Dagger of Doom: A LitRPG Adventure (Beta Tester Book 5)

by Rachel Ford

  Jack blinked. “You know the way to Ivaldi’s Hall?”

  “Of course. Better than any dwarf, goblins know mountains. Ours, before they were theirs.”

  “Thieves. Dwarves and men: all thieves.”

  Jack started to smile just as the game sent him an alert:

  Objective added: convince Grem’tha and Grimlik to show you the way to Ivaldi’s Hall [optional]

  This proved easy to do. He had only to offer them their missing blade. “Show us the way to Ivaldi’s Hall, and we’ll give you back your sword.”

  Grimlik hissed and protested, but they agreed all the same.

  It was the ranger who proved the impediment to the deal. He flatly refused to surrender the sword, repeating again and again that it was his by right of conquest. Jack’s reminder that they needed to find Ivaldi’s Hall – that the entire world depended on their success – fell on deaf ears. Even when Karag threatened to take the blade by force, he wouldn’t give it up.

  In the end, only gold made him see reason. “I sifted through blood and guts to get this thing. It’s mine. But, if we really need it like you say, Jack, well, then I guess you’ll be willing to pay me for my troubles. I won’t even ask for what it’s worth, on account of being a team player, and all that. Just compensate me for my troubles, and I’ll be alright.”

  His troubles came at a hefty price. He took almost all the baubles Jack had acquired in Jake’s Emporium, and still hemmed and hawed as if he was getting a bum deal before finally handing the blade over.

  Grimlik scowled at him. “Thief.”

  Grem’tha batted her eyelids and murmured something about his cunning and business acumen.

  Jack gave the blade to Karag for safe keeping. No matter how miserable and servile the goblins appeared, he couldn’t get Grimlik’s comments about eyeballs out of his head. He figured the goblin would be less likely to try anything with the giant than he would against him.

  They set out at first light, heading straight for the mountains. “Many days, the way is,” Grimlik warned. “Unmarked. Few know it. Few live to find it.”

  Jack tried not to think about wandering into the wilderness with a pair of goblins and no idea where he was going. He tried not to think about all the opportunities that would arise for a knife in the back, or a throat-cutting.

  He reminded himself when the dangers stood out too much in his thoughts that the game had urged him to make a pact with the goblins. Which means they’re not going to knife me.

  Still, he wasn’t happy about it. He wasn’t happy about losing most of his ill-gotten gains. He wasn’t happy about trusting goblins or being stuck with Arath for that matter.

  Not that it mattered one way or the other. The game seemed to have been designed to make the player miserable, rather than happy.

  Reaching the foothills did not disabuse him of the notion, either. The road wrapped around to the side, where it would follow a long, circuitous route along the hills and mountains until it reached the opposite side of the range. So their little band of five veered off the beaten path, onto a scrappy track that barely qualified as a game trail, much less a road.

  Grimlik padded along quickly, beckoning them on. “This way. Go with Grimlik. Hurry now.”

  The two goblins scurried onward, ducking from one patch of cover to the next. They’d seemed to grow warier and more paranoid as the day grew brighter. By now, in the full sunlight of mid-morning, they were practically hysterical. Every screech of a bird overhead sent them scuttling for cover. Every heavy footfall from one of their companions earned the offender a fierce scowl – or two fierce scowls, when that offender was anyone but Arath. Grem’tha spared him her ire, reserving nothing but smiles and winks for the ranger instead.

  Jack almost felt sorry for the other man. Almost.

  The way proved difficult, and the terrain treacherous. Every step was a risk due to the loose soil, softly packed gravel, and treacherous stones underfoot. The vegetation here changed, too. Gone were the soft grasses and shrubs. In their place grew thick, prickly stalks of grass, and thorn bushes.

  When Jack moved too near a patch of brambles and they caught his trousers, he felt them tear into his leg at the same time that he registered the loss of hitpoints. The damage was minor, but the sensation – actually feeling the pain of a digital injury – remained as unnerving as ever.

