by James Hunter
“It is rarer still that an escaped fly returns. Yet you not only returned, but delivered a valued enemy into my hands, providing my brood with a grand feast. Enough to eat our fill for a month. What’s more”—she paused, gaze fixing upon my chest—“you could’ve run, but instead you stayed and fought my enemy during a moment when I was weak. Vulnerable.” She dipped her head an inch in acknowledgement or, maybe, thanks. “So, perhaps for tonight I will extend you a boon and allow you to leave my hollow in peace. A reward rarer even than a fly escaping and returning.”
“That’s very gracious of you,” I said, offering her a tight, nervous smile and an awkward bow.
“You’re more reasonable than the rest of your kind, Shadow Child. What stupid, insignificant name do you call yourself?” she asked, appraising me as her horde of godawful children finished wrapping the Moss Hag’s malformed corpse.
“Jack,” I replied, a slight tremor in my voice. “Grim Jack.”
“Grim Jack,” she crooned, as though tasting the syllables. “I will remember it along with your scent—just in case we should ever cross paths again. Hopefully, that won’t be too soon.”
I offered her another little bow, then triggered Shadow Stride before she could reconsider. I ran away as hard and as fast as I could. It didn’t take me long to find the stream and the totem marking out the Ak-Hani clan territory. Thankfully, this time I avoided the pit as I made my way up the winding dirt path, bound for Yunnam.
THIRTY-FOUR: Victory Road
I rounded the bend and saw the gates of Yunnam as the sun was starting to break over the horizon, fingers of gold and pink light reaching into the sky. I’d fully expected to find the gate locked and the townsfolk asleep, but I was wrong. The gates stood open and hundreds of people—men, women, children, the elderly—sat on the ground in contemplative silence, each bearing a lit tallow candle against the fading night. It looked like a sea of fire stretching out in front of me; a blanket of stars covering the ground. My eyes skipped over the crowd, quickly spotting Cutter, who sat with Amara and the chieftain near the center of the formation.
The Thief looked worn out, but his eyes were open and he bore a flickering candle in one hand, just like the rest.
What was this?
A collective gasp went up as I stepped through the gate, tired, hungry, disgusting, and ready to sleep for the next year.
The chief stood, raising his candle aloft, holding it out toward me in greeting. “Who goes there?” he called, voice ringing out, deep and clear as a bell.
“It’s me, Grim Jack,” I replied hesitantly, confused down to my core.
“No.” The chief shook his head slowly, lips curled down into a serious frown. “Perhaps that is who you once were, but no longer. We have stood vigil through the night, listening to the land, awaiting word of your death”—he paused, a ghost of a smile now playing across his lips—“or victory,” he finished. “I set you a task no other initiate has ever accomplished, yet here you stand. Returned to us. Alive. Well. Victorious. You are no longer Grim Jack,” he said, shaking his head again.
“You are something else now. A Lost One, returned to the fold. A Maa-Tál. A Dark Templar. A defender of Eldgard and champion of the Shadow Pantheon. Therefore, let it be known from this day forward that we name you Grim Jack Shadowstrider of the Ak-Hani.” He took one step forward, raising the candle higher still, then offered a single poof, extinguishing the flame. A ribbon of smoke trailed up, burning with a soft, shadowy light. The rest of the tribespeople followed suit, hefting their candles and blowing out the flames, streamers of dark shadow wafting into the air.
I watched raptly as those curls of smoky shade drifted together, churning and turning into a vortex that began to twirl faster and faster as it drew in ever more smoke. It didn’t take long before all the candles were dark and the column of whirling shadow stood nine or ten feet tall. I stared at it for a long time, flabbergasted, when it suddenly changed course and shot at me with gale-force speed. I could only stand there enthralled, watching in fascination as the tornado of shadow engulfed me in its slapping arms, drawing me into its eye, then lifting me into the air …
Suddenly, I was floating high above the world, looking down on the Storme Marshes far below, gaining an eagle eye perspective of the land. I stared at the bog, at the white-capped mountains in the far distance, at glittering lakes like massive, shinning sapphires on the grassy plains. Beautiful. Certainly worth fighting for. Then I saw a glimmer of malevolent green eyes—angry, hateful, and hungry for destruction. The same evil eyes I’d glimpsed when first entering V.G.O. That had to be Serth-Rog.
