The Dragon's Revenge

by Conor Kostick

  ‘Have you got some sort of ID?’ Yep, for some reason, Mum was definitely hostile.

  ‘Well, let me see.’ Watson, who filled our kitchen with his bulky body, had to stand up to produce a wallet from his pocket. ‘These are my business cards.’

  Mum read it and passed it to me, without catching my eye. Jeff Watson, CTO, Yuno Enterprises Ltd. ‘What’s a CTO?’

  ‘Chief Technology Officer.’ Watson nodded at his own answer.

  Jeez Louise. He was right at the top. What was he doing over here? In our house even. I looked around the room. What did he make of it? A man who must be comfortably a millionaire. What did he make of the bars over the window, which we’d put in after a break-in (which missed our valuables but left Mum without her box of old music; it must have been kids)? Or the remnants of our meal, on plates that didn’t match? Sod him anyway if he was judging us, I had nothing to be ashamed of.

  ‘Anyone can make cards. How do I know this isn’t a child-kidnapping scam of some sort?’

  ‘Oh, it’s not a scam. No, not at all. It is, however, an emergency. We are supposed to launch a new game, Epic Two, in a month’s time. Our investment in this game is enormous, larger than the GNP of most countries. If the game collapses, Yuno might not survive. The company will crash along with the game. We need a team of talented players to go into Epic Two and fix it as soon as possible. And every day we delay the problem gets worse.’

  I was glad Watson hadn’t mentioned dragons. That level of explanation wouldn’t really work with Mum. Best keep it very general.

  ‘Here,’ said Watson. ‘A three-month open return ticket to San Francisco in your name. Travel whenever you want, just let us know and we’ll meet you at the airport. And here’—he put another ticket on the table, along with a boarding card—‘for Tom to travel tomorrow. There will be a taxi at six in the morning. Our team will collect him and take him to the Belvedere Hotel, where he’ll be staying for this project.’

  ‘And here.’ He placed a slim smartphone on the table. ‘This is for Tom. You can ring him as often as you like, we’ll pay the bills.’

  Mum had a few more questions, but I could see she was convinced that Watson was for real. I could see too, that Watson wanted to cut to the chase, get the contracts signed and get on with his job. But he masked his impatience well. He even agreed to a cup of tea, which he hardly drank. At last - as far as both he and I were concerned - Mum went and got a pen.

  Before I signed, I looked through the paperwork for the important point. They’d phrased it well, no one would understand the significance of it. Clause 20.iii: Log of character Tyro will be deleted from GC2025 to GF8112: 07:28 – 07:32.

  As I read this and looked up at him, Watson gave me a slight nod of his large head. Good. I’d made a horrible mistake. But it looked like I was going to survive it. And I’d learn from this.

  After we’d shown Watson out, I went upstairs to pack. I could get some new clothes in San Francisco with my first pay transfer and in the meantime, the hotel probably had a laundry service. So I travelled light, stuffing underwear and T-shirts into a backpack, which also had my toothbrush and a new phone. With that done, I felt like opening the window and shouting, ‘I’m out of here!’ I wouldn’t miss the place, nor my class, nor my teachers. I’d always been happiest when in Epic in any case. I would miss my mum though.

  When I went downstairs, she was still at the table, head in hands. Looking up at me, I could see tears in her eyes.

  ‘Are we doing the right thing? You don’t have to get in the cab.’

  ‘Jeez, Mum. San Francisco; Epic Two; plenty of money. It’s just amazing. We’re so lucky.’

  Letting out a deep breath, Mum stood up. ‘You’re right. But I’ll find it lonely here without you.’

  I laughed. ‘You’re always complaining about the mess I make, or the noise when I play music. But you love it really.’

  ‘I won’t miss picking up your clothes, I know that.’

  Surprising her and myself, I came over and gave her a hug. We didn’t normally do hugs. My mum is small, even smaller than me, so it was her in my arms, rather than the other way around.