  Grimlik hissed at him. “Careful. Careful, he must be. Thorns cruel. Cut and tear, thorns will. Straight to bone.”

  “Death brambles,” the ranger nodded. “An invasive species from the southern islands. The islanders used to use the thorns to tip their spears and arrows. They’re stronger than any wood, and sharper than the best edge on steel. They’ll cut right through flesh.”

  Grem’tha flashed a mouth full of misshapen yellow teeth. “He knows much, this ranger. Doesn’t he, brother?”

  Grimlik grunted noncommittally, but Karag’s eyes gleamed. “That’s not the half of it, young lady. Arath here, he’s not just smart, he’s courageous. Isn’t he Jack?”

  Jack frowned. “What?”

  “Why, when we killed William –”

  “Nasty thief,” she hissed.

  “Indeed. That’s why we killed him. But when we killed the nasty thief, only one of us had the courage to search him. Not me, and not Jack here. No ma’am. Only Arath had the courage to do that.”

  Arath scowled at the giant at the precise moment that Grem’tha batted her lash-less eyelids his way. “Such bravery, quite remarkable it is.”

  “Indeed,” Karag said again. “He’s a great hero. And very wealthy. Isn’t he, Jack?”

  Jack grinned and agreed. “Oh yes. Richer than Migli – and Migli’s a prince.”

  The goblin hissed with delight. “Goblins like riches. Yes, yes. Very pretty is gold. And gems too. Sparkles and shimmers. Such colors.”

  Karag let her go on for a few moments dreaming rapturously about treasure – whether Arath’s imaginary piles of it, or treasure in the more general sense, Jack didn’t know. Then he said, “And – here’s the greatest mystery of them all – single, too. Not for long, I should think. Especially not after we finish this mission, and the whole world knows what a hero he is.

  “No indeed. My friend Mister Arath here is quite the catch, and whatever young lady manages to reel him in – well, she’s going to be a very lucky woman.”

  Now Jack did feel sorry for Arath, because Grem’tha seemed to have taken Karag’s speech to heart. She fluttered her eyelids and offered great, horrible smiles at every turn. When they stopped for a midday meal, and she and Grimlik foraged under stones for their food, she brought the biggest, juiciest beetles to Arath – leaving them for him with a shy giggle.

  And nothing Arath could do to dissuade her made the slightest impression. It didn’t matter how rough and gruff his mannerisms, or how short his temper. She went on smiling and simpering, and offering him horrible bugs, and moles and voles, and all kinds of creeping, crawling things.

  Indeed, Jack started to feel sorry for Grem’tha too. She had horrible taste – in general, it seemed, in everything from mates to food. But she endured Arath’s snarls and sneers obliviously, as if any attention at all was positive.

  Grimlik seemed to see what his sister could not, for he eyed the ranger with unconcealed malice as the day wore on. Now and then, he muttered something about the thief’s eyeballs, and how soft and moist they would be.

  The whole thing made Jack uneasy. They’d barely reached the mountains, and only just begun the climb, and he found himself fearing a knife in the back all over again – a knife, or a gentle push at the wrong moment, or a guide who vanished in the middle of the night. He started to wonder how long it would take to starve to death in the wilderness. The goblin twins could surely outlast him, surviving on beetles and rodents. All they’d have to do was lead their party into the depths of the mountains and abandon them – and then just wait and watch. They could swoop in and take not only their dwarven blade, but whatever else
they wanted.

  Karag, though, plagued himself with none of these thoughts. The giant laughed heartily and enjoyed the situation entirely. Nothing – not Jack’s worries, not Arath’s discomfort, not even Grimlik’s muttered threats – put a damper on his merriment. Jack tried to talk reason to him. He tried to point out that the goblin brother looked ready to put a knife in Arath’s back – at least Arath’s.

  But Karag just laughed again. “Relax, Jack. You were right: sometimes the enemy of your enemy is your friend. Don’t overthink this. It’s not often you get to watch a man learn to regret his mistakes in real time. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jack didn’t enjoy it, though. And not just because he spent his time worrying about a knife in the back. But sometime after noon, the weather took a sharp turn for the worse. Dark clouds rolled in, and a bitterly cold rain started shortly thereafter.

