CHAPTER THREE
LET THE GAME BEGIN
Right. Character selection. Phoenix put the VR headset aside for a moment and scrolled the mouse pointer down the screen, scanning the list of character types with idle interest. If he was going to play, he wanted to be something strong; something invincible. There: the Warrior. Yes.
Choosing carefully, he equipped his hero with a long sword, iron-studded leather armour; a shield and a dagger. Pausing, he thought about what an adventurer would need to survive in the old days. This game seemed a lot more complex than he’d thought. It wasn’t just your simple Quest-with-lots-of-fighting. In those, all you had to do was kill things. This was an on-line, role-playing, game where you had hundreds of choices and decisions to make about everything and each choice affected how the game went. Of course, you still got to kill things, otherwise what was the point, really?
He had to plan for long trips and bad weather; for hunger and thirst; for hunting and sleeping outdoors. It was pretty cool, actually, but it did his head in trying to think of what someone living off the land two thousand years ago might need. He added a water skin, a coil of thin rope, boots, shirts and breeches, a thick travelling cloak, flint and tinder box and a small sling for hunting. There didn’t seem to be an option for underwear. Maybe Warriors didn’t wear underwear. He grinned at the thought, his earlier depression slipping away as he got involved in the game setup.
Hmmmm. He needed a name. He couldn’t keep thinking of him as “hero” or “warrior”. With a wry grin, Phoenix typed his own name in the field. “The Phoenix.” It sounded more like a modern superhero so he deleted the “The” and left just his own name. Now at least he could pretend his life was different.
OK. Other characteristics. There were random dice-roll buttons to choose for things like intelligence, charisma, health, strength, dexterity and looks. The result could be anything from two to twenty. A Two meant you were really stupid while a Twenty meant you were a genius. You could roll the dice only three times for each attribute. If you didn’t like the third attempt, it was just too bad.
Phoenix pushed the “roll” button for Intelligence. Whew, a fifteen. Quickly he hit “Save”. Fifteen out of twenty was pretty good – especially for a warrior. Next was Charisma. He switched out of the game for a moment and looked the word “Charisma” up in the online dictionary. It said: those special qualities that give someone the ability to influence or impress others. From the ancient Greek word “Kharis” meaning “grace”.
So it was kind of like charm or interestingness, if there was such a word. Well, surely it wouldn’t be so bad if that were a bit low. It wasn’t as though a Warrior spent much time chatting and impressing people he was trying to kill. He stuck with the fourteen that came up second roll. His Health and Looks came out as average, which was fine.
After that, he had to resort to the dictionary again to find out what Dexterity was. It meant how quick and skilful his character was on his feet or with his hands. He was a bit disappointed to only get a fourteen for that after three tries. It meant his Warrior would be just average and that wasn’t great for a swordsman. Maybe he could get better. The rules said as you went up levels you could improve some of your attributes. For Strength he rolled twenty the first time, saving it with a fierce grin of triumph and an unexpected surge of relief. He would kick butt!
Finally, he Saved the character and quit the game temporarily. It was time to hunt up some Cheat-sites on the Net. OK, so it was a bit wrong to cheat but it was only a computer game. What harm was there?
Phoenix realised he was arguing with himself and shook his head. It was like hearing his father’s voice in his head, urging him to always “do the right thing, not the easy thing.” Had his father even known that sometimes doing the right thing got you nowhere? Probably not, he thought with easy scorn. He’d never had to deal with someone like Jacob. Jacob didn’t do the right thing, so why should he? Stubbornly, Phoenix began searching for the cheat-sites.
Unfortunately, being still in Pre-release, there wasn’t much out there yet but he tagged a few sites that had some useful hints before re-entering the demo version. After a deep breath, he pushed his chair out of the way, stood up and put on the VR headset. It was a full-face unit, so as soon as it was on, he saw the 80AD world in all directions, like he was really in it. He turned around and the view changed, showing him what was behind his avatar. Cool. The image of grass, forest a dirt road and forest was so vivid he had to raise the mask for a moment just to be sure he was still in his room. Amazing. The graphics were brilliant - still a little on the too-smooth side as with all digital stuff but better than most others on the market. The earphones built into the headset even gave out sounds - birds twittering, small animals rustling in the underbrush, the wind in the trees.
