The Slayer

by Darren Hultberg Jr

  “Sir.” A man’s voice suddenly brought Arden to attention, pulling him from his thoughts. “Sir.” The man repeated. “Preparations for the next bout are already under way. I suggest-“

  The man’s words were suddenly interrupted as Arden leapt form his seat and slammed his forearm into his neck. The soldier gasped as the duelist forced him into the wall, pressing his face into the cold hard stone.

  “How dare you!” Arden spat. “How dare you come here unannounced! Into my quarters!”

  “But… sir.” The man choked out. “I only…”

  Arden slammed his knee into the man’s gut, then shoved him to the ground with a violent push. The duelist leaned down, meeting the man’s wide-eyed look of terror. “Don’t you ever disrespect me again!” Arden growled. “Or by the gods…. I’ll kill you where you stand.”

  The soldier nodded, then quickly scurried out of the room, still nursing his abdomen. Arden quickly slammed the door shut, then with a long-exasperated breath, leaned his back against the wall and slid to the floor. This crazed feeling inside of him… it was getting worse. What if that soldier reported him to the higher-ups in the guild? How long could he go on like this before someone decided to put an end to…

  Arden shook his head. He could pull it together… Damnit, he had to! This wretched game had taken his life away, had taken his brother. Nothing was going to stop him from watching this place burn.

  33

  “Damnit Vic! No way is this bastard is your guild leader!”

  Vic looked back at me, stunned. “Wha… what do you mean, boss?”

  I glanced back over at Rhylor, who stood there cross-armed with a smug expression on his face. “Yes, please enlighten us, Zander.” The ranger said in a mocking tone.

  “Oh, cut the crap, Rhylor. Don’t act like some sort of noble leader. We both witnessed what kind of man you are back in the forest!”

  “Is that so?” He replied, leaning in close. Our eyes locked on one another, with faces wavering just inches apart. It would be so easy to just reach out and-

  “Stop!” Vic yelled as he leapt from his seat. With sudden haste, he quickly occupied the space between Rhylor and I. “What’s the deal with you guys!”

  With a sidelong glance, I noticed the room had grown silent as the other bar patrons looked on, eager to see a fight break out.

  Rhylor let out a forced chuckle then placed a hand on Vic’s shoulder. “C’mon Destro… let’s get the hell out of here. We gotta make sure my armor’s good and ready if I’m gonna win this tournament.” Vic nodded, then shot me an apologetic look before he reluctantly followed Rhylor towards the exit. I could tell him right here. I could let him know who I was… surely, he’d want to stick around and… No. Vic liked Zander, but he hated Adam... And besides, that guy had given Adam hell the past few years... he deserved to fall in with the wrong crowd. Still, why the hell did I feel the need to protect that poor bastard.

  My stomach churned as indecision swirled in my thoughts. No I finally declared to myself. He was safe for now, anyways. No need to blur those lines and confuse things with the tournament just a day away.

  As the pair left out of the doorway, Rhylor turned to gaze at me one last time. “Ya know, if that warlock friend of yours is still around, then maybe you should ask her how everything went down. You might be surprised…”. And with that, they left.

  Hilda rose from her seat to place an arm on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about him.” She said. “He’ll realize what an ass that guy is and come back around.”

  Maybe, I thought to myself. Or maybe leaving him to Rhylor was just what Vic deserved.

  Suddenly, the sound of horns began to fill the air, loud enough to be heard through the bar’s stone walls. “Is that coming from-“

  “The arena!” Hilda chimed in. “Maybe we should go check it out.” I nodded, then hoisted Razyr onto my shoulder and began heading for the door.

  “Excuse me, sir?” The young barkeep said, bringing me pause. “I think your forgetting something.” I turned and gazed back at the chair where I once sat. Perched there once more was that ugly, bulbous, striped frog.

  “Awe, he likes you.” Hilda cooed as she turned back to pick the thing up. “Let’s take him with.” I shot her a look of disgust then turned to leave once more, quite certain that things couldn’t get any stranger.

