The Cursed Codex

by Matthew S. Cox

  “She loves you a whole lot,” said Keith. “I can tell from the way she describes the character she based on you. I don’t think she ran away, and I think she might be alive.”

  “Oh, thank you for trying to make me feel better.” Mrs. Norris patted him on the back.

  Keith finished off his milk. “What was she like?”

  “Well…” Mrs. Norris dabbed at her eyes with a tissue before leaning back. Her smile returned. “She liked pink, but not the way some girls like pink. She called it ‘okay.’ I think her favorite color is green. She adored the woods, being among nature you know. She was quite fond of animals, and had a calico cat named Random. Sarah was hoping to become a veterinarian or if that didn’t work out, she wanted to do something that would let her work with animals for a career—maybe a park ranger. I’m sure she would’ve made it. She was exceptionally smart. Not too social, but more so than her friends. I guess you could say she was the Queen of the Nerds.”

  Keith laughed.

  “Sarah didn’t fit in at school, but no one picked on her. She wasn’t one of the cheerleader crowd, definitely not an athlete. She chose her own way and made her own friends without letting the world categorize her into a clique.”

  “Invisible,” muttered Keith.

  “What’s that?” asked Mrs. Norris.

  “Oh. It’s how I feel at school. Invisible. No one really knows I exist… except my friends.”

  Mrs. Norris nodded. “That sounds like something Sarah would say. You should’ve been born in ’73. I bet the two of you would’ve been easy friends.”

  Keith’s heart picked up speed, making his face warm. It felt so silly to think of her as still alive, much less trapped inside a book, but he had to help her. Whenever he saw those morons picking on Tira, it made him so angry so fast he forgot to care if they kicked his butt. Thinking about Sarah being stuck in the Codex hit him even harder. He had to find her, had to hold her hand again, had to do something.

  “She really did love that game. Did you try it?” asked Mrs. Norris.

  “Yeah.” Keith forced himself to smile, a difficult task while being so worried. “It’s a lot of fun. She’s really creative. The game is impossible if you’re not creative, and a lot of fun if you are.”

  “I’m glad it’s not going to waste collecting dust in her closet anymore.” Mrs. Norris sighed.

  Beeping came from Keith’s coat pocket.

  “Oops. That’s probably my mom.” He pulled his cell phone out. Sure enough, the screen showed ‘Mom’ as the caller. He answered. “Hi.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at Mrs. Norris’ house.”

  “Oh. All right. Doing the lawn?”

  Keith shook his head out of reflex. “No. Just visiting.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know where you’re going so I don’t panic.”

  “Sorry, Mom. I’ll be home soon.”

  His mother let out a relieved breath. “Okay, dear. And that’s very nice of you to visit a lonely old woman. Why don’t you invite her to stop by the house sometime for dinner? Any day is fine but not tonight or tomorrow so I have time to prepare.”

  “’Kay. Will do, Mom.”

  Keith hung up and stuffed the phone back in his pocket. “My mom says hi, and wanted to know if you’d like to have dinner with us sometime?”

  “That’s quite kind of her, but…” Mrs. Norris’ expression shifted from hesitation to resignation. “Perhaps maybe I should. I suppose I’m not old enough to simply hide from everything yet.”

  They settled on next Friday, and Mrs. Norris promised to bring a homemade pie.

  Keith narrowed his eyes. He had a week and change, plus one game day left before Mrs. Norris came over. Fist clenched, he made a silent vow. If he accomplished nothing else in his life, he would do one thing.

  He would save Sarah Norris.

  18

  Enchanted

  As soon as Keith made it home, he ran up to his room and grabbed the spiral notebook he’d been using to keep track of stuff for his game. He tore a page out and created a ‘prop,’ a letter written to Kyra Redmane from her grandmother, saying that she misses her, hopes her travels are safe, and can’t wait for her to come home.

  Once he finished it, he added ‘letter from grandma’ to the inventory section of Kyra’s character sheet. Perhaps it would be cheating to simply add inventory items to a character without them finding it during play, but he was the GM, and a GM could do whatever they wanted with NPCs, especially when it consisted only of adding ‘color’ to the story and had no systemic benefits. Deciding that he felt no guilt about ‘cheating,’ he added ‘sweet ’nilla cookies x 40’ to her inventory as well.

