Alexa Drey- Hero Hunting

by Ember Lane

Cathelina smiled. “You make a fine protector; does she need protecting? I think Sir Ratter would choose to disagree. The pet fell under her blurring sword, did it not?”

  “She’s still learning,” Mezzerain grunted.

  “As are we all. Besides, her motives are quite easy for me to read. The Thief entered Balazar’s Tooth fourteen days ago. He is ventured deep underground, traveling the catacombs, skipping the Endings River. He is a good way ahead of you but will be slowed shortly.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Because he is being guided by gravelings, and they cannot leave the mountain.”

  “By gravelings?”

  “He has forged their will to his own.”

  My shoulders slumped down. He might as well be a year here. There was no way we could catch him.

  “You seem to know a lot about him,” Star pointed out.

  “All things talk if you know how to listen,” Cathelina replied.

  “Do you know where he’s headed?”

  “Yes, Star—can I use that name? Lady…”

  “Star’s fine.”

  “The thief is headed northeast, and few things lie northeast of here except…”

  “Shyantium,” Star muttered.

  “Ironic, don’t you think? That Merran dispatches his cronies all this way, when The Thief is headed straight to his lair.”

  I pulled up my navigation, but the target still pointed northwest. I furrowed my brow, confused. Cathelina grinned. “It points to the last place he walked the earth. It cannot know he walks among the dead to get to his destination.”

  “Can we catch him?”

  Star shook her head. “We’d have to double back. Take the Silver Road to Merrivale and then over the mountains to the wizard’s city.”

  “Can’t we follow his path?” I asked.

  “Only the gravelings; the old shamans can walk among the demons,” Cathelina told us. “Even those shackled with their humor would have their way barred.”

  “So I’ve failed,” I said.

  Cathelina stood up and walked over to me. She offered me her hand and pulled me up. “Failed? You haven’t caught him yet, but you’ve not not caught him either. What if I told you there was another way? It’s not the easiest by any stretch of the imagination, but it does lead to Shyantium.”

  “What way?” I asked.

  “Tell me,” she said. “If you can’t go under a mountain, what’s the other way?”

  I walked to the dwelling’s door and pulled it open. Standing on the stoop I looked up at the impossibly high snowcapped mountain. She couldn’t, surely? There was no way. I felt her hands rest on my shoulders. “Well?” she whispered.

  “Surely not?”

  “What is the other way?”

  I turned and looked into her eyes.

  “Over it?”

  20

  Sedge Prentice

  Like the mountain rising up over Joan’s Creek, close-up this one was a fearsome monolith. Its sheer mass radiated power, and though The Thief had somehow brokered a passage through its roots, our guide was confident we could make up time by clinging to its sides, by using paths more suited to mountain goats.

  We’d spent an uneasy night in the farmstead. Star and Mezzerian had taken turns to keep an eye out for any residual trouble but none had come. Sedge had buried the wizards' bodies, it seemed he had some kind of moral compass, even here, even in this virtual land. He’d muttered something about fallen comrades and enemies deserving respect. We were part of this land, and I knew that now. It wasn’t a virtual playground anymore; it was as real as my dead Earth, for Sedge as much as me.

  I’d often wondered what kind of conversations I would have with other travelers I met on the way. I’d assumed we’d talk of Earth, of that fractured place and of life we’d left behind, but we’d hardly mentioned it. All our talk had been of Barakdor.

  As with Lincoln, I’d felt some measure of guilt when I’d told him of my easy start in the Vale of Lamerell, with Greman, Shylan, Cronis, and Marista. His had been harder—grinding he’d called it. He’d been one of the first humans in-game, and hadn’t fared as well as even Lincoln had. By all accounts, the NPCs had been thirsty for player blood early on. Spawned in Brokenford, he’d eventually escaped by setting his respawn point to a bridge that crossed its river called Ratcher’s Vein. He’d died, respawned and had dove straight into the river. Washed up on the northern bank, he’d fled the only way he could—north and to the mountains.

  The rest of his story had been one of grind and toil. Taking simple quests, gaining XP, and hoping for harder quests. He’d found his way to White Water and was now convinced the quests had led him to us on purpose. Whatever, I was just glad to have him along.

