by Lev AC Rosen
“Nice, innit?” Rel asks.
“Impressive,” Severkin says, nodding. “No one worries about falling? Something breaking?”
“Oh, we worry about it….But the water is fresh, the air is cool, and the company is good. So we check the ropes every day and we trust in the gods, if you’re inclined toward them.” Severkin doesn’t say anything. “C’mon, I’ll take you to the guardhouse and give you that reward you’ve earned. I may have a little job for you, too, if you’re interested.”
“I’m interested in any work I can get,” Severkin says, following the dwarf.
“Good. It’ll be a simple job. We’re expecting a team with a package to show up soon—a special artifact we’ve recovered from one of the ruined dwarf cities—and we’ll need someone to deliver it to Wellhall. And, if you can do that, I’ll even send along my recommendation that you be allowed to join the National Guard.”
“The National Guard?”
“We have chapters in every city; we do what our orders tell us, and get paid well for it. You wouldn’t have to take a full-time position if you’re the wandering type, though. We have plenty of what we call freelance members. Approved to work for us on a fee-per-job deal.” They walk out onto the bridge, and Severkin follows Rel to a spiral staircase leading down toward the wind-chime platforms.
“Like a mercenary?”
“Yes, but with a fancy badge.” Severkin raises an eyebrow. Mercenary with a fancy badge. That sounded like a useful job title for getting into forbidden ruins and the like. “O’course, it won’t let you break the law, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The platforms sway, but only a little. It’s like being on a boat.
“No,” Severkin lies. “Just wondering about the system.”
“It works for us. And with most of us being called back to Wellhall to defend against the giants, we have lots of work for freelancers these days.”
“Sounds like there’s no downside.”
“There isn’t.” Rel has led him over a few platforms, and they stop now in front of a large wooden building adorned with a symbol of a mountain over the door, like the one Rel wears on his armor. “This is our chapter here in Bridgefall.”
The inside is just like any other guardhouse, with practice dummies on one side of the room, a dining table on the other, and armor and weapons displayed all over the walls. Rel leads him upstairs. There are bunks up here, and a small office. Rel’s office, Severkin realizes as they go inside. Rel opens a small safe and presents Severkin with a few hundred gold coins.
“Your reward. You interested in the job?” Rel asks.
“Yes,” Severkin says. “And I’d like to join the guard.”
“Good,” Rel says with an approving nod, and sits down at the small desk in the corner. He takes out paper and ink and writes a short letter, folds it up, and hands it to Severkin. “You’ll need to bring this letter to Wellhall—give it to Rorth, in the upper city. Don’t give it to Elega, in the lower city. She can approve you, too, but she doesn’t like elves. She doesn’t really like anyone with the nerve not to be a dwarf.”
“Thanks,” Severkin says, taking the letter. “But…what is the lower city?”
Rel smiles. “Don’t know the history, do you?” Severkin shakes his head. “Well, Wellhall is really two cities. Above is the capital of the overlands, where your folk, the gray elves, rule. Down below is the capital of the dwarves. It used to be one big city, all of us living together, hundreds of years ago before the wars. Then we sealed the lower part off from the upper—until two years ago, when we dwarves felt the giants stir and hammered through the seal to make peace. So it’s one city again, but of course it’s not, not really. Many don’t like the peace. On both sides. That’s why I asked to transfer out of there. I’m a dwarf, but the way I see it, there are folk who break the law and folk who don’t. And monsters, of course.” Rel strokes his chin for a moment and chuckles.
“That’s very enlightened of you.”
“Don’t flatter. I can tell you’re no great lover of dwarves, and that’s fine, since you came to my rescue anyway.” Rel waves him off with a hand. “I’m just telling you how I see it. Maybe you’ll see it that way sometime, too.”
“Maybe,” Severkin says, thinking it might be true.
“Good. Now, as I said, I have a package for you to take to Wellhall, too, if you’re willing.”
“I am.”
“The team isn’t here yet, though. So go wash up and get some new armor with all the coin I just gave you. Stop by tomorrow or whenever you’re ready and I’ll tell you the details.”
