by Troy Osgood
Hall perked up at that, exchanging a quick glance with Sabine. That sounded kind of how a new Player entered the game. They just appeared as adventuring adults. No Player ever wanted to spend the time as a child and growing up, so that part was skipped.
“Some became kings or nobles, or just famous because of their deeds.”
“Where are they now?” Sabine asked.
“None alive anymore,” Leigh answered. “Not for a long time. Legends now.”
Hall looked out toward the entrance of the tower, across the courtyard and where the bodies of the Boarin were just dark shadows against the ground. He thought he could see something moving out there. Angus lifted his head, looking the same way, and Pike stopped eating. Two spots of yellow returned Hall’s stare. They watched each other, Half-Elf and scavenger. Eventually realizing that Hall was not going to move, the yellow eyes disappeared.
A wolf’s howl broke the silence of the night.
“Let’s make sure we keep the fire going all night,” Hall said, still looking that way.
Sabine and Leigh both turned and looked out into the night. Two more sets of yellow stared back.
“Yeah,” Sabine said, forcing herself to look away. “Sounds like a good idea.”
Roxhard just continued to snore.
The next morning dawned sunny and bright, a red sky across the horizon.
Hall had stayed up long after the others, watching the wolves feed. He wasn’t worried the creatures would attack. If they were going to, they would have done so long before. He was lost in thought, and they provided a distraction.
Something was bothering him, and he wasn’t sure what. He had never been one given to introspection. Life was what it was. You did your best to go through it and make it the best you could. It wasn’t fair. There were distractions. It was a struggle. He’d found his release in gaming.
And now he seemed to be living a game.
The moon was at its peak when he realized what was wrong.
It wasn’t that something was bothering him, it was that something should have been and wasn’t.
Roxhard was always on the verge of losing it. Walking a thin line. Everything was overwhelming. No surprise. Just barely a teenager and confronted with whatever it was they were facing. The game turning real. Killing things in a game was one thing, killing things for real was another. The kid would either come to accept it, or snap. There was no middle ground.
On the other hand, Sabine was working her way through it from another angle. She was questioning everything, trying to find the answers she desperately needed. Sabine needed the structure that the rules had given her. She didn’t have that, and it was pushing at her.
And then there was him.
The experience should have been too much for him. Like Roxhard, he should be overwhelmed close to the breaking point or questioning everything like Sabine. Instead, he was going with the flow.
If he was honest with himself, he was enjoying it.
Why level twenty instead of level one hundred? NPCs that could level and think for themselves? A computer-generated world that felt more real than reality?
He had finally lain down, smiling, and slept easy with no Vitality penalty when he awoke.
They walked out under the arch of the wall, moving to the side to avoid the mess that was the Boarin bodies. Torn and shredded, ripped apart, there wasn’t much that was recognizable. Flies were already in the carcasses, carrion birds circling overhead as they waited for the group to leave.
Once on the ground, Hall pulled out the lower level treasure map and got his bearings.
Skill Gain!
Cartography Rank I +.1
Hall opened his internal map interface and tried to adjust the size so that it scaled with the treasure map. He held the physical treasure map up in front of himself and aligned it with the translucent internal map. Because his internal map only showed areas he had been, most of that part of Cumberland was still unrevealed but there was enough on the two maps that he was able to get them aligned somewhat. They were off a little bit but close enough for him to get his bearings. A northeasterly direction, the trail they would be looking for was almost midway between Land’s Edge Port and where the Green Flow River started. A large amount of area. As they got closer and more of northeast Cumberland was revealed, he hoped to be able to coordinate the two maps better.
Aligning himself in the direction that was the straightest line to the start of the path into the mountains, he put away both maps and got them walking again.
He could hear Pike flying overhead, Angus trotting alongside Leigh and the others as they made their way through the forest. There weren’t as many smaller animals as he was used to seeing. There always seemed to be rabbits and squirrels wandering the forests in the game, but this felt more like when he had hiked in the forests back home in New Hampshire. The animals all hid when the intruders walked through their homes. It was quiet as they walked, the only sounds were those they made.