  That night, he sat cross-legged on the floor by his closet when he should’ve been in bed, the Gamemaster’s Codex on the rug beside him. He waited and waited, but nothing unusual happened. After catching himself nodding off, he crawled into bed and shut his eyes.

  For the remainder of the week, he sat by his closet at night with the GM book, yet still, no strange events occurred.

  Finally, he woke up on Saturday morning. He paced his room, up too early for a thirteen-year-old on a weekend, probably breaking some rule of kid-dom by being on his feet at school-morning time. Dread that something would go wrong and stop the game kept him fidgety for over an hour.

  He cheered when the doorbell rang, and rushed downstairs to answer. Before long, Ashur, Tira, Elliot, and Carlos took their places around the folding card table, character sheets out and ready to go. Keith sat behind the GM screen, and couldn’t believe his eyes.

  The line in Kyra’s inventory had changed. She only had eighteen cookies left.

  Elliot held his hand out over the table and chanted in a made-up language.

  “Dude, what are you doing?” asked Carlos.

  “I’m tryin’ ta cast a luck spell on Ash’s dice.”

  “Very funny, El.” Ashur handed a character sheet to Keith. “Are you okay if I change some stuff around?”

  Tira folded her arms and cleared her throat.

  Ashur sighed. “All right, all right. Tira looked at my character and suggested a few changes.”

  “Nice.” Elliot gave Tira a thumbs-up.

  Keith looked over the new sheet. He’d dropped a special ability that allowed for a power/charge attack, and another that increased one-handed weapon damage by +1 for two new abilities: the first gave him a free attack on any enemy who walked up to him, once per combat round. The second new ability allowed the option of a defensive stance that provided a +2 bonus to defense rolls while sacrificing a -1 penalty to attack rolls. Probably something for when he didn’t have a lot of health left. It drained a single magic point every round, but he didn’t need them for anything else as a warrior.

  “Also swapped Charisma with Constitution. I guess it’s no use being handsome if I’m dead,” muttered Ashur.

  Tira sighed. “Charisma isn’t what you look like. It’s how you act. You’re not even roleplaying him anyway. You’re all just ‘grr, warrior, smash it.’ You’re already playing a weak charisma so you might as well move the numbers.”

  “Hah.” Elliot grinned. “She’s got you pegged.”

  The change upped Ashur’s health points to sixty, two more than Elliot’s chanter, and the highest in the group. Elliot hadn’t gone nuts for health, but the Genndi (his race) had a huge bonus to it. Even in a plain cloth tunic, his grey skin offered him a modest armor value.

  “Uhh, all right. Looks good.” If it’ll help him have fun. “Oh, crap. Guys. I’m sorry. I forgot to give out experience points last week since I was kinda upset the game ended so fast. Everyone gets another 675.”

  “Level!” sing-songed Elliot while doing a little shimmy.

  “Ding!” chimed Tira.

  “What?” asked Carlos.

  Keith laughed. “You guys are level two now. The characters get more resource points to allocate to skills and special abilities, another spell choice.”


  “Don’t do a backflip.” Tira raised a calming hand at Carlos. “The jump from level one to two isn’t a huge deal. Not like hitting level five. That’s a new spell tier and also the first good abilities for almost all the classes.”

  “Dude…” Elliot gawked at the nine-year-old. “How do you know that?”

  Grinning, Tira pulled out a second Player’s Compendium from her little pink backpack. “I’ve actually invested skill points in read.”

  “You don’t have homework?” asked Carlos, eyebrow up.

  “She’s still in third,” muttered Ashur. “She’s finished in like a half hour every day.”

  “Not my fault I’m smarter than you.” Tira winked at Ashur, her broad smile making her joke obvious.

  It took them about a half hour to finish passing around the books and updating their characters to level two.

  Keith cleared his throat. “The sun comes up, illuminating the blackened terrain surrounding the campsite.”

