by Ember Lane
“Them?”
“Them.” He nodded. “Not worth it. I’ve been around long enough to know that they all get bored sooner or later—all end up on the slabs lining The Endings river.”
I couldn’t quite understand that, seeing as the logic was floored. Surely the game had only just started—what with the settlement ship having only just set off. Then I remembered that they tested all these things, and Brandon had said they’d started loading folk a month ago, so that would explain the bodies already lining the river, as he had so aptly put it.
“I’m not like that,” I said, with as much conviction as I could muster.
“No?” he replied, one of his bulbous eyes growing in intrigue. “Well, I probably won’t, but then, I might. Did I mention my neighbor?”
“Marista Fenwalker?” I ventured.
He nodded, then took a sip of his honey tea. “She won’t let you stay, so I’ll have to boot you out.”
“Why?”
“She likes her peace and quiet.”
“Can I stay here a few days? I need to build up my stamina, and get some kind of understanding how to survive out there.”
“Out there?” Greman’s expression clouded over. “Out there is fraught with peril. From what I understand, the armies of the Forbane march up from the lowlands. Creatures—or more like dire creations—skulk from the shadows of Variant. Petreyer has descended into chaos, and so on and so forth. It’s not a good time to venture out there. If I were you, I’d pop back down, apologize to Billy Long Thumb, get on your slab, have a snooze and hope it’ll all blow over.”
“And will it?”
Greman fished in the corner of his seat and withdrew a white, bone pipe. “Not a chance,” he said, as he filled it with a brown, dried leaf. “There’s a boy, a boy called Zender. He’s been in the land for a while. They call him ShadowDancer now, and he’s united Ruse, awoken everything that is corrupt, everything that is evil, still…” Greman trailed off as his head vanished in a great cloud of smoke.
“Still what?” I asked.
Greman’s nose appeared first, followed by his eyebrows, and then the rest of him came into view. “Still,” he said, his voice suddenly deep and full of threat. “At least he’s committed. The forces of good, well, they haven’t got a chance.”
“I’m committed,” I blurted.
Greman chuckled. “Committed? You? You’re what? Level two. The one called ShadowDancer is a hundred levels higher than you, and he’s leveling up all the time. Legend has it he’s from another age, from before this new time. But I don’t know, I don’t remember him.”
How could that be? I thought. The game had only just started. Surely if you’d tested it, played it before—left your body on a slab, you shouldn’t and couldn’t continue—not on board the ship. Or maybe it was one of those glitch things? I’d heard talk of those before. I decided that I’d do best to keep my head down and just play my own game, leveling up as I could. Keep myself to myself.
“I’m committed, watch me catch him,” my mouth said, clearly completely at odds with my mind.
Greman’s face lit up. “We’ll see.”
“Can you tell me what mana is?”
“Mana? Why are you interested in mana?”
“Because I have,” I quickly looked at my stats. “I have ten of them and I don’t know what to do with them.”
“Them?” Greman burst out laughing, but his lungs were full of smoke and his laughter turned to a rasping cough. “Mana,” he eventually managed, “is the essence of magic. Ten is paltry. You can’t do anything with ten. You need hundreds of mana, thousands, millions. I heard that when Cronis passes into The Colors, his mana is infinite, that Shylan’s mana pool is deeper than the oceans. Ten. Ha!”
“Millions,” I muttered, despondently.
His gaze softened. “Shylan is a powerful, powerful wizard. He was born of this land, and so is at one with it. Thousands of mana seems far away, but with a lot of hard work, you might get there. Let me have a look at you.” He gazed into my eyes. “A hundred XP, very good, well on the way to Level three. Attributes—well the five you’ve got—all in line with your level. Stamina, yes, yes, very weak. Vitality—no work’s been done there. Wisdom—daft as a brush. Charisma—two, not bad, quite the persuader, obviously. Intelligence—thick as a stick.” He sat back and tapped the end of his pipe on his chin. “It’s all a bit upside down and around the wrong way, but we should be able to get it back on track.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, getting worried.
