Enchanted Ever After (Mystic Circle)

by Robin D. Owens

  “I hope so.” And Kiri hoped she was a part of it.

  Soon she was back in her chair, green chamois gloves on, visor wrapping around her head.

  “Initiating game,” Jenni said, and Kiri heard it both aloud and as words vibrating from the visor.

  To her right, Lathyr said, “I’ll accompany you initially once more.”

  “Thanks.”

  Meld magic swept Lathyr up and to the pocket dimension of the game. Rock slid through him, nastily. At least the transition was fast enough that it didn’t absorb his water magic. His toes—feet in shoes were not as hardy as his webbed ones—tried to dig into the earth, but he found himself standing on the stone bottom of a cave, a place just large enough for himself and Kiri.

  “Wow,” she said, sounding breathless. He glanced at her temples and the tracery of veins he used to mark humans’ heartbeats...and had to glance down.

  Her skin was brownish, what humans would think of as deeply tanned. Lathyr kept a mild look on his face. Like all Waterfolk the actual color—blue, green, gold—didn’t matter. Her ears were large with fleshy lobes, her features broad, her figure sturdy with not much waist but ample breasts and hips. Lovely, heavily lashed chocolate-brown eyes with split black pupils looked up at him as she smiled at him—with pointed red teeth.

  Also beautiful was her golden-brown hair, the color of light honey with hints of true metallic gold and streaks of wheat-blond—all earthy comparisons for an earth elemental.

  “You’re a dwarf,” Lathyr said.

  She literally jumped, then appeared surprised as she didn’t rise in the air as much as a human would have.

  Staring at her feet, she said, “A major earth elemental.”

  “Yes. And one that other dwarves would find beautiful.” If there had been any other dwarves in this area. But no dwarves or other players were here, only in the Earth Palace, which was her goal.

  “Thank you, sir.” She looked at her clothing. “Hmm. A robe.” She skipped forward and back a dwarf pace. “Comfortable and I can move in it. A nice, fine weave.” Then she turned in place. “This really feels real.”

  “Yes. Your robe should have some protection spells woven into it,” Lathyr said.

  Kiri cleared her throat. “Jenni?”

  “I’m here,” Jenni’s voice echoed from the walls.

  “How do I know what powers and equipment and spells and qualities I have?”

  “You have a belt with a pouch. The info’s in there.”

  Shock crossed Kiri’s face. “I have to stop and open a pouch and, what, read my data?”

  “Welcome to real life, kid. It ain’t all gesturing and chanting up earthworks,” Jenni said. “And you’re at beginner level.”

  “Huh.”

  “Take a look at your staff against the wall.”

  “Ooooh.” Kiri trotted the three steps to the wall and picked up an intricately carved staff that appeared to be solid gold.

  “It’s light,” Kiri said. “Like balsa wood.”

  “Gold leaf,” Lathyr said.

  “Real gold?”

  He knew the smell of gold. “Yes.”

  “I suppose that’s a plus,” Kiri said, but a dubious note had entered her voice. She found the dark brown suede pouch, though the minute she touched it, a piece of paper popped into her hand. “Nice. But it’s too dim—” The staff brightened to a steady yellow light.

  “Okay. That’s pretty,” Kiri said, then, “I don’t like the looks of this character, though. Magic user—sorceress—and magic users tend to be squishy.”

  “Squishy?” asked Lathyr.

  “Not many hit points, easily defeated.”

  “Ah. May I see your paper?”

  “Yes, how good are these spells?”

  “That, I believe, you would have to ask Jenni. I am here to show you how to use them.”

  “Sorry, Kiri,” Jenni said, “but that’s how your innate qualities manifested you into this game—as an earth elemental, dwarfem magic user. But you also have healing powers you can use on yourself.”

  “That’s something,” Kiri said, this time absentmindedly, as she stared at the paper. “All right. My robe has a high-level defensive spell woven into it. That’s good, and I can also draw a shield around me.”

  “A stone dust shield. That will protect you, but it will not allow you to throw offensive spells at your enemies.”

