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  “Hello, friend,” the bard said. “I couldn’t help but notice the arc of your shield. Are you up for some company?”

  Fen frowned and shook his head. “‘Arc of my shield’? I don’t even have a shield. And don’t say it like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “With that tone. You make the phrase sound creepy.”

  The bard raised one eyebrow and grinned.

  Fen sighed. “What’s your name, friend?”

  The bard laughed and sat. “Isaac be the name.”

  “Oh god.” Fen shook his head and motioned to the empty chair. “And stop trying to role-play. You sound like a gangbanger attempting to read Shakespeare.”

  Isaac grinned over the lip of his mug before taking a long drink. Then he sighed and set it on the table. “Wow. This stuff tastes amazing.”

  “Shh.” Fen’s eyes shifted to the nearby tables. “Don’t be talking like that where people can hear. You’ll tip the NPCs off that you don’t belong here.”

  “Sorry, you’re right.” Isaac untied his cloak and draped it over the chair beside him. “I’ve seen three episodes where they nabbed Travellers.” He shivered. “The mob ripped one to shreds, left the second to die slowly, and the third—” Isaac’s face paled. “They definitely have a hate on for us.”

  “Yeah, it’s insane. I’m also pretty sure they are killing regular citizens. There’s no way there are so many actual players that are easy to spot.”

  “I agree. Seems as if ‘the madness of crowds’ applies here, too.”

  Fen raised one eyebrow. “You’ve read that book?”

  “By Mackay? Of course. It’s required reading if you aim to create something for the masses, don’t you think?”

  “I do.”

  “Still,” Isaac raised his mug, “I didn’t expect natives from here to behave the same way as normal crowds back home.”

  “Any chance Sebastian set them up this way?”

  “Program them to evolve and act like humans?” Isaac shook his head. “To a degree, but we still wanted them controllable. Coding NPCs with a blueprint that caused them to become irrational and ignorant of societal rules when assembled in larger groups would have been the worst way to keep them in check.”

  “This development is bad luck, then.”

  “I think so. Whatever it is, they are dangerous.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s safe to talk here at the moment.”

  “Good.”

  “What do you think of your little creation so far?”

  Isaac smiled. “It’s incredible. It feels… more than real, if such a thing is possible.” He tapped the table and then ran one finger along the rim of his mug. “Everything is so crisp and clear. It’s as if my senses back home were dull and muted. Things appear sharper. Food and drink tastes clean and distinct.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if that makes sense. It’s hard to describe in words.”

  “Makes total sense, and it’s a much better description than I managed to come up with, which is embarrassing since I write for a living.”

  “Perhaps it’s the poet in me at the moment.”

  “Bard is an interesting choice. I was expecting—” Fen paused. “actually, I guess I wasn’t sure what to expect from you.”

  “Bard was always my class.” Isaac winked. “When we were kids playing the RPG, the bard bonuses for communication appealed to me.”

  “Makes sense, although the class isn’t much of a departure from your true character.”

  “I’ve always gotten a kick out of that. People play games in order to assume a different role from real life, and yet they end up selecting a race and class that matches their actual personality and preferences.”

  “It must be hard-wired into our psyche.”

  “I guess. When the PC game came out I thought the bard class wouldn’t be for me, but the abilities were so cool.” He shrugged. “Guess I’m a bard to my core.”

  “It didn’t take you long to escape from your trainers.”

  Isaac laughed. “They taught us the speed song and let us practice in an open field. I’d already stored supplies in the woods a day earlier.” He shrugged. “I started running and kept going.”

  Fen laughed. “No one chased you?”

  “Oh yeah, but I gave them the slip. Must not have been too hard for you, either, since you got here before me.”

  “Only by a few hours, but yeah, I saw an opportunity to get away pretty quickly. I already knew the training process from last time, though. You were coming in cold.”

  Isaac took a drink before speaking. “Not really. I watched a few bard players during their training.”

  “You watched?”

  Isaac nodded. “We’ve developed a way to tag players and watch them in real time.”

  “Then why not—ah, I bet you tried, but Sebastian is cloaked somehow.”

  “Yeah, he’s a clever fella.”

  “You sure you need the old guy? If you were able to add new programming since he disappeared—”

  “Add-ons are simple, but only Sebastian can access the core matrix and subroutines.”

  “That’s bad business, buddy.”

  “A hard lesson learned.” Isaac scowled. “Let’s eat lunch and head out. He’s close, still?”

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can meet up with Sebastian later today. Tomorrow at the latest.”

  Chapter 8

  “Rest, Lady.”

  Air from the whisper lightly tickled the skin of her neck as it passed over and into her ear. Mercy felt her lip twitch but she did not reply, did not look away from Xander’s sleeping face. Her fingers tightened around the cold leather hilt of the dagger that lay on the mattress beside her charge, the fingers of her other hand lightly touching Xander’s ribs to help her monitor his breathing for signs of distress.

  “Discard this one.” The voice was louder this time, tempting her to turn toward the source.

