth

  Level 2

  Health 50

  Energy 10

  Chapter Five

  The tall guy glowers at me through the dim. His features are half-hidden in the shadows and his simple black trousers and tunic blend him further into the dark. Like Jay, his hair is longer than average, touching his ears and sweeping his forehead. Unlike Jay, his figure is lithe. The muscle in the forearm around Jay’s neck is taut—he may be slim, but he has strength
.

  "What the hell?" I ask.

  "That's my treasure chest," Dean growls.

  “Do you have the key?" I ask.

  "No, I saw it first. And..." He holds up the animal claw. "I'm going to open it with this."

  “Yeah? If you saw it first, where were you when we arrived?” Jay attempts to move but Dean drops the claw back to his jugular.

  “I heard you approach. I wasn’t going to wait in here and be ambushed.”

  "You're level 2," I say, clutching at a way to calm the situation. "Have you been here long?"

  Listen to me: Do you come here often? Enjoy meeting people? Or just slash their throats?

  "Since this morning." He narrows his eyes. "Did you arrive together?"

  "No way!" We half-shout the word in unison; the first co-operative moment we've had.

  "We met recently," I explain. “I’m El and he’s Jay. Want to join us?"

  He falters, shoulders slumping slightly. “Dean. Join you doing what?"

  "Finding a way out. Have you found anything?" I ask. "Any quests that might give us some clue what's happening here?"

  "No. I saw somebody else, though. Thought she was a game character until I got closer. She was over by the lake staring into space."

  "Close enough to know what class?"

  "Zara. Paladin. Level 2." He nods at me. “Now I find you guys stealing.”

  “Um. I presume this belongs to the house’s owner. We’re all stealing.”

  Jay wrests himself away. "We can share the loot.”

  "You can have what I don't want," Dean says and squats down. "There'd better be something useful in here."

  Jay skilfully manipulates the rusted padlock with his animal claw and, a few minutes later, items pile on the floor next to him. He slides things into a pile for himself: decidedly stale-looking bread, a glass bottle with green liquid in it, and a pair of leather boots. I wriggle my toes, jealous. These shoes aren't any better than socks.

  "Take your pick,” says Dean.

  I pull out a blue, cloth item from the stash.