“Well,” he said. “For a start you normally begin with ten attributes, seven if you’re a builder, but you clearly didn’t and aren’t. Plus, you’ve got no skills. Normally to get from Level one to two you need five skills. It seems you must have done it with attributes. Things should be done the right way. Your too low on energy to do…anything, and as you know, you need energy for your health. No wonder you were so—almost dead—by the well.” He sighed. “We can start tomorrow. I’m too tired today.”
“So you’ll help me?” I said, hopefully.
“If I wake up in a good mood, maybe. But not today, today’s nearly done.”
But I was eager, eager to get going. “Isn’t there anything I can practice now?”
“Now? Well, everything’s a skill. Archery, for instance, but you don’t have a bow, nor a quiver full of arrows. Fishing, but you don’t have a rod, and so on and so forth. Running!” He suddenly barked. “You can start learning to run.”
“But I can run already,” I told him.
His old face cracked into a smile. “Not like apachalants. Now, where’s my hourglass?” Greman got up and walked over to a desk that stood in the corner of the room. He fished around on it, moving some scrolls and maps, until he found what he was looking for. “There,” he said, and held up a sand-filled hourglass. “Set this on a rock by the stream and run all the way to the top of the vale, then all the way back. I’ll bet the sand is gone.” He gave it to me. “Do that a few times, and you should gain a few points in stamina, and who knows, you might open up the skill—though you’d have to be pretty swift—apachalants set the bar quite high.”
I wanted to ask him who the apachalant were, but decided I had plenty of time to ask questions later. First I would show him how committed I was.
“Don’t forget to drink from the stream when you need, and take plenty of rest. If you don’t come back, I’ll know you’ve died, and wish you all the best.” Greman sat back down and closed his eyes.
I grabbed the hourglass and went outside. The sun was still quite high in the sky, and a slight breeze blew down the valley. Ideal hiking weather, and so ideal running weather, I decided. I set the hourglass down on a rock, turned it upside down, and set off.
The grass was soft underfoot, and I decided to keep a steady pace. For a start, I had no idea exactly how far the vale stretched. I thought it about a mile, but that was just one of those guesses. Having run for about five minutes, the end didn’t appear much closer. I tucked my chin in and redoubled my pace. Another five minutes saw me closer, but my reminder was flashing red. I checked it, sure enough my energy was at 13/30. I decided to keep going and see if I could reach the edge of the forest without a rest, and I did, with six energy to spare.
I drank the stream water like I hadn’t drunk in an age, and then sat on a rock looking down the valley. So, I thought, 80% of my energy to get here. I had a measuring stick. My tunic itched, the damp of my sweat making it stick to my skin, and my feet felt trapped in the tight boots. Drinking some more water, I waited until my energy had replenished to thirty, and then set off. I wondered about the whole getting-the-points-up thing. It had happened quite fast the first time, then took a little bit longer the next. I guessed that it would keep getting harder and harder to level up—just kind of made sense. I set off again. Downhill was, of course easier, and I made it back with seven energy to spare, though the sand was long gone from the top of the hourglass. Again, I drank and I waited, wo
ndering if there would be some kind of cumulative tiredness effect, like you’d get back home. That thought struck me as odd. This was my home now, unless you counted a pod on a spaceship.
With my energy replenished, I set off again. Boy was I disappointed when I got to the trees, six again, and no way of telling if I’d run it faster. Even though I hadn’t completed two circuits, it was beginning to dawn on me how hard it was going to be to get my points up.
I leveled up my stamina next time round, and my smile was as broad as the valley itself.
Congratulations! Your stamina has increased to 4 points. At 4 stamina points, your energy capacity is 40.
That gave me the boost I needed, and so I redoubled my efforts. I didn’t level up again that day. Dusk threw its cloak over the valley, and Greman called me in. He’d cooked me some soup, and had made up a bed in the corner of the front room. I ate the soup down, and sought the bed out right away. Sleep came easy.