  We left the cursed valley that morning, though not before Cathelina had said a few words and green shoots had started poking through the desperate black. The journey looked impossible, our horses long gone, the mountain, humongous. Mezzerain had shed his breastplate and greaves and now wore a long cloak and thick boots, and that gave me some measure of what to expect. It was going to be a long, hard journey. We stopped around noon, having crossed into the next valley along, fording a stream and resting to dry out our boots and pants in the welcome sun.

  Like Sedge and Cathelina had told us, the next valley along was all tumbled rock as far as I could see down it. No wonder the troll's pickings had been slim.

  “Have you ever done this trek?” Mezzerain asked Cathelina.

  “Not all the way, not had the reason. The sorcerers of Shyantium and I have very differing beliefs. I prefer to use natural magic, not contrived ones that leech power, more conduits that merely let it flow.”

  “So how do you know…”

  Cathelina lofted her eyebrows. “There’s a trail up to a cave. We should make it by night. It’s my little retreat away from the world of chaos. Beyond that, we take to chance and hope. It’s just a rock—a big one, but a rock nonetheless. Do you have the climbing skill?”

  Mezzerain grunted, but then told her no. I doubted his talents would be suited to the coming days. Sedge asked about the climbing skill, and I could see in his eyes he was desperate to acquire it. He was already proving to be a valued member of the group. His compulsion to loot everything stretched to food, and he had plenty—even fishing the stream while we rested. He’d told me he used to be a survivalist back on Earth—his first purchase in this land had been a soulbound fifty-slot sack. “You can never be over-prepared.”

  It was nice up there, high on the mountain’s ankle, and though two of the group were new, they fit in just fine. Glenwyth was always in Cathelina’s shadow, and Sedge was with me. Star and Mezzerain had been thick as thieves since they’d met at Joan’s Creek, so it all worked out well.

  Glenwyth and Cathelina jumped up first and signaled the end of our respite. Sedge and I were next, and Mezzerain and Star were last. We picked our way through the wedged boulders, sometimes skipping back across the stream, sometimes with a foot on each side and the stream way below. It was perilous, but it was exhilarating. We eventually reached a small rock plateau, a shelf of gray just jutting out from a sheer rock face. Glenwyth and Cathelina both paused and took swigs from their water bottles, then turning and seemingly walking off the edge, vanishing around a bend in the cliff.

  Sedge turned around, leaning back.

  “Now that is just crazy,” he said, and I turned too and looked out over the valleys, over the thick, dark green forests, and farther to a brush of emerald, and pockets of blue. “Irydia, well, some of it, takes your breath away with its beauty. What are the chances you’d ever meet more than a handful of players?”

  “I’ve only met one other, and he is hidden away.”

  “Why?”

  “Building a legacy, an epitaph to his dead wife.”

  “Then he’s a fool,” said Sedge Prentice. “This is a place for the living, not the dead.” He looked at me. “You don’t get this whole thing, do you? It’s not a game—it’
s a life, a life where you can do anything, be anyone.”

  “I know that,” I said, stiffly.

  “Do you? Do you really? Would you jump off the ledge just to feel the wind on your face as you fell? Would you do it with a smile on your face knowing you’re going to be reborn? Revel in it, Alexa. When you killed that big cat, you felt nothing but shame. Hell, I’d have held my hands up to the sky and shouted ‘Boo rah!’ while wallowing my power.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. You’ve got power. You’re a superhero, a wonder woman. You want to fight for good then fight for good, but do it with your shoulders back and your chin held high, and stop being ashamed because you had a different start to everyone else. You made the most of it; that’s all you can do here, and if folk don’t like it, forget ‘em.”

  He ran his fingers through his cropped hair. He was smiling—an ear-to-ear smile, he clearly enjoyed dancing with danger. It was then it dawned on me that Sedge was military—part of the corps sent on the ship to defend the settlement in its early days. Sedge was a fighter; he probably didn’t expect to survive long once we reached our new planet.