  “A trade-off,” Kiri said. She didn’t seem as concerned as Lathyr was. He knew the spells she was being given were those practiced by true dwarves. But of what use was a purely defensive shield, except to huddle behind like in a fort—or a cave? He disapproved of the notion—but much of mer magic was based on movement.

  She took back the pitiful list. “I have two offensive spells here, beginning level, I imagine. One is ‘stiffen enemy’ and the other, ‘barricade.’” Looking up at him with her beautiful eyes, she asked, “How do I cast these?”

  For the first time Lathyr was glad that he’d spent a few decades in a seaport as mostly human. The town had held an unusually eclectic mix of minor Lightfolk, and he’d fought with them against sea monsters, the occasional land monster and some bloody-minded humans. At the time, he’d seen the spells often enough, and he’d learned the few that Kiri would be able to master in each realm during the short time she’d be given.

  It only took three minutes for him to show her the gestures, make sure she had them memorized, before she went to the cave opening. Looking at a winding path, she touched her information sheet again. “My goal is to reach the Earth Palace and make my curtsy to the Dwarf Royals before receiving quests from them.”

  “That’s right,” Jenni said. “Though due to your limited amount of time, once you reach the palace, we will call it done in the Earth Realm, then will renew the settings so you will manifest in a different elemental realm.”

  Kiri’s shoulders squared as she nodded. “That’s right.” She took a step out, and glanced back at Lathyr, who hadn’t moved. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “I’m afraid you are on your own,” he said, keenly regretting he couldn’t help her. “My presence here is limited to this cave.” And he was beginning to dislike the smell. The magic had gathered around Kiri and moved with her.

  “Oh.”

  “Fare we—” The last syllable was cut off and rock jabbed at his nerves again as Meld tech-magic moved him from the “game” back to the tall building in Denver.

  Lathyr vanished from Kiri’s sight. She was on her own. Her heart jumped in her chest and she wiped her palms on her robe. Her staff stood upright beside her. Magic.

  She inhaled deeply. Wow. Magic had a scent in the game, like sleeping under a tree full of spring blossoms and having them drop down and cover her, fragile and pink. Wonderful, wonderful fragrance.

  Against the wall she saw a brown leather pack that turned out to be full of food and journey items and medicines. Kiri picked it up by one of the straps and her brows rose. “Also light.” She studied the bulging bag, shrugged and slipped it on her back.

  So she left the cave and stepped into warm sunshine...which appeared to be more yellow, too. Hmm. She’d see if she liked that; it did seem more cheerful.

  How closely would Jenni and Lathyr be watching her? She didn’t know, but time to get on with the game. Fun and stressful all at once.

  * * *

  “Welcome back,” Princess Jindesfarne said to Lathyr.

  Lathyr shuddered as he pulled off his visor and placed it on the counter. “I do not like that construct. Real and game.”

  “Face it, Lathyr, you don’t like games.”

  “I have no problem admitting that.”

  The princess chuckled throatily, her cinnamon-colored brows winging up. “But you do like our charge, Kiri Palger.” There was a beep from the machine in front of the princess and she swirled toward it, fingers racing over the keyboard.

  “Problems?” he snapped, striding to the monitor, not even taking time to remove the loathsome glov
es that soaked up and channeled his magic in ways he didn’t care for.

  “Not really,” Jindesfarne said. “I have the game set up to notify me when Kiri reaches some important goals. She’s through the first rath—first magical Hill.” The large screen in front of the Fire Princess lit up and showed Kiri with a staff in one hand, a long dagger attached to her hip.

  “Explain the pocket dimension to me,” Lathyr said.

  Now Jindesfarne swung her chair to look at him. “We can form and populate it as we please,” she said.

  “I thought all dimensions were closed to us.” He knew the more magical Lightfolk, the royals, yearned for a permanent gate to intensely magical worlds...dimensions. “How can this be?”

  She gave an exaggerated shrug. “The two guardians developed it.”

  “Do you mean those who are older than the royals? The dwarf and the elf?”

