You're Not Allowed to Die (The Twenty-Sided Eye Series Book 1)

by Kip Terrington

  The first thing Joe noticed was that the pain was gone. Did he just die? Did his real body just give out? That would explain the pain right before he was shot from his body like a cannon. If he was dead, then heaven looked a lot more like a well-lit cave than he would have imagined. He performed the first test he could think of, and attempted to mind-click himself.

  Name- Joe

  Body information unavailable. The spell ‘Walk About’ currently active.

  Well, he wasn’t dead, at least, not for real. Maybe this was the game version of dead. Touching his body, it seemed solid. He reached over to pick up a rock. Though he could feel the rock, he couldn't move it. The spell, Walk About. Yes, when he brought it to mind, he understood the spell completely. He had just learned it, but he had not remembered casting it. Apparently, when the system gave you a warning, you should pay attention to it- though, a clearer warning like, ‘Do This and Your Brain Will Explode’ would have been more appropriate. “Spooky, we need to talk about the level of realism in this game… hello… Spooky Joy… and, I am talking to myself. Great! Middle school all over again,” Joe said to himself.

  He was in the cave, but it was not dark. The walls and floors glowed with a faint light, providing enough illumination to see. There was a brighter glow of light further down the cave. Joe got up and began walking toward it, remarking to himself how his body felt pretty much like it had before he was so violently ejected from it. As he made his way down the cave, the golden glow increased in brightness. Eventually, he came to a section of the cave that was clearly man-made, or at least, person made. The bright golden glow had come from torches lining the hallway walls. The torches somehow looked more substantial to him than the rest of the cave. He walked up to a torch and inspected it more closely. Taking one, it appeared they were made to be removed. Even though he had been unable to move the rock earlier, Joe’s attempt to pick up the torch was a success. Why could he move the torch, but not the small rock?

  Even though the hallway was lit, it gave Joe comfort knowing that if he came to a tunnel where the walls did not glow, he would now have some light. He followed the hallway and eventually came to a curve. When he rounded the curve, the hallway opened up into a cathedral-like room. There were large gold leaf pillars lining the sides, reflecting, and diffusing the torch light. The cathedral-like room terminated in a raised dais, complete with a powerful individual sitting on the golden throne. The seated figure looked like a golden armored knight, right out of the stories. His or her helm was down, hiding the race and gender of this golden cliché. This was the first time it was obvious to Joe that this was a game. This golden knight was the quintessential knight in shining armor. In some ways, it gave Joe comfort. It was nice to see something familiar, even if it was uninspired game design.

  Before the throne, were two more cliché individuals: minions. Both were bowed before the throne, prostrating themselves before the shining knight. They were not dressed in armor, but rather some type of leather. Their skin was a greenish brown. They looked like goblins, or whatever passed for goblins in this game.

  He mind-clicked the knight.

  ???

  Apparently, the knight’s information was blocked for Joe. Knowing that he was already seen, Joe stepped forward, as if he had been invited. Letting himself fall into the role, Joe made an elaborate bow in the overdone style of a medieval jester. “Greetings, mighty one. I humbly beg your pardon for arriving unannounced. It seems my page got lost somewhere along the way. It is so hard to find good help nowadays,” Joe said, pouring on the aristocratic air, and adding a chuckle. When the golden knight responded, it was not audible, but rather some form of mental speech. Not able to see the knight’s face, or even hear the knight’s voice, made Joe feel blind to the nature of this being. Even though the voice was not audible, Joe could not help but feel it had a strong English accent. And not the good, salt of the earth, working man English accent, but rather the ‘my tea is better than your tea,’ aristocratic English accent.

  “Greetings, and welcome, Champion. ‘Tis good that you have presented yourself before me. Though I must say, I am surprised you did so willingly. I was aware of you, in your disturbingly unique castle, and I knew that I must make you my servant. As you alluded to, the terms ‘good’ and ‘help’ rarely go together. It is my hope that you can be the exception to this rule, but I know that is most likely rubbish,” the enthroned figure said.

  “Mighty one, I don't wish there to be any confusion. I am King Joe. As I'm sure you know, the true nature of a king is to be a servant. Only, he is the servant of his people and no others. If you wish me to serve you, then you must become one of my people. Is that something you're interested in, mighty one?” Joe spouted off before he had time to think. That was the problem with slipping into a role. When you committed to the role, you couldn't help but respond in character.

  “Yes, confusion is something that must be avoided. In that spirit, let me help enlighten you and take away your confusion. You are a king. But I am the god, Rook,” Rook said as he stood. On the last word, all the torches in the room tripled in size, including the one in Joe's hand. Not prepared for the torch to become a small inferno, Joe dropped it. Right before the torch would have hit the floor, it disappeared and then reappeared in Rook’s hand.

  “Joe, it appears you dropped this,” Rook said, and then tossed the torch back at Joe. Joe, now prepared for the larger flame, tried to grasp the handle of the torch out of the air. But though the torch looked like the one he had just been holding, it was not. This new torch was much heavier, forcing Joe to take a step back, and fall on his knees. Having to hold the torch with both hands so as not to burn himself, Joe, with great effort, regained his footing.