  By late afternoon, the weather had gotten so bad that they decided to hole up on the mountainside under a tree. The goblins refused to go any further, protesting that the rains would wash them away to their deaths. And Jack didn’t blame them. Great torrents of water flowed over the rocks, forming miniature cascades here and there. Even under their makeshift shelter, every member of their party ended up drenched. But at least here, they weren’t in the open.

  The goblins set about ferreting out insects and snacking as they found them – or sharing them with Arath, in Grem’tha’s case. After a space, Grimlik seemed to have eaten his fill, for he ventured out into the rain, toward a bramble patch. A moment later, he returned with a thorn in hand.

  The downpour had not done him any good. If anything, it had made his faint stink a little bit more prominent. Jack wrinkled his nose as he passed.

  But Grimlik didn’t seem to notice. He plunked down in a puddle and set to work picking his mangled teeth with the thorn.

  Jack watched, half disgusted and half fascinated. The goblins were – well, grotesque, in a very real and visceral way. He supposed their humanoid forms and faces existed somewhere in the uncanny valley – that range where they simultaneously looked too human but not human enough, and so triggered a kind of revulsion. Their features, while ranging from homely to plain old ugly, were largely human. The lack of hair didn’t help, nor did the dental nightmares he spotted every time they opened their mouths. But their lips looked human, and so did the rest of their face. The general shape of their skull seemed human enough, too. Their pointed ears reminded Jack of elves – albeit the most monstrous elves he’d ever encountered. Their gray skin – well, that was distinctly non-human. But in the gloom of the rainy day, he could barely make out the shade of their skin. If he didn’t already know, he would have assumed the pair sat in a patch of shadow.

  Their mode of dress gave them away at a glance as non-human. They draped skins and bands of leather over themselves. What was more, they dressed alike – in loincloths and furs, with bone amulets and arm bands. Grem’tha’s form, though a little smaller than her brother’s, was otherwise indistinguishable. Neither had hair of any kind, or any hint of mammary tissue. Nor, for that matter, did either have much in the way of upper body muscle mass – or, any significant muscle mass. A few thin, cordlike strands of sinew ran up their arms and legs, but that was it. They were remarkably scrawny.

  Except for the distended stomachs that now, after their second feeding, protruded above the loincloths. Stomachs full of raw rodents – fur and bone and all – and worms.

  The longer he watched, the less he could stand to look. So finally he glanced away, into the pouring rain. Grimlik went on picking his teeth, making horrible slurping sounds as he went. Grem’tha started to sing in a low, gurgling voice. Arath grimaced and shook water from his cape, and scowled at his companions one by one in turns.

  And Karag smiled to himself, and shut his eyes; and before long, the giant was snoring peacefully.

  No one else slept – not during the storm, and not for a long time after. The night remained cold and damp even after the rainfall ended. Jack rifled through his inventory looking for anything that provided a boost against cold weather. He found a cloak, and wet and miserable, settled in for a long night of half-sleep.

  It was almost dawn when the game paused again. He didn’t even notice at first: little had changed. Everyone went on laying exactly where they’d been, not stirring. The only real difference was the lack of snoring. Everyone, it seemed, but him had fallen asleep. Now the night had gone quiet again.

  A low voice asked, “Jack? You awake, dude?” It was young and nervous, and not coming through any kind of filter.

  Jack recognized it at once. “Richard?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Oh, good. I mean, good about not waking you. Not good about not sleeping. Anyway…I just…well, wanted to see how you were doing. I guess you must have heard about the hacker?”

  Jack groaned. He was too tired to go over everything all over again. But – what choice did he have? “I heard.”

  “So…” Here, the other man’s tone lowered again until it was little more than a conspiratorial whisper. “I actually have a theory about that. I think they might have been trying to figure out how to stop you, not looking for any outsider.”

  Jack nodded, impressed. “You’re right, actually.”

