by K. T. Hanna
She took a few steps forward and held out her hand for the torch. “If none of you are going to brave this, I guess I have to go first.”
Which started a flurry of action as Devlish basically dived for the torch, and pushed himself in front of Murmur. “If one of us is going to lose his footing and plummet to his death, it’s going to be me.”
“Okay. No argument here.” Murmur grinned in the dark. She hadn’t even needed to use Thought Projection for that little manipulation. Although maybe it wasn’t a good thing that her first thoughts were to wrangle her friends to do what she wanted them to. As they set out, she frowned, glad to be leaving the snowstorm behind them.
“Wow.” Beastial, for once, appeared to be at a loss for words. Murmur couldn’t blame him though. Of all the things she thought they’d find in the cave, this wasn’t one of them.
Beneath the steep ramp they were walking down, in the center of the cavern was a waterfall. It jettisoned out of a slit in the rock wall above it into a gorgeous arc, small rainbows glimmering in the specks of light that slithered through somehow, and cascaded into a pool of water below, trickling off and out of the cavern through another set of rocks.
And down there, where the water played, were a plethora of fish-people. They had fins running down their backs and arms, and their legs were stubby and powerful, with toes webbed like flippers. Murmur watched them in fascination, realizing they weren’t conning red to her, but instead a sort of mulled yellow, non-threatening. Which meant they were neutral?
“Hey, are they neutral to anyone else?” She muttered it under her breath, hoping their hearing wasn’t too good.
Sin blinked, and Devlish gasped softly.
“That’s so weird.” Havoc kept his voice soft, his eyes never leaving the mobs.
“Sec.” Murmur searched for her spell to make sure she had the gestures right. The first couple of times casting Altruism felt clunky, but got easier with every one. Finally, after a couple of minutes she stopped and smiled. “Okay. That’s all good. Now they’re almost friendly.”
“What the hell?” Havoc glared at her. “Where have you been hiding this?”
Murmur shrugged. “I got it at twenty. We didn’t need it until now. Waste not, want not.”
“Well, you’re probably right there, but stop hiding shit from us.” He still sounded a bit indignant even though his face blushed a nice deep purple.
She put her hands on her hips and looked down at him. “Seriously? When do you tell me every single spell you get even though I technically need to know them?”
Havoc balked. “Touché,” he said simply and gave a flourishing bow.
Murmur rolled her eyes. “Come on you guys, let’s go meet our new friends.” This time she took the lead, heading down with confidence, Snowy at her side, his hackles currently down, but his nose sniffed the air constantly as if testing it for danger. She tried to soothe him, but he shot her a look that basically said not to be stupid, he was going to guard her whether she liked it or not.
Secretly, she loved it.
The people were much larger in person. They even towered over her locus form by about a head, standing at close to eight feet. They crossed stereotypical tridents in front of her with frowns on their faces and spoke in booming voices that echoed throughout the cavern. “Who wishes to pass? State your name and business.”
Murmur paused for a moment. “I am Murmur, psionicist, and these are my traveling companions. We wish to explore these caverns, while we escape the snowstorm above.”
There. Honesty was the best policy, right?
The one on the left looked at her. No, that wasn’t right. He looked through her, as if he could see to the depths of her soul, through all her faults and all her thoughts and actions. She tightened the clamp she held on her thoughts, making sure they didn’t leak through, making sure nothing untoward could possibly offend.
Then the fish man’s shoulders relaxed and he withdrew his trident, the other on the right following suit. “It seems you tell the truth. I am Forshin, secondary clan leader of the Loch’ni’dar tribe. You are welcome, friend Murmur.”
She tried not to let the shock show on her face. The greeting sounded formal, welcoming, and a bit intimidating. Inclining her head slightly, she spoke. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
Forshin inclined his massive head in return and spoke, his voice far less booming now. “You are welcome. Murmur of the clan Fable. You and your peers seem of sound mind and heart. We welcome those who would not do us harm, who would seek to find out about us before firing shots. Many outside people choose to shoot first and ask questions later, thus we must make sure those who do approach are friendly to us. Thank you for your understanding.”
He stepped to the side and spread his arms open. “Please feel free to look around. This is only one of the caverns we inhabit, but it is yours to view.”
They walked through, into the vast cavern, the spray from the waterfall like a light summer rain around them. Steam rose at intervals in amidst bubbles from the depth of the lake, lending a soft humidity and warmth to the area. From such a short distance, it was even bigger than they’d realized. Even more beautiful, the pool took up about seventy-five percent of the floor area. Loch’ni’dar eyes followed them curiously, but none with open hostility.
“How do you do this, Mur?” Devlish whispered.
“Do what?” she asked, her attention mostly captured by the way the water lapped at the edges of its basin.
“Befriend so many creatures that other groups would likely just kill first.” His tone was soft, kind, and full of curiosity.