The trees thinned out, giving way to grasslands and hills. They could see the mountains in the distance as well as the shadow of Edin floating overhead. At the edge of the forest they all paused to take in the sight.
Fields of grass dotted with small forests ran for miles, rolling up and down small hills, small streams and brooks sparkling in the daylight. The land rose the closer it got to the mountains, the Far Edge Peaks. Those towered high into the air, up into the clouds that floated between the islands. Tips of some could be seen above the lower lying clouds, snow on the highest peaks. Sheer cliffs, steep slopes of exposed rock. To the east, the grass ran to the edge where there were no mountains, just disappearing along the horizon with the blue of the sky beyond.
High above, casting shadows upon the ground, was the large mass of Edin. From their angle they could see the underside of the realm. Dark brown and gray rock, sloping inwards as it fell below Edin’s ground level for fifty feet or more. The bottom of the realm was jagged, broken rock, but no pieces fell. It hung suspended in air, floating and not moving.
The waterfall that formed the Green Flow River, fell from Edin and through the clouds to crash down upon Cumberland. They were too far away to hear the roar, and from this distance, it appeared to be just a thin line of darker blue against the light blue sky. Dark dots filled the blue sky, the other realms in the distance. They were at varying elevations, and Hall knew if he could see to the east, west and south, he would see many more.
At the time of the glitch, or the patch or whatever it was, there were only forty explored realm islands, or zones, as they were called in game. When the game had started, there had been twenty-five including the seven starting zones. The rest had ranged from level ten to the original ending level of fifty. The other zones had been added in over the years with an unlimited number that could still be created as needed with future expansions.
The latest expansion had recently been announced and was going to add in a new kingdom, the Desmarik Republic. There had been no word on if there would be a new race, if the kingdom was Human or other, or even where in relation to the other Realms it was located. All they had was the name. It had been scheduled for two years after the announcement, which Hall realized would have put it when they awoke in the game world. Electronic Storm had said it was two years after the glitch. Did that mean the Desmarik Republic was somewhere out there, just waiting to be discovered?
“I’ve never seen Edin from below before,” Leigh said, taking a couple steps farther out, her head craned to look at the realm above her. “When I came here from home, we went to Land’s Edge Port and took the road south. Too far away to see this,” she finished, gesturing up at the island floating above and to the side.
Hall looked out across the sea of grass with the rising hills. It looked relatively peaceful but he knew it was anything but. The plains were home to Centaurs and the Boarin, along with other creatures. Wide open spaces, not much cover.
The alternative was to go all the way west to Land’s
Edge Port and follow the mountains east. It would take much longer and wouldn’t be that much safer. The mountains ran from the eastern edge of Cumberland, the crumbled and jagged line of cracked rock, all the way to the western edge where the city was built. Cutting across the grasslands was the quickest route.
“Shall we?” he asked and started walking.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Centaur reared up, its front legs falling with force as it tried to crush Hall underneath them. He rolled to the side, the hooves slamming into the ground and churning up dirt. Stabbing out with its spear, the centaur tried to skewer Hall. He blocked the stab with his sword, managing to push it aside. Still rolling, he came up near the rear of the Centaur and swung low with his sword.
The blade sliced through the Centaurs rear legs. It roared, stumbling but managing to stay upright. The Centaur tried to kick out with that leg, failing, giving Hall time to get clear.
He looked over the grasslands for his spear but was unable to find it. The Centaur turned, keeping its distance, slowly moving with the hobbled leg. It still had its spear and was pointing the end toward Hall, waiting for him to move. Hall’s spear was six feet long, the Centaur’s was eight. It had the size, height, and length advantage.
