Expedition- Summerlands

by Nathaniel Webb

  “Okay, so we’re Hearthammer,” I said. “This is Jessamine, that’s Sepharad, and Magpie in the back there.” Magpie looked away from the camera as soon as he realized he was in the frame. “We’re Hearthammer and we’re about to go on our first quest. Uh, actually, we’re already on it. We’re here in the Near Plains right now and we’re going to recover the bodies of some adventurers who died recently in the White Chasm. Uh, you’ve probably seen it before. But that’s where we’re going. Anyway, I just wanted to make a record of some of the stuff we’re seeing here. It’s pretty amazing, actually. Here, look at this.” I actually waved to the camera, which kept pace with me as I crouched by a bush speckled with blue flowers.

  “They look like roses, don’t they? Look at how the petals curl around. Here, let’s look inside.” I gently pried open one of the flowers, revealing neat red markings on the inside of each petal, totally hidden from outside. “Oh my God. It looks like a bell, doesn’t it? And look, this one is like a dagger. I mean, can you imagine? These are red magic symbols, in red, just right here on the petals! Has anyone ever seen this before? Are there white magic ones, too? What do we even call this? Magic rose? No, that’s cheesy. Uh, bell rose? Bell-and-dagger? Oh, no, this one looks like a coin. I mean, this can’t be natural, right? The elves must have cultivated these…”

  “Emma,” Cass murmured. I looked up in surprise. She stood over me, eyebrows raised, arms crossed. “Time to move.”

  “Oh, right, sorry,” I said. “I guess I got a little distracted.”

  “You think?” said Cass.

  “Sorry, sorry!” I stood, brushing grass and dirt off my pants, then looked into the camera. “Okay, we’re moving on.”

  We headed deeper into the Near Plains, judging direction roughly by the sun overhead. The White Chasm was due north of Wellpoint, at the point where the grasslands fell away suddenly to be replaced by a chalky gray land called the Battle Plains. At the bottom of the Chasm was a collapsed structure, probably an old fortress, that was among the first to be raided as soon as the Summerlands were opened to players. Still, it was a massive complex riddled with secret doors and winding passageways and clever players were always finding new secrets hidden within its crumbling halls. It was there that the dead party we were chasing had gone, following some rumor of forgotten treasure.

  The thought that whatever had killed them might kill us, too, had definitely crossed my mind.

  To distract myself, I kept talking. There wasn’t much in the Near Plains other than grass and flowers, at least not that I’d ever seen on the streams, so most of my endless monologue was theories about plant life. I spent half an hour on the role of chlorophyll in a world where sunlight was pretty much guaranteed sixteen hours a day.

  Nobody responded, of course, and even if there were comments coming in I’d have no way of knowing. Running a stream, it turned out, was something of an act of faith. You just had to assume that somebody was listening on the other end. Luckily, I was making these recordings for myself, not for some theoretical audience. In a way, I hoped nobody was watching. I was rambling, going off on tangents, making dumb jokes, getting distracted and losing my train of thought: all conduct unbecoming of a professional streamer. I was glad I wasn’t one.

  As the sun reached its zenith, we passed by a large patch of discolored grass. It was a rectangle, with straight rows of brown circles running parallel its long edges. A few flat stones were visible within the rectangle, buried in the overgrown grass.

  “What’s that?” I asked Noah.

  “I don’t know.” He frowned. “Nobody’s ever named it. I don’t think there’s anything there to explore.”

  “Are those paving stones?” I said. Noah shrugged.

  “Come on, it’s just some old elf ruin,” Cass said. “If there was anything there, it’s gone now.”

  “Is it?” I paused, letting my camera drone take in the long, yellowing spot. “The elves mostly built with stone. This looks like something made of wood used to be here, but rotted away.”

  “So it’s older,” Cass said. “Maybe it was prehistoric elves. Cave elves.”

  “I think these were posts,” I said, gesturing to the circles. “If the rectangle was the body of the building, the posts would have held up the roof. It almost…” I trailed off, shaking my head.

  “Almost what?” asked Noah.

  “It almost looks like a Viking longhouse,” I said.

  “But that’s impossible,” said Cass.