  “That’s right. I don’t know whether the pocket dimension is a place between Earth and the other dimensions or a variant of the dryad’s ‘greenspace.’ Maybe it’s in another world and Pavan, the elf guardian, has arranged that whoever logs into the game is transported there. The guardians have their secrets from the Eight. I asked, but Pavan just smiled and refused an answer. I do know that it is a real place.” Her eyes fired, literally showed a tiny orange flame. “Fights can be real—people can be hurt...they can bleed. Right now we don’t have that option on for Kiri, but I’m hoping she will accept it.”

  Lathyr’s gut tightened. “Because the more real the game, the more she survives and prevails, the more likely she will be prepared for a true transformation into Lightfolk, should she choose that.”

  Jindesfarne’s smile was small, but sincere. “Exactly. Tough love.”

  His gaze went to the monitor. The colors seemed too vivid. “This pocket dimension idea has been used before?”

  “Yes, the original ‘game’ was a mock-up of Fairies and Dragons, installed on Rafe Davail’s machine to help him find a special shield and dagger.” Jindesfarne’s hands lifted from the keyboard and mouse to tap a rapid tattoo on the desk. “I haven’t been able to figure out what Pavan did...does. I do know that we set up the realms with constructs of the four elemental magics the Lightfolk work with—and populated them with monsters, structured it like a true computer game. That was my part, and I could’ve used some help, let me tell you.” Jindesfarne linked her fingers together and stretched her arms out.

  A horrible buzz came from the monitor. Jenni winced and swiveled back to the screen where she’d been monitoring Kiri, tapped a key. “Oops.”

  Chapter 9

  “OOPS?” LATHYR STOPPED peeling off the delicate silk gloves. He didn’t like them, but had tried all the other textures and these were the best.

  Jindesfarne grimaced. “Kiri’s in the healing cave. She was nearly defeated.”

  “By whom?”

  “A rockwyrm got her.”

  Lathyr stilled as he saw a long, stone creature. “I have only heard stories of rockwyrms.”

  “When the magic faded, they died,” Jindesfarne said with satisfaction. “At least from Earth. I’m sure they remain in more magically rich dimensions. And when the Meld begins to work—increasing magic—they aren’t beings that we will allow to revive. Kiri did a good job turning it to stone, though she was injured in the process.” Nevertheless, Jindesfarne shook her head and hissed through her teeth as they both watched Kiri’s character leave the healing cave.

  “She didn’t manifest as a very strong dwarf,” Lathyr said. Kiri used her magical staff to trudge up a green hill. “A good magic user, but weak physically.”

  Again Jindesfarne turned to him. “That concerns you?”

  “I want her chances to survive transformation to be high.”

  “At least she didn’t become a brownie.”

  “I thought that wasn’t an option.”

  “The design team—” Jindesfarne tapped her chest with her forefinger “—wanted to include only the major Lightfolk elemental races. We were overruled by the Eight royals, who wanted a ‘more realistic assessment of an individual human’s capabilities.’”

  Lathyr dropped the gloves, glad his magic was his own again, sat, then wheeled up to Jindesfarne. His jaw flexed with anger a couple of times before he managed to say in a calm tone, “They don’t accept my assessment.”

  Jindesfarne slanted him an equally ironic glance. “They told me that they preferred the game technology to determine

  Kiri’s Lightfolk status rather than your talent, and the royals are not comfortable much with technology.”

  “Or distrust the new talents that some of us are gaining,” he snapped. Then he caught Jindesfarne’s gaze with his own. “They wish the humans attempting to become Lightfolk to fail.”

  The Fire Princess sighed, her breath drying his skin, he was so close. “Yeah, that was my conclusion, too.”

  “But the game is relatively safe,” Lathyr pressed.

  “Relatively, at least for now. Even when we lift the restrictions, it will be relatively safe. Then Kiri could get hurt—bruises and scrapes and whatnot—but no blood or, hopefully, fatal wounds.”

  “Hopefully?”

  “The cave really is a healing cave, and she is transported there when she is badly hurt or defeated. It can heal most injuries.”

  That didn’t satisfy him. “You have human physicians on call?” Lathyr scanned the room—sent his senses beyond the walls and through the two floors the Eight commanded.

  “We have a mer healer on call,” the princess said.

  Lathyr relaxed. “They are the best.”

