Storm's Breath: A GameLit Fantasy Adventure (Nullifier Book 1)

by J. R. Ford

  I was around rank 3,000. Out of 100,000, I counted that pretty good. The notification log detailed the points from the fermids which had died in the fire, though I was still far from Ana and Edwin.

  Existential vertigo seized me as I realized the game was a lot bigger than Bluehearth, and three thousand people had had as interesting adventures as I. But the average score was only 14 points, which made me think the mundane animals most newbies were killing weren’t worth much.

  Heather Duncan was square in the middle of the ladder, in the high 40,000s. Her points probably came from her magic frying the fermid on the wall. Curiosity sated — the Amulet of Reverse Transformation was in the pack on the tent floor, and she’d lost the points. If I carried the pack tomorrow, I’d be in first for the duration.

  Out of curiosity, I searched for Farrukh: 167 points, close to my score. Good that he was still alive.

  The fermid slaying quest read “Killed 10/10 fermids. Collect your reward from any shopkeeper.” The clear Riyaasat quest was still 0/1, and if my arson hadn’t done the trick, I was happy to leave it incomplete. As for the final quest, I didn’t even want to imagine a fermid queen. I tapped two fingers against my palm and prompts to abandon the quests came up, which I accepted with more double-presses.

  Time to stop avoiding my problems. I unclasped my cloak and pulled my shirt off. I looked like a human-eggplant hybrid. The skin on my chest was pale as ever, but bruises painted my abdomen blue. And I’d only just been healing from the last round.

  While I was at it, I took off my trousers and redid the bandages around my legs. The cuts looked gruesome, but not vital. I shivered in the evening chill as I clad myself once more. My cloak seemed to be a magnet for destruction; it hadn’t gone two days without being dissolved, pierced, sliced, and burnt to tatters.

  “Done! Cameras off!” Ana called, and I crawled into the tent. They were laying out their bedrolls, in the same configuration as last night, with Heather in the middle. I settled beside her with a grunt. The sun was still above the horizon, and what filtered through the canvas lit the interior dimly. I lay toward Heather and studied her face.

  “Some day we’ve had,” Ana said.

  “What’s next?” Heather asked.

  “Get back to the city, then on toward Tyrant’s Vale and the Durg. That’s where Pradeep went.”

  “To visit Vedanth,” I said. “Chances he died there and left his gear behind?”

  “Who knows,” Ana said. “But that warlock was powerful, and so was Pradeep. Odds are there’s something worthwhile there.”

  “The Storm’s Breath, you think?” I asked.

  “Maybe. If not, maybe we can find another clue.”

  “Still determined, after what we just went through?” Heather asked.

  Ana gave Heather a look as if she were an idiot. “Do you still want it?”

  “You know I do. It’s just, well, we almost died.” Her choked voice was a harbinger of tears. She blinked rapidly. “I can find it myself. You shouldn’t throw your lives away for me.”

  “I thought we discussed this yesterday,” Ana said. “We’re with you, come hell or high water.”

  As if we hadn’t already encountered both. “And it’s not throwing them away,” I said. “I can’t imagine a better end.”

  “But I didn’t even help! I only have 21 points — proof of how useless I am. One for wrapping your foot just now, 10 because I drank that potion, and 10 more for the fermid the potion ended up killing!”

  “Which kept us from getting eaten on the roof,” I said. “Besides, your worth isn’t determined by some virtual number. Just look at me. I got a ton of points from the fire.”

  “Without which we wouldn’t have survived,” Heather said.

  “We would’ve died before then if you hadn’t had the presence of mind to flee.”

  “Yup, I’m great at running away.”

  “Not when you can’t. You didn’t run yesterday,” I said, remembering the looming fermid and her saving me.

  “I just panicked. I’m useless, and both of you know it. That’s why you’re trying so hard to help me.”

  “Nix it,” Ana said.

  Heather didn’t reply, only sighed, her chest rising and falling slowly beneath the bedroll.