  “Yeah, obviously,” I agreed with a sigh. “Okay, let’s go.”

  ***

  “Wow, that is deep,” said Cass. We stood at the edge of the White Chasm, gazing down to where the ruined fortress lay a hundred yards below. A steep set of switchback stairs, carved into the wall by an early ranger team, descended to the canyon floor. The chalky white stone of the steps had been worn smooth by five years of adventurers’ boots and faint depressions were starting in the center of each stair.

  Cass went first, her bow strung and an arrow nocked. She moved like she’d been born to wear armor—maybe all the time she’d spent making cardboard mockups from Jason’s old factory boxes had actually helped—and any fear she’d shown in Portal Square was hidden away now.

  Noah went second. His armor clanked as he walked, but it wasn’t as noisy as I’d feared. His sword hung from his belt; he wore mismatched gloves, one white and one black, and carried a long, straight wand of wood. His arms were bare between the short sleeves of his starter tunic and the gloves, but instead of looking goofy, it just showed off his muscles.

  I was third, safely in the middle. I had a bell in my left hand and my dagger in my right. It was silly, but I felt better holding it. Doing real magic in the safety and quiet of the Room of Trials was one thing, but out here in the field would be something else entirely. I knew how to use a dagger, though.

  Magpie was last, a knife in each hand. Other than that, all he had was his money, his starter clothing, and the leather case he’d bought, which had turned out to be a set of lockpicks. He had a look on his face that I hadn’t seen before: his mouth was a thin line and his eyes never stopped moving. He kept a tight grip on his knives.

  We reached the floor of the canyon and set out for the ruined fort. Noah had asked if we needed a history, but every Summerlands fan knew the White Chasm. The best anyone could tell, there had been a massive battle on the chalky badlands just north of the fort. They were called the Battle Plains because they were still littered with broken weapons, shields, and bits of armor. Scrap dealers like Wayland and desperate adventurers like us had picked the place over for anything usable, but every now and then somebody turned up a gleaming sword or lost gem.

  The popular theory was that the fort itself had been hit with some powerful magic, then dropped three hundred feet into the chasm that opened beneath it. As we approached, I saw no reason to doubt it. The fortress had been massive and a surprising portion of it was still more or less standing, a testament to the long-gone elves’ building prowess. Still, it obviously hadn’t been built down here: its towers slumped, its walls crumbled, and the whole thing was sunk a few feet into the white earth.

  “Okay, cameras on and look sharp,” said Cass. “Wayland said they were planning to head for Athan’s Rest, so that’s what we’ll do. It’s still a harpy haunt, so look sharp.”

  “You already said that,” said Noah.

  “Well, you all better look really damn sharp, then.” Cass had reached the most popular entrance to the fort, a heavy wooden door that hung half-open in the wall of a circular stone tower. She pushed through it into the dimness beyond and we followed.

  A spiral staircase led in both directions from a landing just past the door. We headed up, passing another landing and door as we ascended to the top floor of the tower. Our drones buzzed in single file behind us, the only sound aside from our footsteps. The staircase ended at a third door and Cass opened it without hesitation.

  A long hall pierced with arrow slit
s stretched about fifty feet down the length of the fortress wall, and ended at another tower. I knew it well from years of feeds: Athan’s Rest, named for an early player who’d been killed there. The roof was collapsed, leaving it open to the sky, and a brood of giant raptors used it as sort of rest stop to eat and shit on their way to and from their nests in the canyon cliffs.

  Athan, a swordsman from South America, had been the one to discover the birds and nickname them “harpies”, right before they tore out his guts and ate them.

  We paced down the hall in silence, the history of the place weighing on all of us. Cass tried the door at the far end and it opened. We moved out onto the wide platform of the open tower, blinking in the sunlight, our feet crunching on years of harpy crap.

  “There,” said Magpie, gesturing with his chin. Three bodies huddled against the right-hand curve of the wall, about where it met the next fortress wall, which ran away at an angle from the one we’d come through. They sat half in the shadow of a large section of unbroken wall, but even from the doorway it was clear they’d been torn nearly to shreds by the harpies’ claws.

  “Whoof,” said Cass, putting the back of her hand to her nose. “Smell that. Actually, don’t.”

