by John L. Monk
The days following my confession had passed mostly in stony silence, with a lot of withering looks and snorts of disgust. Didn’t matter that every word she’d ever spoken to me had been truth-orb true. It was the fact that I could verify her honesty that bothered her. At her angriest, she called me a snake who’d “eavesdropped” on her privacy.
Rita later apologized for the snake comment. She then explained that if she felt like lying, it was her damned business and nobody else’s.
But she didn’t leave me.
Three months had passed since our reunion, and the XP needed per-level soared. At level 74, I was averaging one level a week. Rita, at 68, was gaining between one and two a week. We hadn’t even broken level 100, where the points-per-level for Hard Mode players vaulted to 5,000,000 a level. After level 500, it jumped to 10,000,000 a level. If there was a jump after level 1000, the XP chart didn’t say.
Rita and I were perched atop a craggy ridge in a mountain chain along the northwest side of Ward 1.
“What do you think?” she said staring down the nearly thousand-foot drop at a “young” dragon with emerald-green skin. That section of pine forest was partially flattened by the creature, which seemed to enjoy rolling over trees and occasionally lighting them on fire.
Though frustrated by our pace, thus far we’d been careful not to bite off anything too ambitious. But when we heard about the mythical beast in a nearby adventurers’ town, we knew we had to take a look.
“I need to be closer to discern it,” I said.
“Would you look at that thing?” Rita said breathlessly. “It’s almost too pretty to kill.”
As usual, when Rita was excited, she seemed not to hear me. In my heart, I knew she wanted to make a go at it. Whereas I wanted to leave and try something easier. Not from fear on my part, but rather for her. The guilt of Rita’s lost immortality weighed heavily on me. What made it so crushing was she’d only done it to keep pace with me.
“We should just leave it,” I said. “I mean … yes, it’s … uh, pretty. I guess. But the folks in that town were afraid of it, and a lot of them were higher level than us.”
The dragon was big as a two-story building, with huge bat wings, bright green scales, and eyes that glittered like jewels. For something so large, it moved shockingly fast through the trees below. And because it could fly, Rita’s pin couldn’t save us if we messed up.
According to the townsfolk (adventuring ex-pats from Heroes’ Landing), dragons were rare in Ward 1. None of them had ever fought one.
“Raises my hackles,” I said, aiming for a note of finality.
“But I don’t have hackles,” Rita said. “Because I’m a lady.”
“I’ve heard.”
“That I don’t have hackles?”
I shook my head. “That you’re a lady.”
Rita socked me in the arm and I grinned through the pain. She was strong.
“So we trying or what?” she said as if I hadn’t said no ten seconds ago.
It was interesting how our relationship had evolved. Rita was better at the game but deferred to me when it came to anything risky. Not because I was a man, or that I was higher level. At least it didn’t feel that way. No, if I had to guess, it had something to do with Melody—as if pushing the speed limit would be somehow intrusive. This heaped more guilt on my already burdened conscience because she owed nothing to me or Melody.
“Don’t forget,” Rita said, “you have that diamond.”
The diamond…
I’d found it in my Bag of Plentiful Gems a few weeks after buying it. The other gems I’d pulled out were either garnets, amethysts, topazes, or aquamarines. Those lesser gems were handy for summoning small demons with low health pools to watch our camp at night. But they were nothing like the big ones at the upper limits of my rank 29 diabolism abilities. Those demons required more expensive sacrifices, like diamonds and rubies.
The diamond was big. About ten carats. The various demons didn’t require any particular size, so I could have cut the gem into smaller pieces. Presumably. If I knew a gem cutter. Which I didn’t.
“You keep wanting me to use it,” I said. “First it was those centaurs. Then the hill trolls. Then just to see what happened.”
In a lofty tone, Rita said, “It’s important to test our abilities, Ethan Crane. That way we’re not surprised later. Obviously.”
She had a point, but I only had one diamond.
