Fantasy Gone Wrong

by Greenberg, Martin H.

  “We’re running out of time, Davon. I need you as the main healer—only your divine healing spells can save the sacrifice, I made that plain last night at the Clan meeting. If you didn’t want to be involved in this, you should have said so at the time. Now we both have to get back to the game. I’ll see you there.”

  “Zenithia can heal too—if she uses a potion of Blessing, her heals will be the same as mine.”

  “I need her with me. We’ll need to fight off any guards we come across once we step through the Witch’s portal into the castle. She’s a damage dealing class, unlike you.”

  “Just because you’ve got the hots for her. . . .”

  “Don’t go there, Davon,” said Robin coldly. “Just do your job and we’ll talk about this again tomorrow.”

  “I find them intimidating. They’re up to no good, you know. They aren’t real Cabal material, Tekkel. I’ve been watching them for weeks now.”

  “Dammit, Davon, this is just a game! It isn’t the real world! Get a grip, man!” He slammed the phone down angrily, not caring if he upset Davon to the point where the other logged out of the game and left them to fend for themselves. If he did, at least they’d all get some peace!

  He glanced at the clock. Three minutes left, just enough time to grab a bag of pretzels to munch on while they completed the rest of the quest.

  When he put on the headset, then eased his hands into the gaming gloves, he was once more immersed in the world of Sondherst. Designed for Legacy of Heroes, it surrounded him with the sounds and smells of the world, and relayed feedback from his character, and the others he interacted with, allowing him the sensation of touch. Though the avatars they each used to represent their characters might be fairly stock ones, for those with this interface, they and their world really came alive: even their facial expressions and gestures mirrored those of the players, creating a rich virtual world almost indistinguishable from the real one.

  He returned to find Zenithia still leaning against him, in the crook of his arm. Around him, the others were still seated, and there was none of the usual banter going on in their Clan chatting area. He was obviously the first one to return.

  “Hi, I’m back,” he said to her, using the private chat channel.

  “Welcome back,” she said, her tone somehow making the ritual words sound more personal.

  “Is Mirri really your brother?” he blurted out. “Or is he . . . someone special in your life?” She’d always avoided this issue, but he really had to know because he was already getting too involved with her. If Mirri was her partner, he had to step back from her now, before it was too late.

  The look she gave him was one of gentle amusement. “So intense,” she murmured. “I like that in Elfin kind, and in my men. Fear not, my dark one, Mirri is indeed my twin brother.”

  He felt an easing of tension, and a sudden quickening of his heartbeat. “Do you play in the same room? Can he hear us talking?”

  “He’s stepped out of the room for now,” she said, turning to look at him. “Do you have something to say you’d rather he didn’t hear, perhaps?”

  “No . . . Yes.”

  He was floundering now, and he knew it. It had been so long since he’d dated anyone, not since his disastrous relationship with Anna in fact. It was because of her he’d gotten involved in this game, seeing in it a world that held less pain than the one he woke up to each morning. Until recently, that was.

  “Then you should hurry, dark one. Your Clan mates are beginning to return, and soon so will my twin.”

  He gathered his scattered thoughts, and his courage, and plunged in. “I’d like you to be my partner,” he said. “Not just here, but in RL too.”

  There was a pause before she replied. “In Real Life? I wonder what that is. There are so many realities,” she murmured, then seemed to give herself a little shake. “You want us to meet? What if the reality of me is not what you expect?”

  “I don’t care,” he said. “I know what you’re like as a person, that’s all that matters to me.”

  She put her hands on his arms and looked up into his eyes, her expression thoughtful. “Are you proposing a betrothal between us? Will you accept my reality, no matter what?”

  He hesitated, wondering if he was ready for such a commitment with a woman he’d not yet met in the flesh. Also some sixth sense was shouting a warning to him. Sensing her beginning to turn away, he ruthlessly suppressed it and in a rush said, “Yes! I will!”

  “Back,” said Jinna in their Clan chat. “Who else is here? That you, Tekkel?”