Phoenix raised his right hand so that his avatar’s hand appeared in front of his face. It held a sword. He grinned, swishing it around experimentally. This was almost as good as actually being there. With this, he could really imagine he was in 80AD. In fact, it took no imagination at all. Totally freaking awesome. For a long moment, he stared around and let himself imagine he really was there, in another world, living another life, being the all-conquering hero. It was a thrilling idea. He wished it were true; wished he could actually somehow transport himself inside the game and be Phoenix the kick-ass warrior hero for awhile.
With a sigh, he shook his head, hit the BEGIN button and waited to see what would happen.
He lost himself in the game. He missed dinner. Against the standing rule about eating in his room, his mother eventually brought up a cold plate of food and a piece of cake. He barely heard her quiet “dinner, honey” and didn’t hear her leave his room. He was kicking butt big time. He couldn’t wait for the full release so he could work through all five levels. It promised to be even better.
He spent a while wandering about the woods beating up bandits in a very satisfying way before running into a two-man Roman patrol. A short, nasty fight left one soldier dead and Phoenix’s avatar with a deep wound on his left arm. The other soldier ran away. Phoenix figured it was more important to get his arm fixed, than chase him, so he tore a strip from his shirt to tie around the wound then headed toward a small village. He’d worked up a sweat anyway, so he sat down for awhile so he could eat, running the game in keyboard mode.
Character Notes on the heads-up display of the VR set told him his hero was thirsty and hungry as well. It took a while but he finally worked out that a round, thatch-roofed mud-house with a bit of dried plant hanging off a signpost had to be the local tavern.
What a sight it was inside. He’d been expecting a pub like the one in town – with tiled floors, a long polished bar and a big screen television, lots of clean glasses and bottles lined up in fridges.
Of course, this was England of two thousand years before – although it was called ‘Albion’ back then, not ‘England’. The game rules said Level One was set in pre-Christian, Iron Age Britain of 80AD. That put it shortly after the Roman invasion. Agricola, the Roman Governor of Britain, was busy squashing the local Celtic tribes in short, brutal battles. It was a dark, unsettled period in British history to which the game programmers had added fantasy elements – elves, dwarves, trolls, dragons and the like.
So, there were no bars or fridges.
No electricity or cars.
No filtered water or softdrinks.
Instead, the tavern was dark and smoky with a few rough benches and tables set around a central fire. Stray bits of straw drifted down from the thatched roof, adding to the general filth of the packed earth floor. Cups and plates of clumsy clay rested on heavy tables of unfinished wood. Some sort of thin ale was poured from big barrels by a suspicious-eyed tavern-keeper. Phoenix got his Warrior to
drink it, half-wishing he could really taste it. It was probably pretty disgusting, though.
Through the headset, he could even hear the coarse laughter of the customers and the barks of dogs that roamed freely over the floor. It was impressive. The graphics really were superb. He decided to stay and eat, too. The tavern-keeper served him a watery soup. Phoenix didn’t want to know what the floaty bits were. He glanced at his own real dinner and nibbled gratefully at a slice of roast beef.
Finally, he noticed blood seeping through the bandage on his digital arm and decided he’d better find a doctor. As he headed for the door, the tavern-keeper yelled at him, demanding payment for the ale and food. It was only then that Phoenix realised what he’d forgotten: money. His warrior had none at all. He stared blankly at the screen, wondering what to do next. The tavern-keeper took grudging pity on him and said that if he’d chop wood he could pay off the debt.
Phoenix thought seriously about telling him to go jump in a lake. Couldn’t he see the Warrior was wounded? What right did he have to make him work like some sort of slave just to pay for a drink and some pigslop soup? Just as he opened his mouth to give a nasty answer, another person entered the tavern. All the talking stopped and every CGI man in the room turned to look at the stranger.
It was a girl; and not just an ordinary tavern wench, either - whatever they looked like. This girl was the most beautiful thing Phoenix had ever seen. Even with the slightly unreal look of computer graphics, she was still extraordinary. He couldn’t help but stare.