“Maybe we can lure the dragon over there,” I said, “near those rocks. No way a thing that big can worm its way in. Then I can discern and reveal it, and we’ll know how tough it is.”
Behind us, Jaddow said, “Sure. And two seconds after that, you’ll both be dead.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
I would have tumbled off the cliff if Rita hadn’t grabbed me.
“Careful, Ethan,” Jaddow said. “What level are you? You’re Hard Mode, now. I can’t tell without discerning you.”
“Seventy-four,” I said.
Jaddow squinted at Rita. “Your level seems to have disappeared as well.”
“Screw you, asshole,” she said tightly.
“Will I have to shush you again?” He glanced pointedly at the sky and back at her.
Before Rita could be shushed five miles high, I said, “She has a right to be pissed. That was a pretty crummy trick you pulled on her.”
“I was in a crummy mood that day,” Jaddow said. “And I am now. Dealing with Cipher does that. There’s been a development with your wife.”
I gasped. “What do you mean? Is she okay?”
“For now. Still sleeping forever in a protected vale in Ward 2.” He paused as if searching for the right words. “The truth is, a great number of people are looking for her even as we speak.”
That didn’t make sense.
“Looking for her?” I said. “Why would anyone do that? Nobody knows her!”
Jaddow peered over the cliff. “Do you really want to talk about this up here? Dragons have great hearing, and you seem incapable of whispering.”
I started to protest, then said, “Fine, whatever. Make with the magic doors already.”
He shook his head. “I’ve used the gateway too many times this week. Look for me at the Redheaded Stepson and I’ll tell you almost everything.”
Over his head, a golden truth orb appeared and then winked out.
“What do you mean almost?” I said. “Hey—wait!”
Jaddow whistled like a bird and a powerful wind whipped up, carrying him into the sky. His dark form shrank quickly and disappeared in the direction of town.
“Show off,” Rita said, staring after him with thinly-veiled jealousy.
Rita used her flight pin to carry us off the cliff to our waiting horses. We’d purchased them in a village of lucid elves a few weeks earlier. They took no special care, unlike real horses, and were actually sort of friendly.
“He could have brought us and the horses back with a snap of his fingers,” she said. “He’s rubbing it in. Showing us who’s boss.”
“Mmm,” I said, climbing easily atop my mount. The elven merchant who’d sold them had included a skill book, which activated my “Horsemanship” ability. A minor attribute, Horsemanship would level on its own through continued use.
“He said your wife’s safe,” she said. “In Ward 2. He must have a way to get you there before anything bad happens. Otherwise, why come?”
I grunted noncommittally and focused on keeping a lookout as we made for the trailhead some miles away. There were monsters in these woods we could defeat, provided they came in sufficiently small numbers. Present in my mind were those easy-to-kill monkeys and how they’d ganged up on me.
“Least we learned we can’t beat the dragon,” Rita said. “Unless he’s being a jerk.”
“He’s always a jerk.”
Along the way, there were several opportunities for monster hunting. Eager to reach Jaddow, we eased quietly past each time, and by the end of the day arrived at the
guarded gates of Deep Watch.
Deep Watch was an adventurers’ town in the mountainous northwest region of Ward 1. Constructed of pines logged from the landscape, it had been built entirely by players.
The residents stood tall and exuded a sense of self-assurance. They considered us frankly and not sideways like the snobs in Heroes’ Landing. For safety, they’d built their houses inside the walls. Day and night, those walls were patrolled by watchmen ever on the lookout for orcs, goblins, bugbears, and other tribal lucids—all of whom hated us heroes, naturally.
Almost everything was made of wood. All except for a low stone wall around the mayor’s residence, and a two-story stone building that served as the town’s only inn.
“I still can’t get over how much nicer it is here than the city,” Rita said as we were waved through the gates by the guards.
Tired from the journey and worried to death about Melody, I didn’t reply.
