Circuit World

by Daniel Pierce

  I looked it over for a moment longer and noticed a blinking red circle over Edmund’s. “And that’s me?” I asked, pointing to the red marker.

  “Yup, you understand.”

  I rolled it up and placed it in my bag, thanking the big man once again before I took my leave. A magical map was going to make navigating the world exponentially easier. I was not even sure if I would have been able to guide Sleeper and I out of the massive, twisting city without its aid, but with it, the task was a cakewalk. We left the leafy metropolis in half the time it took Horan to guide us to its center the first time, though we had other hurdles to overcome then.

  I traveled to the southern end of the wood, with a hunch that Conn Felvid was traveling to the settlement marked on the southern edge of the Zone. I thought that perhaps, if I traveled fast enough, I could travel diagonally, off the main road, and cut him off before he made it there. There were several roads leading to the settlement, and it seemed likely that he was traveling along the one adjacent to the desert to the east, which was the desert where the slave ships were supposed to be.

  I kicked Sleeper into high gear, only allowing him once to stop for a drink while I scrounged up some tubers for a quick meal. We traveled for several hours before my blinking icon on the map told me that we had finally found the road we were aiming for, not far east from the unnamed settlement.

  By then, night was fast approaching, and I thought it was as good a time as ever to set up within a stone’s throw of the path and make camp for the night. I did not intend to do any sleeping. My plan was to wait in the dark not far from my campfire and lure in anyone who might be heading for the little town, hoping it would be Felvid and his lackeys. It was not long before my brilliant blaze did attract another, but it was far from who I expected.

  Down from the relative darkness of the sky descended a creature the color of a bruise, blue and purple, and shaped liked a stingray with fangs.

  “Well that’s different,” I muttered, feeling a jolt of battle sense fill my body.

  From its head to the sharp talon on its tail, it was twice the length of Sleeper, and as it neared my horse, its mouth opened wide to reveal row upon row of menacing slender snake fangs. It hissed at my steed, and I knew it wasn’t playing around. The thing could sever Sleeper’s head and neck from the rest of his body and swallow it whole if I let it.

  I sprang into action and cleared the distance between us in a matter of seconds. My trusty scimitar and flashy new blade were held at the ready, and I stood like a wall between my mount and my enemy. Sleeper reared back on his hind legs and let out a panicked neigh; the nightmarish creature hissed louder in response and moved in to attack me instead.

  Its barbed tail shot at me, and I ducked and rolled, missing its stab by a hair. I cursed at having forgotten to make sure Sleeper was a safe distance behind me, and I was only able to breathe again after turning around to see that he had fled a good distance already and was far enough away to be of no concern to either of us.

  The tail soared down again, and again I rolled, this time already low to the ground. The tip struck into the dirt, tearing a clod of it from where it lay like the strike of a small mortar. The calm grassy plain, undisturbed until then, now lay with a wound chipped into it, its earthy interior exposed to the open elements.

  I barely had time to reorient myself before the talon was descending upon me for a third time. Using my rogue instincts, I whipped around and cut the needle from the bare end of the tail. No longer anchored to its foul master, the barb shot past my face and landed somewhere behind me in the darkness. The creature howled in pain and fury and dropped several feet lower in the air, jaws distending with bad intentions.

  I swung at it again, but it recoiled and the end of my decorated sword only grazed the shimmering flesh of its underbelly, causing no noticeable damage. Still, this action only served to infuriate it more, and it dived back in on the offensive.

  There was no way I could block or assault that gaping maw as it swooped down to swallow me whole, each fang as dangerous at the talon I had just carved away. I ducked and rolled forward as it came in, feeling its bleeding tail brush upon my head and back.

  Its teeth sank mere inches into the ground, but it was enough to disorient the creature. It was forced to stop flying for a moment to pull itself free, and it would take longer still for it to return to the sky. I capitalized on this opportunity, hopping to my feet and rushing in.

  When I was within reach, I jumped as high as I could, sailing into the sky and coming down on top of the thing’s scaly back hide. My blades landed before I did, tearing through its flesh like the tender skin of an orange and sinking deeper and deeper until they were both submerged in the creature all the way up to their handles.

  The thing shrieked so loudly that I worried my ears would bleed at the least, and it reared back, much like Sleeper had upon its entrance to the scene. It wailed and flopped around, desperate and failing to break free of my deathly hold.

  “You should’ve stayed flying, dickhead,” I grunted, pushing one blade up toward the back of its head while bringing the other down closer to its tail.

  It flailed around more and then fell backward, pressing me into the ground. The creature was heavy but not as much as I would have guessed. Its weight was bearable as it see-sawed from left to right, as if it were a rolling pin and I was a particularly difficult piece of dough it was trying to flatten out. I held my grip firm on my swords, determined not to let it roll too far in either direction. It seemed like things were over for it already, but I did not want to give it the chance to turn over on its stomach and climb into the air again.

  We did this dance for several minutes, all the while its black blood was raining down on me, filling my nose and mouth, choking me until I could think of nothing other than getting all that nasty muck off my face. Its flailing slowed just as I was beginning to worry that I could not take any more of the sickening bath.

