by Terry Schott
Shale opened her mouth to reply, but a sharp pain twisted Aleron’s stomach, causing him to roll onto his side and gasp. It lasted for the space of a few heartbeats and then stopped. He panted. “Oh god, what was that?”
“I didn’t want to do it.”
He frowned. “Do what?”
“You were going to die.”
“Shale—”
“Sebastian said if we lose you, the group is dead.”
“That sounds right. The group needs a healer. Shale, what’s wrong? You look scared as hell.”
She shook her head, blinking rapidly as tears formed in her eyes.
“Come on, it can’t be that bad. Just tell me. Whatever it is, I’m sur—”
“Mercy healed you.”
Aleron felt as if someone had kicked him hard in the stomach. He opened his mouth, but there was no air to speak. He blinked and took a deep breath, exhaling and taking another in an attempt to lessen the sound of blood thudding in his ears. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But it’s the truth.”
Another spasm gripped him, more violent than the last. The pain became so intense that he pulled his knees up to his chest in an attempt to ease it. When it passed, he gasped for air. “Major healing?” He panted.
“No. God, no.”
He laughed and then frowned at how weak it sounded to his ears. “Your tone implies Sebastian would have drawn the line before considering that, but he wouldn’t have, would he?”
“No.” She pursed her lips and wiped at her eyes. “But still, the minor healing was enough.”
He felt his bowels tighten and prepared for another attack. Seconds passed and it did not come. Not pain, he thought. Only fear. He laughed at himself, at what he was learning from his friend.
“Mercy said that the spasms won’t last long.”
“As the evil sets in and gets comfortable?” Aleron shook his head. “As my senses become accustomed to the vileness swimming through my veins?”
She looked at the ground and nodded.
He laughed again and she looked up. “I was gonna say it could be worse.” He smiled. “That I could be dead. But that’s not true, is it? Being dead would be better.”
“There’s a chance you could be fine.”
“Less than half a percent, if it’s the same as the role-playing game.” He frowned. “Is it the same as the RPG, Shale?”
She nodded.
He sighed. “Well, at least it’s a chance. Guess that’s something, right?”
48
Sebastian and Ezref turned the corner and froze.
“What the—” Ezref’s hand went to his dagger.
“Don’t bother,” Sebastian said.
“But—”
“Head back to the others. I’ll deal with this.”
“You sure?”
“Aye. If he meant us harm, we wouldn’t have seen him.”
“Okay. Yell if you need us.”
Sebastian nodded and came to stand beside the small table and two chairs that had been set up in the middle of the room.
“Hello, Seb.” Kieran smiled as he poured an iced drink into first one glass and then a second. “Join me for a drink?”
Sebastian sat and glared at Kieran. The Scout’s demeanour remained pleasant as he set the pitcher on the table and raised the cup to his lips, took a sip, and sighed. “Delicious.” He indicated the plate filled with cookies. “Try one. I think you’ll be surprised how much they remind you of home. No one’s figured out how to work with milk chocolate very well, I’m afraid, but the chunks are still quite tasty.”
Seb reached out and took a cookie. When the bite was swallowed, he pulled the plate so that it was out of Kieran’s reach. “I’m taking these back to share with the group.”
Kieran laughed. “Great idea. There are actually enough to do so. Almost as if I had that same idea.”
“Are they poisoned?”
Kieran made a tsking sound and shook his head. “Why would you ask such a dreadful thing? Of course they aren’t.” He took another drink. “If we wanted you dead, it wouldn’t happen with cookies.”
“You don’t want us to live, or you wouldn’t have tricked us into this instance.”
“Again, unfair. Your group was not supposed to come out here. You were on squirrel duty, remember?”
“How many new Travellers have you lured into this dungeon?”
“Around 1,226.” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, and Kieran’s smile widened. “I’m guessing that’s a decent number of them, from your response.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Okay.”
“This dungeon seems like a waste of time, anyway.” Sebastian picked a crumb from his robe. “You must have guessed that when Travellers die we come back in another body.”
“We?”
“That’s right.”
“I have a strong suspicion that you are not clumped in with the majority of your associates in the area of coming back in another body.” Kieran raised an eyebrow but Sebastian kept his expression blank. “And who said anything about Travellers dying in this instance?”
“What happens to them if they don’t die?”
“I wish you would hurry up and find out. Your little group of under-levelled misfits has managed to make it further than any of the others. It’s a bit annoying, actually.”
“We’re going to make it all the way out.”
“I like your optimism.” He shook his head. “Although I very much doubt it.”
“Bet you we do.”
Kieran took another drink, and blinked. “It’s too early to make a wager. You’re not even to the halfway point.”
“I know we’re close.”
The Scout laughed. “You know, do you?”
Rather than answer, Sebastian took his first drink. “Pretty tasty.”
“Thanks.”
“Why are you here, Kieran?”
“I came to bring Aleron out.”
“Is that so?”
The Scout nodded. “And you.”
Sebastian frowned. “Only the two of us?”