She wore a rough-woven brown, hooded cloak that didn’t completely hide her slanted green eyes and long fair hair. As he looked closely, he realised she must be another Player. All of the Players had a small P embroidered somewhere on their clothes, just to help others identify them. Hers showed on the left shoulder of her dark green tunic. His was embossed on the leather of his character’s armour.
He grinned a little when the tavernkeeper abandoned him and bustled up to the girl, demanding to know what she wanted. Apparently women weren’t allowed in the taverns. She asked for food, jingling a full belt-pouch to show she could pay for it. Silence fell again as the villagers eyed her now with a different kind of greed. Even the kitchen boy, who had served Phoenix his food, stopped in mid-stride to stare hungrily at her. She seemed startled and glanced around. Phoenix felt, for a second, that she’d looked right at him, straight out of the computer screen and actually at him. He shivered and noticed how warm the amulet on his chest was. It seemed to be getting warmer, too.
Distracted, he fingered it.
After a moment’s hesitation, the tavernkeeper refused to serve her and turned away. Looking lost, the girl headed back toward the front door, only to be stopped by three large peasant-types. They were lead by a smaller man; thin, with a pointed, weasel-face and shrewd dark eyes.
“There’s a toll for the likes of you, wench,” he sneered.
She backed away, holding her hands up in a peaceful gesture. In one, she carried a quarterstaff.
“I just came in to get food and shelter from the storm,” she said. “I don’t want any trouble.”
Phoenix almost laughed. Why was she Playing this sort of game if she didn’t want trouble? This would be interesting. He leaned against a post, watching.
The peasants closed in on her. Other patrons sensed what was coming and hastily got out of the way; tossing down their drinks and sliding out of the room. The innkeeper groaned and packed away breakables as fast as he could.
Phoenix grinned widely. A bar fight. Now this was more like it.
As her four attackers spread out to encircle her, the girl turned, trying to keep them all in sight. She changed her grip on the quarterstaff, holding it crossways in front of her body. For a few tense moments, action was suspended, as everyone froze, watching her.
One of the men launched himself toward her. She reacted in a blur of movement. Thump! The end of her staff punched out, catching him directly in the solar plexus. He flew backward to slide bonelessly down a wall, gasping for breath that would not come.
It happened so fast that the other three were still moving toward her. Now she stepped into the gap she’d created and could see all three of them at once. Phoenix nodded approvingly. She might just make it after all.
He straightened up, frowning. The smallest man wasn’t playing fair. He slid around and came at her from behind by crawling under one of the bench-tables. He had a dagger in his hand and clearly intended to stab her in the back.
Thwack! Another foe dropped at her feet, felled by a perfect blow to the head. Phoenix almost applauded out loud. Instead, he called out a warning to her.
“Behind you!”
She spun, twirling the staff gracefully in an arc over her head. It came down across the weasel-faced man’s outstretched hand. Bones broke with an audible crunch. The would-be murderer whimpered, clutching at his arm as he backed away. Casting Phoenix a venomous glare, he jerked his head at his remaining crony and the two edged away. Keeping the girl in sight, they retreated out the front door.
It slammed shut behind them, leaving the bar empty except for her, Phoenix and the kitchen boy, who had observed everything with a gap-toothed smile of appreciation.
Clapping, Phoenix hitched himself off the pole and sauntered over. She looked at him warily.
“Nicely done,” he said.
She grimaced at the two prone bodies. The tavern-keeper reappeared and began the task of tidying up, muttering to himself and sending them irritated looks.
Phoenix stuck out a hand. “I’m Phoenix.” He pointed to the P embossed on his armour so she’d know he was a Player, too.
She relaxed and smiled slightly, shaking his hand. “Jade. Thanks for the warning, by the way.”
“You’re welcome. Oh, leave it be, would you?” This last comment he addressed to the innkeeper, who had returned and now complained loudly about damage, non-payment of bills and women in the bar. “She’s with me, ok?”
The tavernkeeper sent him a scathing look and jerked his head. “Well, if she can pay for yer bill ‘o fare and the damage, she can eat, too – out back, though,” he said roughly.