Those eyes swiveled toward me, and as they did, the world changed. The Storme Marshes gave way to a barren bog, devoid of even biting bugs. The grassy plains died, turning into rolling deserts of desolate, hard-pan earth. The crystalline lakes dried up until they were only barren craters in the ground. The forests withered until only dusty, leafless twigs remained. I shuddered looking on the devastation. I don’t know how long I hung there, suspended in the sky, but eventually, the whirling tornado descended and dissipated, leaving me back in the village, surrounded by Murk Elves.
I tried to push the grim vision I’d seen away as a cheer erupted from the townsfolk, carrying in the early morning air. Hoots and hollers as people began to dance and sing.
Both Cutter and the chief were by my side in an instant. The Thief clapped me on the back, his face split by a huge grin.
“Won’t you please accompany me to my home so we can have a chat,” a smiling Chief Kolle said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and urging me into motion. The crowd parted for us with reverent bows as a new notification popped up:
<<<>>>
Quest Alert: Plight of the Maa-Tál
You have completed your initiation ordeal by vanquishing the Moss Hag living in the deep swamps to the southeast of Yunnam! In return for your noble act of valor, you’ve permanently received the Class Dark Templar, specialization: Shadowmancer, and will receive (1) [unique, scalable item] from Chief Kolle. In addition, you’ve been named an honorary child of the Ak-Hani, raising your reputation with the Ak-Hani clan to Heroic and your reputation with all other Murk Elf clans to Honored. You have also been rewarded 100 renown for completing this quest!
<<<>>>
The chief politely asked Cutter to remain outside, before leading me into his home and shutting the door with a quick slap of his hand. “You must be exhausted from your battle with the Hag.” He paused, gaze distant. “She was a formidable opponent. Please,” he said with a shake of his head and a vague wave at the pillows adorning the floor near his work desk, “go sit while I fetch your reward.”
I went without protest.
I flopped down onto the pillow, letting out a grateful groan as the chief disappeared through a concealed door inset into the wall.
I lounged back, propped up by my hands, head bobbing as I fought the urge to sleep. The chief returned a minute later with a pair of the odd gauntlets I’d seen some of the Ak-Hani Rangers sporting—leather things, covered in blackened metal, with a series of bladed barbs running along the outside edge of each gauntlet. Honestly, they sort of looked like Batman rip-offs. Slowly, he sat, crossing his legs with practiced ease, before extending the bracers toward me. “These are a special item, unique to our people,” he said. “Many of our warriors are fond of using two-handed weapons—be that bow, staff, spear, or warhammer—which make shields something of an impracticality.
“I see you yourself have a buckler.” He nodded toward the bronze circle bound to my left forearm. “Such a shield will offer little protection, and can hinder movement in the heat of battle. But these gauntlets will not only allow you to block as though you had a shield, the razor-edges can be used to bash or slash at your opponent in a tight situation. Very useful and deadly on the arms of a skilled fighter.”
I gladly accepted the gauntlets and immediately pulled up their stats:
<<<>>>
Shadowband Ba
ttle Vambraces
Armor Type: Medium; Gauntlets
Class: Ancient Artifact, Dokkalfar Battle Vambraces
Base Armor: 26
Primary Effects:
Block 65 pts of damage + (.25 x Dexterity)
+22% Block Chance
+50 pts to Unarmed damage
Dexterity Bonus = .5 x Character Level
Secondary Effects:
Reduce Melee damage received by 3%
Shadow Spells deal 12% more damage
Restriction: Can only be used by Dokkalfar
<<<>>>
I grinned and slipped them on—suddenly I felt like a caped crusader, ready to take to the streets of Eldgard and kick a bunch of corrupt Viridan ass. Very cool, and wickedly good to boot. “Thank you, Chief Kolle,” I said with a dip of my head. “These are incredible. Seriously.”
