Mage

by L. J. Swallow

Jeremiah’s shop is empty, the gnome perched on his high stool counting gold coins. He sweeps them into a small tin as soon as he hears the bell above the door ring. “Hello, adventurer. Have you saved enough gold to pay to learn my craft?”

  I quietly close the door behind me and pull out the parchment I stole from dead goblins. “I found a recipe. You told me you could teach me how to create potions, and I want to make this.”

  Jeremiah pulls a pair of half-moon spectacles from a pocket and places them on his nose. He takes the parchment in his stubby fingers and reads.

  “Oh, my. Wherever did you steal this from? Not a Dryad, I hope. They aren’t very forgiving.”

  “No. Not a Dryad.”

  He places the parchment down. “You know where to find Tears of the Sky, but Tears of the Dawn are difficult to find.”

  “Do you have any? I can pay.”

  “I know where they grow.”

  I perk up. "Are there any close by?"

  He rubs his chin in a musing manner. “Perhaps.”

  “Where?”

  “Ten gold pieces.” He extends a hand.

  Bloody hell. I delve into my pocket and begrudgingly drop coins onto the counter.

  Eyes lighting up, he adds them to the box with the others he was counting earlier. "At the edge of the woods by the river bordering here and Greenvale.”

  My wristband illuminates and I finally get to see the edge of the next zone and the name illuminated: Greenvale.

  “Unfortunately, the Tears of the Dawn’s appearance is similar to Tangleweed, which grows in the same area and is highly poisonous. You must ensure you pick the right one."

  I huff. Perfect. “How do I tell the flowers apart?"

  Jeremiah walks away from me and I watch, open-mouthed. Really? That’s all I get for ten gold pieces? I’m about to leave and consider my next move when he reappears.

  Jeremiah takes two freshly picked flowers from a box he places on the wooden counter. To me, they look like dandelions—wilted, half-dead weeds. “If you examine them closely, the only difference is the size of the flower. They’re easier to find at dawn, as the name suggest. The petals open sooner than other flowers and glow.”

  I pick them up and twirl the stems in my fingers. “The potion must be helpful if the ingredients are difficult to find,” I say to myself.

  “If a waking nightmare is helpful to anybody.” Jeremiah chuckles.

  I drop the flowers to the table, as if merely touching them might create a nightmare. "I had one of those once. A bad reaction to Ambien.”

  He scratches his head. “Ambien? Is that a rare plant from Telver?"

  "Something like that." I nod at the flowers. "Do you know how to make the Waking Nightmare potion?"

  “Why would you want to create this?" His mouth parts. “Is this for an enemy? Who is your enemy, adventurer?”

  “Right now, I have no clue.”

  Jeremiah takes off his spectacles. “You need clues? I don’t have any.”

  I sigh. “No, I mean... doesn’t matter. Could you teach me potion-making now I have the gold? Learning anything that can help me win—succeed is worth the time. I'm happy to practice."

  He slides his tongue along his lips and stares at my lower half, eyes shining. Is he checking me out?

  “You have plenty of gold in your coin purse. I told you I would help, if you paid me.”

  Ah, the size of my purse is more to this gnome’s taste than anything else about me. “Yes. Of course.”

  His eyes widen, and he steps behind me. I watch with curiosity as he pulls a curtain across the door. Jeremiah pulls out a bottle and pulls on an air of self-importance. "Few people know potion recipes, and fewer can make them. This isn't just a case of gathering the ingredients."

  I barely hear his explanation: the small brown bottle has no label, but a deeply etched symbol to match the one seen at Ethan's place adorns the side.

  "Where is this from?" I ask. “What is it?”

  "The Potion of Weakening Mind? I made it."

  "I mean the bottle."

  Jeremiah picks it up and studies the glass. "I buy them from Khanso, who is an expert in creating glassware." He lowers his voice. "Including the convincing false gems I've seen that cheeky gnome selling."

  "Right, right." I have no interest in shady business dealings. "Did he add the symbol to the bottle?"

  "Perhaps. Most bottles have symbols etched to indicate what they are. This one means danger, as imbibing it well... the effect is self-explanatory."