  “So I should…”

  He pulled me to him so were mere inches apart. I could feel his breath on my cheeks and smell his earthy sweat. “Celebrate being Alexa Drey,” he said, his voice hushed.

  Our eyes locked, and I searched out signs in them but could only see the glimmer of hope, of happiness, and of fun. Sedge Prentice was alive with the land. He was its good, its hope, and its force.

  “Celebrate being me?”

  “Alexa Drey!” he shouted, near deafening me, and he laughed, and pushed me away, strolling around the ledge, following Glenwyth and Cathelina.

  I looked behind me and saw Mezzerain and Star peering over its edge.

  “Friend of yours?” Mezzerain said, but Star just winked at me. My cheeks flushed, so I quickly turned away, edging to the spot where the other three had vanished.

  The ledge tapered to a small pathway, no more than the top of a sheet of rock that appeared to have slipped down the mountain a bit. No more than three feet wide, I saw Sedge was already twenty yards ahead of me. Looking down, the sheer fall was daunting, the base of the mountain on this side so many miles down. I reset my respawn point to the ledge behind me, took a deep breath and stepped forward.

  My knees were no more than jelly, and my stomach was a quivering mass of sick bile. I let my hand brush the rock face on one side and held the other out to aid my balance. At first, every step was a chore, every glance down greeted with a sharp intake of breath, and every step a trial of my courage. Yes, I had the climbing skill, but this was somehow different—too slow, too exact. I supposed I could take out Grog’s grasping powder and scuttle off, but I knew that I couldn’t keep that up for more than five, maybe ten minutes before my energy would be drained. I pressed on.

  Yes, I was Alexa Drey—a very scared Alexa Drey.

  The mountain opposite—over the vast gorge—was much smaller, but over it loomed the next fang. I couldn’t help but think there must be some reason for these huge, out-of-proportion mountains. Lincoln had told me that he’d felt their power all the way from a bridge in Brokenford. He’d said he’d known he would end up in one’s shadow that day—his second. Sedge had probably jumped off the same bridge.

  I wondered if each mountain had a demon under it—like Lincoln’s had Quazede, like Zybandian’s had Balazar. I wondered if we’d wake it. Briefly closing my eyes, I tried to rally my concentration for the steps ahead, not idle wonder. I focused my gaze on Sedge Prentice’s back. One step in front of the next, we crawled along. The midday sun turned into the afternoon’s. I crossed a line of darker gray, and I was engulfed in the mountain’s cold shadow.

  It was an hour, maybe two, before Sedge vanished again, and I nearly smiled as he did. Was it the end of the tiny ridge? It turned sharply into a crease in the mountain, and I saw it led to a narrow ravine that angled straight toward the sky. Sedge was at its base, looking up at Glenwyth and Cathelina. They were about a hundred yards straight up, climbing hand over hand, one foot up at a time.

  Sedge was dithering. I drew aside him. “Here, dip your fingers in this.” I held out Grog’s powder.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, but glanced up again. “I sure hope I get that climbing skill,” he muttered. “Just changed my respawn to here.” He turned, seeking out the first handhold, then the first foothold.

  “If you fall, try not to knock me off,” I said, dipping my own fingers in Grog’s powder and scampering up behind him, laughing and trying to lighten his mood.

  At first he was painfully slow at it, but then it was nearly sheer. Soon though, Sedge hollered and started scampering up, and I guessed he’d gotten the skill. I burst up after him, catching him, then overtaking. I quickly crested the ravine’s top, and saw we were in a cut in the mountainside—two angled sides making a steep valley that led up to a black cave. Moss, the odd tuft of grass, and farther up a few gangly trees, all clad the rocks. Their roots were anchored in trapped scree, their perch quite desperate, but after the last few hours, it was like walking along a grassy plain.

  “That climbing skill is awesome,” Sedge gushed then beamed.

  “Take care, it slaughters your energy.”

  “Worth it,” he said, sitting on a small ledge. “Where did you learn it?”

  At first I wondered if I should tell him. The story sounded far-fetched in my mind, but I didn’t want there to be lies between us, so I told him about Grog, about climbing down the castle tower, and about the bridge to nowhere, and how I’d barbequed with legends.