  “You would think so,” Jindesfarne said.

  Lathyr gave her the bow due to a princess, flourishing hands and all. “Of course, Princess Jindesfarne.”

  The half-Lightfolk stared at him. After a pause, she said, “You aren’t mocking me.”

  Appalled, Lathyr said, “Of course not, Princess Jindesfarne.”

  Her head tilted. “And you aren’t teasing me.”

  “No.” He bowed again, a small one and he kept his eyes on her, since she acted so strangely.

  Breath puffed from her with the heat and the scent of a desert. Lathyr hopped a pace back—couldn’t always tell with Firefolk whether flame would follow breath.

  “You’re being respectful,” the djinnfem said.

  “Yes, Princess.”

  She rubbed her temples. “Don’t. We’re partners in this endeavor.”

  If they were, he knew he was a very junior partner.

  “And don’t call me Princess or Jindesfarne. Call me Jenni.” Her brown eyes deepened. “And why are you being so respectful?”

  “You are a princess of the folk.”

  “I am a half-breed human and you are fully magical.”

  “You are a princess, the daughter of the Fire King and Queen.”

  “I am the adopted sister of the Fire King.”

  Lathyr tensed. He’d simply forgotten that a change had been made at the highest levels of the opposite element than he, though, at the time, his own new powers had hit him like a sickness and he’d suffered for a week. Yet now he’d made an unforgivable lapse, especially since he recalled Jenni had been involved in the whole situation—the battle. “Please, accept my apologies, Princess...” She scowled. “Jenni.”

  “Sure.” Though sadness crossed her face, then she tilted her head. “But most full-blooded Lightfolk wouldn’t treat a half-human like me well.”

  “Then you didn’t know the right Lightfolk,” he said.

  She looked skeptical. He’d have to watch his tongue. “And things have changed. You are close to the royals, not only the Fire couple. You are high in the ranks of Eight Corp. Your husband is also high in those ranks. You are the sole elemental-balancer in the world, and have great magic.”

  “Hmm. I guess I really am special or something.”

  “Yes.”

  A quick knock came at the door and Jenni’s husband, Prince Aric Paramon Emberdrak
e, opened it and said, “Jenni, you’re wanted for the Meld Project.”

  She frowned. “I’m needed here, more. They promised I wouldn’t be interrupted. Especially not today.”

  Aric smiled slowly. “The Lightfolk programmers got stuck when trying to increase better magical battery storage. They need a human-tech algorithm work-around, and you’re just the person for that.”

  “Oh, all right.” She stood and strode to the door and kissed him on the lips. Lathyr sent his glance elsewhere. Humans and djinns were less discreet in their liaisons than mers.

  “Five minutes,” Jenni said as she stepped from Aric’s embrace.

  He nodded and closed the door.

  “Here, you observe.” Jenni handed Lathyr a headset and waved toward her place before the computer.

  He put the headset on. It smelled of cloves and fire and wood smoke.

  “How do I get her out?” he asked.

  Jenni beamed. “Thinking of her welfare first...I like that.” She indicated a small cylindrical device that had a red button at the top. “Just push that.”

  It hadn’t been anywhere near her hand. What if Kiri had needed to be pulled out?

  Lathyr sat in Jenni’s chair.

  “How do I speak to her?”

  Jenni tapped the mic. “Here. Say ‘testing.’”

  “Testing,” he said.

  “I hear you, Lathyr,” Kiri said. She was climbing a hill.

  “I have a meeting on another project, Kiri. Lathyr will be your control,” Jenni said.

  “Okay,” Kiri replied.

  Jenni held out the recall device and Lathyr took it. His palms were damper than usual, not a good sign. He pushed the platform holding the keyboard firmly under the counter.

  At the top of the hill, Kiri rested, her breath soughing out. “Nice view. Hmm. Three paths.” Kiri muttered to herself, something about eenies, that Lathyr didn’t catch, then started down the left-hand dirt track between tall, flowering bushes.

  “No offense, Lathyr,” Kiri said, head down and watching her feet as the path steepened. “But I didn’t get the impression that you’ve played a lot of games.”