“Thanks,” Severkin says. “I will.”
Severkin leaves the guardhouse and walks to the edge of the platform, then looks over. It’s a long drop. He straightens his shoulders and takes a deep breath. He has to get some arrows.
Severkin finds a weapons shop a few platforms down, and an armor shop across from that. He has enough gold to get a slightly better class of equipment, but not as much as he wants. Luckily, the blacksmith at the armory needs some hyena skins, and Severkin is happy to go out of town and hunt a few down.
It seems everyone in Bridgefall has some tasks that need to be done: the herbalist needs herbs from a particular nearby cave, a fishmonger has lost his wedding ring while fishing, a pretty young gold elf who approaches him on the street wants an escort to her husband’s grave, where a herd of molevores have made their home. Severkin is happy to tackle all these jobs and more, taking the coin and rewards and using them to upgrade his weapons and armor, as well as practicing his archery and hunting.
Once he’s done nearly everything that seems to need doing in Bridgefall, Severkin returns to Rel. He has new armor, new knives, and a new bow. He’s carrying hundreds of arrows. He feels ready for anything. He finds Rel in the upstairs office of the guardhouse. He’s talking to a woman, a gray elf. She’s older than Severkin, maybe old enough to be his mother. Her hair is white and pulled back into a long braid, which makes the lines on her face seem more severe. A long spear is strapped across her back. When Severkin walks in she regards him like an appraiser.
“Severkin!” Rel says. “Ready for that job?”
“Yes,” Severkin says.
“Great. This is Reunne. She’ll be going with you. She has the package.”
Severkin looks the woman over again. Rel had said there was a team bringing the package—is she it? She’s clearly a warrior, all muscle and worn hands, but he much prefers to work solo. “I can do this alone,” he says.
But Rel shakes his head. “Sorry. An approved guardsman needs to go with the package. Reunne has to go. But she’ll need your help.”
“Need is a strong word,” Reunne says. Her voice is deep and slightly accented. She folds her arms and leans to one side.
“Well, you’ll appreciate the help, then,” Rel says. “You were just saying the shortcut you know would be dangerous on your own. Now you won’t be alone.”
“Perhaps you and I have a different definition of alone,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “He’s so scrawny, I’m not sure he counts as a person. And I round down.” Rel stares at her blankly. “Fine,” Reunne says. She turns to Severkin. “We’re clearly both loners, but I’ll give it a shot. You willing?”
Severkin nods. “Sure.”
“Good, then follow me. I know a shortcut.”
NICK SAVES, then turns the game off. It’s late, and he doesn’t want to get started on the next part of the quest right now. And even without his mother telling him, he knows he should sleep. The first day of school is tomorrow.
He’s been living the game for almost a week now. Dad hasn’t bothered him, either. They’ve barely spoken, just eaten together, and then Nick goes back upstairs to play. Dad hasn’t left the house, except once, to go to the grocery. Nick explored some more while Dad was gone—looked in the hall closet, the downstairs cabinets—but he couldn’t find anything about Mom or her dad. Any clue to prove she’s got something that isn’t Alzheimer’s. Maybe he
can search her room at the home.
He crawls into bed and sets the alarm. He focuses on the game, instead of Mom. He wonders if that new elf, Reunne, is an NPC or another player—a real person somewhere out there. She looked older, but then, some of his friends (not really friends anymore, he remembers like a punch in the face) like playing as old wizards, so maybe there are people out there who like playing as older women warriors, too. And she’d had a sense of humor—joking about how thin Severkin was. NPCs are never really funny—they don’t get jokes, the way Rel didn’t get Reunne’s jokes. She’s probably a person. He hopes that she’s not mad he turned off the game, though, and that she’ll wait for him to finish the quest. There are probably plenty of other quests for her to do in the meantime.
He turns out the light. He doesn’t want to go to school tomorrow. He wants to keep playing. But he knows that’s not an option. When he visits Mom next week, she’s going to ask how the first day of school was, and he can’t say he didn’t go. So he closes his eyes and tries not to think about how it’s going to be tomorrow. Instead, he thinks about what he’s going to do in the game when he gets home.