Name: Alexa Drey. Race: Human. Type: Chancer.
Age: 24. Alignment: None. XP: 100. Level: 2.
Profession: None. Un/Al pts: 6. Reputation: Nobody.
Health Points: 10/10 Energy: 40/40 Mana: 10/10
HP Regen: 1/Min EN Regen: 4/Min MA Regen: 1/Min
Attributes: (Level, Bonuses)
Vitality: (1, 0), Stamina: (4, 0), Intelligence: (1, 0)
Charisma: (2, 0), Wisdom: (1, 0)
Quests:
Seek out the Legend of Billy Long Thumb.Status: Incomplete. Reward: Unknown.
4
The Vale Of Lamerell
I slept a deep and dreamless sleep, and when I woke, the expected aches and pains from yesterday’s exertions just weren’t there. I was under no illusion that there should be a price to pay from all the running, but I knew that I was quite fit, so maybe that had transferred over to the game, at least a bit. There was no sign of Greman, so I decided to carry on running. I had a slight tingling in my mind, like a thought not quite reached, it felt ominous, dark, evil, and I immediately thought of ShadowDancer, war and mutants, but knew those thoughts had no place in my head. Greman had told me how weak I was, and I knew that I had enough work to do just to get to a level where I could survive. I fixed some determination in my heart and went outside.
The morning was cooler, almost crisp. The sky was filled with wispy clouds and a blustery wind was gusting down from the valley’s head. Kneeling by the stream, I dipped my head in its cold, spry water, and chased sleep’s fog away. Setting the hourglass on the rock, I started up the valley, and once at the top, checked my stats. I was left with twelve energy points, about thirty percent, so that was better than before. The extra stamina point definitely reduced my energy usage.
Up and down I went, another seven times, before I finally gained another point. Next time, I had sixteen energy left when I got to the top. I would say it was getting very predictable, but… math—math and me had never gone together. But I had gained that stamina point, and that made me more determined to level up again, and so I turned and bolted back. Greman was waiting for me by the hourglass.
“Sit, sit, will you,” he said, and so I slumped on the grass beside him. “Why are you in such a rush? Balance, you need balance. There’s no point in having the stamina of a dwarf, if you’ve got nothing to do with it. Now, what can we teach you today?”
“But I thought I was learning to run like an apachalant would.”
Greman chuckled. “An apachalant would run to the top of the valley and back before no more than twenty grains had passed through the neck of the glass.”
“No way,” I said, but Greman was nodding with conviction.
“Prince of all the Apachalant is one called Petroo. He visits from time to time, but mainly to see Shylan or Cronis.”
“Isn’t Shylan a great wizard?”
“He is, though I wouldn’t tell him to his face—he’s very big headed.”
I didn’t quite get it all. “Why does a great wizard visit here?” I asked, and immediately regretted it. I beamed an innocent smile packed with charisma.
“He doesn’t,” Greman replied. “He lives in a tower down there. Most wizards live in towers—it’s the done thing,” and he pointed down the vale.
I blinked and blinked again, but could see no tower.
“Why do you think I told you to run that way,” and he pointed up the vale.
There was no doubt in my mind I was missing something, and just as I was about to ask him, he got up and stretched. “I’ll boil the water, brew the tea. Ten minutes?” and he shuffled away. I eyed the lower vale. It was time to run that way. “Tower,” I scoffed, and flipped the hourglass over.
I imagined I was Petroo, Prince of the Apachalant, as I tore down the vale. My feet were cycling faster and faster, my smile broad, and I had the wind in my hair. I saw Petroo jumping rivers, leaping seas, hurdling mountains, as I raced down, jumping the rocks, bounding over streams, and… smashing into thin air, crashing, crunching, falling, passing out.
In the black that enfolded me, I saw a blinking, red pip, and what looked like a man’s head hovering about thirty feet in the air. He had long, black-and-gray hair, and a raging expression on his face.