  I blinked and it was morning. Foreign unfamiliarity told me it was close to dawn. My muscles had the pleasant ache that comes with use, a feeling so elusive as I’d grown from childhood. Blood pulsed in my veins. Sleep still blanketed my companions — best get up before they woke and saw something awkward.

  I crawled out quietly, grabbing my sword on the way. The morning breeze felt fresh and crisp on my face. I began drilling the thrusts — still only numbers two through four, for my shoulder objected to rotating my arm for the first. The blood flowed hot in my tired muscles, and my fear subsided. As my arm began to ache, I switched objective. I cut some grass from the roadside for want of a better target. Then, taking one at a time, I threw each into the air and tried to skewer it on the way down.

  I failed, of course. The grass stalks were thin and fell awkwardly. I bent to pick up the fallen stalks when I heard Ana’s voice behind me.

  “I admire the enthusiasm, but you’ll never learn like that. Here.” She held out her scabbard at arm’s length. “Hit close to the tip. Back up, anyone could hit it from there.”

  I took a step back and readied myself. She admired the enthusiasm. I lunged. My sword passed just below the target.

  “Faster on the recovery! You’re vulnerable! Bring the head back and the body will follow. And don’t just push off with the front leg, use the back one like a winch. Now lunge! Recover, try again! There you go!”

  My sword punched her scabbard. Her arm swung back, softening the impact. “Again! First extend the arm, then the body, then the leg!”

  My arm burned with the effort. I missed another, then landed three in a row out of sheer desire to be allowed to stop.

  “Why is it arm, body, leg?” I asked, shaking out my aching forearm.

  “There’s a lot of reasons, but this one is my favorite. If I thrust at you, you’ll instinctively want to parry.” She thrust, and I pressed my sword to my side vertically, just as she’d shown me during our first lesson. Her scabbard slid past me harmlessly. “Now if I thrust with just my arm…” I parried again, but her weapon dipped and darted around mine. Instantly she had it pointed back at my chest, and her body was already moving, and she had already lunged, and I was struck in the chest.

  “Feint with just the arm, then let your point dip and rise again with the lunge. It’s called a disengage, and your opponent won’t have time to react.”

  The drilling resumed, the horrible drilling. I tried to think of something to ask, just to give my forearm another respite. The disengage did seem like a useful technique, at least against humans. Which conjured a question.

  “When we were fighting in Riyaasat, I missed, and nearly got got for it. What should I have done?”

  “Besides recover more quickly? Hm.” She paused for a moment, and my arm relished the relief. “Against a human, if you don’t think you can recover quickly enough, you need to take the initiative. Like this.” She slowly thrust at me, and I parried. Then she stepped in with her back foot and mimed punching me in the temple. “Works better with a dagger. Without one, no way that would take down a monster, and if your opponent has a helmet or chainmail then you’re in for a bad time.”

  “Can I have a dagger then?”

  She looked reluctant but handed me the dagger she’d bought at the market, grabbing her boot knife for herself. “This’ll do until we can get you a proper parrying dagger. Now, its main purpose is defensive. You can block with the dagger at the same time as thrusting with your sword. Like this,” and she demonstrated a two-part motion, the knife in her left hand sweeping down in a semicircle while she lunged. I practiced the technique using the dagger and my scabbard, first against nothing, then against a slow thrust from Ana.

  “Pus
h my blade away…good! Now, a better dagger will have prongs to trap my sword there, but by that point, it shouldn’t matter; I’ll be dead. Try again: this time, parry and riposte at the same time. If they’re not simultaneous, your opponent has time to react.” I tried, but even in slow motion as we were, my scabbard point was way off. Doing two things at once was hard. Ana continued, “If you miss, step in and stab with the dagger — like that! That dagger won’t be any defense against a fermid, only close-quarters offense.”

  “You really know your stuff.”

  “Like I told you, I practiced a lot of dueling.”