  “Look at this.” Magpie moved into the shadow where the bodies lay. He nudged one gently with his boot and it toppled over into the light. It was a young man, maybe mid-twenties. One of his eyes was missing, torn out and leaving a gaping hole behind. I leaned over for a few deep breaths as Magpie clarified that he hadn’t just wanted us to see the mangled body.

  “There’s a door here.” He was right. It had been built flush with the wall from matching stones, so it would have been invisible if you hadn’t known what you were looking for. Magpie pulled it open a few inches until it stuck on the corpses. “This must have been what they were looking for.”

  “They found it too late,” said Noah. He looked unusually pale.

  “Okay, Hearthammer,” Cass said decisively. “This isn’t pretty, but we’ve got a job to do. Let’s get Wayland’s gear and get out of here.”

  “It’s a secret room,” Magpie said. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Oh, okay.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Treasure,” he said. “Somebody’s stash.” He shoved the door the rest of the way open, dislodging the bodies, which collapsed with a clatter of armor. Reaching into the dark space beyond, he pulled out an open-topped wooden box about the size of a shoebox. It was nearly full of copper coins.

  “Wow,” said Cass.

  “Look out!” Noah shouted. He was pointing into the sky with his wand, where three birds nearly as big as me were diving out of the sun. He flicked the wand and shouted something in Elvish, but nothing happened.

  Cass stepped forward, pulling an arrow from the quiver on her back. In one quick motion she settled the arrow on her bowstring, drew it back to her ear, and let fly. The lead bird screeched as the shaft tore through its wing, and its dive turned into an off-kilter spin. I jumped back as it crashed into the stone floor of the tower just a few feet from me.

  “Cass, what’s the plan?” I called, but she didn’t answer. She hadn’t choked; instead, it was like the rest of us didn’t exist. “Cass!”

  Magpie and Noah glanced at me as the two farther harpies drew closer.

  “Stay back,” I said. “I’ll cast a spell.”

  Noah went one way and Magpie the other as I fumbled my bell from my left hand to my right. My dagger clattered to the floor. Finally, I had a decent grip on the bell, and I began to swing it as I tried to remember the right words.

  Cass put another arrow into the fallen bird as the other two swooped in, their claws leading. They were coming too fast. One crashed into Cass and they went down in a jumble of feathers and muscle. The other beat its wings once, slowing its dive so it hovered just over the broken edge of the tower. Its eyes roved over us all and settled on me.

  I leapt for cover behind Noah as the harpy rose a few feet then dove like a falling missile.

  I hit the ground just behind Noah’s feet and dropped my bell, imagining that I could already feel the harpy’s claws tearing into me. They tore into Noah instead. He got his hands in front of his face just as the bird hit him talons first. He screamed as the harpy grabbed hold of his arm and beat him around the head with its wings. His wand clattered to the floor and he kicked me in the arm as he took a steadying step backwards, but he didn’t fall.

  Somebody was shouting, one of the boys. Magpie stepped over me to help Noah. He had both knives in one hand and was trying to grab the huge bird with the other. Noah got free suddenly and his sword came up and caught the harpy beneath one wing. He pressed forward, driving the blade deeper into the bird with his right hand, as somewhere in the back of my mind a voice said that was wrong. Magpie came after him, making darting stabs with his knives wherever he saw an opening.

  By the time I managed to sit up, it was all over. One bird lay with two arrows in it, another with a broken neck, and the third chopped half to bits. Cass had a long, shallow gash down one arm and marks all over her leather armor. Magpie seemed untouched. I was about to thank Noah when he turned, holding his left hand up in front of wide eyes. It was a mangled mess, pulsing with blood, the fingers all sticking out at different angles.

  He fainted.

  ***

  “Lest Darkess Fall,” whispered Noah.

  “Are you still arguing about books?” Cass said.

  “It’s definitely”—Magpie grunted as he shifted his weight to get his shoulder back under Noah, who was starting to fall again—“it’s definitely Incomplete Enchanter.”

  “De Camp didn’t even…” Noah paused for a long, wheezing breath. For a moment Magpie was doing all the work for both of them as he dragged Noah across the grass, leaving a trail of bright blood spatters behind. Noah’s eyes fluttered, then shut, and his head began to roll forward.