  “It appears that what is light for a god, is not always so easy to carry for just a little king,” Rook said. Joe was beginning to take measure of this so-called god. “I can see on your face that you're not pleased. It's not easy for anyone to be humbled. But in this land, knowing one's place is the only way to survive, or let your people survive. KNOW YOUR PLACE,” Rook intoned. And even though his voice was not audible, the cathedral-like room shook. Joe kept silent, unsure how to proceed. This was not a situation he had planned for and Spooky was nowhere to be found.

  “The conflux always provides a fun opportunity for the gods to play in the affairs of mortals. I know that you are not as mortal as, say, the common man or the common goblin. You have a place of power in the valley, but if that is destroyed, you are destroyed with it. This means you are mortal, and vulnerable, especially to a god like myself. I will assign you many tasks. All of these tasks must be completed. Before you say it, I understand that you don't work for yourself. I know you style yourself as a king, but that is just semantics. No one summons a Champion unbound. You must go to those who hold your leash and explain to them that I will be using you for a short time. Tell them you will be returned stronger than you are now. I will compensate them for your use. You are now my servant. I have spoken, it cannot be undone,” Rook said.

  Joe felt in his gut that this was a moment he had to be very careful. Apparently, Rook did not know everything and it was not Joe's responsibility to give him information. “Mighty one, I swear to you, the one in charge of me will know all you say.”

  Rook looked down upon Joe, and Joe met his eyes with a casual defiance. It was clear to Rook that this little Champion did not understand the realities of his situation. It was time for a little story. This Champion needed to understand that there were things much worse than death.

  “Little Champion, I can see that you have absolutely no notion of whom it ‘tis that now addresses you. T’would be a travesty if I didn't disabuse you of your misconceptions. In order to facilitate this effort, I'm going to tell you a short story. This story is about someone not unlike yourself. She was a Champion summoned to this world, bound to do the will of others. Before her summoning, she had been a hero of light. She fought for the weak. She protected refugees and slaves. I
can tell these ideas interest you. It's obvious you want to know more about this kindred spirit. Don't worry, I won't halt my story, but I must warn you there's a twist coming up. You see this hero, she was not summoned by those who love mercy like herself. Her summoners were those who love torture, sacrifice, and Blood Magic. I can see on your face that this does not make any sense to you. Why would they summon someone with the absolute opposite ideals of them? I'm sorry to tell you that the answer is not one you would like to hear, not that that will stop me. They summoned this woman of mercy so that through slavery they could force her to commit unspeakable acts of cruelty. To their way of thinking, it would double the amount of torture they could inflict. Every lash that she gave would be felt twice, first by the object of the lash and then by its wielder.

  “She was a bound Champion. Her will was not her own. I first encountered her in a pool of her own tears. She was crying because she had just killed a child. It was all very messy. I had to walk very lightly or I would have ruined my boots. I saw her plight and I offered to lessen her burden. I would speak to her masters and ask them to half the amount of sacrifices required of her annually. In return, she would kill the entire royal line of the neighboring elven kingdom. She objected, whining that, in the long run, this would cause more death. She went on to complain that that royal line was the only thing holding back her masters. She said it was a matter of numbers, and that she would not be the cause of more death.

  “She should have taken my offer. You see, I wanted a royal line destroyed, and really I wasn't picky about which one. I found another Champion and another royal line. It was her royal line or, to be more specific, it was her masters’. Yes, it was those who had summoned her. Don't get too excited, I didn't free her. Before I had her masters killed, I spoke to them. Instead of asking them to half the amount of sacrifices that were required of her, I had them double the amount. When their royal line was finally wiped out, she thought she was free. Only the orders that she had been given still compelled her. The whole of their kingdom fell. Yet their bound Champion was still forced to meet her quota of blood. The kingdom is long forgotten now and she is thought to be just some wandering murderer. She's never sure when she'll be compelled to kill, but orders are orders. I don't remember her name. I do seem to remember that it meant “seeks freedom,” which I found it wonderfully ironic. If she had not rejected my offer, her burden would have been lighter. I may have even felt enough gratitude to free her. Of course, we'll never know. I hope that you understand the true meaning of my story. Champions who reject Rook will have a fate forced upon them worse than anything they could ever have imagined,” Rook said in a much too casual tone.

  Joe raised one eyebrow. He had to give the developers props. This knight was not as cliché as he had first thought. Rook seemed to do one thing really well- make one want to turn the tables. This thing needed to be bound.

  “I must admit, looking at you, I am not impressed. I can see that you have some strengths, but your weaknesses are just as apparent. And coming here without your body? It simply isn't done. I have much work to do on you,” Rook said.

  “I apologize my level is not to your liking,” Joe said through a fake smile.

  “That is an interesting way of phrasing it. When you say ‘level,’ the significance of it tingles in my mind. What do you mean?” Rook asked. Joe realized he may have inadvertently revealed information this character did not have.

  “It's just a turn of phrase, only signifying where I am in my journey,” Joe obfuscated. Again, Rook’s mental voice shook the cathedral.

