by James Hunter
“The Sky Maiden, long dormant, was roused from her slumber by the Svartalfar, then flew south in search of food and plunder. She fell upon our lands to the north. Harrying our farmers and herds …” The inky dragon sailed over a small town, spewing huge columns of flame at the thatch-roofed homes below. “Stealing livestock …” She swooped low, wings stretched wide, before scooping up a sheep in oversized jaws. “Killed our bravest warriors. Until, that is, Nangkri and his brothers rode from the Marshes to meet the creature on the rocky Vasterberg Steppes.”
Seven swirling warriors surrounded the scale-covered dragon, lashing out with spears and arrows, bolts of shadow magic, and columns of purple flame. “The battle lasted six days and seven nights. The Sky Maiden called great bolts of lightning to rend the earth and huge gouts of flame to scorch the forests and fields. On the seventh night, though, when all hope seemed lost, the Jade Lord finally slew the Sky Maiden. But, as she lay dying, she cursed Honored Nangkri, fueling the foul spell with her life’s breath: ‘Your land will be broken asunder, your kingdom smashed as a pot, and you shall have no rest, no peace, not even in death.’”
The chieftain deflated as if the words were physically painful to speak.
“Still, Nangkri paid no mind to her words,” the old man continued after a beat. “Instead, to spite the Sky Maiden, he crafted three artifacts from her bones and empowered them with her departing soul, ensuring she could never move into Kuonela, the eternal resting place of Dragons. His own curse, cast in retaliation. That crown you hold”—he nodded toward the helm—“is one of those items. A sign of the Jade Lord’s triumph. One imbued with the power to unite the six clans under one ruler. Sadly, that was also the beginning of the end for our people. The Downfall. Nangkri grew ill—some say he was poisoned by one of his brothers, others say it was the curse of the Sky Maiden—and died soon after.”
The smoke danced and twisted once more, forming a funeral pyre with the body of the Jade Lord stretched across the top. “Two of Nangkri’s brothers, Ak-Hani and Lisu”—he faltered for a moment, glancing first at Chief Kolle, then at Chief Sakal—“both laid claim to the throne … A terrible civil war followed.” The ascending smoke from the illusionary pyre morphed into a pitched battle. Murk Elf battling Murk Elf, bodies falling by the score as blood flew through the air. “Comrades in arms, torn apart just as the Sky Maiden foretold. Neither side won, and the artifacts of the Jade Lord were lost in the conflict.”
The wizened chieftain clapped his dusty gray hands, and in a blink, the smoke dissipated and vanished. He turned, then, and lumbered back to his chair, breathing as hard as if he’d just run a marathon.
“But I don’t understand,” I said. “Why are these artifacts so important? Why would they be needed to rule over the Storme Marshes? It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“They are not merely artifacts, Grim Jack,” Chief Kolle said from behind me. “They are the only means to lift the Arzokh’s curse. You see, the Sky Maiden captured the souls of Nangkri and his kin as they crossed through the Twilight land, preventing them from entering the halls of the honored dead. A fitting punishment, considering this was the very fate Nangkri cursed Arzokh with. These stone arches”—he waved at the crude gray slabs encircling us—“can open a portal to the Twilight lands, where the Jade Lord is being held captive by the restless spirit of the Sky Maiden.
“Sadly, though, no mortal can hope to defeat the terrible dragon unless they have assembled the three artifacts. Those artifacts—made of her bone and spirit, holding her very essence—have the power to render Arzokh mortal once more. Then, and only then, can her soul be utterly destroyed. Freeing our honored ancestors is an integral part of the Dark Conclave’s mission, but after the Downfall all three artifacts were lost. Lost until now. If you can assemble them, however, and use them to free the Jade Lord, you will earn his Blessing. And Nangkri’s Blessing will bestow the mantle of the Jade Lord on you, Grim Jack. It will give your faction control over all six Keeps within the Storme Marshes.”
“No.” The word ripped through the tranquil meadow like a bomb blast as Chief Sakal leaped to his feet, his fists curled into tight balls, his forehead furrowed in hate. “I will not allow a Lost One to rule over us—and certainly not a Lost One adopted into the Ak-Hani tribe.” He paused, lips pulled back in a hateful snarl as he eyeballed the assembled chieftains and their honor warriors. “I call for a Trial of Blood and Bone,” he said. “Perhaps our ancestors used this vile Outsider as a tool to bring us the crown, but if he would embark on the quest, let him prove himself to us first.”
