A Slave in the Locked Lands

by Arthur Stone

  Outside, the setting sun gilded the rocks around the crater. Danger Babe raised her head and said gruffly:

  “There he is again, sitting right on the edge.”

  “Who?”

  “Someone’s character is sitting on the edge opposite from the bind point. He rose as we were descending, looked at us, and sat down again. Look at him! He got up again!”

  Ros saw a tall character standing at the edge of the precipice. He couldn’t make out any details at this distance, but the man looked vaguely familiar.

  “Everybody’s abandoned their characters but him. He was looking at us in the morning, and here he goes again.”

  The girl’s power of observation amazed Ros—he hadn’t noticed anything himself. He hadn’t so much as looked in that direction. And why would he? There wasn’t anything there but piles upon piles of grey rock.

  “Who is he?” asked Ros.

  “I’m not sure. He looks kind of like one of the folks who were with us when we got here. But I can’t say for sure from here. Shall we go and visit him?”

  “Why would we?

  “I’m not sure. He looks interesting, somehow. He can see that we’re doing OK here. We move fast enough, which means we’re not hungry, and we have staves of unknown provenance. Yet he doesn’t ask us for help or for food. He doesn’t even try to approach us. But still looks in our direction. Isn’t that weird?”

  “I guess it is.”

  “I wonder who he is?”

  “Let’s go and check. If you’re in no hurry.”

  “I can stay for another quarter of an hour. And then I must log off until the morning.”

  * * *

  The player was indeed familiar. The very norder that Ros had spent some time with in a pen near the blazing walls of Arbenne. He remembered the player’s name, too. It was Tanghal.

  The norder was sitting on a rock, his thousand-yard stare directed at the bottom of the crater. His face with all those bony fragment looked drawn, and he didn’t look too hot. That last part was easy enough to explain—he couldn’t have eaten since the day before yesterday. You could fast for a few days IRL if you were prepared to make some extra holes in your belt, but going hungry in the game was fraught with penalties.

  “Looks like he’s gone offline,” Ros said.

  “Not quite,” the norder replied, shaking his head in a barely visible manner.

  “Tanghal, why didn’t you leave with the others?” Danger Babe seemed unable to rein in her curiosity.

  “I have nowhere to go.”

  “How’s that?”

  “My dear girl, my offline age is so advanced, I dread to mention it out loud. I have lived my life, and now I’ve come here to stay.”

  “You’re one of those who stayed in the game, sir? Do you really think you can manage it?” Ros asked him.

  “We don’t care about our Third World identities here. No one sirs anyone in Second World. Honorifics of any kind may be construed as a sign of disrespect.”

  “As you say. So, you’re one of those folks?”

  “I am. I hope to stay in this world forever. There’s nothing left for me there but pain and boredom. And it’s pretty nice over here…”

  “Nice my foot!” cried Danger Babe. “What’s so nice about dying of hunger? Others can abandon their bodies and spend this period offline, but it isn’t the case with you.”

  “The ideal is ever unreachable. Hunger? Hunger isn’t the worst that can happen to you here. This may be a test. Perhaps the good Lord wishes to see that I’ll stay true to my decision. Either way, it’s experience.”

  “Ros…” the girl drawled imploringly.

  He gave a start, cursing his stupidity, and handed a piece of meat to Tanghal.

  “Here. This is good meat.”

  “I know.”

  “How?”

  “The strange sludge they give you as a reward for fulfilling the gold quota is inedible, and you don’t look famished.”

  “Eat it. One piece can last you a day, but you’d better take two—looks like you’ve lost a lot of stamina.”

  Tanghal rose, without touching the meat, demonstrating just how tall a norder could be. He could go mano-a-mano with one of the larger ogres—he was almost a foot taller than Ros, and still looked incredibly strong, his famished state notwithstanding.

  “Why aren’t you taking the meat?” asked Danger Babe distraughtly.

  “I’m just like them,” Tanghal pointed to the abandoned characters by the bind point. “I haven’t earned this meat. And I hate begging. Or handouts, for that matter. The good Lord has given us hands to feed ourselves, as well as those who cannot feed themselves. And he gave us a head so that the hands would know what to do.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Ros offered the meat again, more assertively.

  “They need food, too.”

  “So?”

  “It won’t be right if I’m the only one who gets fed.”

  “How am I supposed to get enough for everyone?!”

  “A piece of meat like this would be enough to survive a day with full functionality. Even one half could keep you alive for a day. There are one hundred twenty-eight people at this bind point. And then there’s me. If you really want to feed me, you’ll have to bring sixty-four pieces. And a half…”

  Ros shook his head.