• • •
Nick has already been inside Reagan a few times, for some sports events and field trips. But he has a locker here now, and has to remember where the classrooms are.
He sees people from Lincoln. Some are even people he used to hang out with, but mostly now they turn away from him and whisper to each other. Some of the girls give him PityFace, but when he smiles at them, they look away. After the thing last spring, he’d lost all his friends, but in a way that had made it clear to him he’d never really been close to any of them.
The first day is mostly orientation, with a big assembly, and then they’re divided into groups and instructed to tell each other their names and favorite subjects and stuff. It’s pretty boring. At lunch, Nick sits with some of the people from his group who hadn’t gone to Lincoln, but they talk among themselves on the other side of the table while Nick stares at his lunch.
After lunch they have twenty minutes in each of their classes, so they know where their classrooms are and so the teachers can introduce themselves. The teachers seem to fit the standard roster of “enthusiastic” and “weird,” none of them too scary or special, except for Ms. Knight, for world history, who is really young for a teacher, or at least looks and acts it.
And dresses it, Nick thinks, looking at her long yellow polka-dot skirt and T-shirt. She has giant eyes and long red hair and talks with her hands a lot. She’s very excited.
“So, what we’re going to do,” she says, “is figure out where each of your families interacted with a famous moment of history! For the first quarter, you’re all going to do a research project based on some historical event that your family, or ancestors, were part of. It could be slavery, or the War of the Roses, or…anything!” she says, making a giant circle with her hands. “So you guys should start talking to your parents, and figure out what bit of history you’d like to do.” Nick sighs, and puts his head down on the desk. Dad is going to love this. “Oh, and don’t forget to put your email on this sheet. I want to be able to contact you about the project.” Nick puts his Severkin email down instead of his student email so he doesn’t have to check more than one.
Luckily, history is the last class of the day on Wednesdays. He shrugs his backpack on and leaves the classroom, headed for the buses.
“Hey!” comes a voice from behind him, but he ignores it, assuming it’s for someone else. “Hey, Severkin!” the voice says again, and Nick turns. There’s a girl he doesn’t know running toward him. When he turns she stops and smiles. She has eyes like huge, soft hills, and lots of freckles on her fawn-colored skin. Her black hair is piled up behind a blue headband, and then falls down her back like a horsetail. It’s streaked with chlorine blue. Her eyeliner flies out from her eyes in wings and she wears a shimmery purple dress. He’s staring, and a girl is talking to him, and he realizes he hasn’t learned that skill yet—talking to girls.
“I’m Nat,” she says, extending a hand. Her other hand clutches some books to her chest. Nick shakes her hand, swallowing. “I recognized your handle on Ms. Knight’s email list. I’ve seen you on the message boards. For the game. I always thought it sounded fun to say—‘Severkin.’ ” She says the name like a serpent coiled around a sword. Nick feels his body warm slightly. “I love Wellhall—have you been playing it?”
“Yeah,” Nick says, smiling. “I think I’ve done every side quest in Bridgefall. And my real name is Nick.”
“Nick, right,” she says, shaking her head. “I was totally prepared to just call you Severkin for the rest of your life.”
“So where are you?” Nick asks, pulling his backpack straps higher on his shoulders.
“I’m all over the place. Not too far in the main quest, though. What server do you play on?”
“The Character one,” Nick says.
Nat’s eyes go wide. “Hardcore,” she says. “Wanna play together?”
Nick thinks about it. He’s played with friends before, but that was always just taking turns watching each other play. Same when he plays with Mom. Played with Mom. Will play.
He doesn’t know how it will work with someone else. A girl with freckles and blue streaks in her hair.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ve never…I mean, I don’t usually play MMORPGs, so I might not be good at it.”
“Well, you play on the Character server, so I just won’t tell you who I am,” she says, smiling.
Nick laughs. “That doesn’t seem fair,” he says.
