Dark Realm, The (9 page)

T
he game helmet was like wearing air - so comfortable, he barely felt it. Tam let out his breath as the main menu lit up in front of his eyes. The resolution was about a hundred times clearer than on his system. No fuzzy graphics, no weird color shifts or lines across his vision. It felt like the images were inside his brain.

The
F
icon glowed, softly golden, looking like it was made of scrolled flame. It took only the slightest flex of his finger to select it. These gloves were prime. Super responsive - nothing like his thrashed-out gear. The menu faded out, replaced with blinking words:

Feyland: A VirtuMax Production

Alpha 1.5.0486

This was going to be incredible.

The visor-screen went dark. Faint music began playing, mysterious and chiming. Light slowly etched across his vision, a delicate tracery like webs or tree branches. He hoped, rather desperately, that this wasn’t one of those girly games. But if Jennet needed his help, he’d do his best - even if it meant defeating sparkly pink dragons.

WELCOME TO FEYLAND

The words unfurled across the screen. The letters glowed a rich gold that deepened to crimson, then faded to grey, as though they had burned down to ash. The music twisted, and the dim letters suddenly whirled up into a flurry of dark-edged leaves. Behind them Tam thought he saw a pair of eyes watching from the shadows, but before he could be sure, the leaves swirled once again. This time, the screen cleared to show something much more familiar: a character-creator interface.

“Have you made your avatar yet?” Jennet’s voice came clearly through the headset. It sounded like she was standing right next to him.

“Just about to.” He studied the choices, trying to get a feel for the game’s design, the various roles people could play. Was Feyland really going to be as different as he hoped?

Spellweaver - no, not another magic user.

Bard - interesting, but obviously not a heavy combat class. He figured Jennet would need a serious warrior-type.

“Got any thoughts on this?” he asked.

“How about a Knight?” she replied, confirming his guess.

Lifting his index finger, he highlighted the choice.

KNIGHT -
Skilled at feats of arms, noble, courageous, and true, the Knight can best almost any enemy in battle. Only magic can bring this hero to his knees - but even then, the Knight’s sword may prove of greater power.

Below the description stood a basic character, ready to be modified to his specifications. He scrolled through the options, adding more detail to the avatar. His Knight would be tall, of course, and strong. But not bulging with too much muscle - quickness could usually beat strength, if there was room to move. Thick dark hair, and, yeah, that heroic-looking chin. Blue eyes, but not quite that close together. With another flick of his finger, he put the final touches on his new self.

The character bounced slightly up and down, and Tam smiled to himself. Now for a name. Roland? No, that seemed too stuffy. He needed another anagram. Wernin? Newrin – yeah.

He double-clicked his thumb and index finger, the universal glove command to bring up the keyboard. Though he preferred voice and finger commands, he could type well enough when he had to. He entered the name, Newrin, then vanished the keyboard interface. Yes, his Knight looked good, clad in shiny silver armor with a huge sword at his side and a grim-looking shield strapped to his back.

Character complete. Enter game?

He pulled in a breath, then tipped his thumb up.
Yes
.

A fanfare of trumpets blared as his vision went golden. There was an odd, queasy sensation in the pit of his stomach. The sandwich and brownie weren’t sitting too well.

Then all discomfort was forgotten as Tam got his first glimpse of Feyland.

He found himself standing in a clearing surrounded by white-barked trees. The sky was bright blue overhead, the grass a vivid green. Wind moved across the leaves of the trees, leaving flashes of shimmering silver as they rustled in its wake. A bird swooped past him, singing, and he could practically feel the warm air against his face. He glanced around, looking for Jennet, and saw he was in the middle of a circle of pale mushrooms.

Beside him, the air glowed brightly, and Jennet suddenly appeared. She was wearing a green dress that looked like something from the Middle Ages, but fancier. Her hair was intricately braided, and she carried a tall oaken staff with a white glowing crystal set in the end. Other than that she looked almost exactly like herself - her features a touch sharper, her eyes brighter.

“We’re in!” She smiled at him. “Welcome to the game, Tam. What do you think?”

“I’m not sure.” He took an experimental step forward.

“Careful! Don’t crush the fairy ring.”

“The - oh.” He eyed the mushrooms surrounding them. “Ok. How do you change the camera angle to a different POV? I’m not used to gaming in first person.”

An anxious line appeared across her forehead. “I should have explained. You stay in your character - it’s part of the immersive experience. The designers decided you should always see through your character’s eyes, hear through their ears - and feel,” she reached out and brushed her fingers across his cheek, “what your character feels.”

“I think I actually felt that.” He moved his shoulders. The armor weighed practically nothing, but he could still feel it. Could feel the wind, too, tickling through his hair. “Those are some serious advances in game tech.”

Her gaze dropped to the rich green grass beneath their feet. “Yes. I told you it was different from anything you’ve ever played. But don’t worry. The devs made sure to dial the uncomfortable stuff way back. You won’t feel much pain here.”

“I just wanted to see myself. Check out my gear and stuff.”

“Of course. You can draw your sword and enter combat stance by—” She broke off, laughing, as he found the control movement before she could explain. “Very good.” There was admiration in her voice, and something that sounded like hope.

“It’s just a pull-back. Easy enough.”

He swished the sword through the air a few times, and then re-sheathed it. His shield had immediately appeared, strapped to his left arm, as soon as his weapon was drawn.

She cocked her head and examined him a moment. “Hey, I didn’t know you had green eyes. Your hair is always in your face, you know.”

“Huh. I thought I chose blue.” Hadn’t he? He was sure of it.

“Well, the game still has some bugs. You could say it has a mind of its own.” She laughed again, but there was a forced edge to it. “Ready to quest? As soon as we step out of the fairy ring, the creatures of the world will be able to interact with us. The starting lands are pretty easy to handle, though. And you’ll pick it up quickly, I’m sure.”

