“Colonel’s orders,” the woman said, fixing Sally with Hazel eyes as inscrutable and cold as a baroque painting.
“What—” Sally started to snap, but her ire was cut short as the Colonel himself appeared from the shadows.
Trim and slender in his navy blue pinstriped business suit, Dennis Stroener might look like just another highly-placed executive at any fortune-500 company. Stroener flashed her a smile that never reached his pale-gray eyes. “She’s here to protect us both,” he said.
“From what?” Sally asked, more annoyed now than angry, but also a little bit unnerved.
Dennis tilted his head to the right, then turned. The three moved through Gideon’s penthouse like cat burglars staging a heist. More security stood over nervous-looking technicians poring over electronic equipment and computer consoles. They rounded the corner past floor-to-ceiling gray cabinets that hummed and sent forth cables, wires and tubes. All of it led to a long, gray, torpedo-shaped, human-sized container resting on a wheeled steel frame.
“What the fuck is this?” Sally asked. Her voice, not accustomed to profanity nor consternation, sounded strange in her ears. She knew exactly what the fuck this was. “That crazy bastard,” she said.
“Our boss,” Dennis said, “the one with whom we are involved in a massive criminal enterprise, is in there, and he is not coming out.”
“What do you mean?” Sally asked, as gooseflesh made her feel like scratching both forearms with her perfectly-manicured nails.
“Our high-value nerds tell us that he can’t come out. Not alive, anyway.”
“Well, that might not be such a bad thing,” Sally replied.
“I agree,” Dennis said, “Only that whack job is the key to our staying out of prison. I don’t intend to go to prison, Sally.”
Sally shook her head. “If he dies, the project dies with him and we fire up the shredders. I don’t understand the problem. Just pull him out and we’ll work our magic.”
It was Dennis’s turn to shake his head. He held up one finger. “Virgil,” Dennis said. “Why don’t you tell Ms. Cordina what you told me.”
“Gladly,” Virgil replied, as Dennis motioned Sally to a monitor, where his long, sharp index finger stabbed the power button. The figure of Gideon appeared on the screen, only it wasn’t Gideon. “As long as you and your minions encroach upon and threaten my realm, I will encroach upon yours. That is why I use your own spells against you to take this form.”
Sally sat down hard, pale skin growing paler. “That isn’t possible. How the hell?”
Dennis cocked an eyebrow in a ‘what did you expect?’ manner. She frowned. “It’s… one of those? The brains. Does it know?”
Dennis brought his finger to his lips and shook his head violently. He mouthed the word “No,” severely. Sally began to tremble. She oversaw project management and product development for every augmented intelligence version of the VIRGIL construct since its inception. Her intimate knowledge of its design led her to the instant conclusion that things were about as bad as they could be for her right now.
Dennis snapped his fingers twice, and one of the technicians shot upright from the keyboard over which his rounded shoulders hunched. The head of Plexcorp security made a chopping motion with his hand, and the technician mashed a few keys.
“We can talk freely. They can shut the cameras and mics down for a few minutes before Virgil turns them back on.”
“How long has he been in there,” Sally thrust a chin towards Gideon’s chamber as the implications of how screwed they were tumbled around in her head.
“Five hours,” Dennis said.
Sally took a deep breath, falling back on the management strategies that formed the basis of her career. For once in her life, she did so to stave off the feeling of abject panic that rose within her. “That means the VIRGIL construct has been impersonating Gideon all that time. I’ve been rushing to deal with a string of very unusual directives.”
“This is not the time to build suspense,” Dennis said. “Get on with it.”
“A viral social media campaign designed about a new R9C ‘world war,’ a teaser announcement about a new VR technology release, departmental directives to allocate as much of the reserve cloud to mainline game world production.”
“Can you break that last part down from the nerd speak?” Dennis asked.
“It means that the game is getting bigger and smarter on its own. It means that VIRGIL is running the show.”
“I see,” Dennis said. “It also seems to be protecting four of yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“We tried to secure the project, but the immersion harness development team, a testing engineer and the acting director of cloud management are holed up in their lab.”