  “Welcome back, Jinna. Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Thanks. I see Zenithia is back. You two look rather cozy right now. Welcome back to you both. Not disturbing you, am I?” There was an amused tone to her voice.

  “Not really. Just discussing something.”

  “Ah, Clan business,” she nodded, putting a knowing finger to the side of her button nose. “I understand. She’s very quiet. Lag?”

  “Back,” said Shannar.

  “Me, too,” said Meare.

  “Welcome back,” he murmured, watching Zenithia, wondering why she hadn’t replied to him. “I don’t think she’s lagging. I haven’t noticed any delays from her till now.”

  “Ah, nothin’ like a full belly and a drink ta make a dwarf feel good,” said Hurga as he got to his feet.

  Still watching her, he added his welcome to those of the others.

  “You had no right!” he heard her say in a low, almost feral hiss. “Burn it! MT,” Zenithia added, moving closer to him. “Come with me a moment,” she whispered, then stepped back to draw him toward the waterfall that hid the opening of the cave.

  He accompanied her, letting himself be diverted from wondering what was happening between her and her brother.

  The roaring of the water drowned out the chatter from the others as they stood on the edge of the fall, a faint mist of water dampening their faces and hair.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.

  “Nothing. Was only my brother returning. When this is over, tell me again that you’ll share my world, my night creature,” she whispered. “If you do, then I’ll be your partner.”

  He raised her hand to his lips. “With pleasure,” he murmured as he gently pressed his lips to her cool skin. “You’re the moonlight in my life, Zenithia.”

  A smile lit her features. “And you have the ability still to astonish me, my dark one.”

  “We must return to the others,” he said, leading her reluctantly back to the group. There would be time for them later, when this quest was over.

  “Anyone seen Davon?” asked Shannar suddenly. “Has he logged out?”

  “I’m with the Witch,” said Davon. “Hurga, you better come heal me. I’m the sacrifice.”

  Tekkel cursed under his breath. “I should have known better than to trust you! You’ve left me without a healer for the rest of the quest, dammit!”

  “You can use your elf maiden,” said Davon. “She has a Battle Healing spell. I know you’d rather have her along than me.”

  “What the hell do you mean by that?” he demanded.

  “That I can see the writing on the wall, Tekkel. I won’t let you use me anymore, won’t let you relegate me to being just a healer. Hurga, my health is failing. If I die, then so does your precious Tekkel.”

  “Aye, well you can damned well wait on us now,” said Hurga, readying himself to cast. “Ye’ll be needin’ my buffs now more than ever, Tekkel. Who’s goin’ with ye?”

  “Dammit, Davon, this is only a game you know! It’s not real! There’s no need to get so worked up about it,” said Tekkel angrily. “We each do what’s needed for the good of the Clan!”

  “It’s real to me, Tekkel! I’ve invested several months of my time to this game!”

  “Get a life,” snorted Jinna.

  Tekkel lowered his voice and turned to the goblin woman. “My apologies, Jinna. I appreciate you volunteering to be the sacrifice, but I’d a
s soon not risk losing you if anything goes wrong. Maybe this will work out for the best. Zerk me, Hurga,” he said as the different glows of Hurga’s ability enhancements surrounded him briefly, one by one.

  “Ye sure, lad?” Hurga asked. “Berserk Rage is a risky buff for one as you. You can’t take the damage.”

  “I know, but we have less time than we thought to do this without you. Zenithia, can you handle healing as well as using your spells?”

  “I can, but I’ll run low on magic power.”

  “Just do what you can, please. We’ll have to rely fully on stealth to succeed now. There’s only Mirri and I who are close combat fighters.”

  Mirri stirred and got to his feet. “So what’s the problem? You don’t need more than us two to succeed.”

  “You got twenty minutes, lad. Then the buffs’ll fade and ye’ll have to rely on your own special abilities alone. When I think o’ what that Cleric is puttin’ at risk just ta satisfy his own ambitions . . . Ye face character death if ye fail!”

  Tekkel reached out to squeeze the dwarf’s shoulder. “Peace, my friend,” he said quietly. “I won’t fail. How can I? I have my loyal kin with me.”