The assembled Murk Elves were quiet and thoughtful in the face of his challenge. I didn’t know exactly what was happening, but back when I’d worked a bus for Medi-Vision, a pair of shift supervisors had gotten into a pissing match over new continuing educations standards … Their little argument had come awfully close to blows, and the end result was everyone had to spend ten extra hours doing redundant CE. What I was seeing here looked a lot like that, and I had a queasy gut feeling it wasn’t going to turn out well. Not for me, at least.
“Honored Sakal has called for a Trial of Blood and Bone,” Chief Dao said eventually, her jaw tight, her shoulders tense. “Let us take to a vote. All in favor?”
Sakal shot his hand up in a flash, followed in short succession by the ancient chieftain and a dark-skinned woman with droopy cheeks. Three yes votes. Chief Dao looked on the verge of speaking up when one more chief raised a tentative hand: a gaunt woman with silver hair and a puckered scar marring half her face. Four yes votes. A majority. A collective sigh seemed to trickle through the clearing.
“Very well,” Chief Dao said with a resigned nod. “This Lost One, Grim Jack, shall compete in a Trial of Blood and Bone for the right to complete the Quest of the Jade Lord. Honored Sakal, who will serve as your champion in this challenge?”
Sakal hooked a thumb toward a towering Murk Elf in heavy, black-coated plate mail, bearing a heavy mace. “My son, Chakan.”
“It shall be so,” Chief Dao replied gravely. “Grim Jack of the Ak-Hani shall compete against Chakan of the Lisu.” She paused, folded her hands, and faced me. “Deep within the heart of this cavern lies the Horn of the Ancients, wielded by Isra Spiritcaller, one of the greatest chieftains of the Maa-Tál to ever live. It is the key to open the gateway between the worlds. The first to retrieve the horn and bring it back here will be declared victorious. Once you step out of this clearing there are no rules. You can fight. You can steal. You can kill. But you must win at any cost.
“Should you fail, Grim Jack Shadowstrider,” she continued, “the Crown of the Jade Lord will be taken from you and given to Chakan, son of Honored Chief Sakal.” She paused as though there was more to say, but she couldn’t quite force the words from her mouth. “Furthermore, because Honored Chief Kolle brought you, an Outsider, to this gathering, should you fail, he will be stripped of his title as chieftain and exiled from our people—forced to walk the land as a blood-traitor to the ancestors. Will you accept the challenge, knowing what is at stake? Will you face the Trial of Blood and Bone against Chakan?”
Nervous sweat broke out across my brow as a quest update popped up:
∞∞∞
Quest Update: The Jade Lord
Congratulations! You’ve successfully brought the Ancient Crown of the Jade Lord to the headquarters of the Dark Conclave, deep in the heart of the Storme Marshes. You have learned that the Crown of the Jade Lord is one of three sacred artifacts, which, if collected, will allow you to unite the Storme Marshes and rule over the Dark Conclave as the Jade Lord. Chief Sakal of the Lisu has challenged your claim, however, and you must defeat his son, Chakan, to prove yourself worthy.
Quest Class: Ultra-Rare, Secret
Quest Difficulty: ?
Success: Retrieve the Horn of Isra Spiritcaller and return it to the sacred meadow before your opponent, Chakan of the Lisu.
Failure: Die or fail to return the Horn of Isra Spiritcaller to the sacred glad
e before your opponent, Chakan of the Lisu.
Reward: The Crown of the Jade Lord; New Quest: Path of the Jade Lord; 32,000 EXP. If you fail, the Crown of the Jade Lord will be taken from you and Chief Kolle will be forced into exile!
Accept: Yes/No?
∞∞∞
I gulped, a wave of sickness and uncertainty clawing its way up from my stomach, and glanced at Chief Kolle, looking for his approval. After a second, the leathery chieftain shot me a curt nod—do it—his lips pressed into a tight, worried line. “Yes,” I finally said, my voice soft and unsure.