“What is stopping you?”
“This Virgil thing made a credible threat that it can use the fire suppression system to gas whoever tries. Now, it has the ability to control the damn corporation. It really has us over the barrel here. We really need to think of an exit path, because our course is getting narrow fast.”
Chapter 17
The narrow tunnel was shorter than its counterpart and ended abruptly at a similar door, though this one was old and rusted. A hard shove dislodged it from its hinges and, already buffed and ready, the Four plunged into the room.
The orc before them roared. "You will surrender to mighty Gurzock!" he screamed, then barrelled forwards.
It as a simple move, one the entire party easily dodged. The orc would be a tough, high-health opponent who laid out heavy damage but would be easily avoided in a cat and mouse game.
Kalmond took lead, waiting until the orc charged again to make his move. He jumped in behind the screaming beast and sank his axe into the orc's hamstring.
"Balgaz, you be summoned!"
Kalmond struck again but this time, the axe bounced off and he cursed.
“Interval fight!” he yelled. “Don’t attack, he’s invincible.”
They pulled back and waited as the orc stomped and glowered. Footsteps thundered from behind, signifying the approach of Balgaz. The mighty orc warrior burst into the room from a shadowy corner and let forth a barrage of swings, his oversized hammer laying into Kamond.
Kalmond’s body absorbed five knocks and lurched backwards, tripping over rubble and slamming into the wall. He shook his head to clear the stars and winced at the lancing pain through his skull. He dashed forwards as Thuglar was swept off his feet, ignoring the waves of red that saturated his vision.
“Cast Rooted Feet!” Keerna shouted over the snorting, heaving orc as he turned on her. His blows glanced off for a heartbeat, then his hammer connected solidly with her side. She screamed, but didn’t fall. Kalmond’s own feet were glued to the ground, keeping him upright and unable to move closer to his target.
He blew a puff of air out, searching for his centre through the ache in his head. The dwarf threw his axe, aiming for a critical hit to the warrior’s head. It struck the orc’s shoulder, just below his thick, leathery neck. It wasn’t a one-shot kill, but it was close. The orc lost half his health points.
The orc took one last swing at Thornbark, clipping the centaur’s shoulder with a crack. Then, the towering figure straightened and looked around with glazed eyes before tumbling to the ground and vanishing. The comforting weight of Kalmond’s axe dropped back with a hiss and slap against his palm.
“Attack now!” Thuglar yelled.
“Wait!” Keerna pointed at Thornbark, who wavered on his feet. Blood dripped down his hide and pooled on the floor beneath him. Keerna closed her eyes and lifted her hands. A warm feeling washed over Thornbark, and when it subsided, so did the pounding in his head.
When Thuglar checked his centaur friend, the only sign of his injury was the stain on the stone floor. Thornbark gave a solid nod and pulled his bow just in time to loose an arrow at Gurzock as he barrelled towards Kalmond.
Kalmond stood tall once again and readied his mighty berserker
blow. Raising his axe high above his head, he suddenly realized there was no time. The move would not work. His endurance read 40%.
Kalmond froze. “Oh no,” he said. “I messed up.”
“Hit him!” Thuglar screamed in a panic.
“You idiot! Not again!” Keerna wailed.
Gurzock bore down on Kalmond the dwarf with alarming speed. The hoofbeats reached Kalmond’s ears just before a sensation of weightlessness took him. Thornbark galloped hard, snatching up the dwarf just before the orc smashed him to bits. The attacker clipped Thornbark’s right haunch and spun him like a top. The centaur spread his hooves wide, and spun on the ground while trying to stay upright with the dwarf extending out from his arms like a child. Centaur and dwarf locked eyes with comical surprise as the world whirled around them.
“Don’t let me go!” Kalmond yelled.
“I’m trying!” Thornbark replied after several revolutions.
They finally came to a stop, and Kalmond wobbled on his knees while the centaur clopped and clattered trying to find his equilibrium again. When Kalmond was able to focus again, he steadied the centaur with one hand and pointed with the other.