  “Didn’t what?” Magpie said. “Didn’t write it alone? So what? It’s still his best book.”

  “Just let him have this!” Cass snapped.

  Noah’s eyes opened, showing unfocused and wandering pupils. His skin was ashen beneath his tan. He’d lost a lot of blood on the hike back. “…maybe in Greek.”

  “There’s Wellpoint!” I exclaimed, pointing. I set out across the grass at a sprint as Cass helped Magpie drag Noah after me.

  “Medic! We need a medic!” My throat was raw from screaming by the time I reached the first cobblestones of the Burbs.

  “Keep it down, huh?” said a voice from somewhere above me. I looked up to see Wolfheart, the white wizard of Golden Apple, peering down from the second-floor balcony of an airy white house. He was in clean white robes, but he was unshaven, with ratty stubble down his neck.

  “Help us!” I called back. “Please! You’re a healer.”

  Wolfheart sighed. “I’ll be down in a minute and we can talk.”

  My friends caught up soon enough, but the rest of Golden Apple appeared before Wolfheart did. First Rad, then Valkyrie, and finally Dr Agony emerged from side streets, converging near Wolfheart’s house and paying us no attention at all. They all wore backpacks bulging with gear and looked dressed to travel. Finally, Wolfheart’s door opened and the white wizard appeared, clean-shaven and changed from his robes into simple traveling clothes and carrying a pack of his own.

  “These noobs asked for my help,” he sighed as he noticed the rest of his party waiting for him. “Let me see if they can pay, and then we’ll get going.”

  He crossed his front yard to us, shaking his head.

  “Harpies?” He pointed to the scratches across Cass’s armor. She nodded, stony-faced. Wolfheart made a show of peering at each of us from his spot on the grass. “Four faces, eight eyes… eh, you were lucky. They love the taste of them, you know. So who needs the heal?”

  “Sepharad,” said Cass. She helped Noah show Wolfheart his shattered hand.

  “Ouch,” said Wolfheart. He crossed his arms. “Well, whatever I c
harge you, it’ll be worth it.”

  “We don’t have much,” said Cass.

  “What’s that?” Wolfheart gestured with his chin to the box of coppers, which we’d taken turns hauling up the steps from the fortress and across the Near Plains along with the gear stripped from the dead adventurers. I cleared my throat, and he looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

  “We can pay you a quarter of it,” I said. “Sepharad was hurt protecting me and that’s my cut, so…”

  “Very fair-minded,” he said. “Fine. Come here, kid.”

  Wolfheart pulled a white cotton glove from his belt and pulled it on, snapping it like a surgeon. He touched the gloved hand to Noah’s shattered one and began to murmur.

  “Hurry up!” shouted Rad. The rest of Golden Apple was standing a few yards out onto the dirt track and they looked impatient.

  “Where are you guys headed?” Cass called back.

  “Rangers just uncovered a big dungeon out by Wyatt Falls,” said Rad. He was even taller than he looked on the feeds. “It’s wild country up there. Not safe for noobs.”

  “Can we come with you?” Cass asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Dr Agony interjected. “Rad, shut the hell up. Wolf, make it quick. We need to be at Dann’s Teeth by nightfall.”

  “Come on,” Cass said. “We can help.”

  “No tagalongs!” Dr Agony snapped. “No noobs, no poseurs, and especially no fangirls. Wolf, time’s up. We’re leaving.”

  “Coming, bossman,” said Wolfheart. He glanced up at the drones hovering around our heads. “Enjoy the new hand, kid.”

  The white wizard sauntered back to his party, pausing only to scoop up a big double handful of our coppers and dump them into his backpack. Golden Apple set off into the wilderness, leaving us to watch in awe as Noah held up his hand, which was clean, straight, and whole.

  Company Town

  “Damn, money tastes good,” Cass sighed, tossing a spoon onto our table at Open Seasoning. It bore the wreckage of a huge celebratory meal, paid for from the box of coppers we’d found. In fact, we’d insisted on paying double, to cover the meal that Naila had comped us the night before.