  Chapter 4

  Epic 2

  San Francisco. The air smelled different. The trees looked different. And I felt happy. My hotel was amazing. I had imagined it would be a hi-tech place, with a lift up the outside of a huge tower block or something. But it was an old wooden building, painted blue and red on the outside. My room was old too, with creaking floorboards beneath a thick carpet; a bronze framed mirror on the wall; pale ceramic women holding up the beside lights; a chandelier for the main lights; and wallpaper that had a red velvet design set in it. It was like a bedroom prepared for an aristocrat two hundred years ago and preserved until now (with the exception of a blisteringly fast internet connection).

  My window was open and I woke up to a blue sky, the call of birds that I didn’t recognise, and the smell of freshly ground coffee. Right then, there was no one in the world, I mean no one at all, that I would have exchanged places with. Shower (hot and powerful), clothes (jeans, Moomintroll T-shirt), breakfast (unbelievably intense fresh orange juice, two thick waffles and an apple) and I was ready for the car that came to take me to Yuno.

  There was a screen between me and the driver, so we didn’t talk. I just sat back, enjoying the cool air conditioning and watching the streets go by. Plenty of traffic, of course, big, slow-moving American cars on the wrong side of the road. Once we got through a few wide junctions, we went a bit faster and the houses changed from wooden ones to taller, stone buildings. And then we were outside a tower that was made of steel and dark blue glass. Yuno Industries Headquarters, with the flashing sword logo high up in white.

  Inside, the foyer was spacious, with a lot of green from potted trees and even ivy, working along a trellis mounted on the walls. The receptionist asked me to wait and I took a seat at a table full of magazines about the games industry. From them, you’d think nothing was wrong with Epic 2; they were full of screenshots and interviews with the developers. The most anticipated new game for the year, certainly, perhaps even for the decade.

  ‘Tom Foster?’ A girl not much older than me was standing by the table: brown hair in a ponytail; pretty, slender build; sandy-coloured top and grey trousers; hazel eyes and a welcoming smile. ‘I’m Felicity; it’s my job and pleasure to give you orientation.’

  ‘Hi.’ I stood up, suddenly unsure, should I offer my hand? I did.

  When she shook it, I felt I’d done the right thing. ‘You’re from Ireland?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Awesome. I’ve always wanted to go. It’s supposed to be so green and so friendly.’

  Now the funny thing was, I found myself agreeing and telling Felicity that she would love a trip to Ireland. Yet if someone at school had come out with that flat-headed rubbish, we’d have torn them to shreds. Friendly? Only a fortnight earlier, a biker had pulled up outside the nearest pub to our house, gone inside and shot a man. The victim was ‘well known to the gardai’ as the news put it when they want to say someone was a criminal.

  Apparently, it had been quite a scene. The victim, realising something was up when the biker entered with his helmet still on, had thrown over the table and ducked behind it. Everyone else present had scattered. Cool as you like, the assassin walked around, holding fire until: bang! bang! And one more for the head. Seanie Howlin told me you don’t get paid unless you shoot the target in the head.

  This incident had jumped into my mind. But instead of disabusing Felicity, I wanted her to like Ireland, I felt pride in my country. And it was beautiful and friendly, mostly. While we rose up the lift to level fourteen, I found myself talking about extraordinary places in Ireland, which I mostly knew only by reputation. Mum had taken me to Newgrange, though, so I could tell Felicity about that. A structure about five thousand years old.

  ‘Our oldest buildings are only about two hundred years.’ She laughed.

  Soon I ha
d an ID badge and knowledge of where to go for food and for toilet breaks. Surreptitiously, I sent a text to Mum, boasting of the fact they had vending machines stocked with cold drinks, fruit and snacks, and everything in them was free.

  Then, we came to the project floor.

  ‘Does it have a name?’ I asked.

  ‘How do you mean, Tom?’

  ‘The project. Our goal, of eliminating Mikarkathat.’

  She laughed, as if I’d said something funny and shot me a glance. Then dropped her voice. ‘Officially, there is no project. Remember your non-disclosure. Unofficially, though, well, we call this floor the Den: it’s where we have our control room. If you tell someone you are going to the Den, they’ll know exactly what you mean.’