  “You won’t be able to feed them all even if we get enough. They’ve all gone offline. There’s nothing to do here, so they’ve decided to chill for a month. Read up all you want about it on the forum, if you like.”

  “I already have.”

  “And?”

  “Sixty-four pieces and a half. I’ll still do everything I can to feed them. It’s up to you know.”

  Ros shook his head and stepped away. Danger Babe followed after him, whispering loudly:

  “We have to get him what he’s asking for. He’s really suffering.”

  “He’s pretty weird… to put it mildly…”

  “Sure is. And so are you. And you weirdos should look out for one another.”

  Ros’ lips curled into a grin of the most unpleasant sort. He got a brainwave. He could destroy the entire mine, if he wished. All he needed to do was summon the invincible Bug, and unleash the smiley face on his rampage.

  But would it eat unfamiliar mobs with over a hundred players nearby? They were his favorite food, after all. Also, the quest would most likely remain incomplete, as there’d be no one left to hand in the quest to.

  Not that bright a brainwave, after all. How could he have thought of something like that in the first place?

  “I don’t have enough meat…” said Ros pensively. “I’d have to go down there and grab one of the fresh carcasses.”

  “If you go on your own, they’ll kill you,” Danger Babe looked concerned.

  Ros didn’t intend to descend without his pet, but he was in no hurry to disclose his talents to such an extent—those who were searching for him knew about his necromancy skills. He seemed strange enough as it was, and he shouldn’t do anything to stick out even more. So, he gave a vague answer:

  “They won’t.”

  “I’ll come along!”

  “Weren’t you in a hurry?”

  “Well… I’ll try… somehow. But let’s make it snappy. I really need to log off soon.”

  * * *

  Danger Babe logged off in the middle of their ascent. They were returning from their raid, having encountered no mobs whatsoever. She’d been scampering along all the while, looking behind her worriedly every now and then. Suddenly, she just froze with her head facing backwards.

  Ros waved his hand in front of her eyes and sighed. It appeared as though she’d had to log off unexpectedly. Could someone have disconnected her? Why would they do it?

  Why indeed. What did he know about her, anyway? Nothing at all.

  He sighed, sat down, and tried a fireman’s carry. Something flashed before his eyes, and he found himself thrown a few feet back. It felt like someone had hit h
im with a sizeable sledgehammer, giving him an electric shock to boot.

  A thousand volts, at the very least…

  He shook his head and looked at the body that now seemed so vulnerable. So, this was how it worked… He couldn’t so much as touch her. He wondered about his further course of actions.

  Then Ros bellowed at the top of his voice: “Tanghal! Tanghal! Where are you? Get down here! We need help!”

  He kept on yelling for a few minutes. Then he saw a tall figure shuffling along wearily, asking him in a weary voice:

  “What happened?”

  “Danger Babe is offline. I cannot leave her here. The mine entrance is too near, and there are lots of mobs there. If they reach the entrance while it’s dark, they’ll see her, and then it’s curtains. And she’s really reluctant to lose so much as a single percent of XP—I heard her cry over that.”

  “So, what kind of help do you expect from me?”

  “I thought I might take her up, but the moment I touched her, I got an electric shock and found myself a couple of feet away. Felt pretty unpleasant, as electric charges go. Any idea what the matter could be?”

  Tanghal walked around the girl. Then he crouched behind her, looked at her sagging trousers absolutely dispassionately, and asked him:

  “Do you know her well?”

  “No, we only met here.”

  “The clothes they’ve given us suck.”

  “You’re absolutely right there.”

  “You get holes even if you don’t touch anything.”

  “So you do.”

  “Well, look for yourself. She has plenty of holes on her knees, but none any higher than that. Her jacket is also intact in the chest area. Whereas one of the girls above has holes so big she might as well be topless.”

  “So what?”

  “It’s really simple—Danger Babe is a minor. She’s not eighteen yet. The game mechanics protect such players from so much as a hint of abuse. Even if she wore a miniskirt, something would prevent you from seeing her underwear or anything the developers deem inappropriate.”

  “I know what a minor is, and I’ve heard about the protection.”

  “I believe you’d been under the impression she was actually older, given the specific features of the race.”

  “How is her age related to the whole thing?”

  “You’ve touched the body of a character whose owner is offline, and a minor to boot. So the protection mechanism kicked in. You might have killed her, but no one’s allowed to touch her like that.”

  “You mean we can’t get her up there?”

  “Nope. Unless you have permission, of course.”

  “What permission?”