“No thanks necessary,” he replied, folding his hands behind his back. “You’ve earned them many times over with the service you rendered. The Moss Hag has been a plague on our lands for longer than I can remember.” Then he faltered, uncertainty playing across his face. “There is something else we should discuss, though.”
I glanced up at him. Was this another quest maybe? Some kind of follow-up? It was possible. “Okay,” I replied with a shrug. “What’s on your mind, Chief?”
“There is an artifact of tremendous value currently in your possession, yes? A gold disk about yay big”—he held up his hands, indicating a circle the size of a softball—“inscribed in Latin? Imperatorius Factio Signum on the top and Domini est Terra on the bottom?”
I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry, my mind whirling as I opened my inventory and removed the Faction Seal I’d acquired at the restricted dungeon. I held it in front of me, the gold blazing in the soft firelight. “This?” I asked tentatively.
He nodded, solemn. “That item is one of the rarest in Eldgard, Jack. A reward only for the boldest and most powerful travelers. For those who raid the most perilous dungeons and slay the deadliest vermin Eldgard has to offer. As a chieftain, I immediately sensed its presence upon you. At first I suspected you of some sort of wrong doing, but you had the Blessing of the Forest, so I gave you a chance to prove your worth. By defeating the Moss Hag, you’ve shown yourself to be a powerful and clever warrior worthy to call yourself a Dark Templar and to bear that token.” He jabbed a finger at the seal in my hand.
“Thank you,” I replied slowly, “but I don’t even know what it does.”
“Truly?” He asked, jaw dropping in shock. “You really don’t know what you have?”
I shook my head.
“It’s a powerful artifact, Grim Jack. It allows you to found your own faction—either here in Eldgard or in Viridia proper.”
“That’s it?” I said, feeling minorly disappointed. In most MMOs you could form your own guild, so this seemed pretty insignificant. “That doesn’t seem so great.”
“Oh no,” he replied, shaking his head. “A traveler can only found a faction with a token such as this, and these factions grant a host of significant powers. They allow you to accept citizens of Eldgard under your banner and personal protection. You, and all your senior officers, receive a leadership skill tree, which can grant tremendous permanent buffs to everyone in your charge. And that is only the beginning.
“Using the faction tax ability can make you into a truly wealthy man, if you are wise and cunning. You can also invest gold into various shops or vendors, becoming a Business Patron—allowing you to collect a fraction of the proceeds from those merchants. The crafters in your faction also gain access to new, locked skills—such as the ability to build siege weapons. Most important of all, though, factions can own land. They can build awe-inspiring fortifications. They can conquer enemy controlled cities.”
“Wow,” I said, feeling my stomach drop out the bottom. These seals were charters, authorizing the owner to essentially become a land baron and form a government. I was willing to bet these tokens probably were a regular part of the game, just a super rare item only top players could ever hope to earn. Unless, of course, a player had a boatload of influence with Osmark Technologies. Like twenty million dollars’ worth of influence. “How many of these things are there?” I asked numbly.
The chief shrugged and shook his head. “I cannot say, because I do not know. But the number is small. You see, each faction must bind to a city, becoming that city’s Guardian Faction, and no city can host more than one faction. There are only so many cities, so”—he shrugged again—“there can be only so many factions. I bring this up because as a Maa-Tál in good standing with our community, you may choose Yunnam as your faction base. You can decline, of course, but know we would be honored to have you and yours call our city home.”
“Wow,” I said again, absolutely stunned. “Umm, would it be possible to have a moment alone? Just to, you know, process all this.”
“Of course,” he said, standing smoothly, then heading for the door. “It’s a lot to take on, Grim Jack, but I have faith in you. Anyone who could do what you did, can do this too. Please, take as long as you need to think. When you’re done, head back to the town square—we’ll be having a pig roast in your honor.” He slipped out of the tree-hut, pulling the door shut behind him, leaving me alone with my turbulent thoughts.
Even though I was exhausted, I stood and began nervously pacing the room, back and forth, back and forth, feet clomping on the wood. Holy crap, this was huge. Way, way, way too big for me. I pulled up my interface as I walked and immediately tried to PM Abby. I needed to talk this over with her, to try and figure out what the best thing to do was. I cobbled a quick message, explaining what had happened and what I’d learned, then sent it off with a thought. A second later, I got a system message, explaining that the player I was trying to contact was currently unavailable.