  "Poisonous?"

  "No, it brings danger."

  He clutches the bottle and then tucks it away beneath the counter. A key jingles and I watch as he secretes the keyring back beneath his smock.

  "I can teach you potions until you’re at an expert level, but it's unlikely you can get to the Grove of Tranquil Waters to mix the potion. It’s in a secret location." I close my eyes. Of course it bloody is. “A location few people return from."

  "Disappearing adventurers seems a common theme here," I mutter.

  He pauses and lowers his voice. "I think some adventurers move on elsewhere, away from our humble town. Or perhaps they upset the Kingdom and disappear."

  Quest:

  Level your potion-making to Expert.

  Find Tears of the Dawn.

  Reward: A map to the Grove of Tranquil Waters

  As ever, the game character doesn't blink at the sound my band makes, as if he can't hear or see the item. Curiously, the quest doesn’t inform me who I need to take the flowers to.

  Is this a side quest or part of a chain? Whichever, I'm in.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  My afternoon consists of potion-making lessons, which I have a natural aptitude for, much to Jeremiah’s delight. I paid him to teach me how to brew the potions, and he watched from his stool before adding the completed bottles to his well-stocked shelves. I’m being exploited; I bet he usually pays people to do this. By the end of the afternoon I could make the simple potions in my sleep, I created that many.

  My wristband chimes every hour, informing me I’d levelled in potion-making skills: novice, apprentice, senior, and the moment I reach “expert” level, I’m done.

  I'm itching to find time to gather the Tears of the Dawn, or look for Jay, but I'm wary of leaving the town close to dark and Jeremiah told me they’re best picked at dawn. The red and gold sunset streaks the sky, and I shiver at what might wait in the shadows.

  One place I can guarantee to find someone, if I wait long enough, is the inn. Our unofficial meeting place, and where we agreed to return with any information this evening.

  The others are already here, sitting at a table a safe distance from the dwarven group from yesterday. My stomach knots as I look at the missing space between Aidan and Zara. Dean waves at me, whereas the other two remain solemn, with Aidan focused on his beer. Spoons are stuck in three steaming bowls before them but I've less appetite than usual. The contents would need to match the bloody good ramen I binge on, on days I'm too lazy to cook. Followed by chocolate ice-cream. Expensive. In a tub.

  Great. Now I am hungry.

  There's no musician in the inn tonight, but several tables have been pushed together and people of different sizes and races sit around with cards. I glance as I walk by wondering if poker exists here, but the cards are covered in different symbols and pictures. Gold coins are placed around the table, and it seems other items are used to bet too—jewels and unusual trinkets, including one that looks horribly like a human hand.

  A smash-faced orc stares at me through harsh amber eyes, his tusks sharpened and pierced with rings. The dwarf and human either side sit at a greater distance than most do to each other. I suspect the reason is more than his Hulk-like bare arms taking up more space. More likely they don't want the muscles around their necks.

  I hope he doesn't lose.

  I hurry past in case somebody asks me to join in.

  Dean drains his wooden cup as I approach and waves at the serv
ing girl for another, who disappears to the bar. I focus on the group with me and distract myself from the unsettling feeling this is a version of my real life. I've long since decided this isn't a dream. Maybe I'm in a coma somewhere? Drugged by the man on the bus? I swallow. Neither situation sounds any better than the one I’m in.

  "Are you okay, El?" asks Aidan. "You look pale."

  I push the steaming bowl towards me and inhale the spices. "Not feeling too good after...earlier."

  Zara slurps on her meal. "This is good." She points at it with her spoon. "Better than yesterday."

  "What's in it?" asks Aidan, and I wish he hadn't.

  "Snake Surprise."

  I retch. Omigod.

  "If I eat this, I get cake." She waves her band at me.

  "Cake?" Aidan and I ask in unison.

  "Huh. I never had a cake quest," he grumbles.

  "I decided to become a chef." Zara licks her lips and taps her band again. "I made the meal, and if I persuade five people to eat it, I get cake. And the recipe."

  I place an elbow on the table and hold my head in one hand. "Are we really talking about cake when one of us died?"