  “Since you haven’t got it in the first place, it’s a moot point.”

  “Could you please look after her while I go up?”

  “I won’t be able to protect her if a mob turns up.”

  “Tanghal, she’s stuck here because of you. We went down the mine because of your stubborn attitude. You can die if you want, but if you want me to bring back any damn meat, you gotta give me some time, or it’ll all have been in vain.”

  “I’ll do all I can. But you have no idea how limited my current abilities are.”

  “Just accept my party invitation. Shout as loud as you can or message me in the party chat if you see a mob, and I’ll get back in a jiffy.”

  “What do you intend to do as a level 45 if I am likely to get snuffed in half a minute at 98?”

  “We can die together, at the very least. It’s your fault she’s stuck here, and I feel responsible for her.”

  “Once we die, she’ll be killed, too.”

  “So she may. But at least we will have done everything we could. What kind of gentlemen would we be if she died and we survived?”

  The norder grunted approvingly, approached him, and offered his hand.

  “Pleased to hear that. You can call me Tangh.”

  “I’m Ros.”

  “I’ll wait for you here.” The norder picked up a heavy rock.

  Ros took a look at his condition, and shook his head.

  “You won’t last thirty seconds. And you won’t be able to throw that rock far enough. Why don’t you take some of this meat?”

  “I will. As soon as you get sixty-four pieces and a half.”

  “How can you be so stubborn?”

  “How can you live if you have no self-respect left? Get to it, Ros—darkness is falling, and that’s when all those creatures come out.”

  Chapter 15

  Messing around with coals was a waste of time—time that he didn’t have. And so Ros headed right towards the first wall. There was a fire burning nearby, and Agythric was sitting on a chair made out of crooked and mismatched pieces of wood.

  Ros winced. Regular mobs begged for food every time they had an opportunity, but their named overseer did not stoop down to that. And he’d have to establish some sort of a modus vivendi with him, too.

  “Hi there, Agythric.”

  “I see you, meat. Have you brought me my gold?”

  “I’ll get you all the gold you want and even more, but it’s gonna take a while.”

  “Then you’ll get none of our tasty food. You’ll suffer from hunger just like the meat inside the stone circle.”

  “I have meat of my own. Could I use your fire to cook it?”

  “I don’t believe you. Show me.”

  Ros took a few pieces of the carcass out of his bag and placed them on the ground right in front of the overseer.

  “Here goes.”

  “You are funny meat. Did you manage to find a rotten cave igamus carcass?”

  “No. I killed it myself.”

  “You’re a lying piece of meat!”

  “Smell it. This carcass isn’t rotten.”

  “How did you manage to slay an igamus?”

  “Intelligent people have their secrets.”

  “You are worthless meat, the lot of you. We are the offspring of the primordial masters, the mages of eternity. They ruled over all elements and commanded all powers. They joined their seed with the essence of this world, as well as that where Chaos reigns supreme. We are above everyone else.”

  “You can be as high as the sky. All I want is a chance to roast my meat on your fire.”

  “You are pathetic, but you are not the worst of the weaklings. We respect power. Sit down by our fire and cook your meat. But my people are suffering. There are too many mouths, not enough food, and no good slaves for the mines. We like scrum meat. Not the kind you’ve got. But it’s edible, too. Give half of it to my minions—that will be fair.”

  “All right. But in that case, I’ll take some of your firewood.”

  “What are you going to do with the firewood?”

  “It’s dark down there, and it’s hard to see gold without fire. I’ll make some torches.”

  “Your words are not anywhere near truthful, but it would be fair. The minions get the meat, and you get the fire and the wood. Our people respect fairness. Let it be so.”

  Ros divided the carcass pieces in two piles. He placed one next to the fire, and gestured at the other one.

  “That is for your minions.”

  Agythric got up, approached the pile, chose the juiciest piece, and got back to his seat.

  “Hey, you lazy good-for-nothing layabouts! Come over here! There’s some grub for you!”

  A wave of guards all but trampled over Ros’ head. Everyone must have abandoned their posts for food. They grabbed at the meat chunks, and proceeded to devour them raw, fur and bones and all, purring like pleased cats.

  It was significant that none of them touched Ros’ share.

  * * *

  “Seventy-two pieces. More than required, even. The quality is lower than what I’d managed to roast before, but still edible. Sorry, but it would take me all day to cook everything properly. My Cooking isn’t that high yet.”

  Tangh placed all the meat in his bag, and then said:

&nbs
p; “Please accept my gratitude. May the good Lord watch over you.”

  “How do you intend to feed the rest of them?”