Dark Realm, The (15 page)

“Maybe you should start something new,” she said. She tried to keep it casual, though she wanted to grab Dad by the shoulders and start yelling that they must never,
ever
, release that game. “There has to be another way to showcase the system without finishing Feyland. What about a different kind of game?”

Her dad shook his head. “I don’t know why you keep saying that, Jennet. The company has already put millions into this project. And I thought you liked the idea behind Feyland.”

“Not so much, any more.”

Not since she’d been sucked through it into a place that was perilous, real, and full of dark magic. What would happen if her Dad’s team managed to finish the project? Once Feyland was released with the new sim-system, there would be millions of players. Would all of them fight the same battle with the Dark Queen that she had - and lose? Then what? Could the Dark Court somehow find a way to enter their world? The thought made her mouth go dry.

“I’m sorry.” Dad’s tone told her he was apologizing for everything: Thomas’s death, their sudden move, even being such a workaholic that her mom had left for good five years ago.

Jennet took a drink of water. The liquid in the glass shivered under her unsteady hand. Some things you couldn’t change. And some things you had to try, no matter how impossible.

“You should start playing Feyland.” She couldn’t keep the urgency from her voice. “You know, see what it’s like
inside
this project you’ve been managing. It would help you get a feel for it. I could go with you, help you with the quests, show you around.”

Maybe then he’d be able to see the danger, maybe then he’d listen to her. Although Tam had played, and he hadn’t believed her. Her dad would be no different.

“I played the earliest version,” he said. “You know that. It was enough to give me a solid idea of the concept. Gaming’s not my strong point. Besides, I prefer to stay out of the artist’s vision at this point.”

“There is no artist! You can never replace Thomas. You shouldn’t even try.” Tears clogged her throat, and she stared at her plate, appetite gone.

After an uncomfortable minute, her dad let out a low breath. “How about we go see a movie tomorrow? There must be something good at the 3-Max.”

“All right,” she finally said, swallowing back her hopelessness.

Not that going to see a movie would change anything. Dad would never come around, and banging her head against that brick wall wasn’t going to solve her problems.

***

Monday was better, especially when she caught sight of Tam at his locker. Relief blew through her like a welcome wind. Should she go up and say hi? Did he have her book? What if he just ignored her? Or worse, snapped at her and told her never to speak to him again?

While she was still debating with herself, the first bell blared through the hall and it was too late. He didn’t look at her once during Early World History. Good thing she hadn’t said hello. She tried to ignore him in return, but despair settled over her like a thick cloak. When class ended, she moved blindly out into the hall.

“Hey.” A touch on her arm.

She turned, to find Tam beside her. His eyes, half-hidden by his hair, looked wary. But not mad, not the way they had when he’d told her to get out of his life.

“What do you want?” She kept her voice even. No gladness. No anger. Students thronged past them, some talking noisily, others with heads bent to their tablets, barely watching where they were going.

“Can I meet you after school?” he asked.

She shrugged, like it didn’t matter, but a flame of hope wavered to life. “I guess. I’ll see you out front.”

“Ok.” He hesitated like he wanted to say more, then gave her a brief flicker of a smile. “See you.”

He walked away, and her body was suddenly lighter, like she’d finally remembered how to breathe.

It still took years for the end of the school day to come. A few times, Jennet was certain the clocks had broken, their readouts stuck on the same numbers. But at last her final class ended.

She made herself walk slowly down the stairs and out the big double-doors. There was no guarantee Tam would be there. He could have changed his mind. Even if he was waiting for her, things might still be bad between them.

He was there, leaning against the brick wall with his hands shoved in his pockets, his mangy backpack at his feet.

“Hi,” she said, stopping in front of him. It didn’t seem enough, but everything else she could think of to say was too dumb - or too personal. Clearly his mom was a dangerous topic, as was Feyland. Her apology stuck in her throat, but she scraped it out anyway.

“I… I’m sorry I barged into your life like that.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his scuffed pack. “I’m sorry, too.”

Ouch. “I’ll stay out of your life from now on, don’t worry.” Tears pricked the back of her eyes.

“Wait.” He held out one hand. “I didn’t mean it like that - I meant for telling you to leave like that. I, um, brought back your book.”

“Did you read it?”

“Yes.” His green eyes caught hers. “It was interesting. Look, Jennet. I’m sorry I said those things to you.”

“Which things?” She needed it to be perfectly clear. Needed to know exactly which parts he was sorry for.

A shadow crossed his face. “That you should get out of my life. That you were crazy. Wait—” He held up a hand as she drew breath. “I’m not saying that you’re right, either. But I do know that something strange is going on.”

“Do you?” It was a start. She pressed her lips together, trying to keep from hoping.

He rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. There was a red line marring his skin.

“I got this cut after the fight with the Black Knight. Yeah, I could have cut myself on something else, but...”

“But what? You think maybe the game can affect the real world?” Oh, god. He might actually believe her. The painful knots in her chest began to loosen. She’d been carrying this alone for so long.

“I’m also having weird dreams.” He cleared his throat. “And the game, Feyland - there’s something kind of off about it. So - I don’t believe you. But I don’t
not
believe you, either.”

Jennet went limp with relief. She sagged against the wall, her whole body trembling. “Thanks.”

The word wasn’t big enough to convey the enormous wave of gratitude rushing through her.

He bent and pulled
Tales of Folk and Faerie
out of his pack, then handed it to her. “So, when do we go back in-game? I could come over almost any day this week. My mom,” he looked away a moment, then back, “she’s doing better. For now.”

“That’s good. But I don’t think we should play again.”