Gurzock lay on the ground, his skull split open like a ripe melon, feet facing the wall. The orc had smashed himself against the rock and toppled over, dead. Their laughter at the sight was cut short by a piteous wailing.
“My son! You centaur bastard, you killed my only son!”
“My brother will be avenged!” another voice cried out.
Thuglar spun to see two figures in the corner. The first, a furious old orc matron with bones sprung through her knotted hair, raised her hands. Without thought, he drew and fired, freezing her in place with a three-second ice arrow.
The second orc let out a shrill whistle before raising a crossbow aimed at Thuglar’s chest.
“Your blood will be the price for my brother’s life,” he growled as three darts sprang from the weapon, only to bounce off the momentary shield that sprang up.
“Out of mana!” Keerna yelled as Kalmond charged the orc. The dwarf hurled himself into the air, axe first, but crashed to a stop against a large, angry bear. The bear roared and with a mighty swipe of its paw, sent Kalmond tumbling back to the ground, ignoring the four points of damage Thornbark’s reflexive arrow did to his hide.
“Oh, right. Interval fight,” Thuglar muttered just loud enough for Thornbark to hear. His centaur heart plummeted.
They’d interrupted the normal flow. With Gurzock alive, these two new foes would have appeared one at a time, leaving them to fight the orc chieftain last. Instead they were faced with both at once. Thornbark rained down a barrage of arrows, then yelled, “The witch is up!” just as the ice around the old hag melted away. Her eyes focused directly on Thornbark.
He fumbled for another arrow while Kalmond and Thuglar tussled with the bear. Keerna had distracted the hunter orc, using dribs and drabs of light spells as her mana regenerated.
The orc witch then belonged to Thornbark. The orc Matriarch cast a fireball that Thornbark barely dodged. The heat seared his face and warmed his back as it sailed past and burst against the wall. He cursed as his arrows clattered against her magical shield and fell to the ground.
The orc Matriarch cast twisted earth spell. The initial hit did just 4% damage, but the spell took 1% every second thereafter. To make matters worse, the spell carried a paralysis effect. Thick roots erupted beneath Thronbark’s feet, unbalancing him a moment before wrapping around his four ankles and anchoring him tightly to the ground. The earth spell paralyzed him for five seconds, but he still managed to get off three shots that scored 20% damage.
The burning that answered his arrows ate at Thornbark’s concentration. His skin stung from angry scratches and blistered down one side. The brambles were poisonous. Thornbark screamed as the branches sliced at his skin, his vision blurring as he fell to his knees, caught off balance when the movement spell faded. He managed to let loose six arrows while rooted to the ground.
He had no health potions left, and no healing spell in his arsenal would beat the forming ball of flames in the witches hands. Thornbark roared a mighty war cry, fired two more arrows and braced for the impact. White light split the ceiling above and streamed down on Thornbark as his HUD flashed up before his eyes.
You have gained a new level!
Thoarnbark: level 30
Health 100%
Mana 100%
You have received a new ability: Bullseye
Your spell Poison Arrow has been upgraded
Your spell Chill Shot has been upgraded
Gentle warmth washed over Thornbark’s wounds as he rose, hale and focused.
The first shot with his new ability scored a critical in the form of an arrow between the eyes. The crone jerked, eyes crossing to inspect the arrow in her forehead, then turned straight to look on her only surviving son just as Keerna plunged a dagger into his heart. The orc mother toppled forwards to her knees, then slumped to the ground as another stream of light hit Kalmond’s head.
“Heeyaa!” Kalmond hollered, clapping Thornbark on the back. “Couldn’t have timed that better! Two more and I’ll hit the level cap.”
Thornbark reeled. He hadn’t been watching his experience points at all since entering the game, too enthralled with the intricacies of his pretend world brought to startling life. He squeezed his eyes shut, replaying the fight over in his head. “The bear… I tagged it!” The XP he’d gained from the animal’s death would only have been tiny, but it was just enough. A moment later and he’d have been roasted.
