The Once King

by Rachel Aaron

  “Thank you, brother,” James said, clapping a hand on Fangs’s shoulder. “It’s a kind offer, but I’m sure Tina will recover. Even if she doesn’t, she wanted to go home anyway, so I don’t think she’ll need the Claw Born’s help. But thank you for being there for us. It means a lot.”

  “Speak nothing of it,” Fangs said gruffly, his fur puffy with embarrassment. “It is the least we can do after all you have sacrificed for our clan and kingdom. We are just eager to pay out our gratitude, that’s all.”

  Leaving his brother to his embarrassment, James straightened up and began scanning the anxiously whispering player crowd for Frank. He didn’t find the off tank on the first glance, but that was a good thing. If Frank had Tina’s armor, then he was smart to lie low. Fortunately, James had a very good idea of who would know where he was, and she was impossible to miss.

  James turned on his heel and started walking back toward the tent where Tina was, though not all the way. His target was the big knot of Roughnecks standing in front of it. Specifically, he needed the short Naturalist in the middle.

  “Neko!” he called when he spotted her. “Can I ask you a question?”

  The healer lit up the moment she heard her name and started bounding over, much to his brother’s discomfort.

  “Must we ask her?” Ar’Bati asked with a cringe.

  “If something’s happening in the Roughnecks, Neko knows,” James replied. Then he smiled. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  Fangs heaved a sigh of deep relief as NekoBaby bounded up. “James! Angry Cat!” she cried in false delight. “What’s shaking? Here to eat some tacos?”

  Before James could even respond to that lunacy, the Naturalist dropped her voice. “Seriously, WTF is going on? Everyone’s saying Roxxy is down hardcore, but SB won’t let me into the tent, the bastard. But you have to know what’s up. You’d tell me if Tina was dying, right?”

  “She’s not dying,” James assured her. “She’s…well, you’ll see. But I need to find Frank. Do you know where he is?”

  Neko flashed him a grin. “Oh yeah, we’ve got Old F on lockdown because we’re total pros and shit. Follow me.”

  Neko dropped to all fours and bounded off. Being jubatus as well, James and Ar’Bati followed suit, racing through the camp like three mad cats until they reached a lonely tent at the edge with a suspicious number of Roughnecks milling around it. The raiders all looked relieved when they saw James, but no one looked as happy as Frank did when Neko pulled open the tent flap.

  “James!” Frank said, looking up from the pile of giant plate he was sitting on like a big armored hen. “You’re a sight for sore eyes!”

  “If the handoff’s been made, I’m going to get back to the boss lady,” Neko said as James and Ar’Bati crawled inside. “You guys can keep Frank the Tank company.”

  “I could use it,” Frank said as the Naturalist scampered off. “I’ve been worried sick out here, and no one will tell me nothing! Is Roxxy okay?”

  “She’s alive and safe,” James assured him. “SB and Zen are taking care of her, but she’s going to want her armor when she wakes up.”

  “I bet she will,” Frank said, but the Knight’s face was still pale beneath his face guard. “About that, though…”

  “What about it?” James asked frantically.

  “I don’t rightly know how to explain it,” Frank said, standing up. “Probably easier if I just show you.”

  Frank lifted the cloak he’d been using to shield Tina’s gear, and James uttered a loud curse. Tina’s sun steel armor was all there, along with her sword and shield. They’d even remembered to grab her magical rings and amulet, but something was off. The normally gleaming gold-white plate was dull and listless, looking more like a heap of scrap than a suit of legend. Even her sword had gone dark, the blood-red runes barely visible on the black blade. But more troubling than the lack of glow was the emptiness. James hadn’t realized something that wasn’t alive could feel so lifeless, but every piece of Tina’s armor radiated a wrongness, like it was lacking something vital. Probably because it was.

  “I don’t know what happened to it,” Frank said, picking up a dull gauntlet. “It never looked like this when she was wearing it. I’m worried that big winged One King fella did something.”

  “Once King,” James corrected quietly, kneeling to inspect Tina’s shield. “And he didn’t do anything. There’s nothing wrong with her armor. It’s just become unbound.”

  “Oh,” Frank said, face breaking into a smile. “Is that good?”