Deep Watch had no sanctuary flag to protect its residents from attackers. On our first day, a high-level priest had subjected us to a short interview. Before permitting us entry, he’d cast a spell to prove we were free of “antisocial urges.” A one-time requirement, and thank goodness, because I was juggling a good number of murderous urges right now.
“He better be there,” I said.
“He will,” Rita said.
The Redheaded Stepson overlooked the town’s central square. Unlike The Slaughtered Noob, there was no blue candle flickering in the window. I’d learned that a blue flame anywhere indicated the presence of either divinity or damnation. Bernard, the Innkeeper, was something close to a god in this world. Bite, on the other hand, was a fiend. And yes, I wondered what that made Cipher, that he could come and go freely to visit Bite in his disgusting underworld, and whether he had a blue flame, too.
Rita and I entered the inn’s front doors to curious glances from the many players who congregated there each night. A few recognized us and nodded politely, but nobody engaged us.
“There he is,” I said, and started across the common room toward the back.
Jaddow sat alone at a table away from the regulars who tended to crowd near the hearth or by the bar. His back was to the door, telegraphing to all, None of you matter. You may as well not exist.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“We’re here,” I said, coming around to face him.
Jaddow ignored me, his attention on Rita. “Good, he brought you. Sit.”
She didn’t move. “We’re not dogs. And my name’s Rita, asshole.”
Jaddow stared at her intently. “You’re somewhat prettier than you should be. What a waste of points.” He turned to me. “Ethan, how much do you love your wife?”
“Now wait a goddamned minute—”
“Oh, sit down,” he said with a calming gesture. “Sorry, bad transition. That’s not how I meant it. I’m asking because your wife is in danger. Depending on how you answer, that could mean you’re in danger.”
Rita and I pulled out chairs and sat.
“You said people were looking for her,” I said. “What’s that mean? Why would they do that? She doesn’t know anyone!”
Jaddow said, “Your wife is an unregistered personality. She’s part of the game, now. Like Bernard, Bite, and Cipher. Like the goblins and demons and all the gods. As such, she exists solely for the pleasure of the players.”
Rita shifted beside me, every inch of her radiating outrage.
“What do you mean pleasure?” I said, no less angry.
“Not what you think. But I suppose in theory, yes, that too. What I meant was she’s become a quest objective. Word has spread that an undead dragon in Ward 2 guards a prize like no other: a beautiful woman who can only be awakened by a single kiss. They’re saying whoever rescues her will be showered with enough points to shave a year off grinding. Provided they can beat the dragon, of course. And this one’s no youngling, like the one you idiots were messing with today.”
Just then, one of the servers came by with three tankards of ale. She set them on the table with a sloshing clank. Something in her manner told me she was a real person and not a game thing.
“That’ll be three gold each,” she said. “And before you get mad, adventurers have more money than the losers in the city. We make ale the old-fashioned way, too. Not magic.”
“Allow me,” Jaddow said, and paid for all of us.
After she left, I said, “Look, I don’t want anyone kissing my wife but me. But how’s she in danger? From what? The dragon? You said it was protecting her.”
“It is,” he said. “It was Cipher who worked it out. Because Melody is part of this world, she has a role to play. Everything in Mythian has a role. In her case, when someone delivers that storybook kiss to finish the quest, she’ll awaken and be his complete and utter slave. Or hers, if the rescuer is female. Her role will be that of minion, and a minion must do whatever its master demands.”
In a weak voice, I said, “So if someone orders her to…”
“Worse,” Jaddow said. “If he orders her to fall in love with him, she will. And that’s the danger. Cipher worries such a change would cause the game to abort her personality entirely, providing a new one in its place. Your wife would become a completely different person.”
Mythian’s designers had replicated the experience of living down to the tiniest details. Flick water in someone’s face and they’d flinch. Tell a funny joke and the mystery of humor would lift a crowd to laughter—and it would feel good. Perfectly real.
Tell someone their wife’s personality was in danger of being wiped clean, effectively killing her forever, and … well …
“Ethan?” Rita said. “Are you okay?”
