The Cursed Codex

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Ugh. Must you?” Fuegor held his arms up as though he’d been coated in the most disgusting substance known to elven kind.

  “Nasir, back up a bit,” whispered Tira Shadow.

  “Why are you whispering?” asked Docar. “You’re right out in the open. The corn’s all gone.”

  “Oh.” Tira Shadow stood to her full height, frowning. “Take a step back.”

  “Why?” Nasir’s eyebrows scrunched together as he parried two creatures attempting to bite him.

  Tira Shadow scurried around behind him. “Because. If you make them run up to you again, you can attack one when it gets close.”

  “Oh.” The warrior leapt back.

  “You already acted this round,” said Spirit Boy.

  He slid back to where he’d been.

  “But,” said Spirit Boy, “I guess it would be bogus to let her change her special ability choice and needle you on a rule like that.”

  Nasir slid ten feet backward, away from the creatures. As soon as he stopped sliding, one of the beasts trying to bite him rushed forward. The Norn warrior spun with its approach like a bullfighter in an elegant maneuver… that missed.

  “Dude, you need better dice,” said a disembodied boy.

  Nasir grumbled.

  “At least he’s defending himself well,” said Docar. “You should teach Fuegor how to parry.”

  The elf sighed.

  Before long, the mindless beasts died to the last with none of the companions (other than Fuegor) suffering serious injuries. Docar’s constant healing magic kept pace with Fuegor’s constant wounds, leaving the elf unhurt but in robes that ceased existing below the thigh. With a disdainful frown, Fuegor cast a mending spell, which re-knitted his clothing back to rights.

  After a break to eat rations, Nasir again led the party from house to house, searching high and low for anything resembling a key. Soon, darkness fell, and the group decided to make camp in the most-intact building left here: a longhouse with stone walls, probably the former town hall. The thatch roof had long since fallen in, but having a solid barrier around them with only one doorway in beat camping in the wide open.

  “Well…” Nasir unrolled his bed. “Now what?”

  “Tomorrow,” said Docar, “we keep searching. We still have at least ten farmhouses to check.”

  He folded his arms. “This is not the sort of adventure I expected when I left home. Cleaning up ruined houses.”

  “Oh it doesn’t take that long,” said Kyra. “It only feels like it because nothing’s happening. But I don’t think you’ll be idle for long. There is something… strange in the air. Yzil knows we are coming for him.”

  Nasir pounded a fist to his chest. “It does not matter what the dark one does. We shall vanquish him.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Kyra sat on her bedroll and bowed her head. “I do not think I could bear losing my friends all over again.”

  23

  Girls Don’t Play

  Keith yawned without opening his eyes. Curled up on his side, using his arm for a pillow, he tried to get comfortable on a mushy, lumpy bed. He didn’t remember what had happened after the group made camp in the old town hall, and grumbled mentally at himself for falling asleep so fast he couldn’t watch at his closet in case Sarah tried to make contact again.

  He rolled on his back and his hand whacked into something hard and wooden.

  “Ow.”

  Keith’s eyes popped open and he stared up at clear blue sky—not his bedroom ceiling. “Huh, what?”

  He shot upright, and found himself sitting on the floor of a ruined building, surrounded by pads of moldy roof thatch, two enormous broken tables, and busted chairs. A strangled gurgle escaped his throat when he looked down at himself and found, much to his dismay, a dark green tunic covering him to the thighs beneath light metal armor, like something out of the game. Leather boots with a fold-over at the top came up to a little below his knees. A shortsword scabbard hung off his belt, with a real weapon in it, and a small round shield (not so small to a thirteen-year-old boy) lay beside him on the ground.

  “Whoa… holy crap. What?” He rubbed his eyes. “I’m dreaming. I’m totally dreaming right now.”

  A short distance in front of him, Tira Zuabi, all of nine years old and rail-thin, curled up on top of an old table like a napping cat. She had a little leather vest on over a loose, white shirt as well as a short, burgundy skirt and soft shoes. An unremarkable satchel perched on her hip and a bandolier of tiny throwing knives crossed her chest.