SEVEN:
Blood and Bone
“Grim Jack,” Chief Kolle whispered, one hand clenched tight over my shoulder, his fingers digging into my skin, “I believe you can do this, but you will be at a great disadvantage. Chakan is a powerful Shadow Knight and a ruthless fighter. Smart. Cunning. Strong. He cannot manipulate the Umbra in the way you can, but he will be resistant to some of your magics.” I stole a sidelong look at my opponent: he stood with his head bowed, nodding absently as Chief Sakal prattled on and on. I couldn’t hear what Sakal was saying, but I saw him glance my way more than a few times, death and destruction written into every line of his face.
“Is your champion prepared, Honored Kolle?” Chief Dao barked, her face placid, though the tension in her beef-slab shoulders gave her anxiousness away.
“One moment, Highest,” Kolle replied, holding up a finger. “And Jack, one other thing. Beware the Watchers. They dwell in the dark and nest in the Shadowverse. Some teach they are the disgraced dead, those among our kind who have failed to pass on into the world beyond. Others say they are revered guardian spirits. Whatever the truth, know this: they are dangerous. Remain vigilant.” He offered me a half-hearted smile and squeezed my shoulder once more before scooting back a few paces and nodding yes to Chief Dao. The matronly chieftain turned her steely gaze on me, then moved on to Chakan, who was easily a foot taller than me with muscles that looked like they belonged on a pro football player.
“On my mark, both of you will step out of the sacred circle, into the darkness of the ancestral forest, and seek out the grave of Isra Spiritcaller, which has been marked on your map.” A popup appeared:
∞∞∞
Map Update
Congratulations! Your in-world map has been updated with a new location: Grave of Isra Spiritcaller.
∞∞∞
I pulled up my area map and saw the sacred cavern laid out before me in fine detail. Though the majority of the cavern was roughly a giant circle, several branching caverns broke off from the main chamber, snaking deeper into the earth. One such passage, which looked like a twisted labyrinth of switchbacks, dead ends, and interconnected tunnels, led to a much smaller chamber marked with a little quest triangle: Grave of Isra Spiritcaller. Even with the map available to me, I could already tell this Thunderdome-inspired footrace was going to be a nightmare—especially if these Watcher things were as tricky and cunning as Chief Kolle said.
“On my mark,” Chief Dao bellowed as I closed out of my interface. She held up a nubby-fingered hand, and a ball of shadowy purple light coalesced into her palm. An Umbra Bolt. “Begin.” She unleashed the conjured spell, which streaked up and away like fireworks on a clear night. Chakan shot forward like an arrow, his armor-clad legs pumping as he disappeared into the trees, quickly swallowed by both the gloom and the dense greenery. I pulled the warhammer from the leather frog at my belt and slipped out of the comforting light of the sacred circle and into the thick tangles of vegetation.
I broke into a slow jog, squeezing between a pair of squat trees loaded down with green melons, ducked under some low-hanging vines, then skirted around a few moss-covered rocks jutting up from the ground. I’d only gone ten or fifteen feet, but when I looked back toward the clearing, I couldn’t find it—not even a glimmer from the emerald fire bled through the mass of tree trunks and leaves. The dark pressed down on me, as though it were a living thing that could sense my anxiety. The utter silence surrounding me only made the jittery panic surging through me worse. Instead of a fantasy-based game, this forest felt more like one of the old, horror-style VR games I’d played before the whole world went belly up.
I readjusted my grip on the hammer—my palm slick from nervous sweat—then headed deeper into the strange wilderness, checking my map every few minutes to make sure I was going in the right direction. I hadn’t seen Chakan since he’d set off from the clearing, but I had a gnawing suspicion he was ahead of me, how could he not be? Even with my Night Eye ability, navigating the dark forest was a pain. Exposed roots, partially hidden by small shrubs and fallen leaves, constantly grabbed at my boots, tripping me up, while clinging vines somehow managed to slip around my arms or slap me in the face.
Then, to top it off, I had to keep checking the map because the place was so disorienting.
It occurred to me that I could save a lot of time by Shadow Striding most of the way. Sure, it would eat up my Spirit supply, and I’d have to deal with the thirty-five-second cooldown timer once I emerged back into the real world, but it would still give me a leg up, especially since Chakan wouldn’t have access to the same skill as a Shadow Knight. In the world of the Shadow Templars, Shadow Knights were sort of the Jack of all trades—they got access to a few skills from each of the various kit specialties.