  She smiled, knowing there was no one to be seen. The Dark Lady tested the sponsor as well as the initiate during this ceremony. If Mercy turned away—took her eyes from her charge—both of them would fail.

  Which would mean death for Xander, and disgrace for Mercy.

  She wanted to tell the voice to shut up and be gone. The temptation was great, but the rules forbade her speaking as much as they did her turning away. Soft fingers stroked the nape of her neck, sending a thrill of icy pleasure into her brain. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from gasping.

  “He is already mine. Release him. No one will care. There are many who would thank you. Do this for me now, and when it is time for you to join me in death, there will be extra rewards waiting for you as thanks.”

  Mercy knew the words were false. A Death Stryker of her calibre faced terrible punishment in the afterlife for failures such as this.

  She forced herself to raise the dagger, her hand struggling as if a strong hand opposed her movements. The tip of the mirrored ebony blade touched Xander’s chest. A tiny drop of bright red blood appeared as the tip bit into his skin.

  The resistance pulling against her hand disappeared so quickly that Mercy almost plunged the blade in. If not for her well-honed reflexes, she would have thrust the dagger into Xander’s heart. She gasped and prepared for another bout of trickery from the forces testing her.

  “Very well,” the voice chuckled. “Keep him grounded to your world. I can wait. Both of you will join me eventually.”

  Mercy felt wet lips press against her cheek. She closed her eyes until the pressure faded. Then she removed the blade and returned it to the mattress. Her other hand reached up to touch the moist spot on her cheek. She pulled it away, holding her fingertips in front of her eyes, rubbing them together as ice crystals evaporated with a faint hiss.

  ***

  Xander knelt before the tall dais. The urge to look up threatened to overwhelm him, but he fought it.

  “Welcome back,” the Dark Lady purred.

  Xander shivered.

&
nbsp; “On your feet, sweet one.”

  Xander stood and raised his head. The Dark Lady stood in front of him at the bottom of the stairs to her throne. Her long black hair shone, eyes glinting like liquid midnight. Xander licked his lips as his gaze turned to focus on hers; they were perfectly shaped and garnet red, begging to be kissed.

  The Dark Lady’s mouth twitched and formed a seductive grin. “I forgot how in love with me you are.” She waved a hand, and Xander felt his desire lessen. “I barely turn it on, yet still it overwhelms you.”

  “Because,” he gasped, “I am yours, Lady.”

  “There’s more to it than that. Perhaps it is your foreign mind.” The Dark Lady smiled and reached out to stroke his face. “I’m not pleased by your choice of sponsor, by the way.”

  “Mercy?”

  “Indeed.”

  “She’s an amazing teacher.”

  “That’s the problem.”

  Xander shook his head, and the Dark Lady laughed. “A weaker sponsor would have failed you by now. Your avatar would be dead and your spirit would reside with me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I doubt that. Some part of you must sense what will happen when you do arrive to spend eternity in my realm.”

  Something about the Dark Lady’s expression made him shiver involuntarily. “Don’t fret, pretty one.” Her cruel smile brightened. “After the obligatory period of torture and suffering all must endure, I feel as if I might keep you with me instead of discarding your soul to the depths for eternal torment.” A hand touched his arm and stroked downwards. “I am eager to experience the limits of your endurance, first-hand.”

  Xander pursed his lips and remained silent.

  The Dark Lady took a step backwards and rubbed a forefinger over her lips. Then she smiled and raised her hand in front of her. “You’re so distracting. Look at me, spending time considering how to torture and study you, when that right does not yet fully belong to me.” She turned and stepped onto the stairs. “Follow me to the throne.”

  Xander felt a sudden swell of desire wash over him. He followed close on her heels as the goddess ascended the steps to her throne. When they reached the top, she turned and sat, gathering her obsidian dress around her. “Kneel.”

  Xander dropped to his knees on the top step and lowered his eyes to the dais.

  “Look at me.”

  He did as commanded.

  “This is your final chance to escape my grasp, Xander.” The tone of her voice was playful. “If you agree to be mine, there is no turning back. When you wake up, everything that you now are and will ever become belongs to me. You must now surrender your soul completely to me.”

  He frowned.

  “In return, I shall grant you gifts. The longer you walk the realm of the living, the stronger and more plentiful my favour will bless you. Live long enough and your power will grow more than you could ever imagine.”

  Xander considered her words carefully before he responded. “I understand.”

  “No. You don’t.” The Dark Lady smiled. Xander thought he detected a sadness in the expression. “No one ever understands, yet they always take the deal. The truth is that it would be better to deny me. Say no and be destroyed, consigned to the empty abyss right now.”

  Xander cocked his head to one side as he considered her advice.

  “I’m serious. Please. Enter oblivion now. Be consumed and quickly forgotten instead of taking the slim chance to gain power for the price of eternal suffering in the not-so-distant future.”

  Xander thought long and hard. “I cannot give up. I must try.” He bowed his head. “I accept your offer, my Lady. My soul is yours in exchange for the favours you promise.”

  The goddess smiled as she extended her hand toward him. “I accept your soul. Kiss my hand to complete the pact.”