  Feeling that it was finally safe, I heaved the massive thing over to rest face down in the grass. It croaked and spurted more blood, its wings flapping limply on the grass now caked in its ooze. Even as I watched it, I felt the dark bile fall away from me as if an invisible force were repelling it from my skin. The smell of sour metal quickly dissipated, and I felt clear again.

  As the flapping became less intense, Sleeper cautiously came closer, his head hung low like a nervous dog. When he had finally returned to the full light of the fire, he remained for out of reach of the fallen creature.

  Pop!

  Exp: 80

  Kill: Sundrake

  Search?

  “Yeah.”

  Looting . . .

  60br coins., 1 Sundrake scales, 1 Sundrake claw, 3 Sundrake Fangs

  NEW SKILL!

  Blade Dance

  Type: Passive

  Description: Dual-wielding blades is now second-nature to you.

  “Oh, wow . . .” I said. I was surprised at having gained a new skill since there was nothing like a level-up to trigger it. It was likely that there was some kind of weapon type proficiency level that increased the more I used a particular kind of weapon style. Perhaps I had just reached a new tier in my dual-weapon proficiency, but, if that was the case, I was curious why the user interface did not explicitly tell me that.

  Whatever the reason, I was glad to have a new ability and thankful that it was a passive one. My favorite skills were the ones that did all the work for me so that I didn’t have to worry about them.

  There was a faint glimmer in the corner of my eye and I looked down to see more lines etching their way across my scimitar.

  “You better show me what that’s all about before too long,” I said to it as I held it to the sun to admire its ever-increasing beauty and intricacy. I suspected that it would unlock some special ability or perhaps even transform into a more powerful weapon once it was finished filling in the arcane script.

  I looked in my bag to check out the new items that I’d looted—a
ll Sundrake parts. They glowed and faded as I set my eyes on them: a set of scales, one unit apparently; a single claw, which had been on the tip of its tail; and three fangs that might make decent stabbing knives if they did not appear so fragile now that they were removed from the beast’s mouth. I was almost certain that all of these would be useful crafting ingredients, for either armor or weapons, and perhaps useful in potions as well. I was interested to see what the game’s crafting system even looked like as I had seen no hint of it so far, though I was sure that it existed. No MMO was complete without a decent crafting system.

  Even after all signs of life had simmered out of the Sundrake, Sleeper continued to give it a wide berth. There seemed to be little that I could do to comfort the poor fellow, but I did all that was in my power, gently stroking his neck and whispering calmly to him.

  My stomach began to grumble, and I decided to dig around for a few more tubers. Everywhere I traveled in the Evermeadows, the tasty little things seemed to be present in endless supply.

  The first one had just finished roasting to my satisfaction when I heard voices and the trotting of horses coming down the road from the north. I had spread my map out on the ground earlier and had idly been looking over it while my food cooked to get a better idea of the lay of the land. My attention was drawn back to the canvas because, as I heard these voices approaching, I noticed that a portion of the map was filling itself in. It was the road adjacent to the eastern desert. There was a name written alongside it now: The Windswept Path.

  No sooner did I see three men appear from over a hill in the distance, traveling abreast of each other on horseback. Even from such a distance, the torch bearer was unmistakable. I had finally found my mark, Conn Felvid.

  I stayed where I was sitting on the ground and took a bite of my little potato, grabbing the waterskin at my side to wash it down. One of the other men pointed in my direction as they trod down the road, and they changed their course to come and meet me. I waved, unsure if they could see the quick gesture from so far away and in the dying light of my fire.

  When the three men came within shouting distance, I stood to greet them, thinking it wouldn’t be detrimental to my quest to try and get some intel from the guys before ending them. There was no telling if killing Felvid would end the quest right there or only unlock more objectives.

  “Greetings!” I hailed them.

  In response, one of the lackeys threw a fucking spear at me while the others laughed. I turned sideways, and the pole sailed behind me, wind rustling through my hair in its wake.

  “Well, that wasn’t nice,” I said. Using my teeth, I pulled the tuber from the tip of my knife—the knife I had previously been using as my secondary weapon—and spat it to the ground. They were still jeering as I lifted the little implement and chucked it at the one who tried to skewer me. There was a sickening lurch and gurgling sound that came from his throat in response to my dagger embedding itself in his heart, then he fell from his steed and lay motionless on the ground.

  “Hilarious, isn’t it?” I called. They didn’t agree.

  The other two sprang into action, fanning out in opposite directions in an apparent attempt to flank me. Felvid cast his torch to the grass, and it rolled to meet the man who had fallen. He drew his blade and charged for me on the back of his horse. Sleeper, who had just begun to calm down, was neighing with renewed distress, once again rearing up on his haunches and kicking madly in the air with his front legs.

  When I turned back to the attackers, both were charging directly for me from opposing sides. I didn’t want to but it was looking like I had no other option but to go straight for one of the horses.