Hall hated fighting the half-man, half-horse Centaurs with their combination of speed, power and reach. Besides their crafted weapons, they had natural weapons with their hooves. A Centaur was a tough opponent. He had hoped to avoid them on the journey across the plains.
It hadn’t happened.
They had been on their third day out from the forest, not even halfway to the foothills, when the Centaur patrol had found them. As large as they were, the horse bodies even with Hall’s shoulder and the human parts another three to four feet higher, the Centaurs had somehow managed to avoid detection until it was too late.
The grass was tall, about a foot to two in some spots, Hall and his companions leaving a trail as they pushed through. It was hot on the plains with a constant wind blowing the grass. There were plenty of small streams to rest at and get water. It all made for slow going.
Hall had sent Pike ahead to scout out, as he had every morning. He had never thought to keep a watch behind them.
The Centaur patrol had caught sight of them from a mile or so away. It had circled behind and come up from the rear, charging before the party could react. They heard the noise of hooves thundering across the plain, their only warning.
Turning back, they saw the three Centaurs seeming to tower above the tall grass. Each had spears lowered. There was no intent to talk, they saw intruders in their domain, and they intended to destroy those intruders. They cared nothing for intent, or to try and reason. There were two males and a female. The horse bodies tall and heavily muscled, as were the human bodies. Each wore leather armor, intricately carved vests that left the arms bare except for the bracers. The ears were large and pointed, the noses and faces flat. Long hair that was braided fell down their shoulders and back. The female was blond, both males had black hair. Each wore a pointed leather helm. The armor was painted in greens and reds. Strapped across their backs were large, two-handed swords.
Moving at a gallop, the Centaurs were upon the party almost as soon as they had seen the charging creatures.
Roxhard was in the rear and took the brunt. He avoided the spear but not the Centaur. The force of the impact slammed Roxhard and sent him tumbling. The leg of the Centaur buckled from hitting the stone that was the Dwarf. He fell hard, the force and speed sending the Centaur into a roll.
The second Centaur, the female, pulled up short, stabbing her spear down toward Leigh who was able to move out of the way. The Centaur hadn’t been expecting Angus, who slammed into her legs from the side. She stumbled but stayed up right, looking around for the cow who was running to the side.
Hall moved aside barely as the last Centaur stopped in front of him and stabbed out with the spear. He got clipped as he tried to turn, his own spear knocked from his hand. Hall cursed and rolled as the Centaur reared up to attack with its front hooves.
Moving to the side, out of the reach of the Centaurs, Sabine started casting Hexbolt. The casting finished, a bolt of purple energy streaking from her outstretched hand. It shot across the grasslands and struck the Centaur facing off against Leigh. Hexbolt was a curse, causing the target to lose dexterity, attack speed, and attack power by sending waves of energy through the body as the target tried to move. It could be cast on multiple targets, but sharing the power of the curse across the targets. At Sabine’s low level, the bolt wasn’t that strong but it was enough.
The female Centaur cried out in pain, purple bolts of energy cascading around her body, spiraling out from where the bolt had hit her in the chest. She reared up, trying to move, but the bolts constricted. She shook, unable to do anything. Angus slammed into her again, and the Centaur stumbled, falling to the ground hard.
Leigh pointed her staff at the prone Centaur and chanted. Her Splinter Storm sent dozens of small splinters of wood shooting out from the end of the staff, slamming into the Centaur who screamed as each little bit of wood cut into her skin. Each splinter was small, alone not that painful, but dozens together was very painful. Blood started leaking down from all the small wounds.
Slicing across the Centaur’s legs with his sword, Hall managed to get clear as the Centaur tried to kick out with the wounded leg. It hobbled around, putting distance between itself and Hall, awkward on just three legs. The hurt leg, dropping blood, was curled up and held off the ground. The long spear still gave the Centaur reach, and it tried to stab at Hall, quickly jabbing back and forth to keep Hall moving and off-balance.