  Nasir the Bold bundled his bedroll and repacked it. Tira did the same. Docar, whose stony body didn’t care one bit about a bedroll, sat up and clasped his hands in meditation. Kyra finished munching on a cookie and clapped crumbs off her hand. She had a haunted sad look and a hint of redness around her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” asked Tira Shadow.

  Kyra flashed a sad smile and tucked a scrap of parchment in her satchel. “It’s nothing. I’m merely homesick. I must’ve forgotten this letter my grandmother gave me before I set off on my journey to confront Yzil.”

  “Oh.” Tira Shadow sat beside her and shrugged. “I’m not sure what that’s like. I never really had a home. My mother left me at a temple as a baby. They were human and didn’t treat me too nice because I’m a half-elf.”

  Fuegor’s expression twisted into an arrogant sneer. He drew a breath to say something, but froze.

  “Do I have to be crappy to her ’cause I’m a Saldiri?” asked a disembodied teen.

  “Most elves are haughty, especially to half-elves, but the Veimari are worse for that. You’re a Saldiri, and they’re pretty laid back. Also, it’s ‘most.’ You don’t have to play your character that way if you don’t want to,” said Spirit Boy.

  “Am I alone in hearing these phantoms?” asked Nasir the Bold.

  “Nay. Best you pay them no mind.” Docar waved his hand in a mystical gesture. “Ignore the voices lest they wind up controlling you.”

  Feugor offered an apologetic smile. “It is unfortunate how some of our ilk behave. You have my sympathy.”

  “I’m a half-elf as well.” Kyra pulled her flame-red hair back enough to reveal a slightly pointed ear. “My mother became with child by way of a Veimari, but they had only met once. Her husband did not care for me at all, even less than she, but my grandmother…” A somber smile spread over her face. “My grandmother is wonderful. I hope she is all right. I’ve been away from home a while. It is good to read that she worries for me.”

  “Come, let us journey onward,” said Nasir. “Yzil’s doom awaits.”

  Kyra glanced down.

  “Don’t pay him any mind. All he cares about is slicing the heads from orcs,” said Tira Shadow.

  Fuegor cast a spell at his bedroll and satchel. His gear twitched once, twice, then flew into the air, everything packing itself up, ready for travel. “By all means, continue to talk, but we can do so while traveling.”

  And so, the group set off, walking deeper and deeper into the Devouring.

  Kyra and Tira Shadow conversed about their past for a while, comparing stories of humans and elves alike treating them poorly.

  “Wait,” said Spirit Boy.

  Everyone froze, gazing up at the sky.

  “When you said fifteen, did you mean ‘looks like’ fifteen, or actually fifteen? If a half-elf was actually fifteen, you’d look like a seven-year-old,” said Spirit Boy.

  “Uhh. Looks like fifteen,” said a sheepish disembodied little girl voice.

  “Okay, so you’re really thirty,” said Spirit Boy.

  A faint whine followed.

  Docar chanted under his breath, trying to ignore the strange voices.

  “It’s only a number. Your character would think of herself as basically fifteen,” said Spirit Boy.

  “Okay,” said the little girl voice.

  The oddity in the air faded.

  “That is most strange.” Fuegor threw a detection spell at the sky. “I am not sensing anything.”

  “Onward,” said Nasir.

  For most of the day and into the evening, the group traveled. Kyra again led the way, as she had made the journey once before.

  “We have seen your unfortunate bard friend,” said Docar. “Did all of your companions perish?”

  Kyra shook her head. “No. The Dark Wizard ambushed us when we were not prepared. I drew his attention so my friends could escape. My plan worked in that I was able to evade him after reaching the forest. But, by the time he gave up searching for me and I returned to where we had camped, my companions had gone. I have not seen them since.”

  “Wow,” said Fuegor.

  “Danger!” shouted Kyra, pointing.

  Multiple trails of footprints rushed toward the group, stomped into the dirt by invisible men.

  Nasir drew his paired broadswords and fell into a ready stance while Fuegor surrounded himself with a magical shield. Tira Shadow looked left and right before emitting a soft whimper, unable to find anywhere to hide in the featureless open ground. She drew her dagger and hovered close to Nasir.