  ><><

  Thankfully, the rain had ceased as we made our way back towards the arena at the center of town. Word was that Vazryn himself had an announcement to make, so others had quickly followed suit. Soon, we found ourselves packed shoulder to shoulder in the arena’s fighting grounds, awaiting word from the lord of Aetheria himself.

  I was quite surprised by the number of players in attendance wielding familiars. The variety of bonded sprites was vast… most of the sprites had taken the form of animals or other common critters, but there were some strangely unique ones… including a rather short man sitting atop the shoulders of a massive iron golem familiar!

  As we waited, I did my best to peer over the heads of the crowd, searching for a familiar face or two. In the distance I spotted Brenton and Helena, though they were too pre-occupied with some sort of spellbook to notice my waves. On the far end of the arena stood Rhylor, with a small group of men standing around him protectively... Must’ve been members of that guild of his. Off to my left, I could hear the smug voice of Arden lamenting to a pair of drakengard how incredibly weak the competition seemed… bastard. And then there was Hilda, standing next to me with Ivanellios perched on her shoulder and that gods-ugly frog cradled in her arms. Why did she insist on dragging that thing with us…?

  A notification blinked on my HUD, so I focused on it. Suddenly my friends list popped, and a message bar illuminated.

  You may resume your message to:

  Maximus (Lvl 20 Guardian):

  Max… Max was here? How was that possible? I saw his headset laying there in my room…. It, it didn’t make any sense!

  Hey Max, it’s Adam! Where ya at?

  Send

  I waited impatiently, hands trembling at my sides at the thought of Max being mere feet from me. I’d though him lost or even dead, but my best friend was near! Seconds ticked by… he had to have seen my message by now! Any second now he would see my message and…

  Nothing.

  “Max!” I yelled, drawing strange looks from some of the other players. I had begun to get a bit erratic. “Maaaaax!”’

  “Are you ok, Zan?” Hilda asked, a look of concern etched into her face.

  “Damnit.” I growled under my breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. It just, I think that my friend Max is here… but for some reason, he won’t answer my message.”

  Hilda ran her hand across my back. “Maybe we can look for him before the tournament starts”

  I nodded then moved in closer to her, drawing a peaceful growl from Razyr. The biggest fight of our new lives was approaching, and she wanted to help me on a wild goose chase… I don’t think I could’ve asked for a better companion.

  Trumpets blared throughout the arena, bringing excitement followed by a quick and sudden silence. Players began to peer upwards as a line of men sporting blood red armor appeared on one of the highest viewing platforms…. The cinderguard.

  The guard parted, making way for another man dressed in fine crimson robes to make his appearance. He smiled, waving his hands over the mass of onlooking players. I couldn’t help but wonder, how did they feel about this man, this self-proclaimed lord? Had others been given tasks to dispatch the almighty Vazryn, or did they accept him as their ruler in this new life. Hell, how much did I really know about him… “Damnit.” I cursed under my breath. Did I really even know what I was doing?

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” Vazryn’s voice boomed over the crowd, both commanding and elegant. “I thank you for making your way to Airrigar, to Aetheria’s first annual tournament of champions!” He paused, allowing excitement to build in the crowd. “The world of Aetheria is quite ancient...
but never has it seen such an influx of new life breathed into its lands, the life that you all brought through its Aether gates! Those of you that arrived near Karrihdan have likely already become familiar with me… but for those of you traveling from the other gates strewn across the land, I welcome you.”

  Vazryn continued to droll on about his elite status as ruler of Aetheria and his view for a world of fairness and strength. Then, his speech took an abrupt turn. “I have a confession to make… Opening the gates and bringing you all to this magnificent world has exhausted a great deal of my strength. It was a struggle… but it was a struggle well worth fighting. Now, it’s time for another one of you to rise to the challenge. I’ve called forth this tournament because I want to see the strongest warrior this world has to offer… a warrior who can stand by my side. I want to see the next champion of Aetheria!” The crowd roared, yelling claims of power as many raised fists into the air. If anything, Vazryn sure knew how to rouse a crowd.