  Felvid was the first to come close, and, as he did, I jumped to the side and sliced his mount all along the right side of its body. I did not have to do anything but firmly hold the blade out while the horse did the rest as it galloped past. The horse screamed, and its rider howled in pain as my weapon cut into his shin and calf. The two of them tumbled to the ground and lay prone, at least for the moment.

  The other man was on me then, and I turned just in time for him to greet me with his own blade cutting a gash across my chest. It was me who was screaming then as he came and went. Every fiber of my physical being was urging me to the ground, to lay down and retreat inward in an attempt to escape the agony. The pain of this world was real, and I was once again forced to wonder how far the developers had gone in the name of realism. Blood poured from my wide wound, dripping from my chest to my legs and then to the ground where it seeped into the dirt and joined that of the fallen Sundrake who lay less than two yards away.

  I looked to make sure Felvid was still out of commission and saw him slowly trying to pull himself to his feet, but with little luck. His remaining lackey was circling back around to slice into me a second time. I wasn’t about to let that happen.

  With every ounce of resolve I could muster, I pulled myself together and charged for him, not sure what I would do when we met. He was yelling, as was I, while the distance between us shrank. Both my swords were held out on either side of me; his was raised high above his head.

  We closed in on each other, and his came swinging down like and executioner’s axe. I lifted my scimitar to block—clank—the vibration made my bones chatter—and swiped my ornamental blade into his side. His eyes went wide as he screamed and fell from his pony, which reared up and bolted off and out of sight. He was still howling on the ground at my feet as I dropped my scimitar to silence him. It buried itself between his clavicles, and he started to choke on his own blood. I twisted it 90 degrees and his mouth widened with the increasing pain, but this time no sound came out. His arms flailed about wildly, but he did not have enough strength to fight back. He was already dead.

  I left him where he lay and ripped my blade from the bloody hole. Felvid was only getting back to his feet just then. I hurried over and pushed him down again on his back. Seeing that his sword had flown too far out of reach, he scrambled for the dagger at his belt, but I beat him to it, cutting his hand before he could complete the action. He grimaced and closed his eyes, and I jabbed my decorative blade into his thigh. He yowled loud enough for the nearby village to wake up, and I took his moment of distraction to unsheathe his little blade and toss it away into the darkness.

  I thought this would be as good a time as any to interrogate him if I was inclined, but I didn’t know what questions to ask. My only objective was to kill him, nothing more. Then I remembered the conflict with the Gray Favor and the missing slave ships and thought I could at least help out my friends in Cul’Maryn.

  “Where are the slave ships?” I asked.

  He yowled some more, and I twisted the blade. His hands reached down to pull it out, but there was nothing he could do but cut his fingers on its edge.

  I repeated, “Where are the slave ships from the desert river?”

  “I don’t know!” he screamed. “Please, this pain is too much! Either kill me or let me go!”

  I twisted the blade again, and he pushed his stomach into the air, digging his elbows into the grass. “I think you’re lying to me.”

  “I don’t know, damn you, I swear!” If he was lying, he was damned good at it.

  He pulled himself back, actually managing to break free of my hold on him by forcing my sword to cut all the way through his leg to the other side. Then, drawing on strength from a source unknown to me, he staggered to his feet and limped away as fast as he could.

  “Frayhoof!” he called to his steed, which was already far off in the distance and about to disappear back over the hill from which their party had come. “Come back, you damned horse!”

  “This is your last chance, Felvid!” I yelled.

  It seemed to catch him off guard that I knew his name because he stopped for a moment and looked back at me before continuing along his pathetic way, practically dragging his torn leg behind him.

  “I’m about to kill you if you don’t cooperate,” I warned, knowing full well that
I would kill him anyway because that was my actual objective. I will admit here, albeit hesitantly because I don’t want to sound like a psycho, that I’d never had such power over another human being before. Yes, I knew he was simply a convincing videogame character, but as far as I could tell from our interaction, he was for all intents and purposes another person. It was both exhilarating and frightening at the same time. “I’m serious, Conn.”

  There was no more pausing from him. He only slugged along as if I were not there. I’d had enough, so I walked over to him as he inched forward like some indignant little dog. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye then and turned back to the task at hand, making no more sounds than a groan of pain here and there. I let him progress several more yards before finally reaching my arm around his neck and tightening my bicep against his throat. He reached up with both hands and dug his fingernails into my arm, but it was useless. I heard him choking and did not release my hold until his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his arms fell to his side. I held firm for a few seconds longer and finally let his limp body drop to the ground.

  Pop!

  Exp: 200

  Kill: Conn Felvid, 2 Gray Favor Lieutenants

  Search?

  “Yup.”

  Looting . . .

  40sv coins, Conn Felvid’s Shortsword.

  TIP: Check Conn Felvid for Quest Items . . .

  I turned him over and rummaged through the tiny satchel strapped to his belt. There was only one thing in it: a necklace. From the silver chain hung a handful of little frames surrounding three-dimensional images—more like holograms—of beautiful, scantily-clad women. At the bottom of each frame was a number with a symbol that looked sort of like a golden cursive “B,” and I could only assume that this was the price of these women. I’ve found the slaves, I thought. I looked them over, but my focus only lingered on the last of these women.