  A swirl of ghostly light appeared above the closest set of footprints, gathering into a pale figure in a tattered tunic and hooded cloak. His hair, clothing, and skin all had the same shade of pale grey, only his eyes differed—jet black. Charging at Docar, he raised his arm as if holding a sword. A phantasmal blade appeared in his grasp mid-swing, ignoring the big man’s attempt to block.

  The ghostly longsword passed through Docar’s chest as well, leaving no visible wound, though the chanter grunted.

  “Cold,” wheezed Docar.

  “What are they?” yelled Nasir.

  A sound like a pebble rolling across a table went overhead.

  Fuegor’s expression shifted from confusion to confidence. “These creatures are Mourning Shadows. Don’t try to parry their attacks, their weapons are not solid.”

  Another Mourning Shadow rushed at Nasir, but before it could swing at him, he spun into a double-slash that brought both of his broadswords into its chest one after the next. With a great hollow wheeze, the grey apparition froze statue still and faded away.

  The third spirit ran up to Fuegor, swiping at him. The elf leaned away from the attack with relative ease. A fourth engaged Nasir, who tried to defend himself with his blades, but the spectral sword didn’t stop when it touched them. Nasir gasped, exhaling a cloud of white fog.

  “Don’t try to block,” shouted Docar.

  Nasir grumbled, evidently angry at himself for reacting before thinking.

  Tira Shadow edged a bit to the side, but waited.

  Fuegor waved his hands about, summoning a small sphere of fire, which he hurled into the Mourning Shadow attacking Docar. Flames washed over the creature’s back, making it emit a keening wail like an out of tune glass chime.

  Kyra fired two arrows at empty space above the last set of footprints, which hadn’t moved close enough to attack yet. The arrows stopped short in midair as if they’d hit something. A second after, the grey figure of a Mourning Shadow flickered into view. It changed course and lunged at her, swinging a spectral longsword that shimmered into view as it passed over her head. Kyra fell into a backward somersault, springing upright ten feet away and firing again. Her third arrow struck the pallid wretch in the forehead. Emitting a hollow moan, the Mourning Shade collapsed forward and faded away, leaving the white-shafted arrows loose upon the black dirt.

  Nasir grunted, attacking the one in front of him. The creature glided left and right with abnormal speed, avoidi
ng his swings and making him growl in anger. Tira ducked behind it and gave it a feeble stab between the shoulder blades, but the creature didn’t seem to notice.

  Time froze.

  “I get my backstab damage when flanking,” said a little girl voice from nowhere. “Ash attacked it already this round, so it’s not paying attention to me.”

  “Correct,” said Spirit Boy, “but you only rolled an eight on your attack. You failed to defeat its ethereal armor. It wasn’t solid when you hit it. You need a higher natural roll to beat its armor.”

  “Poop!” shouted the little girl voice.

  Time resumed.

  Docar raised a hand while chanting a healing spell. An orb of golden light filled his palm, and he hurled it into Nasir. No sooner had the glowing orb left his hand than the Mourning Shade in front of him swung again. The big Genndi attempted to dodge, but couldn’t move his bulk fast enough. A vast breath of foggy air gasped out of him and he staggered back to one knee.

  “Docar!” roared Nasir. He eyed the two undead before giving Tira Shadow a meaningful stare. Deciding to stay put, he swung at the nearer creature, keeping its attention. His first attack struck the undead man without effect, the second encountered some resistance and smacked a glop of ethereal slime off into the distance.

  The creature moaned at him, inky tears leaking from the corners of its onyx-black eyes.

  Kyra fired an arrow between Docar’s arm and side, nailing the shade that had hit him in the chest. Her second arrow skimmed a finger’s width from the Genndi’s shoulder, but missed the Mourning Shadow. Fuegor invoked a spell, but a blast of fire surrounded his hand for an instant before fading to purple smoke. The elf appeared confused.

  “Wow, a fumble and it wasn’t Ash,” said a ghostly boy from nowhere.

  Tira Shadow lunged at the undead bladesman attacking Nasir from behind again, and planted her dagger to the hilt. That time, the creature arched its back, head tilted up, arms out to the side. After standing paralyzed for a second, it disappeared.