  Hurga looked up at him, understanding, and smiling slowly. “Aye, that ye have.”

  “Do your best to keep him alive. I’ll not let it be said we didn’t try.”

  Hurga nodded.

  “I’ll go talk to the Witch while you buff the others. Join me when you’re done,” he said, looking around the ring of grim faces.

  “That double-dealing human scumbag . . .” began Meare. “Never have guessed we were harboring a viper like him!”

  “Save it for later,” said Tekkel over his shoulder, striding off into the cave. “There will be an accounting for this, you hear me, Davon?”

  The witch had teleported them into the heart of Iskahar Castle; it was now up to them to reach the Lord’s library, where he was closeted with his three advisers, and kill them all. Then Tekkel’s Clan Cabal would not only own the castle, but he’d have advanced another level as a Leader and Assassin and get the corresponding extra skills.

  Now they stood outside the library door.

  “Jinna, what arrows do you have with you?”

  “I’ve one smoke, and a couple of fire and water left,” the young archer replied. “Don’t want to use the fire ones in a library, though; won’t do the books much good.”

  “Forget them. That’s the last thing on my mind.”

  “Your health is low, Boss,” said Shannar. “Too low to carry on.”

  “You—we—need Hurga with us!” exclaimed Jinna.

  He nodded, his thoughts elsewhere as he ran through the battle plan they’d formed, then his possible options now Davon had screwed everything up.

  “You still have several options,” said Mirri, uncannily following his thoughts. “Success of your quest doesn’t depend on keeping the sacrifice alive, does it? Sometimes a sacrifice is just that.”

  Tekkel looked at the Gray Elf leaning nonchalantly against the wall, paring his nails with the tip of his long-bladed knife. “It’s a game, Mirri, and he’s still kin, despite what he did.” He’d thought exactly the same himself, but was damned if he was going to admit it.

  “None of us are very healthy,” said Zenithia sitting down where she stood. “I need to regen my magic powers or I won’t be able to heal us and fight. I can Gate Hurga here. Tell him to leave the human with a pile of healing potions and join us.”

  “We still have ten minutes left. We’ll rest for two now,” he said, sitting down beside her. “We’ll take health potions. You should all have enough.”

  “You’re letting one human jeopardize us all!” hissed Mirri, slamming his knife into its scabbard then sliding down the wall into a sitting position with a catlike grace Tekkel envied.

  “Peace, Mirri,” said Shannar. “You’re taking this too seriously. Only Tekkel and Davon face character death, not us. Sure, we’ll lose some of our expertise if we die, but not that much.”

  Lightning fast, Mirri leaned forward and grasped his sister by the hand, letting loose a stream of what was obviously angry invective even thought the language itself was lyrical.

  As Tekkel instinctively strained to understand them, Zenithia answered in kind, pulling herself free with an effort that caused her to overbalance into him. As he grabbed hold of her and braced himself, he caught a couple of phrases he did understand.

  “Hey, guys, chill out,” said Jinna, stepping deftly between them and Mirri. “I’m as angry as the next person, but . . . Tekkel’s right, it is only a game.”

  Mirri sat back, and Zenithia used Tekkel’s shoulder to steady herself as she got abruptly to her feet and stood over him. “I am ready now. Time is wasting.”

  “Hold on,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “What were you two talking about? Who is this one you’re looking for?”

  “Nothing for you to concern yourself with, Elfling,” Zenithia said condescendingly in one of her characteristic mood swings.

  Confused, Tekkel still caught the tiny byplay between brother and sister as Mirri leaned forward again, mouth open, and Zenithia raised her hand slightly in a negative gesture.

  “The plan, Tekkel.”

  “We go with the aoe spells, you especially, Zenithia. Area ones will hopefully affect Lord Iskahar and his three guards. Your Poison cloud will chip away at their health as we do more damage. My Shadow should slow them all down too, making it more difficult for them to see us.”

  “Then let’s get moving,” said Zenithia.

  “Meare, use your lock-picking skills on the door,” Tekkel ordered.