“That’s as many as I can take with me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Kieran shrugged.
“What about the others?”
“They will be fine.”
“Without me, yes. They need a healer, though.”
“A healer only prolongs their agony. Best if they wipe now.”
“You said they won’t return in different bodies.”
“I did say that, yes.”
“What happens to them?”
Kieran considered his glass, one finger wiping a bit of condensation from the outside.
“You put them in some sort of stasis?”
“That’s a decent guess.”
“For how long? You can’t keep them like that forever.”
“No, not forever. Only until the rest stop coming to play.”
“Play?”
Kieran smirked.
“Interesting choice of words.”
“We know where you come from, Seb. Why you’re all here.”
“That’s not possible.”
“It is. Maybe you can’t figure out how we know, but we do.”
Sebastian sniffed and leaned back in his chair. “I wish I knew more about your people. I never expected Scouts to be such a problem. I actually thought the class was my idea, but I’m beginning to suspect that isn’t the case.”
Kieran laughed. “So conceited. I love it.”
“Maybe when I arrived, but humble is a better word to describe me now. It’s easy to admit that I know nothing about the Scouts, but I’d like to.”
“Accept my offer and I will tell you everything.”
“All I have to do is abandon my friends?”
“Not all. Like I said, Aleron can come.”
Sebastian drained his glass and set it back on the table. “Take us all out and you have a deal.”
>
Kieran reached for the pitcher and refilled both cups. He replaced it on the table, leaned forward, snagged a cookie, and took a bite as he sat back to mirror Sebastian’s pose. He chewed slowly, swallowed, and took another bite. Sebastian watched. Waited. Kieran pointed his cookie at him. “It’s cute that you’re trying to bargain, but you’re not in a position to make any demands.”
Sebastian stood and lifted the plate from the table. “Then I guess we’re done here.”
“Going to get Aleron?”
Sebastian turned and began to walk away.
“Should I wait here or come with you?”
Sebastian turned the corner and disappeared.
49
Joel groaned long and loud, smashing his hands on the cushioned edges of the bed before opening his eyes and glaring up at the medical tech.
“Hang tight while I unstrap you,” the tech said.
Joel waited for the man to undo the strap buckle around his chest and sat up.
“Damn it, Joel, lie back for a minute. Why do I have to keep telling you—”
“Yeah, yeah, to give myself a second to adjust.” He scowled. “Both of us know this routine by now, don’t we?”
The tech nodded.
“Is it official yet?”
“What?”
“That I’ve spent more time outside recovering on this table than I have actually playing inside.”
“I’d laugh, but I think you might be right.”
“Careful there,” Joel wagged a finger. “You’re supposed to be positive and encouraging about the whole process, right?”
The tech shrugged. “This ain’t exactly turning out for me how they promised, either. This was supposed to be a relaxing job. Sit here and monitor twenty players. As long as the monitors read normal I could do whatever I wanted. Instead, I’m working overtime running most of you from the main room to recovery, bringing one out safely only to have to rush back in and get the next who’s being bounced.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And I hear they are even busier putting you all back in.”
“That’s true. There are usually two or three of us waiting in line at that end of things.”
“Management tells us it should slow down, trickle back to nothing.”
“But it isn’t?”
“It’s getting worse each hour.”
Joel unlatched the straps around his lower torso and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Well, that’s enough of this crap for me.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m done.”
“You can’t be.”
Joel laughed. “You know who I am?”
The tech nodded. “Yes, but a couple others have tried and failed. You all signed the beta agreement, and the terms are clear.”
Joel walked to a bank of metal lockers on one side of the room. He stopped in front of the locker marked number six, worked the combination, and pulled it open. He reached in and retrieved a pen, then held it up for the tech to see as he gave it a quarter twist. A red light began to flash on the end of it. He tossed it back into the locker and closed the door.
“Others might have tried, but I’m a Griffin. We don’t try. We do. My ride will be here in two hours, and no one here will want to try and stop me from leaving, I can guarantee you that.”
***
Isaac picked up the phone. “What’s up?”
“Joel Griffin.” It was Kara’s voice on the other end.
“Tyson’s boy? What about him?”
“He’s ready to leave.”
Isaac laughed. “That’s too bad.”
“In the last ten hours, he’s entered and been bounced six times.”
“What?”
“He’s not the only one. Three-quarters are being kicked out of the game, faster each time they re-enter.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
“I understand that,” Isaac snapped and then paused. “Sorry. This is beyond frustrating.”
“Tell me about it. Dealing with these fires has become my full-time job.”
“We aren’t going to let him go. Just because Joel’s a Griffin doesn’t mean—”
“Tyson called a few minutes ago. There is a small army on the way to our location.”
Isaac groaned.
“Couple of armed choppers, mobile armoured units, and men. Tyson said that if Joel is not standing out front when they get here...”
“What? He’s going to blow us up?”
“I don’t know what they’re going to do, Isaac. But the press will be bad for us no matter what happens.”