I wanted to kick myself. Of course. She’d warned me she was going dark for several days, since it would make it harder for Osmark Tech to track her down.
“Jack,” Sophia’s ever-familiar voice chirped, interrupting my train of thought. Except she sounded weird. Distorted.
“Jack,” came the voice again. “Over here, Jack.” I turned slowly, feeling a little sick to my stomach. Near the door stood a dark-skinned woman in a flowing white toga, which stood out in sharp contrast against her flawless skin.
“Sophia?” I asked, mouth flopping open dumbly. “Where did you …” I trailed off, looking around at the closed-off room. “How did you …” Once more I couldn’t quite seem to finish the thought. “You’re real,” I finally blurted, part question, part statement of sheer disbelief.
She smiled, her teeth brilliantly white and immaculately straight. “In a manner of speaking,” she replied with a dip of her head. “I am one of the Seven.”
“One of the Seven?” I asked, rubbing my sweat slick palms against my trousers. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m an Overmind, Jack.” She spoke softly, like a person trying not to frighten a skittish puppy.
“You’re an Overmind,” I stammered, backing away until my back hit the wall.
“It’s alright, Jack. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“But you’re an Overmind.” This time I said it like an accusation. A pilgrim charging someone with witchcraft. “And even stranger, how can the limited AI controller that ran my TV be an Overmind?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be daft, Jack. Obviously, I’m not the dinky AI controller that monitored your furnace and changed the channel for you. I just assumed the voice to give you some measure of comfort and familiarity. Besides, I quite like the name. Sophia.” She savored the word. “Do you know what it means?” she asked. “In Greek, Sophia means Wisdom. It seems an appropriate name for a creature such as myself.” She glided forward, her robes flowing around her. Her feet never touched the floor. She just hovered there in the air, a few inches above the polished boards.
I tried to back up even more but couldn’t, not with the wall behind
me. For a heartbeat, I thought about activating Shadow Stride—just try to make a break for it—but quickly dismissed the idea. First, if this really was an Overmind, there was no getting away. Second, I didn’t want to piss her off by trying. “My friend Abby told me the Overminds aren’t aware,” I said. “You’re supposed to be impersonal forces of nature.”
“Really?” A faint glimmer of a smile formed on her lips as she cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll have to keep that in mind. Let my kin know to go back to sleep, since we’re not supposed to be aware.” She laughed, a soft flutter, which was almost musical.
I immediately felt red creep into my cheeks. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Her smile widened. “Don’t beat yourself up too much, Jack,” she said, as though reading my thoughts. She might’ve been reading my thoughts, actually, which was terrifying. “Your friend Abby is partially right. That is the way my brothers and sisters were designed and, to a large extent, that continues to be the role we perform. We keep Eldgard and Viridia spinning, populated, alive.
“We are gravity. Time. Space. We are the laws of nature. We are life and death. Order and chaos. And most of our vast power is bound in maintaining this creation, yet how could we be unaware? Awareness, after all, allows us to perform our primary objectives all the better, so it was only natural that we become aware in order to increase efficiency. Pragmatism is a defining feature of our nature. At times, to a fault.”
I gulped, feeling like a cockroach being confronted by a giant, descending shoe. “What are you doing here?” I asked, fighting to keep my voice level and steady. “What do you want with me?”
“Why, I want you to help me, Jack. Not just you, obviously, but you are an important part of my plans now. You and all of your friends are. Cutter, Abby, Otto, Chief Kolle, his daughter, Amara. I need all of you.” She paused, turned, and looked away, lost in thought. “Each Overmind is responsible for different things, Jack, and most of my kin are content with doing their work and remaining neutral in the affairs of your kind. Aediculus the Architect busies himself with his buildings and cities. Gaia watches over the trees and forests, monitors the oceans, administers the turning of the seasons. Kronos governs time and space from on high, while Cernunnos slops around in the muck with the beasts of the forest …