  It was James’s worst-case scenario. No, scratch that. The worst case would have been if her armor had been destroyed. This was better, though not by much, and he still didn’t know what he was going to do about it.

  All magical armor—whether worn by players or NPCs—had to be magically bound to the bearer’s soul before it could be used to its full potential. Once bound, the connection could only be severed by the wearer’s death, which was why James had been able to scavenge his old magical gear off player corpses back at Red Canyon. Normally, bound gear meant stealing someone’s armor was impossible unless you killed them, but Roxxy’s body had vanished, and apparently that had been enough to snap the connection.

  They could always rebind it, of course, but that would require Tina to be awake, magically capable, and level eighty, all uncertainties right now. Meanwhile, her armor was sitting around like a treasure chest with its lock bashed off. Without the soul binding tying it to her, all of Tina’s gear—the best-in-the-world tanking set she’d built over a year of raiding the Dead Mountain—was essentially up for grabs to anyone who came by and put it on.

  Which, James was sure, was exactly Cinco’s plan.

  “We have to get this back to Tina as soon as possible,” he whispered, motioning for Frank to put his cloak back over the pile.

  “Why?” Frank asked.

  James kept his mouth shut. He trusted Frank implicitly, but the tent was small and made of canvas. He didn’t know who else might be listening, and free top-tier raid gear was a temptation any player would have a hard time resisting. The less said the better, but as he motioned for Frank to start gathering Tina’s things, the atmosphere in the tiny tent shifted, almost as if it had become lighter. More empty.

  “Did you guys feel that?”

  “Feel what?” Frank asked innocently, but Ar’Bati’s hand rose to the handle of his sword.

  “I felt it,” the jubatus warrior growled. “Something followed us.”

  Cursing himself for an idiot, James looked around at the streams of magic flowing through the tent. He didn’t see any disturbances, but he did notice the shadows—the huge, deep shadows behind each of them stretching out in the tent’s muffled light.

  “Shit,” he whispered. “I think we were being spied on from the Lightless Realm.” He looked at Tina’s armor. “We have to move this.”

  “I thought we’d already agreed to move it,” Frank grumbled.

  “I mean right now,” James said frantically, struggling to pick up Roxxy’s enormous breastplate. “We have to get it out of here before—”

  The loud stomp of boots outside cut him off, and then James’s cat ears caught the loud, cocky voice of the Red Sands’s guild leader just outside.

  “Good job, Shankfest,” CincoDeMurder said as a red-armored hand grabbed the flap to their tent. James barely had time to put his body between the entrance and Tina’s armor before the Berserker stuck his head in.

  “Hello, boys,” Cinco said, flashing them a predatory grin. “Looks like you’ve got what I need.”

  James and Ar’Bati both growled while Frank sat himself back down on the pile of Tina’s armor like a rock. Outside, the Roughnecks on guard were shouting angrily, but they fell silent shortly after. When Cinco reached out and snatched the entire tent off from on top of them, James saw why. The whole Red Sands guild was here and armed to the teeth, their weapons pointed at the Roughnecks guards, who were now badly outnumbered.

/>   “Thanks for leading me to the jackpot,” Cinco said, nodding to James, who bared his teeth. The Berserker winked back and turned his attention to Frank. “Heya, Frankie,” he said jovially. “There’s been a change in plans. We’re on a timeline and Roxxy’s indisposed, so I’m going to be taking her breastplate, bracers, and boots so my boy Brody can complete his set.” He pointed at a tall Knight in the back, who was staring at the pile of Tina’s armor and drooling. “I’m also going to need that shield for Garrond. He’s not technically a tank, but he’s still a four-skull badass, which means he’ll do a better job than you. No offense.”

  “None taken,” Frank said, sitting even tighter. “But I’m not giving you Roxxy’s stuff.”

  Cinco’s eyes narrowed. “’No’ is not a word you get to say, old man,” he growled. “We’re not playing around. This is mission-critical shit, so fork it over.”

  “No,” Frank said again.

  “No,” James said at the same time.