  The serving girl smiles sympathetically as she places down new drinks and touches my shoulder. I jerk at the physical contact and shift away, but am relieved to see she’s a different girl.

  "I had some Snake Surprise," puts in Dean. “It’s not too bad.”

  "I said, don't you care that one of us died?" I say, louder.

  Aidan chews his lip and Dean stares at the table. Zara continues to heartily eat. Doesn't she care?

  "He'll be back," she says and wipes her mouth with a finger.

  "How can you be sure?"

  "This is a game. We're players."

  "I admire your confidence," I mutter and place down the spoon. Aidan curls his fingers around mine and squeezes.

  "We can't give up," he says. "Look at what happened to me and where I came from."

  "Yeah, that was weird." Zara tips the bowl to drain the dregs from the bottom. "I've never heard of that before."

  I straighten. "What do you mean, 'before'?"

  A dwarf sidles past our table, taking a lascivious look at Zara's impressive cleavage. She shoves her chair back, causing the creature to trip into her and land on the floor. He screeches, high-pitched and attention-grabbing, before yelling profanities about 'her type'. She jumps to her feet, hand on sword, and his eyes widen at her stance.

  Dipping his head, he mumbles something obscene and takes a wide berth around her. Zara straightens her clothes and sits. "If two more people eat this, we all get cake."

  At this moment, I could slap this girl for thinking about cake on a night that could be a friend's wake. But can someone we've only known days be a friend? I stare at her smooth skin and shiny hair. How her armour must surpass ours—this isn't rough-and-ready iron hammered together by a town blacksmith. The metal shimmers gold and silver, the joins between each plate hardly visible.

  I point at the breastplate and pauldrons. “I never saw you take that armour from goblins.”

  She looks down and her plait brushes the bare skin between her shoulders and breasts. "Oh. Yeah. Class quest reward."

  "For?"

  She shrugs. "Paladin shit."

  As Dean jokes about the lack of protection considering how much of her skin is still on show, an uncomfortable sensation buzzes into my brain again. "What quest?"

  She pushes a bowl at Aidan. "Please eat it."

  I've seen the look on Aidan's face before—the time we attended a party where somebody offered him a pizza with banana topping. I snicker to myself.

  "El will," he says with a sly smile and arches a brow. "She likes cake too much to refuse.”

  My brain can't let go of the questions: how does Zara have armour created by a craftsman?

  “Does the cake have special properties?” I ask instead.

  “It makes you happy, of course,” she says with a laugh. “Look.”

  She turns her band over and taps the screen.

  Devilishly Delicious Cupcakes

  Adds +20 health points

  Effect: ‘Sugar High’ lifts the day's woes and increases your speed.

  Dean looks too and pulls an impressed face. "C'mon. Cake..." He licks his lips eyes shining. "Delicious, gooey, sweet. Man, I need something more than bread, cheese, and bad stew."

  I inhale. It doesn't smell bad...

  "Talk about peer pressure," I grumble. Picking up my spoon, I dip the edge into the thick brown sauce before licking the end. I blink rapidly. "How much chilli is in this?"

  "Enough to disguise the taste," says Dean and nudges me. "Go on. Zara only needs one more person to eat and then... cake!"

  I glance at my band. No reward mentioned. "As long as the cake isn't a lie," I mumble. Closing one eye, I spoon a chunky mouthful between my lips and hope my gag reflex stays calm. My lips tingle with the spice and I quickly drown the heat with the mead.

  "Tell us about Ethan," says Zara.

  “You should’ve stayed with us," puts in Dean.

  "Presumably, you found more time to take part in levelling quests that landed you awesome armour," I say pointedly. My throat burns from the snake stew, but I'm relieved there's nothing wriggling inside my stomach.

  "Did this Ethan guy have a quest?" asks Zara.

  Dean glances at me. After our meeting with Ethan, we’d debated who to tell. Partly, I wanted to keep this between the two of us, because it’s a head-fuck, and Aidan already struggles more than most of us. But Dean persuaded me I should at least tell him. We haven’t found the chance yet.