“Great. Let’s go.” He took a step forward then, for fun, leaped over the boundary of mushrooms.

This gaming system was really amazing. He no sooner thought of the movement than the sim translated it to his character. There must be some kind of complicated neuro-interface built into the gear. Every other system he’d played had a response-time lag. With his own, he had to rely a lot more on manual commands - specific combinations of hand and finger gestures that sent instructions to the game. This, though, was practically powered by thought alone. It made him giddy.

Jennet stepped out of the ring, her movements graceful, then waved to a mossy path leading between the trees.

“The game begins this way,” she said, starting down the path.

Branches rustled behind them, and Tam whirled, sword at the ready. Nobody was visible, but high laughter chimed from between the leaves.

“Who’s there?” he called.

“It’s just the pixies,” Jennet said. “Don’t worry about them - they’re harmless. Come on.”

Tam sheathed his weapon and followed Jennet between the pale tree trunks. Soon the forest thinned and beyond the tree-line he glimpsed a rise of small green hills. At the very edge of the wood was a house, one of those English-cottage looking places with white walls and a thatched roof. Sitting on the doorstep was the ugliest little man Tam had ever seen.

His nose was enormous, a jutting cliff that overshadowed his dark eyes and thin lips. The only things larger than his nose were his two ears, great ugly flaps of skin on either side of his head. He was covered in a pelt of coarse brown hair, his only clothing a tattered cloth tied about his waist. He smelled, too, like moldy earth and old wood-smoke.

Jennet stopped in front of the creature. A clay bowl filled with what looked like milk appeared between her hands, and she knelt and placed it on the weathered step.

“Greetings, Fynnod,” she said. Then she leaned toward Tam and spoke softly. “He’s a Brownie - they like milk. I’ll try and explain the game lore to you as we go along.”

Tam nodded. “Right.”

“Fair Jennet.” The little man’s voice was hoarse, as though he were unused to speaking. “You return - with a companion. Will you continue further into the realm?”

“Yes,” she said.

Fynnod tilted his head up and looked at Tam. Something murky moved in his eyes. “Knight. Are you brave enough to accept the first quest?”

“Sure,” Tam said.

Every game had its beginner quests. Generally they were pretty easy. They started a storyline, and gave you a chance to practice your abilities and get comfortable in your new surroundings.

The brown man remained silent, and Jennet cleared her throat. When Tam turned to look at her, she nodded her head up and down and mouthed the word
yes
. Oh, right - a role-playing script. RP wasn’t his favorite, but it looked like “sure” hadn’t been coded into Fynnod’s list of acceptable replies.

“Yes, I accept your quest,” Tam said.

The little man let out a cackle. “Very good.” He reached into a lumpy bag beside him. “Take this sieve, and fill it with water from the river. When you return it to me, I will grant you passage to the next level.”

Tam took the object from the Brownie. It looked like an old-fashioned strainer. “Fill this with water, huh?”

Well, he’d had odder quests, but he’d hoped this first one would involve fighting. He really wanted to try out his moves.

Suddenly the sieve disappeared and his sword was in his hand, the blade flashing in the sunshine.

“Ack!” Fynnod leaped up from the step, overturning the bowl in his haste. “Take your cold iron and be gone from me!” He shook his fist at Tam, and then scuttled into the cottage.

“Wait. You didn’t drink your milk—” Jennet said, but the heavy wooden door slammed shut on her words. “Tam.” She turned to him. “You need to be careful. Remember, the game responds to the slightest movements. Were you thinking about battle?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He re-sheathed his weapon. “I didn’t mean to frighten him.”

She frowned. “A lot of the creatures here don’t like iron or steel - your sword affects things just by being drawn.”

“Got it. Easy on the swordplay.” He gestured to the closed door. “Will he be back?”

“No. Not until we return with the quest complete.” She bit her lip. “I haven’t actually done this one before.”

“And the milk?” He glanced at the doorstep. The liquid had seeped into the stone, leaving a dark stain. “Was that bad?”

Jennet didn’t look too happy. “We were supposed to get Fynnod’s blessing. Without it… I’m not sure what will happen.”

She turned to look out over the green hills, and Tam stared at the cottage. He hated feeling like he’d messed things up already. Here he was, usually a prime gamer, and he’d screwed up the first quest. Nice going.

The breeze kicked up, and he turned to look at Jennet. A strand of her pale hair blew against her cheek. From now on he was going to do his best. He wanted to impress her. Wanted her to smile at him again, the way she had when he’d beat Saberclaw, so he could carry the warmth of that inside himself for a little while.

A dark shadow crawled over the landscape, dimming the sunlight. He peered at the hills. Something was coming toward them - fast.

“Tam?” Jennet sounded scared. “We’ve got company.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T
he thing in the shadows became clear as it got closer - a huge black horse, galloping toward them. On its back was a forbidding-looking knight, wearing armor as dark as his steed. A wicked helm concealed the rider’s face.

Pulse quickening, Tam set his hand on the hilt of his sword. “First fight?”

Not a pleasant thought - he would feel better if he’d had at least some experience with combat in the game. Frightening the hairy man with his blade didn’t count.

Jennet shifted her grasp on the staff. Her cheeks were pale. “The Black Knight. He… he shouldn’t be here. Usually he’s much deeper in the game.”

“That sounds bad.” He squinted at the approaching rider. “What’s that, in front of the saddle?”

There was a small figure perched on the horse’s neck, seemingly unafraid of either its precarious position or the imposing knight just behind. As they drew close, the creature scrambled forward, using fistfuls of mane to pull himself up until he was nearly standing on the horse’s head.