Damage: You have received 8 damage points and therefore lost 8 health points. At Level 1 any damage can seriously hurt your health, plus it regenerates slowly. Increase your vitality to protect your health. You are nearly dead.
Congratulations! Skill opened: You ran with the wind, you have been awarded the skill, Running. You have level 1 running.
Congratulations! You have been awarded progress percentages.
That was the last thing I remembered until I woke up in my bed in Greman’s front room. He’d draped a wet cloth on my forehead, and was sitting on the bed’s end.
“Now that was quite a whack. I think we need to level up your wisdom.” He chuckled. “Let me explain something very important to you: you are as powerful as a little ant.”
I groaned in protest, but Greman waved it away with his wrinkled, old hand.
“And ant is good—study the ant. An ant can carry a leaf twenty times its size—can you carry a tree?” He left the question hanging for a moment before continuing. “But, an ant is just an ant, and if an ant were to hang around with humans, apachalants or beggles, one of them might accidently squash it. That is what happened today.”
Got to admit it, I was completely lost. Luckily, Greman carried on.
“A level two human should, in the normal course of events, live with other lower-level humans, dwarves and the like. You, Alexa, are in the Vale of Lamerell, which is an entirely different kettle of fish. Take Marista Fenwalker, for instance, she’s as old as my boots and thrice again. No one knows her level, and it’s not polite to ask, plus, there seems to be no one around high enough themselves to be able to see it. Then take Shylan, he is so powerful that levels actually mean nothing to him. And Cronis, well, his temper is so foul, you would not dare to fathom his depths. Then there is you, my little sprinter, a level two human that runs into great, stone towers.”
“But there was no tower there,” I pleaded.
Greman leaned in, and put a pair of round spectacles on, “Hmmm,” he muttered as he looked into my eyes. “Nope, I can see no brain in there.” He sat back. “The reason you can’t see the tower, Alexa of Nowhere, Alexa the Nobody, is that you have no magic, and the owner of said tower has not granted you the permission to see through his enchantments.”
“You could have told me,” I blurted, and immediately regretted it.
His eyes widened, “I told you to run the other way, was that not good enough for you?”
It was slowly dawning on me that I might just have landed on my feet. I knew nothing about the game, yet had ended up smack bang in the middle of what appeared to be an enchanted vale with some real heavy hitters. The last thing I wanted to do was mess it up by acting like an impetuous kid.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Sorry? Don’t be sorry. How in Poleyna’s name are
you ever going to progress if you’re sorry? Mistakes, Alexa, are the roots of a great tree’s growth. But respect, you’ll need a measure of that when dealing with Shylan and Cronis—a little puffed up, those two.”
My heart leapt. “You mean I’ll get to meet them?”
He grinned a hearty smile. “Of course, but only if you want to stay and learn.” Greman stood, and shuffled off toward the back of the house. “Though, you’ll have chores to do, and you’ll have to practice most of the day, and you’ll always be the least powerful person around.”
I swept the damp cloth from my forehead and jumped out of bed, bounding toward Greman. Tapping him on the shoulder, I stood and waited while he turned, and then threw my arms around him and gave him a huge hug.
“I will, I will, I will,” I said, tears trickling down my cheeks.
He beamed, and as soon as he did, he pushed away from me and coughed and cleared his throat. “Yes well,” he muttered. “Yes well, well indeed. Honeyed tea, I was just going to make up a honeyed tea. With parsley,” he declared. “We’ll have it with parsley. That should repair the damage.”
I sat back in the chair by the fire, not wanting to push my luck. I had a good feeling about everything, the second best feeling I’d had since I’d been in Barakdor. The first was leveling up; I could still feel its glow. Greman came back in with the teas and set them down on the hearth. Sitting himself, he shuffled around a bit, and then settled. “So tell me, Alexa, is there anything you want to know?”
Everything! I thought at first. Magic, I wanted to know about that. Attributes, skills, XP; all the things that made no sense to me, which I didn’t quite understand, I wanted to know all about them. But one thing was bugging me more than anything. It was something Greman had said.