She shrugged. “To be honest, if I’d conned these guys and they’d been aggressive, I wouldn’t have encouraged us to walk down here, faction buff or no faction buff. I mean, look at it. There’s no way you could attack this place without a huge force and even have a hope of escaping alive. Nowhere to sight pull, enough of a distance between them to cause alarm if groups were pulled separately at first. Eventually, the whole clan would come and attack. I wouldn’t have even let us come down the ramp. But they weren’t hostile, and if they’re not hostile there must be a reason. Why not try to talk to them instead?”
Devlish laughed. “You’re really growing up. I remember fifteen-year-old Murmur wouldn’t have done that. You would have run in swearing you could heal everyone despite the odds. We’d probably have died, but you’d never have admitted defeat.”
“This isn’t defeat. This is forging alliances. You never know when we’ll need someone on our side. Things don’t work the same way in here. These species and monsters, they all hold memories. We’ve already offended bandits and cultists. They won’t ever forget what we’ve done. So wiping out camps just because we feel like it isn’t such a good idea in Somnia. You’ll never know when that someone could have information that might prove valuable, and you never know when you might need help and the only person around is someone you’ve already pissed off.” Just like Telvar had known about her plight, about her special circumstances. Snowy butted at her hand again, and she petted him without much thought. “Plus. I need to approach things differently considering I can’t afford to die in here.”
“I’m glad you’re the guild leader, you know.” Devlish’s tone turned serious. “Even though I know you hate doing it, part of the reason you’re so good at it is you think things through now; you have for a while. And you don’t let the power go to your head.”
Murmur paused, and frowned at him, wondering at ulterior motives. “Why are you trying to butter me up?”
Devlish laughed. “Stop it, Mur. Take a fucking compliment once in a while. Trust me, we wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
The words hung in the air, and Devlish fell back with a smile as he joined Beastial and Havoc who were arguing about some sort of tactical thing. But Murmur couldn’t get those words out of her head. It wasn’t the
compliments that made her pause, but the context. Not knowing what to do without her, meant she’d have to die. The ominous meaning left a seed of fear in her mind.
Summers Residence
Home of Laria, David, and Wren
Day Eight Post Launch
Laria activated the lock on their condo door with her fingerprints. She pushed it open and ushered Shayla inside. The house was quiet, and David was probably working late. He’d been working a lot of overtime to help make ends meet lately. Wren’s hookup was costing a pretty penny, and even with their overtime it was almost bleeding them dry.
The only sounds in the house came from the refrigerator, and the soft whirs and beeps from her daughter’s bedroom upstairs. Laria glanced up at the landing, wanting to go up and show Shayla, and yet not, because what if, what if her friend decided they had to tell someone? What if she decided that they had to let their research department know? Wren was currently an anomaly, but one she was hoping they’d be able to fix, and there would be no way to fix her if someone stole her away and started doing tests on her.
There was no way the military were just wanting to use the headgear and programs to help train their soldiers. The limitless possibilities of using virtual reality to maneuver real world items through computer programs gave Laria’s thoughts a distantly dystopian feel. She hated the possibility, the concept that maybe she’d doomed her daughter in complete and utter greed at what her game could accomplish. The guilt slowly ate away at her.
“Laria? It’s okay, we don’t have to go up yet if you don’t want to.” Shayla’s tone brought Laria back. Caring and gentle, her friend wouldn’t ever hand Wren over to the dogs. They’d known each other far too long for that.
“Thanks. It’s okay, I just...it’s like this will make it completely real, because someone other than David and I will know, will have seen her. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.” Laria timed her breaths, forcing herself to remain calm.
“Didn’t you say Harlow is with her?” Shayla’s tone remained gentle, with no amount of judgment in it.
Laria smiled. “Yeah, but I don’t really count Harlow. She was here when it happened. She’s been a part of our family for more than thirteen years. Like a second daughter we never had. She and Wren keep each other motivated, keep each other on track, and frankly, I’m not sure how Harlow will be if anything else happens to Wren.”
She could hear her voice, but it sounded too calm to be her own. Distant and removed, full of pragmatism and reality. Laria didn’t like it at all.
“Laria?” Shayla’s tone was one of concern, and when Laria blinked she could see the furrow of worry in her friend’s brow. Right now they weren’t colleagues, or boss and employee, even if Laria was technically the brains behind the operation. Right now they were simply friends, the way they’d been in college when Shayla had been her TA.
“Sorry. Just a lot of thoughts, a lot of worries, and then let’s not forget the stress about the launch itself, because we wouldn’t want to do that.” Laria forced the laugh out, and it fell flat, but it was okay, because it had to be.
Heading up the stairs, she motioned for Shayla to follow her.
Wren’s room was quiet except for the buzz of the machines, and the reflection of the streetlamp through the crack in the curtain. Harlow lay motionless on the bed, her red hair strewn across the pillow like some huge breeze had come in and messed it up. Laria smiled, knowing the kid well enough to know she’d probably just flopped down after a shower and let it dry itself on the bedding, while she jacked herself into the system.
Wren lay in the containment capsule. Her black hair and paler-than-usual skin made her appear like Snow White, though her lips were more neutral with barely a hint of pink. The sallow complexion didn’t suit her; she’d always had a tint of warmth to olive skin. Now, if Laria hadn’t known better, she’d think her daughter was dead, or perhaps dying. But for the rise and fall of her chest, most other people would probably think that too.