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes and he straightened. “What do you mean? I thought you needed my help. Or did you find somebody else?”

“No - nobody else. But Tam,” she gestured to his arm, “you’ve already gotten hurt, and that was in the starting lands, where nothing like that is supposed to happen. It gets worse. A lot worse.”

He pushed his hair away from his eyes and gave her a long look. She could almost see the thoughts turning in his head.

“Did something happen to you in-game, Jennet?” His voice held a rough note of concern. “Are you okay?”

She wouldn’t cry - not here, in front of the school. In front of Tam. Blinking hard, she summoned up the words. “I lost… I lost the game to the Dark Queen. And no, I’m not okay.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. Then another. All the fear she’d kept inside was pushing out, making her skin hot, making her weep despite herself.

“Jennet.” He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Don’t cry. You aren’t supposed to beat the boss the first time you try. It’ll be all right, I promise.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “It’s not like that, Tam. You have no idea. The first level of the game—”

“Hey.” He gave her a fleeting, crooked smile. “Give me another chance. I’m the best simmer around, remember? And this time, I know what we’re getting into.”

“You don’t.” She pushed away from the wall and stared into his eyes. “Feyland is dangerous!”

“Then show me.” He held her gaze.

Stubborn idiot. He wasn’t backing down. She wanted to hit him and hug him at the same time.

“Tam—”

“Let me choose whether I should keep playing or not. I get it, something’s weird with the game. I’ll be careful. Besides, don’t you still need my help?”

She dropped her gaze and stared at the ground for a long moment. That was the worst of it. It was hard to argue that he shouldn’t enter Feyland when she needed him so desperately.

“Yes,” she finally said. “I do need your help.”

“Then we’re still playing,” he said. “Together.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

J
ennet settled in the sim-chair and glanced over at Tam. Helmet and gloves on, he was leaning forward like a free-faller about to jump.

“Ready?” she asked.

Please, let nothing go wrong. She had the twisting feeling that Feyland was a trap, waiting to spring. They shouldn’t be doing this - but she didn’t have any other options.

“Ready,” he said. His voice was full of anticipation that she couldn’t share.

“All right. See you in there.” She pulled down the visor of her helm and entered the game.

WELCOME TO FEYLAND.

The words scrolled across her vision, flared, then burned down to nothing. She braced herself for the transition, that queasy, whirling golden light that marked full entry into the game.

When the light stopped spinning, she was standing in a ring of pale mushrooms. Tam was beside her, wearing his armor, his sword at his side. The sky was filled with the grey of early twilight, and the dark forest stretched away on all sides. Directly in front of them a thin trail cut through the pines.

He glanced around. “Where are we?”

“The second circle. We unlocked it last time.” Proof, as if she needed it, that she couldn’t go deeper in-game without Tam. “The path should lead to our next quest giver. And don’t forget, each level is more dangerous than the last.”

“Ok. Let’s go.” His silver armor gleamed as he strode out of the ring. She noticed he was careful not to disturb any of the mushrooms.

Taking a firmer grip on her staff, she followed. The silence was thick in the forest, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the layer of pine needles carpeting the path. Grey mist filtered between the trees, making everything dim and hazy.

“Will the sun come out?” Tam asked. “It was a lot lighter the first time we played.”

“Every circle takes us farther into Feyland. In the center, at the court, it’s night all the time.” The memory of her moonlit battle shivered down her spine.

“I thought faeries were ok with daylight. They’re not vampires, are they?”

“It’s the Dark Court.” Even saying the words made her feel cold. There was a sudden ache in her chest, as though the part of herself that belonged to the queen had woken and was tugging at her.

Tam was silent a moment. When he spoke, she could practically hear the thoughts tumbling into place in his head.

“In that old book you lent me, there were two main courts. They weren’t called Dark and Light though.”

“Unseelie and Seelie. We’re in the land of Unseelie. Unfortunately.”

“So why aren’t the Light - er, Seelie - faeries around?” he asked. “Don’t all these guys live in the same world?”

“From what I’ve read, it’s kind of complicated.” She stepped around a bramble bush that tried to snag her skirts. “It’s not that any of them are good or bad, the way we think of it. This isn’t Tinkerbell running around sprinkling pixie dust, you know.”

“Actually, I’ve read that old story. Peter Pan. You know, she wasn’t a very nice little faerie. She tried her best to kill the heroine.”

“Exactly,” Jennet said. “They don’t have the same sort of morals as humans. The dark, the light, it’s all fluid. So the Seelie Court may be involved, or may be content to let the Dark Court go about its business.”

Something rustled in the underbrush, and Tam whirled, hand on his sword hilt. “Who’s there?”

There was no reply.

Then motion erupted around them. Thick black roots whipped out of the earth and snaked around Jennet’s ankles. Brambles grasped her skirts with spiky fingers, and the pines reached down, needles tangling into her hair and holding fast. Her mage staff was whipped from her hands and landed in a prickle bush, out of reach.

“Tam!” she cried, her heartbeat racing. She brought her hands to her head, trying to wrench her hair free. The trees held her fast, and her scalp burned from the pain.

“I’m trying!” Tam was slicing at the foliage holding her, but the bushes and vines were impervious. It was like his sword had been turned to useless plastic.

“Why aren’t they grabbing you?” She tried to kick free of the roots, but they were iron manacles around her ankles.

“No idea. Maybe my armor protects me. Are they hurting you?” He kept slashing, but it was no use. The underbrush wasn’t giving way at all.

“My head hurts, but I don’t think they’re trying to kill me.” After the initial attack, the trees seemed content to just keep her imprisoned.