  A dull crash, followed by the sound of something spherical rolling across a wooden floor brought Aziel out of his after-dinner nap.

  “What?” he muttered, raising his head and blinking. His sensitive ears picked up the low squeal of terror and the scuttling of bare feet on floorboards from the next room as someone ran after the object.

  Now fully awake, Aziel focused all his attention on the probable culprit. “Twilby!” he roared. “What havoc have you caused now?” Then he knew. “My Seeing Crystal!”

  Leaping to his feet, wings spread at half height to give him balance, Aziel crossed his sleeping chamber in three bounds.

  “Not me, Master! Crystal began glowing then leaped to floor!” the drudge whined as the dragon mage’s gallop was brought to an abrupt end when his shoulders crashed into the door frame.

  To the sound of ominous creaks and groans, a shower of plaster and a few solid chunks of ceiling and wall debris rained down on Aziel.

  He snarled, his long neck snaking through the doorway, tongue extended, nostrils quivering and leaking small tendrils of smoke as he sought his servant. Turning sideways, he reached into the room with one huge clawed hand and grasped hold of the squealing drudge.

  “What did you do to my Crystal?” he roared, pulling Twilby into his sleeping chamber and holding him aloft.

  “Nothing, Master!”he shrieked, grasping hold of the huge claws in terror. “I did nothing! It jumped off the table!”

  “You lie!” Aziel snarled, shaking the drudge violently.

  “No! I swear!”

  Still snarling and hissing in anger, Aziel lowered his hand to the ground, then backed up a few paces and, tail scything angrily across the scarred wooden floor, muttered the incantation that changed him into human form.

  Moments later he had Twilby firmly by the ear and was dragging him into his study. “Fetch my Crystal!” he ordered, tossing the drudge away from him.

  Twilby went sprawling across the floor to collide with the side of a tall press. Scrambling to his hands and knees, he reached under it to draw out the object in question.

  “Here, Master,” he said, crabbing his way back to Aziel’s side, the crystal held up in one sooty, ash-covered hand.

  Aziel snatched it from him, rubbing it against the sleeve of his robe as he strode over to his desk to examine it.

  “It’s
not glowing now,” he said, gesturing toward the large oil lamp on his desk. As it flared to life, he sat down at his desk, remembering to adjust his weight to human normal as he heard the chair start to crack under him.

  “Was when I saw it.”

  Aziel grunted, his hands cupping the crystal as he ran them gently over the surface feeling for any blemishes. He stopped, passing his fingertips lightly over one point, then leaned closer to the light to look at the surface there.

  “It’s chipped,” he snarled, glaring over his shoulder at the drudge hunkered down in the corner farthest from him. It was only the tiniest of slivers that was missing; with any luck, it would still function properly.

  Twilby began to gibber incoherently.

  “Get out! You’re disturbing me,” Aziel said, losing interest in him as a faint glow began to form in the center of the crystal globe. “Ah, the Guildsfolk. I see they have found their new leader. . . .”

  Tekkel’s emergency plan had fallen apart the moment they entered the library and found Iskahar’s minions waiting for them behind the bookcases that bisected the room.

  “ADD, dammit! Skellie incoming! They’ve changed the whole encounter!” snarled Shannar, backing into the nearest corner and dropping his bow for the long Ranger’s knife as a skeleton warrior suddenly materialized in front of him.

  “Jinna, support him,” Tekkel snapped, leaping forward with Mirri to engage the strongest of the three guards. “Use Stealth skills, Meare!” He spared a glance at Zenithia, making sure she was standing far enough back from the main attack.

  Next he knew, everyone but him had moved and he was staggering, trying to get his balance, because Mirri had hit him.

  “You got stunned,” the elf said as Tekkel recovered, then spun around to face the guard again, lashing out at him with a Poisoned Blade attack.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, closing in on their mutual target. “Zen, Sleep the other two! We can’t fight more than one at a time!”

  “I’m trying, but he’s got too high a resistance. If I attack them, I’ll draw their aggro on me.”