  Xander’s lips touched her skin and began to tingle with an icy shiver.

  Her smile widened. “Rise, my Death Stryker.”

  Xander stood and then suddenly tipped backwards. He flailed his arms and then…

  ***

  Xander found himself looking into Mercy’s face above him.

  “Welcome back,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  The woman stepped away from the bed and sheathed her dagger. Then she sat on the floor, pulled her knees toward her chest, and rested her head against them.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing. Which means I succeeded in my vigil over you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Give me a couple minutes. I’ve been standing silently over you for a long time to make sure you survived.”

  “How long?”

  “Three days.”

  “Without sleep?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Damn.” Xander turned onto his side and waited silently for Mercy to look up.

  After a few minutes, he could tell from her breathing that she was asleep.

  He stood and draped a blanket over her shoulders. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, prepared to watch over her for as long as she slept.

  Chapter 9

  Kieran opened the door. “After you.”

  Aleron stepped into the next room. A large, rectangular table was positioned so that one of the long sides was against the wooden wall. Six chairs were tucked under one side and a single chair was placed at each end. The room was devoid of windows; the only other piece of furniture was a rectangular, wood-framed mirror about two feet high by four feet wide. It was mounted to the centre of the same wall the table was pushed up against.

  A woman appearing to be in her mid-thirties, with shoulder-length red hair, stood behind the chairs. She watched the young Scout with a pleasant yet neutral expression on her face.

  Kieran entered the room behind him and closed the door. “Aleron, this is Vicrunia. She commands another Scout outpost.”

  “Aleron.” Vicrunia nodded. “It is good to meet you.”

  “You as well,” Aleron said.

  “Shall we sit, gentlemen?” She gestured towards the lone seat at the far end of the table. “Aleron, please sit over there.”

  The young Scout did as instructed, pulling his chair in and placing both hands on the table as the two Scouts sat in the middle chairs. Kieran’s posture mimicked Aleron’s as the Scout leader met his eyes. “You’ve been asking to be included more. Looks like now’s the time.”

  Aleron smiled.

  “Our intel from a few weeks ago indicated that Sebastian had created a sanctuary for New Travellers to gather, where they could be safe from persecution by NPCs.” Aleron opened his mouth, but Kieran shook his head and continued speaking. “We began looking for this safe hold but had no success in locating it. Since then, Vicrunia’s people spotted Sebastian and his friends in the village of Jancor.” He spread his hands. “We followed them, but they did not appear to be going anywhere specific.”

  Kieran leaned back and crossed his arms.

  “This new information can be interpreted in two ways,” Vicrunia said. “Either they are going from one populated area to the next, looking for survivors to save and send on to a hidden base—”

  “Or your intel was wrong and they have no base at all,” Aleron said.

  The female Scout nodded. “That’s the option we believe to be true.”

  No one spoke.

  After a long pause, Aleron cleared his throat. “What do you want from me?”

  Kieran looked at Vicrunia, and she nodded. “We need you to go out and learn for us what Sebastian is actually up to. They will take you back into their group, which will allow us to uncover his strategy in the quickest amount of time.”

  “I’m not so sure that they will allow me to come back. I chose to come with you. To leave them.”

  “In order to save your life,” Kieran said. “I’m sure they will understand. Tell them that you went to work as a Scout in some village and escaped to get bac
k with them as soon as you could. They will buy that.”

  Aleron frowned.

  “Your mission is to rejoin them and ascertain their plans. Once you know what they are up to, you will return to us.”

  “I’m confused,” Aleron said. “You’ve been telling me that you don’t trust me enough to venture out on my own. Now you order me to not only go out, but to join the very people that make you not trust me in the first place?”

  “I trust you now.”

  “Why?” Aleron shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve managed to prove my loyalty. I mean, besides saying the words, which seem to float right past your ears. I don’t get it.”

  Kieran closed his eyes. “You’re refusing the mission.”

  “No. That’s not—” Aleron frowned. “I’d like to know why, is all.”

  Kieran laughed and Vicrunia smirked.

  “What’s so funny?” Aleron asked.

  Kieran considered Aleron with a smirk on his face, too. “This ain’t your game, kid. I don’t have to give you any answers, no matter how often you ask.” He spread his hands. “You’re not in charge. There is zero reason for me to share anything with you, and that’s regardless of whether or not I trust you. You’re at the bottom of the food chain. If you want to be a Scout—if you want to help us—then you need to take the jobs that are offered and do your best with each of them. Time will pass and, if you do well, you’ll work your way up the ranks.”

  “Just like real life,” Aleron said.

  “This is real life. At least as far as any of us are concerned.”

  “Not me. When I die I’ll return to the real world.”

  Kieran sighed. “Guess this news is overdue, pal.”

  Aleron’s eyes narrowed.

  “I’m not sure how it happened or why, but somehow your real body is dead.”

  There was a long pause.

  “You’re lying,” Aleron whispered.

  “Think back to your time here. Ever have a strange episode where you felt extremely…off? Maybe you lost consciousness, or at the very least had a weak spell that dropped you to the ground?”