  As the crowd eventually quieted, the lord began to finish his speech. “The winner of this tournament will become my champion, a title that carries a great deal of power in this land. But before that… we must discuss the terms of the tournament. I’ve allowed a thousand of you the honor of testing yourselves on this glorious battlefield, but I certainly don’t have time to watch each and every one of you in single combat. Therefore, the tournament will commence as follows… First, combatants will be split into groups of one hundred player each where they will compete in a battle royale! It will be an all-out war of attrition, a battle of cunning and bravado! Once five remain, the battle will end, and that group will move on. We will repeat this until ten teams of five are left standing. From there, you will perform in a series of team battles until two teams are left… the final ten competitors. It is at that point that we will move to single combat until one champion remains. This tournament will test you in many ways, but for the one who claims victory go the ultimate spoils... The tournament will begin tomorrow…. Good luck!”

  Fireworks blasted into the sky, filling the air with an enchanting mix of red and green light. The crowd quickly began to file out as players scrambled to make last minute preparations. I remained still, eyes locked on the platform as Vazryn made his exit…. It was almost time.

  ><><

  With the arena nearly emptied, Hilda and I began to make our exit. We’d planned to meet the others for dinner… one last hurrah before the big showdown.

  We made our way through one of the many stone corridors that ran along the outskirts of the arena… it was one of the only ways to reach the rest of the city. It had grown quite dark due to the clouds brought in by the rain, but luckily, I had a spare torch leftover from previous excursions.

  “You sure you remember the way out?” Hilda asked, peering as far ahead as the torchlight would allow.

  “Um, yeah.” I said, steering us left down another tunnel. Damn this arena was massive…. Perhaps I should’ve just left with the crowd after all.

  She pointed up ahead towards a statue on the wall. “I don’t remember seeing that on the way in.” I strolled up to the statue, a cloaked man wielding daggers and a face that was entirely concealed behind a mask. The statue stood at the curve of the tunnel... Odd, it was so poorly placed. In fact, upon further inspection it hardly seemed like a statue at all. It almost seemed… real.

  The statue… no, the man kicked out, knocking me against the opposite side of the corridor and sending Razyr flying from my shoulder. Why hadn’t I seen his name come up on my HUD… unless he was using a skill to conceal himself!

  Hilda immediately charged in, dropping the strange frog as she called Ivan to her hand. The familiar transformed into a short sword as she slashed out, though the man in black quickly rose his daggers to parry. She struck again but this time he spun, dodging the blow and using his momentum to land directly behind her. He raised an enclosed fist into the air as he activated knockout blow, looking to knock the woman unconscious and even the odds. Suddenly a long red tongue shot from the ground, enwrapping the man’s wrist and immobilizing it. Was… was that the frog creature?

  I didn’t have time to contemplate. Instead, I lowered my shoulder and activated lunging strike, using the push from the skill to slam the man into the wall. Immediately I summoned nevermore and brought it to the man’s neck, drawing a thin line of blood from his flesh.

  “That’s enough.” The words echoed down the dark corridor, coming from the mouth of another unseen foe.

  Silence lingered in the corridor until finally the crack of flint and steel summoned another spark of torchlight. Standing at the far end of the tunnel was another trio of men in black. The man in front seemed far more imposing than the others., with a mighty bastard sword slung across his back and silvery plates of armor sewn into his black garb. He wore a crimson sash with rows of daggers tucked safely underneath.

  Morose

  Lvl 20 Assassin

  “That is enough.” Morose repeated once more, his voice guttural and direct. “You can lower your weapon, now.”

  “And why would I?” I shot back, gripping nevermore even tighter than before.

  “Because fool, you’re the one taking arms against your guild mates.” The man rose a gloved band into the air and slowly peeled back his sleeve… revealing the insignia of the raven.