Thornbark laughed and pulled a small stone from his inventory and threw it on the ground. It exploded in a burst of fluorescent rainbows.
Glitter Bomb : Let’s Celebrate! +1 to dance skill for 10 minutes.
Thornbark, Kalmond and Thuglar danced to the canned music that blared for a few seconds as twinkling sparks floated down from the ceiling.
“You guys!” Keerna said, looking around. “Stay alert. No telling when something’s going to burst around the corner.” She threw a brass ring at Thuglar. “Can you use that?”
He examined the item quickly.
Anadem of the Mystical Mind: +5 Damage resistance, +3 Agility.
“Sure, my helm only has a few strength points.” He hesitated. “It… kinda looks like a flower garland though.”
Keerna shrugged. “I can find another home for it, I’m sure.”
“No! No, that’s… ok I guess.” He slipped off his helm and donned the brass garland. “That had to be the boss, right?” he said, leaning on his saber and downing some sort of drink. He followed it up with elven fang deer sausage and belched.
“Famous last words,” Kalmond said, ceasing his jig as the music faded. He drew his axe and hefted it in one hand. “The sorceress is right.”
“Look!” Thornbark said, pointing towards the other end of the cavern across the bodies of the dead orcs and one mutilated bear. “Was that door there before?” He trotted over, nimbly jumping over the corpses along the way.
“I don’t think so,” Keerna said. “Wait, though.”
Thornbark did not wait. He walked over to the door and pushed. The other players held their breath and readied spells and weapons. It didn’t open.
“Use that unlabeled key we found,” Thuglar said as he and the others moved closer to the door.
“Oh yeah,” Thornbark said. “Forgot about that.” He brushed dust off the door with his hand and found a rusted keyhole in the rock. He inserted the key and turned.
The door swung open on its own with the sound of stone-on-stone. Varicolored light instantly rushed through the doorway and into the chamber. The Noble Four stepped through the doorway and into a cathedral-like space. Stalagmites rising from floor to ceiling formed columns, sometimes joining together up high to form arches. Rambling veins of geodes glowing with their own light crossed the ceiling far above.
They moved with careful wonder into the space, and it didn’t take
long to see where the colorful designs directed them. At the end of the cavern, massive ornate doors stood, making up the entire wall. As they moved closer, they came across a ring of of rough stones on the chamber floor. The skeletons of three adventurers lay around the circle.
“That doesn’t look good,” Thuglar said, moving around the bones. “They’re holding things,” he said.
One of the skeletons held a dagger that fell across his opposite wrist. The other skeleton held the skull of a bull, complete with horns, that was crafted into a bowl with ornate carvings. The third skeleton held in its fist a small, leather pouch, bulging with something unknown.
“I think we’re supposed to do something with these objects,” Keerna said. “That’s Arcane Script on the bowl.”
“What does it say?” Kalmond asked.
Keerna set down her backpack and rummaged through it. “Damn it,” she said. “I can’t find that translation spell.”
“Search your inventory,” Thornbark replied.
Keerna palmed her forehead and laughed. “This is so real to me, I forgot.” She slung her backpack back over her shoulder, where it faded out as if it was never there.
“So weird how things disappear like that,” Thuglar remarked. “Little things like that tell you it’s just a game, otherwise…”
“It feels real,” Kalmond said, completing the thought.
“Got it,” Keerna said. She recited a strange incantation with lilting, bubbly words that brought a glow to her fingers that spread out and formed tendrils that reached out to surround the skull.
“What does it say?” Thornbark asked.
“It says, ‘Noble blade, Noble blood, crushed beneath the bowl of night, brings true forms to the light’.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Thuglar asked, scratching his head.
“It means we need a blood sacrifice,” Keerna said, picking up the dagger. “See what’s in that bag and hand me the bowl.”
Kalmond picked up the bowl, and Thuglar went for the pouch.
“There’s some kind of leaf in here,” he said, handing the pouch over. “It looks like weed.”
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