  “What you did to those fermids wasn’t dueling.” The longer I kept her talking, the longer I could rest. And besides, direct attention from her tickled something inside me. A flame in my breast, the tingling of butterflies in my stomach, the sharp and sudden focus of my vision as if I’d put on glasses I never knew I needed. Every detail popped, the way the dawn’s light reflected on her auburn hair, the glimmer in her dark eyes, the way her lips moved so elegantly. I’d thought my adrenaline was depleted, but she made me recover quickly.

  “The basis of all fighting is distance, whomever you’re fighting, and especially when you have a different reach to your opponent. And distance means footwork. You can’t fight if you’re tripping over your own feet. Rapiers are longer than most swords, and since your main offense is thrusting, leaning forward doesn’t compromise your body structure. If you can keep out of my reach, you’ll be able to strike me with impunity. Show me your lunge.”

  I extended my arm, leaned my body, and finally stepped. Ana walked up to my sword point. “This is your ideal distance. Try to keep me there.”

  I would’ve preferred about a sword and an arm’s length closer, but I couldn’t say that aloud. So when she began shuffling around, I followed her.

  “Don’t cross your legs, you’ll be off-balance if I rush you. Step forward with your right foot, back with your left. When I’m moving along a circle, move along the same circle or the distance will change. Now, let’s pick up the pace.”

  I stumbled as I crossed an uneven patch of ground, but I kept my feet. When I looked up, the sun glared at me, and I lowered my gaze again.

  “Now the sun is in your eyes, and you’re backed up to the grass. If you try to move in a circle, I can just move horizontally, and we’ll be in my distance, while you can’t see and can’t retreat. Some people will mindlessly mirror you; use this to your advantage.”

  The sunlight made it hard to admire her, but at least my arms got a rest. After a few more minutes, she gave me a break.

  “You should practice this more in your free time. Footwork in fencing is more important than in dancing.”

  “And do you dance?”

  A broad smile crossed her face, dimples pushing up against her cheeks. “Oh, I love it. As much as fencing.”

  “Me too.” That lie wouldn’t hold up long under pressure. But whenever our runs ended, I could ask her to dance some time, and spend the anticipation practicing with the help of my most reliable mentor: internet tutorials.

  “When we get back to Bluehearth, we should find someplace with music.” She beamed so wide I barely noticed my stomach plummet.

  I figured dancing was about ninety percent embarrassing yourself anyway. Though if she could dance half as well as she could swordfight, Ana would be the exception.

  A river to drown in when I came to it. For now, Ana seemed to be looking at something in the distance.

  “Reminiscing?” I asked.

  She shook her head, then met my gaze. I nearly tripped and fell into those eyes. “Just thinking. And I wanted to say…thank you, Pav. Without what you did, we wouldn’t have gotten out of there alive.”

  I blushed and broke eye contact. “I only did what anyone would do.” And didn’t mention that only fear of them thinking me cowardly had moved me to arson.

  “Not anyone would’ve leapt into that pit.”

  Any sixteen-year-old boy would’ve, or else Ana underestimated the power of infatuation. A room crawling with giant acidic ants was comforting compared to the prospect of asking her out.

  I affirmed to myself that I’d do so once we left the game. That way, we could be friends for the entire time, and I wouldn’t have to see her once she’d rejected me. If she didn’t, however…well, we could make it work.

  Dangerous thoughts. “It was nothing,” I said.

  “I’m glad you have my back. You’re good in a pinch. You don’t hesitate.”

  How wrong she was. “Not when I know what needs to be done, if there’s something to attack, or run from. But as soon as there’s uncertainty, I just choke. After the first fermid attack, I didn’t want to make the wrong decision and get you and Heather killed. But then, staring at the tunnel in the fortress, I couldn’t think at all.”

  “Why didn’t you call for us?”

  “I couldn’t even breathe.”

  Ana sighed. “Those things are pretty horrifying. But remember, Heather and I are here. We’re in this together.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “For what?”

  What wasn’t I sorry for? “For the stunt I tried to pull at the end there. You practically had to drag me out of that stream. It was pretty pathetic of me.”

  “You were doing what you thought was right. No shame in that.” She was either sincere or a good liar.

  “If you say so.”

  “I’m sorry, too. For suspecting you of murder.”