But Shadow Stride? That was a Shadowmancer exclusive.
I focused my ever-growing supply of Spirit, feeling a wave of cold power build in my chest, then triggered the spell, breathing out a sigh of relief as time ground to a halt and the color drained from the forest, leaving the world in shades of muted gray and sterile white, augmented by occasional splashes of shimmering purple. I twirled in a slow circle, grinning like an idiot, then set out for the tomb. Aside from slowing time, Shadow Stride also made the trek much, much easier.
Though I could pass through monsters and other players while in the Shadowverse, natural objects like trees, walls, and rocks stayed firmly in place—apparently, those things existed within both realms—but it was easier to see, which made a big difference. I emerged from the Shadowverse not quite a minute later, pulled up my map, readjusted course, then hoofed it for another thirty-five seconds before stepping back into the Shadowverse. Though I never spotted Chakan—the forest was almost impossibly big, especially for being inside a cavern—I was making great time and felt confident I’d get to the horn before he did.
I was only about fifty feet out from the edge of the cavern wall and the entrance to the warren of tunnels when I activated Shadow Stride for the tenth time. I waited patiently as time skidded to an abrupt stop, then stepped forward into the Shadowverse filled with purpose, confidence, and just a smidge of smugness. I slipped over a downed log and hopped across a small stream burbling along, minding its own business, then scrambled up a grassy hill dotted with colorful snapdragons.
My steps faltered a second later. My confidence and self-assurance vanished like a puff of smoke in a strong breeze.
The cavern wall loomed high before me, a fissure scarring the rock face. That, I knew, had to be the entrance to the passageway housing Isra and the horn. Unfortunately, a pair of monstrous twisting trees flanked the craggy entrance; their huge roots ran over the ground like a brood of snakes while thick boughs—covered in broad leaves and green melons—reached eagerly for a nonexistent sky. Fruit wasn’t the only thing loitering on those branches, though. A host of glassy yellow eyes stared at me from the boughs, though the creatures they belonged to were cloaked in shadow and nearly invisible.
These had to be the Watchers. What were they doing in the Shadowverse, though?
I paused on the edge of the tree line and glanced left then right, searching for some other way to access the tunnel or, at the very least, some cover to hide behind while moving. There was only one way forward, however, and aside from a few low scrub brushes and a spattering of flowers, there was all of jack-squat. I conjured Shadow Armor while nestled in the safety of the tr
ees; ribbons of violet shadow exploded around me, running over every inch of my body like a weightless second skin. A little popup appeared on the edge of my vision—a countdown timer—which I promptly ignored.
With that done, I took a single deep breath, dropped into Stealth, and stole forward on silent feet. My hands trembled as I moved, the warhammer quivering minutely while nervous sweat rolled down my back, running between my shoulder blades. My Stealth ability, though not nearly as good as Cutter’s, was currently sitting at level 11, and with my augmented boost as a Shadowmancer, I had a 41% chance to hide from enemies. Not half bad. Plus, I’d invested another point into the Camouflage ability, which increased my odds of blending into my surroundings to 30%.
With any luck, I’d slip right past these things without ever having to raise my hammer in defense. Fingers crossed—metaphorically, of course.
I crept closer and closer, watching the army of unwavering yellow eyes, carefully picking the quickest route through the brush and scrub covering the ground. The creatures didn’t seem to notice. I stole five feet, then paused, waiting anxiously. Three more, then another pause as I scanned the trees. I took a hitching breath and padded another few feet. I was within spitting distance of the tunnel mouth when a combat notification popped up:
∞∞∞
Stealth failed! You are being directly observed by hostile parties.
∞∞∞
I dismissed the notice as a wail of animal shrieks, high-pitched and warbling, ripped through the air, and creatures dropped from the trees like falling leaves. They were ape-like beings, similar to the Spore Apes we’d battled out front, though smaller and more agile—chimps instead of gorillas. And instead of spore-covered bodies, they had sleek night-black fur, talon-tipped fingers, and flat leathery faces with slanted violet eyes. Interestingly, they also had sleek black raven wings poking up from their backs.