  What a den. Having had our passes scanned, we came through a sliding door to a large open room with a huge table in the centre of it. Blue-tinted light poured into the room from all four walls. We were high above the city, with only a few other towers nearby to obstruct the view to a pale amber horizon. Additional bright, modern spotlights pointed down at the table, on which was a map and figures that were about two-inches high. It reminded me a bit of a massive paper and dice role-playing game setup, or maybe a wargame.

  ‘Let me introduce you to the General. Then I’d better get back into the game.’

  There were several people gathered around the board, one of them was a bulky, middle-aged man in a smart jacket and light blue shirt. ‘Mr Blackridge. This is Tom Foster.’

  ‘Aha.’ He turned his dark eyes upon me. ‘The slayer of Mikarkathat. Let’s hope you can do that again. We’ve been expecting you. You don’t look Irish though.’

  ‘My dad’s from Vietnam,’ I replied, a touch resentful at his remark. I did, however, enjoy the curious looks from the other people nearby (a dozen men and women, mostly in their twenties).

  ‘This is the situation.’ Blackridge turned abruptly to the map.

  As he did so, Felicity touched my forearm. ‘It’s been a pleasure. I’ll see you soon.’

  And she was leaving in the direction of a side room. I wanted to say something in reply, something about having enjoyed her company too. But Blackridge was aiming the red dot of a pointer at various spots on the map.

  ‘All this territory, as far as Lake Shining is in the hands of the evil army. They have been held up by Fort Hellsmouth at the end of the lake. The elves there have driven off one amphibious attack. We had a couple of players involved, but it was mostly NPCs who won the battle. They froze the water and when the enemy orcs got out of their boats, fireballed them, sending them down to drown in their heavy armour. Man, you should see the video!’

  Blackridge gave me an unwelcome, hearty clap on the shoulder.

  ‘Now, in the north is the dragon herself. She hasn’t moved too far recently, I don’t think it suits her to come out of the mountains, but her troops are raiding pretty widely.’

  ‘What are the figures?’ I pointed to the clusters of plastic warriors and wizards that were mostly in the south.

  ‘That’s us. That’s your teammates. Over there’—he gestured to a large screen—‘you can see who is in the game and what level they have reached. Down here, you can see what regions they are in. The plan is to level up fast, well behind the front lines and when we have a couple of hundred players capped, we should be able to raid Mikarkathat and take her down.’

  ‘And if she conquers the world before we’re ready?’

  With a scowl made more intense by his jowls and heavy, black eyebrows, Blackridge waved his arm. ‘Then this is all gone. The whole company. And we can look for new jobs.’ He said this as though talking about the end of the world. It didn’t seem quite as tragic to me. There would be other companies, other games. Other jobs for him and his friends. Still, I was looking forward to this challenge.

  ‘You should get started,’ Blackridge said.

  ‘In a moment.’

  Surprised that I might disagree with him, Blackridge’s frown deepened and he seemed about to say something else, but then turned his back on me.

  The reason I wanted to stay here a little longer was that I wanted to study the map some more. Not only to relish the excitement of looking at a world with regions like Forest of the Lost Kingdom of Ragadar and The Tower of Frozen Nightmares but also to choose a sensible starting point. Safety was important, but it might also be important to be able to conduct raids into enemy territory. I didn’t really like the idea of all the player-characters grinding up miles from the action and letting the dragon’s army advance without hindrance. Not that it was my position to say anything about strategy, not while I was level zero and the other players, were what? I turned my attention to the player board. One fighter, Molino, had reached forty-six. Not bad.

  ‘Good,’ Blackridge announced, ‘Scarlet has reached twenty. She can enter the ‘Keep of the Goblin Prince’, tell her to join Cathbad’s group at the west tower and pull for them.’

  I looked around. Was he talking to me? His attention was on the board. ‘And you can get Foster started.’

  A young man gestured to me from the far side of the board, waving me over. Blackridge never even lifted his head. This seemed to me to be an affection, a pose to say to me that he was too busy to bother addressing me directly. It rankled. But I walked around the map all the same.