  “KNOW YOUR PLACE! Let me help you understand, remove your confusion, as we said before. Different gods have different abilities. One of my many abilities is that I can tell when someone lies. When you contended that your level signified where you were on your journey, it was true. But when you said that it was only that, and just a turn of phrase, you were lying. The lie screamed at me. This is saying something, because most lies only whisper. Tell me now, how do I find someone's level? Remember, I will know the truth when I hear it,” Rook said.

  Joe didn't see much harm in showing this character how to assess someone's level, and if it helped him get out of the situation, all the better.

  “Of course, mighty one. I would be happy to gift you this information. You just look at someone, or yourself, and mentally click on them. That's it,” Joe said.

  “Preposterous! That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Click on them? The oddity is, you truly believe in the utter accuracy of your statement. That was the most honest you have been since coming to call. No harm in trying. Okay, click... Extraordinary! I am seeing values representing attributes,” Rook stated, and he began to look off in another direction, seeming to forget about Joe for a time.

  Unlike Joe, Rook was born on the Moon. He was part of its beginning. His life was not measured in years, but epochs. When Rook clicked on himself, he saw an enormous amount of data. It was not the same numbers and information that Joe received when he clicked on himself, but rather information that was appropriate for Rook to see. The list that he now had access to, opened up whole sections of his memory he had ignored, or forgotten eons ago. Most of the lists consisted of debts, both that Rook owed and that were owed to him. It was a treasure trove of information that presented opportunities to him he had thought lost forever. Looking at the information, Rook found that he could organize it with his thoughts. Wanting to assess the greatest debts first, he concentrated. The information sifted and collated showing him his largest debt.

  Debts

  Debt to King Joe greater than M. Unable to fully calculate.

  Rook lifted his right hand and brought it down with a great smash, crushing the right side of his throne. Pieces of the shattered ivory throne scattered across the cathedral-like cave floor. Standing up, Rook screamed and the cavern began to shake. The two goblins got in fetal positions, covering their ears, and holding themselves tight. Oddly, Joe was unaffected by the fury of Rook. Bringing his hand up and pointing at Joe, Rook began to speak.

  “Answer with a yes or a no. Are you aware of the grievous attack you just waged against me?” Rook seethed.

  Joe was completely lost, he had not attacked anyone. “No,” he replied. Rook lowered his hand, and sat down on his broken throne, slumping forward with his head hanging low. Rook made a decision and his armor changed from gold to silver. When he began to speak his accent became a working-class English accent.

  “True… Joe, you will not be my servant. This magic you have given me is truly powerful. I am a being that is bound by rules. If I am given a gift, and I accept the gift, a debt is created. I'm not a god. Though I am not inconsequential, I'm a being of contention. And as you know, the world is full of contention, so I am not without power. During the conflux, my power grows almost back to its highest. It is enough that I can pretend to be a god for a time. This ability to quantify reality and magic is more useful than you could ever imagine. When I clicked on myself, I saw what I am in a way that made me truly aware. As a being of contention, I don't stay in one place very long. I am constantly running to the next fight. I am giving, and taking, and I have never kept a record of who I owe, or who owes me. This created an imbalance, and over time has weakened me. When I assess myself with the ability you have gifted me, I saw a record of debts. I now know who I must pay back, and who I must collect from. Correcting these imbalances will bring back my full strength. But there are so many debts… I don’t know where to start, and now it just seems like so much work...

  “I was going to use you to start a wonderful war. I would have created so much new contention. Now, I can't, because if you serve me it creates more of a debt between us. I don't know how I'm going to correct the scales you and I already have. I don't tell you this out of the goodness of my heart. In a very real sense, I have no goodness or badness in me. I give you this information because my debt to you is much too great. Though this small gift of information does not even come close to balancing m
y debt, it is a step in the right direction,” Rook said. Joe felt an opportunity and decided to take a risk.

  “Mighty one, I'm afraid you already made me your servant, you can't take it back,” Joe said.

  “What? No, you cannot be my servant,” Contention said. Joe closed his right hand in a fist and covered his heart.

  “I, King Joe, servant of Rook, also known as Contention, commit to contend with the forces of evil and injustice. You made me your servant, and it cannot be undone. Neither can my commitment to always fight for justice in the spirit of contention be undone. I will contend, even if it means contending with you,” Joe spoke the oath, and the resonance of a new magical contract was felt by both Rook and Joe.

  Rook hopped down from his throne and back-handed Joe with his gauntleted fist. Joe flew up at a 45-degree angle, hitting the back wall near the ceiling, and then falling down to the floor. If he had not been in spirit form, it would have killed him. Nonetheless, it hurt a lot, and again, Joe was bugged at the realism in this game.

  “You impudent little worm! I was releasing you! You dare to force the contract closed! I would have repaid my debt, but now your contentious trick has made it much more difficult. The conflict of interest in repaying a servant, makes addressing the imbalance so much more complicated. If I make you greater, then I make myself greater. This takes away some of the credit I am due in my repayment,” Rook roared, with both fists clenched. Joe picked himself up and dusted himself off, though in his current form it wasn't possible for dust to stick to him.