  34

  My grip tightened on the hilt of my blade. How could that be… Guild mates?

  I glanced over to the man that I held restrained with my blade, then back to Morose and his men. Hilda shifted, taking a defensive stance beside me. A silence lingered in the tunnel before it was finally broken by one of the frog’s prolonged croaks.

  Morose sighed, seeming to grow bored with the standoff. “Enough of this.” He said firmly.

  I clenched my teeth and gave him a hard stare. “Why would you attack us if we’re guild mates? That doesn’t make any damn sense!”

  Morose seemed to roll his eyes through the slit of his mask. “I’d hardly consider that an attack. What, would you rather my men approach calmly from the shadow and pray that you don’t strike at them in haste?”

  “Or maybe you could approach us in daylight like most other people in Aetheria!” Hilda shot back with fire in her voice. Reluctantly, I lowered my blade and let the masked man reunite with Morose. The man shot me a wink as he walked away, as if we’d just partook in a friendly round of sparring.

  “Ravenflight does not operate like other guilds.” Morose lamented. “Drakengard prefers its showmanship, the Iron Wolves try to be bullies, and the Tidecallers are nothing but strange. No, Ravenflight operates from the shadows, dealing out swift and silent justice.”

  “Is that why you’ve come?” I asked, dismissing nevermore and crossing my arms.

  “It is.” Morose replied. “I’ve come with word from High Raven Wesley himself. He wanted me to ensure that you’re taking the proper steps to carry out your assignment.”

  “You mean killing Vazryn….”

  “That is correct. His instructions are to win the tournament and gain an audience with the lord of Aetheria. It will provide you with the greatest opportunity to eliminate your target.” With the way Morose spoke, it would be impossible to mistake him for anything but an assassin…. Cold, calculating, and deadly to a point.

  “And if I don’t win?” I had to ask.

  Morose cut his eyes. “Then your mission will be deemed a failure and you will be re-assigned.” The way that he said it sent shivers down my spine. “Plan on a visit from me at the conclusion of the tournament, Darkblade. There, I will provide you with further instructions on your mission.”

  The men began to walk away, slipping into the shadow from whence they came.

  “Wait.” I said, bringing Morose pause. “Why aren’t you entering the tournament. Your likely stronger than I am.”

  The assassin nodded. “That may be so, but this mission cannot be completed by one native to this world… we are bound by certain unseen forces. It mus
t be completed by a newcomer.” And with that, the man vanished. Hilda gave me a puzzled look, but I knew just what the assassin meant. This was a game, and a game’s non-player character certainly wouldn’t have the power to turn on its own ruler. No… this task had to be done by a real player.

  ><><

  Later that evening (after finally making our way out of the tunnels) we met up with the others for a final meal before tomorrow’s grand melee. We spent some time grifting the bustling streets of Airrigar until finally the ever-vigilant Brenton spotted a quiet little tavern tucked between a pair of the city’s outlying towers.

  The gilded goblet.

  Upon entering, we found the place to be quite ordinary, with walls made of finished wood and round tables absent of any sort of decoration. The place didn’t offer any additional quests or item vending services. No, this place was here for one solitary reason… a hot meal. With that being said… It was perfect.

  I found it refreshing to relax in the company of close companions… people that I now considered friends. I sat, listening to the others trade jokes and stories as they sipped on the tavern’s signature beverage, a spicy red ale dubbed ‘dwarvish fire mead’.

  Brenton carried on about some prospective runespells he’d be learning from the city’s runescribes while Taryn quietly nodded along, giving the runecaster an earnest smile whenever a new spell got him excited. Helena gripped a mug of ale in each hand, slurping down one while she poured the other into the mouth of her familiar, Doomswell. The gargoyle let out an exaggerated belch, surprisingly drawing a laugh from Hilda and a roll of the eyes from Ivan. It felt good to see Hilda and Helena finally coexisting. Damnit all, I dare say they were almost getting along.