  Richard loosed an exclamation of triumph. “Son-of-a-bitch. I knew it.”

  “But, uh, aren’t you worried about talking about this kind of stuff? You know, that they might overhear you and…I don’t know…try to kill you?”

  “Nah, dude. I know you got my back. Anyway, I turned off recording. I mean, I know they won’t try anything because you will turn them in if they do. But why take chances, right?”

  He agreed, and for a few minutes they caught up on the last days. Richard’s tale matched Jordan’s, but he was eager to tell it; and it wasn’t like Jack had anything better to do at the moment anyway.

  So he listened. And then Richard said, “Listen, dude, that guy you were telling me about, the one who was trapped in the game before you. What was his name?”

  Jack hesitated. “Richard, if you go poking around –”

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that. Okay, look, you’re probably going to think I’m nuts. But I swear, I’m not making this up, okay?”

  “Making what up?”

  “So I was sitting at my computer, wearing my headset, and – I swear, this is true – this voice just starts, like, talking to me.”

  “A voice?”

  “Yeah. I know it sounds nuts. But I swear, it’s true.”

  “And…what did it say?”

  “That’s the weird part. It said it was William Xi. And – I’m pretty sure that’s the name you said, isn’t it?”

  Jack nodded. A feeling like dread settled in the pit of his stomach. His conversation with Karag came racing back to his thoughts. “What did he say?”

  “That’s the weirder part: he thinks he has a way to fix the crap that’s going on with your body.”

  Jack blinked. “He does? That’s great.” Then, he frowned. “But why come to you with it? Why not tell me?”

  “That’s the weirdest part. He thinks I have to do what Roberts was doing the other day. You know, beat the crap out of you. Only in real life, not in the game.”

  “Wait, he wants you to hit my actual body? Not my avatar?”

  “Yeah. He’s got a bunch of data points, and reasons why, and…I don’t know. Basically, we have to reset your neural connections to your real body. And he showed me the data. It looks legit. But…well, yeah: he wants me to basically knock the crap out of you. Use the taser. All that stuff, until you…you know…reset.”

  Jack was stunned by this revelation – stunned, confused, and a little terrified. He tried not to let on to Richard, though. He knew William was probably listening in as they spoke. Disabling the recording protocols might block Roberts or
Avery, but it wouldn’t stop William. This was his domain, his world for the past half a decade.

  Still, Jack needed time to organize his thoughts, and make sense of what he’d just heard. So he stalled. He told Richard he had to think about it. He told him to go over the data once more. “I’m not saying I won’t do it. But I’m going to need to be a hundred percent sure before I let someone start bashing me.”

  The intern seemed to sympathize. After a few, Yup, no problems, and, Yeah, no, I totally get it, dudes later, he took his leave. The game resumed. Karag and Arath went back to snoring. So did Grem’tha and Grimlik.

  And Jack went back to staring wordlessly into the blackness overhead, a whole new swarm of questions and fears playing havoc on his thoughts.

  The more he considered the problem, the worse it seemed to him. There was no reason for William not to come straight to him with the details of his plan. And if he needed someone familiar with the system to doublecheck his work, why go to Richard? Why not Jordan? Richard was just an intern. He didn’t have the kind of knowledge she did about the system. Half the time, he was too scared of his own shadow to do anything at all. It had taken Roberts literally trying to kill Jack to convince him to take a stand.

  Not that Jack blamed him. He’d been the new kid in the office once upon a time, eager to start his career and terrified to torpedo himself. He got Richard’s personality type pretty well because, as little as he wanted to admit it, they weren’t that unalike.

  But none of that made him a good choice. Jack wouldn’t have chosen himself fifteen years ago for a thing like this. So why choose some like him, fifteen years later? It didn’t make sense, especially when they had someone like Jordan around, who could be trusted every bit as much as Richard, and then some.

  No, William was up to something. He had to be. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. That’s what he’d told Karag.

  And what had the giant said in reply? A proverb by which many brave men have died untimely deaths.