With a screech, Pike darted out of the sky, leading with his razor-sharp talons. The Centaur saw the dragonhawk coming in, raising his arm to ward off the bird, to keep the claws away from his eyes. Talons cut into the flesh of the arm, blood dripping to the ground. The Centaur growled in pain, trying to bat at Pike with the spear.
Hall rolled to the ground, coming up under the Centaur. He stabbed up with his sword, pulling it as he jumped out to the side. The Centaur cried out in pain, dropping its spear and falling hard to the ground. Hall just managed to get out of the way as the heavy body landed. Standing up quickly, he turned around and flipped his sword so it was point down. He drove the sword into the Centaur’s back, below the neck.
The Centaur gave one final groan and lay still.
Roxhard struggled up. His head hurt, the world spinning. The force of the Centaur had sent him flying, landing on his back and rolling another ten feet or so before landing on his head. He didn’t think anything was broken but his whole body hurt. He saw his axe five feet away where he had dropped it and tried to walk toward it.
A shadow about ten feet away stood up from the grass of the plains. The Centaur was unsteady on its four feet. It took a step toward Roxhard, dropping the spear. A hand reached over the shoulder and drew the huge blade. The hilt was easily three of Roxhard’s hands long, just barely enough for the Centaur's two. It was plain, no ornamentation. The blade was easily six feet long, thin at the bottom and thicker at the top, the back edge curved inward. It looked sharp and dangerous.
His axe lay between them, almost midway. It would be a race to see who got to it first, Roxhard or the Centaur. Only one of them was armed so Roxhard knew he had to get to it first but he also knew the Centaur was faster.
It would be no contest. He was not getting his axe. He wasn’t even going to try.
But the Centaur didn’t know that.
He feinted like he was going to go for the weapon. The Centaur took the bait and charged, sword ready to swing. Roxhard did not move.
Already swinging, the Centaur’s blade cut through air. It went off-balance, the expected resistance to the strength of the swing not there.
Activating Battle Rush, Roxhard charged at the off-balance Centaur. He slammed into the horse body, knocking the front legs out. The Centaur grunted, falling to the ground again. Roxhard
heard the snap of bones breaking. The legs were up in the air, the Dwarf getting tangled in them. He fell on top of the Centaur, sliding off and rolling on the ground. He had a leg trapped between his body and arm, and he pulled, twisting so it rolled under him.
He heard a satisfying crack and cry from the Centaur.
Trying to stand, he felt a slam in his back, knocking him back down. The Centaur kicked out with its rear legs, catching Roxhard hard.
The female Centaur tried to stand up, the line of purple energy striking her in the shoulder. She fell again, the black wetness spreading. She tried to stand, struggling as the purple crackling energy shocked her limbs. Twisting her head out of the way, she screamed as more splinters embedded themselves in her side, more of her blood falling to the ground. A strange noise, like the beating of wings, made her look up to see a feathered and scaled bird with a long tail hovering in front of her face. The bird’s mouth opened, it screeched and a bolt of lightning slammed into her face.
Smoke rose up from the blackened ruin of the Centaur’s face, the lifeless body falling to the ground and not rising.
Feeling each of the legs kicking against him, Roxhard crawled away from the Centaur. It tried to twist, to rise but the front legs were broken, the angle awkward. Roxhard was glad of the bad angle as it kept the rear legs from hitting him with full force, but he was still bruised and battered.
Out of kicking range, he stood up, looking around for his axe.
“Here,” Hall said from the side.
Turning he saw the Half-Elf Skirmisher holding his axe, a bloody sword in his other hand. He tossed the axe, and Roxhard caught it.
He gripped the handle with two hands, walking around to the rear of the Centaur. The eyes followed him, filled with anger and hate, lips curled back in a growl. Standing behind the head where the Centaur could not see him, Roxhard raised the axe. The body of the horse thrashed as the Centaur tried to lift himself up with his legs. The axe came down, and the body moved no more.