  Keith whirled his head to the right.

  Ashur lay spread eagle among a dense patch of former roof thatch, mouth agape and snoring. He wore a smaller version of a warrior’s scale mail armor, ridiculous on his string bean body. Two swords crossed behind his back. The way he slept made him look like he’d been run over by a truck.

  A few feet past him, the roundish form of Elliot lay in the dirt, also flat on his back and snoring. He wore the white robes of a chanter as well as sandals, which showed off his dire need for toenail clippers.

  Keith’s heart raced. He started to glance to the left, but froze in fear. He couldn’t wait to look, but also dreaded it. Terrified, he sat still for a few minutes trying to work up the courage. Finally, a girl yawned and mumbled as if waking from a deep sleep. He forced himself to turn his head.

  Sarah Norris lay a little more than arm’s length away to his left, wearing the same green cloak, leather vest, and green skirt she had on the night the jackalweres had chased him. She’d taken her boots off to sleep, revealing toenails still half-coated in pearl pink polish, the only thing in the scene that didn’t belong in a medieval fantasy world.

  His heart leapt into his throat.

  “Sarah,” he whispered.

  She looked over at him.

  He reacted before his brain engaged, rushing to her side and taking her hand. “You’re alive!”

  “Umm,” she muttered.

  Keith hugged her tight. “What happened?”

  She tolerated the embrace, evidently too numb at their presence to protest.

  “Uhh,” said Tira, her voice quivering in fear. “What’s going on?”

  Elliot farted in his sleep.

  “Ugh, dude!” Ashur sat up, covering his face. “Oof. What the heck?” He looked down at his metal-covered chest. “Whoa. I’ve got armor? It’s so damn heavy.”

  Elliot grunted and shifted in his sleep before firing off a squeaker.

  Ashur leaned over and whacked him on the boob. “Knock it off. That’s disgusting.”

  “Ow, stop,” said Elliot, deadpan. “Why am I on the floor?”

  “Dude. What the hell?” Ashur stood and looked around.

  Tira ran to him, grabbed on, and burst into tears. “I’m scared. I wanna go home.”

  “Oh, no.” Sarah grabbed Keith’s shoulders. “This is the same thing that happened before. It’s doing it all over again. You don’t have much time. You have to get out before you’re all stuck here like me.”

  “Wicked.” Elliot gawked at his clothing and morningstar. “I read that some people really get into the game, but I don’t think this is what they meant. We’re really into the game.”

  “Keith…” Ashur stared at him while trying to comfort his sister. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing, man. I was trying to tell you that the book somehow trapped Sarah. Guys, this is Sarah Norris.” He shifted to stand next to her and put an arm around her back.

  She glanced at him. “Oh, you’re such a turdling. You got yourselves stuck.”

  He took her hand again. Her skin was so warm, so soft. “Are you okay?”

  “So that’s his girlfriend,” said Elliot.

  Keith blushed, but Sarah disregarded the comment.

  “Mommy,” muttered Tira.

  Sarah shook her head. Her real hair was longer than Kyra’s, almost down to her butt, only dark chestnut brown and somewhat curly. “No. No, no no no no.” She balled her hands in fists. “It�
�s got you too. The book did this before. All my friends made it out, but… I didn’t.”

  “You led Yzil off into the trees to distract him so your friends could escape.” Keith stared into her eyes. “That’s really brave.”

  “Didn’t your companions die?” asked Ashur.

  Sarah looked down. Perhaps because he simply stood close enough, she wrapped her arms around him for support. “Their characters died. The first time we played this module, everyone died. We were so bad at making characters. They didn’t want to play this story again for a while because of that. A couple campaigns later, we tried again, and this happened… Lindsey’s character died like nine times, but they rezzed her. She’s got Nasir’s luck. The dice totally hated her.”

  “Uhh, I’m Ashur.” He waved.

  Elliot laughed for a few seconds before stopping with a raised eyebrow. “Wait. Girls? You played with all girls? I didn’t think girls played these games.”