“It isn’t,” she says, still grinning. “But it’ll be fun for me.”
“Okay,” he says. Cold hands tickle his stomach from the inside. He doesn’t know if she’s being sincere or just pretending to like him.
“Oh, I gotta get outside or I’ll miss my bus. I’ll see you in history tomorrow?” She bites her lower lip.
“Yeah,” Nick says, smiling back. She runs off, and Nick stares after her, the phantom of freckles and blue streaks left behind like fireflies.
• • •
He takes the bus home and eats potato chips in his room. Dad’s semester has started, too, so Nick has the house to himself. He thinks of searching his parents’ room, again, but knows it’s pointless—he’s given the place a once-over, as Severkin would say. He’s found all the treasure. There are no secret doors or puzzle-locks here. No notes left from Mom.
He looks down at the homework he has for tomorrow. There is way too much of it for the first day of school. He puts it on his desk, then goes to turn on the game, but his finger hovers in front of the power button, and he can hear Mom saying he needs to do his homework first. If she were here, he’d complain and say he’d get to it later, but somehow her absence makes him pull back his hand.
It’s mostly reading. English, math, history, bio, Spanish. It’s slow going, too. He keeps looking up at the power button on his game console and thinking of Nat saying she’d find him. He finally turns it on when he’s halfway through his homework, but before his game can load, he hears Dad pulling into the garage. Nick’s just following Reunne out the door of the guardhouse when Dad knocks and comes in.
“First day of school!” Dad says, smiling. “That means we’re going out to eat. Turn that thing off. Tradition.”
Nick sighs, and turns the game off, not even bothering to save. His parents used to always take him out on the first day of school to this burger place he loved as a kid but since he grew up has found kind of sad. The jukebox and the stuff on the walls just look like junk now. And he feels bad for the waitresses, having to wear those big skirts that don’t really fit between the tables. But he knows he can’t get out of it. Can’t complain, either, without Dad saying, “It’s for you! It’s about you!” So he doesn’t. He just follows Dad downstairs to the car, and they drive to the burger place and get a table for two. Nick orders a burger with curly fries, and Dad orders the same, but with cheese, and they
eat, staring at each other and trying not to talk about how Mom should be there.
Nick wonders if Mom was the one who kept the conversation flowing. He doesn’t remember ever being this awkward and silent with Dad before.
“So, how was the first day?” Dad asks. “Classes all look good?”
“Yeah,” Nick says.
“Teachers?”
“Yeah,” Nick says again, and takes a bite of his curly fry. He doesn’t mean to be terse, but he doesn’t know what else to say. It was one day—it all seemed fine.
“What are you reading first in English?”
“Romeo and Juliet,” Nick says. “I have to finish Act One by tomorrow.”
“Junior high. They’re not going to go easy on you anymore,” Dad says, his head bouncing.
“Because it’s been so easy for me before this,” Nick says, half joking, half mean. Dad just looks sad, though, even when Nick smiles.
“I meant teachers,” Dad says.
“I know,” Nick says, and sips his soda.
“How about history?” Dad asks.
Nick pauses. He doesn’t want to tell Dad about the assignment and get another lecture on his black roots and where he comes from. He doesn’t want Dad to be excited about a project Nick isn’t even excited about. He doesn’t want to do this project on Dad, for Dad—but the only alternative is doing the project on Mom. Which, the moment Nick thinks of it, makes perfect sense. It’s a brilliant plan.
“World history, teacher seems young,” Nick says, then quickly, before Dad can ask more: “What part of Germany is Mom from?”
Dad leans back, looks a little surprised. Nick can use the project to question Dad, and hopefully Mom, too, about Mom’s past. Figure out what happened that makes her think she has to get locked up. It’s an excuse to go digging, and maybe get them to tell him the whole story. And from that, figure out how to rescue her.
“You doing recent history?” Dad asks. “Germany?”
“I think we’re doing all of it,” Nick says drily. “That’s why it’s called ‘world.’ ” He doesn’t want to seem too eager.