  The leader of Red Sands turned his salty gaze on him, but James didn’t budge. Wouldn’t budge. He didn’t care how nobly Cinco dressed his intentions, this was stealing. His sister had spent a year’s worth of nights and weekends prying that armor from the hellishly hard Dead Mountain Fortress. Even if she couldn’t tank anymore—which was not a forgone conclusion—it was still hers.

  “You’re out of line, Cinco,” James said, tail lashing. “That armor belongs to Roxxy and you know it, so back off.”

  “You’re the one out of line, little cat,” Cinco growled back. “You’ve got less ground to stand on than anyone, because you know the truth: Roxxy’s a gimp now. She’s not going to be wearing that armor anymore. Hell, the breastplate is bigger than she is!”

  That drew a laugh from the other Red Sands, and Cinco’s smile grew meaner. “Face it, bro,” he said in a sneering voice. “Queen Tina’s reign is over, and her backup Frank’s a sniveling coward.”

  “Frank is not a coward!” one of the Roughnecks yelled. “He’s been in every fight Roxxy has, and he’s never backed down!”

  “Of course he’s a coward!” Cinco yelled back. “What else can you call someone who shakes in his boots every time he’s forced to play his damn class? Dude’s got no backbone. A real pity since he’s the second-best-geared Knight now.” He arched an eyebrow at Frank. “Maybe we should relieve him of his shit, too? You know, do our civic duty to keep such fine gear from going to waste.”

  “That ain’t a nice thing to say,” Frank replied, his voice shaking slightly but his body still firmly set on top of Tina’s armor. “But no means no. Now get.”

  The calm dismissal was enough to make Cinco jerk in surprise. Then his face turned an ugly purple. “You don’t get it, do you?” he roared. “We don’t have time for this bullshit! The Once King is weak! We should be tearing his fort down around his ears, not sitting here wasting time waiting on one person! This whole army is chewing its fingernails waiting to see if Tina’s going to make it. Meanwhile, our enemy’s getting the chance to recover all his mana so he can blast us again. Well, fuck that!” He stabbed his finger at Tina’s stuff. “Armor for Brody. Shield for Garrond. Move!”

  “No!” James yelled, shoving his body between Cinco and Frank. “That armor is Tina’s! Even if she can never use it again, we’re not giving it to you!”

  Cinco put his hand on the butt of his spear and stepped forward, his giant boots landing perilously close to James’s feet. “I’m not asking nicely again,” the Berserker said in a quiet, deadly voice. “You’ve got one second to hand over that gear before Shankfest and I take it.”

  “We’re not afraid of you,” growled Ar’Bati, drawing his sword.

  We should be, James thought. Bravado aside, he knew CincoDeMurder’s reputation. The guy was a multiple-season PvP world champion, and Shankfest was the Assassin who’d done it all with him. Gameplay skills aside, he’d also heard that Cinco was a HEMA tournament winner who’d done at least some MMA, which meant James couldn’t use the same tricks he’d pulled to beat SB. SilentBlayde had the advantage of gear, but Cinco was an experienced fighter in game and out. He was also a proven killer who outweighed James and Ar’Bati combined.

  It was not a good match-up, especially with Shankfest in the mix. The Assassin had already pulled out his lightning maces and was twirling them in his hands, giving James a “you know what’s coming” grin. James responded by getting out his Eclipsed Steel staff, but he’d barely gotten his hand to the weapon’s grip when he heard the heavy clink of armor behind him.

  “Boy,” Frank said, rising to his feet. “You’d better back off.”

  Cinco scoffed. “What’s this? Trying to prove you aren’t an over-geared sissy? Way too late for that, baby doll.”

  Frank shrugged off the insults. “I know I’m scared a lot, but I ain’t ashamed of it. Have you seen what us Roughnecks have fought? We’ve gone up against some scary business. ‘Course I got the shakes. But even if I was shamefaced about it, I ain’t got nothing to prove to an overgrown schoolyard bully like you.”

  “Get to the point, Grandpa,” Cinco growled.

  Frank’s mustache rose in a smug grin. “My point, son, is that you done screwed up. You got all your boys together for this here robbery, but you forgot that you’re in the middle of the Roughnecks’ camp.”