  Sarah scoffed. “Of course we did.” She pointed at Tira. “She’s a girl, and little, and your best character builder. And don’t feel bad, umm, Ashur. Lindsey’s luck was even worse than yours. I always had to fudge rolls so she didn’t die like every single combat. We had one boy, but he only showed up to spend time with Lindsey. He barely paid attention to the game.”

  Elliot and Ashur both gasped.

  “Wait, you were the GM?” asked Ashur.

  “A girl GM?” Elliot tilted his head. He couldn’t seem to decide between being awestruck or confused.

  Sarah rolled her eyes at them and faced Keith, who rather awkwardly noticed that she’d gotten close enough to kiss. “I’m really glad you read my margin notes… I think. I’m guessing because you ran my version of the game, it somehow connected to however it trapped me. I found that key at a yard sale and thought it looked cool, so I worked it into the story. I was going to use it as a prop at the table, but we never got that far.”

  “Yeah. I found it. Nice clue with the farmer’s kids. Your jewelry box.” Keith pulled the key out from under his tunic. The dog tag chain had become a leather cord.

  “You were in my room?” Sarah gawked at him for a second before shifting her surprise to the key. “Why is it glowing?”

  “Not sure. And yeah. I thought you told me to go there with that riddle about the shrine outside of time.”

  She stared, either frightened, about to burst into tears, or utterly confused. “I don’t know where that came from. It was really strange. Like our thoughts mushed all together. Maybe you were thinking of my room and I was thinking about the key and it mixed.”

  He nodded.

  Tira got her crying under control and looked around.

  “That’s the key we’ve been hunting for.” Elliot walked over.

  “Yeah.” Sarah raised one hand, cradling the key dangling around Keith’s neck. “As soon as we open the gate, he will come after us. I’ve been trapped behind the wall. This key will set us free, but not all the way free, and he’s going to know.”

  “He who?” asked Ashur.

  “Duh,” said Tira. “Yzil. The Dark Wizard.”

  “Whoa. This is a game.” Elliot laughed.

  Sarah reached over and pinched Elliot on the arm.

  “Ow!” He jumped back, holding the spot. “What’s that for?”

  “Did that feel like a game?” She wandered over to where she slept, brushed debris off her bare feet, and stepped into her boots.

  The kids stared at her in silence while she finished gathering her bedroll and picked her pack up.

  “It doesn’t matter if I’m a girl,” said Sarah. “I’m not playing now. None of us are. This is real. If we don’t make it, we’re either going to die for real, or we’re going to be trapped here forever.”

  “Umm.” Carlos, fidgeting with Fuegor’s gaudy orange robes, walked over. “Okay, if this is the game world, what’s Keith doing here?”

  “Paladin,” said Tira. “He’s wearing armor and has a Hæm crest on his shield.”

  Keith examined his arms, metal bracers protecting him from wrist to elbow. A paladin? Where’d that come from? As soon as he looked at the terrified expression on Tira’s face, he understood. Every time she made that face at the bullies, he had to protect her. Somehow, the book knew the perfect character for him. Being called a ‘knight,’ even by a cursed game book, felt a little embarrassing, but he couldn’t do much about it. Hope I rolled decent stats.

  “No, brat.” Carlos chuckled. “He’s the gamemaster. He doesn’t have a character.”

  “He’s not the GM anymore.” Sarah looked up at the sky. “The book is.”

  Simultaneously, Carlos and Elliot said, “Oh, crap.”

  24

  Children

  The kids righted some old chairs and sat in a circle inside the destroyed hut, facing each other. Their packs and supplies all matched what their characters had owned, but the ‘ration’ blocks tasted horrible, like two-week old meatloaf left sitting at room temperature. Still, they forced themselves to eat.

  Sarah sat beside Keith. She took a few Nilla Wafers out of her satchel and smiled at him. “Thanks for the cookies.”

  He grinned. “You’re welcome. Your grandmother told me you like them.”

  She looked down, fighting the urge to cry.

  Keith took her hand. “She’s okay. She misses you a lot. Never gave up hoping you’d come home.”

  “What?” Sarah blinked and looked up at him. “She knows I’m missing?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “We’re not stuck in time or something? Like as soon as we get out of here it’ll be the same instant it pulled us in?” asked Sarah.