“Oh, Laria.” There was a hitch to Shayla’s voice, and it was all Laria could do not to look back at her expression, because she knew what she’d see. That pity, that sorrow, that cluelessness of what to do. She’d been seeing that look reflected back to her from the mirror, from David’s face for almost three months. It tugged at her heart, at her brain, and the hopelessness of being able to do nothing right now except research experimental ways that hypothesized separating consciousness from the body.
“Yeah,” she replied softly, “I know.”
Shayla crouched down and felt Wren’s forehead, frowning for a moment before reaching for the girl’s hand and holding it gently.
“Hey, Wren. It’s Aunt Shayla. You know, the one always telling you to hurry up and intern for us? It’d be so cool right now if you could come back to us. If you could connect and just...we love you. We are here, and we’ll figure something out.”
A tear escaped Laria’s eye. She’d been trying to keep them in for so long, and one after one they fell. She didn’t sob out loud, she didn’t wail, but she silently wept as she watched her best friend with her daughter.
After a couple of minutes she joined them, kneeling on the other side of the capsule by wedging herself between it and the bed, and took the other hand. “We love you Wrennie. I need you to know that. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t know what that would do.”
She didn’t know what anything would do. Not anymore. Moving her might sever the connection; trying to get her to a hospital definitely would. Laria was doing everything they could to help her daughter, and yet none of it seemed to be enough. With Shayla’s help, maybe they could figure something out, but Michael’s headset was the key to everything right now. He’d acquired for her, and it had taken Laria ages to get her hands on after he became unresponsive. If there was an afterlife they both ended up in, she was going to kill him and his fiddling fingers herself.
Murmur studied her ring finger in awe. Even wading through the snow outside the cave didn’t feel bad with this ring on her finger. Having received gifts from the chieftain of the Loch’ni’dar after she’d cast Mana Tide on the playing children so they could more effectively splash the crap out of each other was a huge bonus for their group that she’d also not been expecting. Being nice in this world sure as hell paid off a lot more than it did in the real world.
Adding five to her charisma and ten to her Mental Acuity, it was the most wonderful sapphire she’d ever seen. And there didn’t appear to be any leech effects either. Considering the last gift had tried to tap into her energy, she was more cautious now. Regardless of her approach to this new species and class, she’d learned her initial lesson the hard way. Cautious was her middle name from now on.
“Mur? You’re going the wrong way.” Sinister grabbed her by the elbow and started leading her farther down the path. “You’re the one who wanted to go back, so going the right way is probably a good idea.”
Murmur blinked. Of course she wanted to go back. She’d hit level twenty-four, while the others were almost twenty-three, but the main point was that her Mental Acuity had gained a level and hit three. All three stats sitting at a hundred twenty-five. She needed to go and see Dirsna, plus the others had been playing for almost twelve hours again. Even her own head seemed a bit foggy. They were going to need a break to at least eat.
She herself was constantly eating through tubes.
So cool right now if you could come back to us...
Murmur stopped abruptly and swirled around in the snow, her wolf ducking around her feet just in time to miss tripping her. She looked around but could only see her usual group, all of them with looks of surprise on their faces at her sudden turn.
“You didn’t hear that?” She asked them, somewhat hesitant and pretty sure she wasn’t going to like the answer.
“Hear what?” Merlin asked cautiously. And there it was. Maybe it was the wind. Per
haps her imagination.
She shook her head, trying to clear out any cobwebs. “It’s okay. I think I spent too long in those caves.”
Beastial chuckled. “Definitely a different world down there.”
They laughed and set out again, Murmur and Snowy leading the way with Sinister and the others bringing up the rear. She petted the wolf gently and laughed when Sinister rolled her eyes. “Stop it, you always wanted a dog, too—now you can share my wolf!”
Snowy looked mildly offended, and Murmur laughed, watching as bunny rabbits hopped through the snow, and owls hooted overhead. Somnia was certainly enticing.
...figure something out...
This time Murmur whirled suddenly, sure she’d find it, even looking up above her, through the trees. But there was no one there, and no surprisingly speaking owl or anything. She shook her head and felt Sinister’s hand shoot out to steady her. “Sorry Sin, I keep thinking I hear someone speaking to me.”
Sinister raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure why. I haven’t heard anyone speak since you offered to share your wolf with me. Which of course I plan on holding you to.”
Murmur couldn’t even laugh at her friend’s joke, so stressed was she about the voices she was sure she was hearing. Was it some sort of vocal overlap from other people? Maybe the system was glitching.
...so sorry I didn’t tell...
Stopping dead in her tracks, Shir-Khan almost bumped into her. Murmur looked up into the grey clouds, gentle infrequent snowflakes falling onto her face. “I think...I think I just heard my mom.”
At first no one said anything, and since she didn’t hear anything else, for a moment Murmur thought she’d been imagining it. But the sound of it echoed through her head, distinctly in her mother’s voice. Words she’d never heard from her mouth, so it couldn’t be a memory.