  I was led down a corridor with a dozen doors, behind each were rooms, mostly unoccupied, with Epic rigs. What rigs though. The tracking pads underfoot were huge, like those of gym machines. They were designed to be used with both feet and hanging from the roof above them were harnesses to bear your weight when you worked them. While my guide waited impatiently, I watched a player run fast, expertly spinning the loose surface beneath his feet. The goggles and gloves I recognised. They were top-of-the-range Fecatti’s. Like my own.

  ‘You can clip up in any rig along here,’ the young man said. ‘The General wants you to begin as a human warrior in Mount Lotus. It’s easy there, just level up on the bats in the caves to the south and we’ll give you more orders when you’ve reached level five. Collect the furs too. We have tailors who can make basic cloth leggings from them.’

  I nodded my understanding and turned the handle to an unoccupied room. The General wanted me to begin as a human warrior, did he? I had a six hundred thousand-dollar bonus to earn and my own plans for how to go about it. There was something else, too. Ever since I’d discovered Epic, I’d experienced a taste of freedom. I could choose to be who I liked in Epic and live an alternate life, a long way from kitchen cupboards with no food and a school full of people I’d normally stay well clear of. If I let the General tell me how to play Epic 2, I’d lose that precious freedom.

  Once, in English class, we came across a line in Jane Eyre, that really electrified me. It was something about not being a caged bird. About being a free human with an independent will. Yes, I had thought at the time, that’s me. That’s all I want to be happy. Freedom.

  All right. Time to go earn my pay and enjoy myself too. It must feel like this for junkies, preparing for a hit of smack. The expectation of pleasure was a pleasure itself. Especially when you knew you had all you needed to be happy right in front of you.

  The harness was new to me and I took a while to get the straps right. Then I hauled on it until I was standing comfortably on the tracks, but I could lift both feet off the ground if I needed to. Then the gloves. Then the goggles.

  Epic 2 had a new musical introduction, not too dissimilar to the trance-metal I liked and a magenta button to point a finger towards in order to enter the game. There was a background landscape of a ruined castle, which looked appealing. Just the kind of place I’d want to explore if I was playing for fun. Against this image various menu options floated around. And of course, I couldn’t log into the world yet, I had to create my avatar. The focus of my eyes had caused different options for character classes to pop up and by flicking my index finger, I could cascade subcategories. They all looked interesting but I closed them.
First, I backtracked to choose my species:

  Half-elf

  The advantages of the race were good vision in near darkness and improvements on stealth skills compared to a human (although if those skills were your priority, you would be better being a halfling or a full elf). There were disadvantages to being a half-elf but they were all social rather than tactical. Some merchants, for example, wouldn’t trade with me out of prejudice against elves; some quests too would never be open to me.

  Next, gender. Curiously, Epic 2 had two more options than the male and female choice of Epic. But male was fine and I selected it.

  Male

  The next menu was all about appearance and I had some fun choosing a face. Was anyone monitoring me? If so, they must have wondered what I was doing, spending time on a detail that, in terms of our mission, was irrelevant, namely the size of my ears. But I would be playing this avatar for months, I wanted him to look good. In the end, he looked a little bit like me, in that his face had slightly oriental features.

  All right, now the crucial decision. Class:

  Hunter

  I’d been mulling over this choice ever since setting out on my journey to Yuno headquarters. I’d been reading up about the options, reminding myself of the more obscure classes. And hunter was one of them. The hunter was a hybrid, somewhere in the middle of the archetype classes of warrior and rogue. Why that choice? I had two reasons, well, maybe three. Firstly, the mission needed me to level fast. Warriors, unless they are grouped, have too much downtime. Hunters got healing spells, which although low-powered compared to the classic healing classes of cleric and druid would make a huge difference to my downtime over the next few weeks. The other reason that appealed to me is that the hunter made for a good solo class. You could Set Traps to capture mobs and you also got a whole suite of spells to help with hunting, related to stealth, outdoor speed, tracking and snaring your opponent. Hunters, so the forums said, could tackle mobs several levels above them and kite them. Finally, I was bored with being a tank, even a top-end, elite, raid tank. Essentially, what you did in battle was set your weapons to hit and mashed Taunt over and over.