  Elliot, Carlos, and Tira exchanged confused glances.

  “Umm.” Keith shifted around in his chair to face her, and held her hand in both of his. “Sarah… you’ve been missing for a long time.”

  She eyed the group before looking Keith in the eye. “How long? It feels like I’ve been stuck here forever.”

  “It’s 2017. You disappeared thirty years ago.”

  Sarah’s jaw hung open. “My friends…” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Oh, no! Random.”

  “Yeah, it is pretty random,” said Elliot.

  “No, dork. That was her cat.” Keith held her hand and tried to be comforting.

  Elliot cringed. “Whoops. Sorry.”

  “I think your friends are okay. Your grandma said Lindsey and David are married and have two kids now.”

  Sarah cried too hard to speak for a few minutes over her cat. Eventually, she calmed down and stared at everyone mute for a while longer, her face pale. “I… it feels like forever, but I can’t believe thirty years…”

  “Can you believe you got pulled into a book?” asked Elliot.

  Carlos wiggled his eyebrows in a ‘he’s got a point’ gesture.

  “Sarah?” Keith squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. Your father’s dead.”

  Elliot cringed, all the mirth in his face gone in an instant. Carlos gave her a sympathetic look, and Tira started crying again.

  Sarah shot a dark stare off into the corner. “Good for him.”

  Elliot blinked. “What?”

  Keith looked at his friends, shaking his head and trying to say ‘not now’ with his eyes.

  “I hated him. He used to hit me and my mother a lot.” She nibbled on a cookie. “How did he die?”

  “Drunk driving. He went off the road and crashed into a tree. Didn’t hurt anyone else,” said Keith.

  Sarah nodded. “That’s good. I mean, that he didn’t hurt anyone else. How did you… find me?”

  “I guess I might as well tell everyone the truth.” Keith looked around at his friends. “Since we’re all stuck in here now, you’re not going to say I’m crazy.”

  While they finished their sorry excuse for breakfast, Keith explained about the yard sale, finding the book, and how sad her grandmother had been at selling it. Sarah teared up, but when he mentioned he had her model planes safe and sound, she mana
ged to smile. Elliot couldn’t handle the idea that she’d been simultaneously into building and painting models of military fighter jets as well as playing with My Little Pony dolls and Barbies.

  “Oh,” said Sarah, “I haven’t touched Barbie stuff since I was like six, and I got bored of the Transformers when I was like twelve.”

  Ashur tilted his head. “What’s a transformer?”

  “Something with electricity,” whispered Elliot.

  “What do we do?” asked Carlos.

  “Get experience and power,” said Tira. “And try to go home.”

  “Were just kids, Tir, not characters.” Ashur flexed his pitiful bicep. “Those monsters are going to eat us.”

  Carlos scratched his head. He stood and faced an empty corner of the broken town hall, raised his hand, and threw a small firebolt into the wall. “Wow… magic still works.”

  “Good for him,” said Tira. “Magic doesn’t need someone to be grown up. It’s like a gun. Even a little kid can hurt someone with a gun.”

  Ashur pulled one of his swords from its scabbard. In his hand, they looked about the same size as a broadsword to a huge, adult Norn. “They’re kinda heavy, but not as bad as I thought.”

  “Maybe there’s some kind of magic,” said Keith. “If his spells still work, the book could still think of us as characters and we only look like ourselves?”

  Sarah shrugged. “I haven’t tried to fight anything since I’ve been here. I’m… not really anywhere near as brave as Kyra.”

  “Sure you are.” Keith smiled at her. “You protected all your friends from Yzil. You’re the bravest person here.”

  She looked at her lap, her cheeks reddening.

  Elliot started to make a mocking noise, but Carlos whacked him in the shoulder, silencing him.

  “We still need a plan.” Ashur put his sword away.

  Sarah took a breath and stood. “I remember where we went before to get out. There’s a portal. It’s pretty far away from here though.”

  “Wait.” Elliot cleared his throat and tried to do his Docar voice. “Should we not go confront the great evil wizard?”