“There’s a storm coming,” she protested. “I need…” she glanced at Phoenix and changed her sentence, “we need shelter.”
“Tha’s welcome to the barn out back for an extra copper. Jus’ don’t fret th’ cow.” The tavernkeeper took her coins and handed her a bowl of soup.
Phoenix followed her out the back door. As they crossed a bare yard to the small barn, he glanced up at the sky. She was right about the storm. The barn was no more than another mud and thatch hut but at least it was shelter. He hadn’t even thought about where his hero would sleep for the night. He hadn’t thought about a lot of things, apparently.
They were silent awhile as Jade sat on a hay bale and finished eating. Phoenix tried to ignore the rather scrawny cow tethered in one corner. Somewhere nearby, a chicken squawked irritably, making him jump.
Jade glanced up. “Was that thunder?”
“Err…I thought it sounded more like a chicken.” Then there was an unmistakable rumble. Phoenix looked out his real bedroom window and saw lightning. “Hang on. You’re right. I’ve got a real storm here. I should probably shut the game down until it passes.”
“I should too, I suppose. It’s turning into a nasty one here,” she agreed. “Thanks for helping out in there.” She nodded at the tavern. “I guess I’ve got a lot to learn about the customs of Ancient England...er...Albion, I mean.”
“No big. You helped me, too.” He shrugged. “I forgot to add money to my list of equipment.”
Jade laughed. “What about a horse then? Surely you’ve got one. My character wasn’t allowed but yours would be. My virtual feet are killing me.” She lifted one boot-shod foot and rubbed
it.
Phoenix glared, stung by her laughter. He hadn’t thought of getting a horse but that didn’t give her the right to laugh at him – especially when he’d just saved one of her lives. The last thing he needed right now was one more person criticising him. He’d been having fun until she came along. He played computer games to escape from real life, not to have to worry about impressing anyone.
He turned away, staring out at the darkening digital sky. A few drops of rain spattered into the dusty yard outside the door. He really wasn’t in the right frame of mind for talking. Beating up bandits had exactly suited his mood. He sighed. Maybe he was overreacting. She seemed nice enough, really. It wasn’t her fault he was still angry with Jacob.
Mildly irritated that his fun had been spoiled, Phoenix reached up to take the headset off. As he did, something caught his eye in the real world. Looking out the window, he saw a strange sort of shimmery glow shooting down from the heavy storm clouds outside. It looked like slow motion purple lightning. He watched, fascinated as it crackled down toward the tree outside his window and lit the thin branches in an eerie glow. Freaky.
He shook himself and slid the mouse toward the Log Out button on the screen. Best to switch it off with an electrical storm around.
The lightning moved again. It twisted around the branches, slipped through the leaves and wove its way toward the house. Now he got worried. Normal lightning did NOT behave like that. It should have earthed itself on the tree and gone. It wasn’t. Instead, it moved up one of the branches that touched the house. Before he could call for help, the light wriggled under his half-open window. He sat perfectly still, totally unable to move or yell. Fearful astonishment held his muscles like a clamp.
As the lightning slipped inside, the whole room shimmered in its weird, purple-blue light. It wasn’t like a normal lamp where the light comes from one place and casts shadows. Everything glowed. There were no shadows at all. It wasn’t super bright, either. Just really, really weird and it felt like it was …looking for something?
The glow condensed back into a thin streak of light. Phoenix cried out in shock as it zipped straight toward him. He backed away, only to discover he still sat in his chair with his VR headset on. Feet tangling in the chairlegs, he fell backward. The light pierced his chest. He yelled. It was a white-hot needle jabbing him in the ribs.
The chair slipped out from beneath him. The chair, Phoenix and his head all hit the floor and everything went dark.
*****
Far away, in the unchanging black, Long Baiyu smiled. A whisper of strength seeped back into his cold, cramped limbs. He raised his heavy head and stared into the blackness.
“Come,” he murmured. Resting his head on a forearm, he fell into a natural sleep for the first time in many nights. Now he had a chance.
In luxurious rooms above, his gaoler roared in anger as he, too, sensed a change in the Balance.
.
****
80AD - The Jewel of Asgard (Book 1) Page 4