  Zara. Am I suspicious of her because I don’t like her, or is my gut telling me something? Dean either feels the same way or agreed with me because I was vehement about not telling her. Something's off that I can't place my finger on. I don't think Zara is as big a team player as she appears. I suspected Jay would be the one to level up alone and abandon the group, but maybe not.

  Jay. I want to believe Ethan, but Jay hasn't returned.

  Zara won’t drop this topic without distraction, so I close my eyes. Taking a deep breath and imagining I’m eating my favourite noodles, I shovel the remains of my stew into my mouth. "Cake," I say, and a belch accompanies my words.

  The people at the table descend into laughter.

  The serving girl delivers five cupcakes and a parchment wrapped in twine the way my potion recipe was, which she hands to Zara. Nobody else in the inn has a cupcake or appears bothered that we do. The card game continues raucously nearby and I'm relieved to see the orc now grinning with the light shining from his glinting pile of coins.

  "Hasn't anybody got a quest for the game those...people are playing?" I ask and point.

  "I was offered one but I've no clue how to play. I want to save my gold." Dean peels the paper from his cupcake and stares at the thickly-iced treat with unashamed need.

  "I wish someone would look at me the way Dean looks at his cupcake," I say with a laugh.

  His eyes turn to mine and the expression doesn't disappear. My heart skips at the intensity. Is he teasing me? I've barely spoken to him, but recognise a guy turning on the smoulder. My stupid self gives a goofy smile back as his attention drags me away from the crap place I'm in. He licks icing from his lips before his mouth quirks into the cheeky smile I'm sure warms more parts of girls than their hearts.

  Aidan clears his throat and when I look at him, he glances between us and shakes his head at me like a disapproving parent. Seriously?

  Me? I'm picturing licking that chocolate icing from those lips.

  Omigod, El. Seriously?

  I chomp on the cake, head spinning. This is confusing shit. One guy I know died—probably. I cling to the hope there's no permanence. Best I eat the happy cake.

  I slump back and devour it. Hell, this is a game world. Maybe it'll make me higher than I feel I must be since I arrived here. But in a good way.

  The cakes don't last long, wrappers discarded
on the table in second. I close my eyes and savour the taste on my fingers. In the pit of my stomach, a happy glow begins and spreads through.

  "Did anybody find any decent loot from the goblins today?" asks Aidan.

  "Nope." Zara crosses her arms. "Just gold."

  "Dean?"

  He drags up his sleeve, revealing a silver cuff shaped like a tiger, circling his wrist. "Pretty cool, huh?"

  "Decorative or functional?" I ask.

  "Increases my stealth ability. And makes my daggers 'bite' harder."

  "Nice." Aidan nods. "I have this." He drops a small object on the table, which looks like a shrunken claw with the talons painted purple.

  "Um. Nice?" I offer.

  "Veros's Paw," he says.

  "Poor Veros," giggles Zara.

  Aidan scowls at her. "It's a Mystical item—a warlock's trinket which allows the owner to channel a dragon's power."

  "Veros! Of course," Zara says.

  "You know about him?"

  She looks the other way. “Not much. Paladin quest.”

  I grit my teeth. Each evasive comment raises my hackles. I bite back commenting how much of her questing has been paladin specific with better rewards than we have.

  "He's dead now," she states.

  "Or hopping around on three paws," says Dean with a snicker.

  "That's a small paw for a dragon," I say.

  "Shrunken." Aidan picks it up.

  "Reckon it will turn you into a dragon, Aid?" I ask.

  His mouth parts. "I never thought about that. I presumed this could give abilities like fire breathing, treasure location, that stuff."

  "You might turn into a demonic dragon," calls out Zara. "That would be awesome."

  A female elf in the seat beside her turns and says sharply, "Do not speak of such things." The runes covering her face flash a deeper violet, eyes glowing.

  Enough to silence Zara's mirth. "Sorry," she mutters.

  Her loud comment has switched the inn's focus onto the mismatched group eating cupcakes in the corner. Perspiration trickles down my back at their scrutiny. If it weren't for the growing effect of the chocolate cake's contents, I'd sneak off, terrified.

  "We should probably leave," says Aidan, glancing around the room with half the sticky cake in his hand.