  Before Cinco could respond to that, Frank drew his sword and held it up like a rallying banner. Beyond the circle of the Red Sands, a shout rose up in answer, and James looked to see that Cinco’s group was surrounded on all sides by Roughnecks, as well as an astonishing number of soldiers from the Order. Zen was there too, bow drawn, as were Anders and Richard and everyone else. James wasn’t certain exactly when it had happened, but suddenly Tina’s whole guild was here, forming a ring of stone-faced, furious raiders around Cinco’s band of PvPers, who now looked much less sure. Even Cinco looked cowed, lowering his spear as he stepped back.

  “That’s right,” Frank said as Cinco backed away. “We ain’t letting you take anything that belongs to the Roughnecks’ Roxxy, so you’d best skedaddle. Be a real shame if something happened to our backup raid.”

  Cursing under his breath, Cinco sheathed his spear, but he didn’t back down. He was still glaring at Frank like he might just attack anyway when an angry, familiar voice rose from behind the crowd.

  “What the fuck is going on here?”

  Chapter 9

  Tina

  Tina woke to the strangest mixture of feelings. She felt weak and small and tired but also comfortable, snuggled into bed under a warm mountain of blankets. She didn’t remember going to bed, though. Maybe she was getting sick? She’d definitely been playing too much FFO, because the dream she’d just had had been the worst. She’d been stuck in Roxxy’s body, leading a pick-up group into the Dead Mountain to fight the Once King. Talk about a lost cause. She was just glad it was over and she was finally back at home. She must have left her VR helmet turned on when she collapsed, though, because she could still hear FFO’s iconic loading music softly from somewhere to the left of her head.

  Oh well, she thought, turning to snuggle deeper into the blankets. She’d deal with that later. Right now, all she wanted was to sleep for another few…

  Tina’s hazy thoughts trailed off as her nose rubbed against the scratchy wool of the blanket. She didn’t own a scratchy wool blanket. Whatever was on top of her, it wasn’t her comforter. This also wasn’t her bed. Her bed wasn’t hard and lumpy and reeking of wood smoke and horses. What the hell?

  Her eyes popped open, darting around in confusion. She was in a tent. Not a modern tent, either. It was a canvas tent tied up with ropes, and she wasn’t alone. There was someone sitting on the ground beside her, humming FFO’s loading theme in a beautiful low voice. The music stopped when she moved, and then a man’s face appeared above hers—a masked elven face so breathtakingly handsome it was physically intimidating.

  “Tina?” the gorgeous man said in SilentBlayde’s voice. “Are you awake?”
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  Tina had no idea. She could barely think with those blue eyes—the purest, most beautiful sky blue she’d ever seen—looking into hers. Everything was overwhelming, actually. The cold was too intense, the smell of dust and metal too sharp. Even the weight of the blankets felt like it was going to crush her. Where was she? What the hell was going on?

  “Is she up?” asked a cutesy, high-pitched voice excitedly. Then the relative warmth of the tent was broken by a blast of freezing wind right before a giant cat face shoved its way into her field of vision.

  “Rocky Road!” the cat girl squealed, making Tina’s ears ring. “You’re alive!”

  “You said you’d be quiet!” the handsome elf hissed angrily.

  “I am being quiet,” the cat argued. “This is quiet for me! Anyway, she’s not sleeping anymore, so what does it matter if—”

  “Ugh,” Tina groaned, reaching up to rub her face. “Neko, what the—”

  She froze, fingers going still against her skin. Her soft, fleshy skin. There was hair, too. Her own unruly, curly brown hair hung in a tangle around her face like it did every morning at home, but this wasn’t home. It was Garrond’s command tent, except everything looked enormous, like the whole world had suddenly doubled in…

  Tina froze, heart revving up like a race car in her chest. Her narrow, human chest. Of their own accord, her hands leaped to her neck and shoulders, then down under the blankets to check her stomach, but every part she touched was fleshy and bony and very much not hewn from stone.

  Oh no, she thought as her lungs began sucking in air at a frantic rate. No no no.

  “Tina,” said the smooth elven voice as gloved hands grabbed hers, the masculine fingers completely engulfing her tiny fists. “Tina, calm down. You’re safe. It’s just us. Don’t freak—”