My mouth was dry. I knocked over my tankard, spilling ale all over the table and onto the floor.
“Good grief,” Jaddow said, pushing his chair back.
I bent to pick up the tankard and nearly fell out of my chair. I couldn’t breathe, and the room seemed hot, like a sauna.
It was so incredibly unfair. Other than dying before she could transfer, Melody hadn’t done anything wrong. It was Cipher who’d brought her here—and he was part of the game! Why couldn’t the game leave her alone?
“You,” I said, pointing at him. “You could save her—go there, keep everyone away. No one could touch you.”
“For three kills, yes, I could.” He shook his head. “But when the anti-griefing penalty kicks in, I won’t be able to lay a finger on them.”
Rita said, “You could shush them! Over and over again. They wouldn’t die. You could juggle them like crazy until—”
“I’m a Hard Mode player,” he said, “just like you two. I have to sleep sometimes or I’ll die. And I only have one life left.” At her questioning look, he added, “Never mind that. The point is you need to get there, and soon. That said, there’s at least some good news—nobody in Ward 2 can take that dragon alone. The bad news is once they realize this, they’ll form a raid and attack together. Then it’s only a matter of time.”
“This is hopeless,” I said. “You said it took five years! I can’t level that quickly.”
“What about Cipher?” Rita said.
Jaddow said, “He won’t help directly. That’s why I’m here. To keep him from breaking the rules.”
I pounded the table. “He brought her here without permission! That’s pretty damned direct. How’s that not breaking the rules?”
“Because it isn’t. Not technically. That’s merely breaking the law, which is far less important in Mythian than rules. I tried to instill in you some sense of this, back at the castle. That trick you did with the apples … The game allowed it, but only to preserve a consistent experience. The food summoning perk was added as a bit of flair for new players—but you used it as a weapon.”
“He used his head,” Rita said angrily. “He should be rewarded for finding a flaw in their shitty code.”
“And I should have a million lives,” Jaddow said dryly. “The game has
a nasty way of dealing with rule-breakers. For every rule you break, you lose a little karma—a hidden attribute only gods can see. Lose enough and, well…” He shrugged. “The truth is, nobody knows how much it takes. The results are unpredictable, but never pleasant.”
Rita said, “Let’s back up a minute. How’s he gonna earn enough points to save his wife? We’re barely leveling at all, now.”
“First, here’s a troubling fact,” Jaddow said. “If I told you to kill salamanders in Under Town for ten thousand years, I’d technically still be in compliance with my agreement to help you reach Ward 2.”
Helplessly I said, “But you will help us. Because you’re here. Right?”
He didn’t reply immediately. When he did, it was in a softer tone devoid of his usual arrogance.
“I don’t know you, Ethan. Not really. Other than being a terrible player, you don’t seem like a bad guy. Which is why I hesitate to tell you that, yes, there is a way for you to get the points needed to reach Ward 2 quickly.”
With an overwhelming sense of relief, I said, “Thank you. What do I gotta kill?”
“Not what,” he said. “Who. Her name is Myrialla. And between the three of us, only Rita knows how to find her.”
Rita blinked in surprise. “Me? No I don’t.”
Jaddow smiled sadly. “Sure you do. The purple mist. Remember?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Months earlier, shortly before reaching the Swaze Pit and its doomed goblins and woggims, Rita, me, and a priest named Frank encountered a troop of bugbears in a forest. While Frank and I went running, Rita—with her much higher strength and agility—had taken our pursuers for a chase. Very nearly, she’d gotten caught. Then, just when it looked like she’d be skewered on the spears of the growling, brutish creatures, a purple mist rolled in and sent them fleeing in panic.
“You said the mist was bad,” I said.
“It is bad,” Jaddow said. “Very bad. Quite possibly the worst thing in all of Mythian, if you’re a male. Or so it’s said. I’ve never actually seen it, and I never stray whenever I’m in that forest. The purple mist is your first and only warning. You see it, you run.”