  “You really did have some start,” he said, and whistled, then put his hand up. “Like I said, be proud you took it and rode it for all it was worth.”

  “I’ll try,” I said, but knew self-confidence and I were distant friends. “I’ll try and wring as much enjoyment as I can out of this place.”

  “Do that,” he said, getting up. He patted my shoulder, and forged off after Glenwyth and Cathelina.

  My gaze lingered on Sedge Prentice; he was a breath of fresh air.

  “Fancy him, do you?” Star’s taunting voice rang out.

  I looked around. She had her hands on her hips and was gasping for air.

  “He’s…”

  “Intriguing,” was all Star said.

  “Bloody annoying,” Mezzerain muttered. “Far too happy for his own good. That’s the trouble with you bunch; you can’t die so you’re always happy—apart from you, of course. You worry enough for everyone.”

  “Not anymore,” I near sang, and marched off toward the cave.

  It was cold in the shade, not a bone-chilling cold, but after the sprint-climb, it cooled the sweat on the nape of my neck making me shiver. The ravine was a few hundred yards long. Glenwyth and Cathelina had already vanished into the cave—Sedge soon after. About ten yards shy of the entrance, I glanced around and saw that we were at the edge of the sky.

  It was then that a familiar feeling struck the pit of my stomach. It was a dread feeling, and I’d felt it before, after we’d left the vale and before we’d entered the dwarven caves. It was the same feeling I had when the hooded man had been watching me in Merrivale. Scanning the blue skies, I eventually saw it—a sole white bird circling high, barely discernable against the blue.

  Was it ShadowDancer or just a bird? Was it those hunched-over priests or just a bird? I felt its eyes on me, and saw the image of the bound man, of ShadowDancer, of the boy, Zender. The chill wasn’t from my sweat. I turned and ran after Sedge. I ran toward the cave and only stopped when I was in its shady embrace.

  Gasping, I slumped onto a rocky floor, my back to the cave’s entrance. Did it take so little to spook me? Glenwyth rushed to my side, crouching down, tipping a water bottle up to my thirsty lips. “What is it?”

  I told her and noticed Cathelina’s ear perk.

  “It’s possible, but unlikely. What’s more likely is that it is one of Shyantium’s
scouts—possibly a soul-stealer—if they exist—never seen one myself, but I’ve heard the rumors. Or it could just be an enchanted bird. Unlikely to be the boy, Zender. No matter how great your magic, how many sorcerers do your bidding, you can’t keep your eye on the whole world.

  “What if this is a beacon,” I said, pulling my boot off and showing her Ruse’s shackle.

  She asked how I got it, and when I told her, she nodded sagely.

  “You can’t fault a demon’s sense of humor.” She muttered and then thought on it for a while. “I’ve changed my mind, it could be the boy. We’ll need to get off this mountain faster than I’d first planned.”

  “But how?” I asked.

  “I’ll call the Groarg,” she said, as if that answered everything.

  21

  The Magic Tree

  “Well, there’s little the boy, Zender, can do from where he is, and vice-versa.” Cathelina pushed herself up and walked to the cave’s entrance. She untied a cord fastened to its side and a large skin dropped down, plunging us into darkness. Two glowstones immediately brightened and sprayed white light around. “We have to conserve heat up here—no wood equals no fire. I have a few more skins tucked away, but that’ll keep most of the cold out. Did Shylan teach you how to make firestones, or did he just show you the things that dazzle and hypnotize?”

  “You know him?”

  Cathelina laughed. “Know him and his grouchy old friend, and before you ask how, I can see it in your casting. I know he taught you a lot of your magic because it’s a little muddled. You have elements of Cronis’ magic, a pinch of Shylan’s, and a smidge of another Lorekeeper…Marista Fenwalker, perhaps? All this comes as little surprise, but what I am most interested in is that healing tree of yours. That is rare, the like of which I haven’t seen in an age.”

  “It came—”

  “Shush! Wait! Let me show you this first—let’s get warm.”

  She turned and started picking rocks from behind her. Each was about the size of a fist. Placing them into a triangular pyramid, she prodded them into place, humming all the while, clearly a craft she enjoyed.