  “Nothing personal. You saw I’d killed some people, and we’d only known each other a few hours at that point.”

  “A river we didn’t drown in,” she said. Her smile lit the world better than the sun.

  “No,” I said, my throat suddenly dry.

  Ana remembered that we were in the middle of a lesson. “Now, what if your opponent cuts at you? Against another rapier like yours, you could probably block it with only your dagger, but not against anything much heavier. You can parry with your rapier, but a better move is to cross your blades like this…then, after your parry, hold their sword with your dagger while you stab with the rapier.”

  Heather slept for another twenty minutes or so. By the time she got up, Ana had me in a lather. My right arm was fire, and the driven speed of lunge and recover had my legs throbbing against my bandages. I plopped down in the grass while they disassembled the tent.

  “Don’t think this excuses you, Heather,” Ana said, sweat glistening on her brow. “You still need a lot of training too.”

  Heather nodded. “But let’s get back to Bluehearth first.”

  My brief stint in purgatory was over. Whether it had been paradise or hell, I couldn’t tell.

  Man, fuck walking. Every step sent an aching jolt throughout me. Not that I voiced my discomfort — I’d tricked these two into thinking I wasn’t a weakling, and there was no worse way to squander such good opinion than with needless complaint. I tried some internal mantras: “Don’t hold them back,” “Don’t want to be a hypocrite,” “It’s not real.” None were effective.

  We passed a few parties on our way back, fresh-eyed and ready for adventure on the plain. All of them stared at us. One group even turned back.

  Reasonable. Our numerous injuries suggested that rushing high-level dungeons was suboptimal gameplay, at least from an enjoyment standpoint. But the points didn’t lie, nor did the 20 gold we picked up from a shopkeeper in the village where we’d accepted our quests.

  Heather hadn’t completed the quest, but Ana and I were happy to share. We were in this together, after all.

  Bluehearth rose from the plain before us, shimmering in the light of dusk. Its keep rose blocky and harsh from the skyline. The dark-green forests to our right rose into foothills. We’d pressed hard after a hard morning, and my legs were lead, though thankfully not shackled by melancholy. I half-hoped all the bards had retired for the night, but only half.

  “Stay strong, we’re almost there! How are you two holding up?”


  Heather panted, “I’m all right.”

  “Only place I’d rather be is the grave,” I muttered, though I don’t think Ana heard.

  “Onward!” she cried, the spring in her step renewed.

  Daydreams sustained me.

  It was dark when we reached the city, but it was alight with activity. People sat drinking in lamplight outside taverns, cloaks pulled tight to ward against the night chill. A hundred languages I didn’t understand blended into the air.

  The taproom of the first inn we called at was packed with lively patrons yelling over one another in what three years of Spanish lessons made me hope was Portuguese. Free rooms were scant. Not wanting to be packed into the attic, we departed.

  Next to it, we passed a building with an imposing stone façade and red banners hanging from the windows and balconies. A carved sign, lit by streetlamps, read “The Enlightened: The Mage’s Guild of Bluehearth.”

  On the topmost balcony, a lantern burned, and three figures sat with drinks in hand, surveying the street as if it were their territory. One wore voluminous red robes, the others, orange. Jerks. Red Edwin’s head moved with us as we passed. Probably because I was watching him back.

  We settled in a tavern deeper in the city. It nestled in the shadow of a stone hall which rang with music.

  Great, and I couldn’t tell if I was being sarcastic.

  Heather stared into her potato soup. She looked as exhausted as I felt. Even Ana seemed a little worse for wear, but only a little.

  “After we eat, meet back here in thirty to head out,” she said, before gulping soup straight from the wooden bowl.

  “I don’t know if I can,” Heather said. “And I’m not much of a dancer.”

  “Doesn’t your foot hurt?” I asked.

  Ana waved the question away. “It’s my birthday! I’m seventeen now, kind of.” She said it as if that settled the matter.

  Our bodies were frozen in stasis while we played. When we emerged, we wouldn’t have aged a single day, physically. The prospect was dizzying.