“You’re right. Thanks. I’ll get on this.” He disconnected from the call and brought up a number on speed dial. Then he pressed the button and put the receiver to his ear.
“Hi. Isaac Chase calling for Tyson Griffin. Yes. I’ll hold.”
He looked at his watch.
Thirty seconds later, Tyson came on the phone. “Heya, Isaac.” The man’s voice sounded pleasant, but Isaac knew him well enough to recognize anger in his tone. “What a coincidence that you’re calling. I’m actually on my way to see you right now.”
“So I’ve been told.” Isaac smiled and did his best to sound confident. “Any way I can convince you to come alone instead of with the company you’re bringing?”
There was a pause.
“I’ll let him out, Tyson. Please come alone.”
Another pause, followed by: “Sounds great, Isaac. I’m on my way alone. See you in less than half an hour.”
50
“Ah, there he is.” Isaac stood from his desk, smiling as he strode to the door and shook Tyson Griffin’s hand. “Damn, you look good. Get in here and grab a seat.”
“Isaac.” Tyson’s body language was calm, his smile easy and relaxed, but Isaac knew better than to fall for the outward appearance.
“Let me get you a drink.” Isaac moved to the small bar and grabbed three glasses. “I’ve got a 200-year-old bottle of scotch and have been waiting for a special occasion to crack it open. Couple cubes of ice in yours?”
Tyson frowned. “I know I’m not here for the best of reasons, Isaac, but there’s no need to punish the whisky by watering it down.”
Isaac laughed and poured a generous measure into each of the glasses. He carried them back to his desk, handing one to Tyson and setting the other two glasses on the table. Then he grabbed a glass for himself and clinked it against Tyson’s. Isaac watched the other man take a drink, pleased as he saw a genuine smile touch the other man’s lips.
“That’s outstanding.”
“For an outstanding person.”
Tyson sniffed. “I’m not very happy with you right now.”
“Of course you are.” Isaac laughed. “You’re just going to use this as an excuse to get something you want. It’s the same old strategy you’ve used since we were at university together.”
There was a knock. “Come in.” Isaac grabbed the third glass of scotch and walked towards the door. “And here comes the chip off the old block.”
Joel Griffin stepped into the room, his brows furrowed in anger. His expression changed to one of surprise as Isaac handed him the glass. He looked at his father, and the two acknowledged each other with a smile.
“Thanks.”
“My pleasure. Hope you like it; this bottle is two centuries old.” Isaac nudged Joel lightly on the arm. “Bottled by your dad when he was your age.”
Joel let out a bark of laughter and came to stand beside his father. “Hey Dad.”
“Son.” They clinked glasses and took a drink.
“Oh wow,” Joel grinned. “That is delicious.”
“Glad you like it.” Isaac indicated the chairs. “Let’s all grab a seat and get this little misunderstanding cleared up.”
The three men sat and Tyson spoke. “I think we got things figured out.” He raised one eyebrow and looked at Isaac. “Am I right?”
“Oh yeah, I think so.” Isaac tipped his chin at Joel. “S
orry for the mix-up, pal. The technicians have to follow their orders. I tell them to bring me any special concerns, but I guess there was a mix-up.”
“It’s not your fault, Isaac, it’s mine,” Joel said. “The rules were spelled out very clearly in the beta agreement.”
“No one leaves early.” Isaac raised his glass. “But I can break that rule. For you.”
“I figured you could.”
Isaac drained his glass, set it down, and opened the folder in front of him. “Let’s get this paperwork finished so you boys can be on your way.”
“Sounds good.” Joel said.
Isaac removed a single sheet of paper, looked at it for a second and then pushed it across the desk. Then he retrieved the pen from his shirt pocket and set it on top of the paper. “Just need the both of you to sign this, and you are outta here.”
Joel nodded, his eyes moving across the page. After a few seconds he looked up and pursed his lips. His eyes flitted to his father and then Isaac.
“Go ahead. Your dad signs on the first line, but the second one is all yours.”
Joel sniffed and handed the paper to his father. “Read this.”
Tyson took the sheet and read it. When he was finished, he looked up and laughed. “What’s this about?”
Isaac frowned. “Oh dear, I thought it was pretty clear. Single page, double-spaced. Only one point of interest.”
“Don’t get smart with me.”
“Fine.” Isaac’s smile melted. “It’s an authorization form to return your capital.”
“I don’t want the money back, Isaac. This has been a good investment so far.”
Isaac spread his hands. “Here’s the thing, Tyson. I’m more than happy to bend the rules for you guys, where I can. Getting Joel out of here early for example, no problem. But some rules I am not allowed to break.” He nodded toward the sheet in his friend’s hand. “I’m bound rigidly by the financial terms of the beta agreement. It clearly states that anyone leaving early receives their investment back in full.”
Tyson stared at his old friend for a second, then he shrugged and set the paper on the table. “Fine. Fifty million means more to this business venture than it does to me, but if you don’t want it, then I’ll find another home for the cash.” He reached for the pen.