Chapter 15

Leveling-Up

 

 

The path had wound through a forest of white trees with papery bark and pointy green leaves that shimmered in the late morning sun. When they’d veered off the gate road in favor of the path through the forest, Falin had expected a long, gloomy march, but the unusual light hues gave the woods an ethereal quality that filled the dwarf with wonder. That is, until he reminded himself the shimmering trees were nothing but software objects, likely coded by college interns who worked for no more compensation than free snacks and the right to put LMM Developer on their resumes.

“What kind of trees do you think they modeled these after?” he called to Darshana who stood with her back to him a few dozen yards farther down the path. This is how it had been since they left the road. She, unable to moderate her long strides to accommodate his stubby legs, would get ahead of him and wait just long enough for him to catch up before continuing.

She turned toward him and tilted her head as if pondering his question. Her catlike yellow eyes took in the trees. “Betula papyrifera” she stated, then turned her back on him and continued down the path. Those had been the first words she’d spoken since they entered the forest.

“Is that a real-world name or more LMM gibberish?”

She stopped again. She was almost invisible among the trees. Her green skin and earthen-tone cloak and pack blended with her surroundings. One step off the path, and she would disappear entirely. Any would-be pursuer would pass her by, oblivious to her presence until they were red-screened by a bolt from her crossbow.

She was staring up into the sky when he caught up to her.

He peeled a piece of the white bark off the trunk of a nearby tree and held it up. “I have to admit, the friggin detail of this simulation is wicked amazing. This tree object alone is probably five thousand lines of code. What kind of tree is it again?”

She glanced down at him. “Paper birch. They are usually found in wetlands in the north. Should be plenty of them up your way.”

He shrugged. “Never saw one before.”

She tilted her head back toward the sky. Her black hair ran down her back in a long, braided tail. “See that kettle of vultures up there?”

He followed her gaze. Six or seven large black birds circled overhead. They appeared to be hovering over a point about a half mile from where he and Darshana stood.

“Yeah. So? And who the frig knows a flock of vultures is called a kettle?”

“Someone who reads,” she quipped, not looking at him. “They are waiting.”

“For what?”

“Carrion. Must be raiders up ahead. Probably a fight.” She continued down the path toward the circling birds.

“Wait. You’re just going to walk into the middle of it?”

“It’s time to level up, Dwarf. Can’t hunt the Gray Warrior as a level zero càiniǎo.”

“Should I draw my axe?” he called as he jogged to keep up.

“Can’t hurt.”

They continued through the trees, her striding effortlessly as he ran behind her clutching his axe. Soon, the sounds of angry shouts and metal striking metal reached his ears. Overhead, the vultures circled. No longer distant black forms gliding through the sky, up close they were massive, terrifying birds with blood-red heads and twelve-foot wingspans. The trees thinned and through them Falin saw two men, one slightly larger than the other, both dressed in chain mail similar to his own. They were standing back-to-back and using their swords and shields to fend off attacks from what looked at first to be children.

As he drew closer to the clearing’s edge, Falin saw, though childlike in size, the creatures attacking the men weren’t children at all but resembled mythical figures that Falin recalled had something to do with a flute. They were no more than four feet tall, shorter than himself, slight of build and naked from the waist up. Their small bodies looked emaciated with every rib visible beneath milky skin the same color as the trees. They appeared to be wearing fur pants, but Falin soon realized they weren’t wearing pants at all. Though appearing to be human from their hollow chests up, their lower halves resembled the hindquarters of goats. They had oversized, muscular thighs that tapered down to sticklike shins ending in hooves instead of feet. Their heads were crowned with the same thick brown fur that covered their legs, and sported long, spiky horns. In their hands, raised above their horned heads, they wielded gleaming swords with curved blades.

They circled the warriors like the vultures overhead, their hooves kicking up clouds of dust. Every now and then, one of the goat men let loose a shrieking war cry and broke from the others to charge the two beleaguered defenders. The charger would bring his curved blade down on the defender’s sword and thrust his horns into the defender’s shield, then retreat to the dusty circle. It was obvious the goat men where toying with the warriors, perhaps wearing them down in preparation for the entire herd to mount a full charge that would undoubtedly result in the warriors’ dismembered bodies being left for the vultures.

Darshana turned and smiled. “Follow me, Boston. Time to dwarf up,” she said, and laughed as she stepped into the clearing.

“Shit,” Falin blurted as he tightened his grip on the axe handle and followed after her. What happened next had not been what he’d expected. Instead of attacking, the goat men took one look at Darshana and scattered into the trees. Not one of the mythical figures remained in the clearing. Falin lowered his axe. “How the fuck am I supposed to level up now that all the goat men have run away?”

“We’re not fighting them,” Darshana said as she drew her longsword from the sheath on her back.

Falin looked past her and saw the two warriors who moments before, were about to be slaughtered by the goat men, charging toward them. Darshana flashed a mean grin and raced to meet them. She moved so fast and with such precision Falin could have been watching a video on fast forward of a ballet dancer gone wild. Sparks flew as her sword met theirs. Her blows shattered the men’s blades, leaving them with nothing but the hilts and jagged shards.

Darshana glanced over at Falin and shouted, “It’s now or never, Boston.”

Hefting his axe, Falin charged the men who appeared to be reconsidering the wisdom of attacking Darshana as they were inching backward toward the trees. Their eyes were fixed on the elvish ranger, and neither of them saw him coming until he planted his axe in the belly of the larger of the two. The man howled and toppled over, dead. When he hit the ground, a yellow light enveloped Falin and a woman’s voice called down from the sky, “Level one achieved. Congratulations.”

While Falin was distracted by the level up glow, the smaller warrior raised the remains of his sword and charged. The man was almost on him before Falin saw him coming. He braced for the strike that never came. The warrior fell face-first at Falin’s feet, black feathers from one of Darshana’s crossbow bolts protruding from the small of the dead man’s back.

The exhilaration of the kills got the better of Falin. He raised his axe over his head and shouted “Goal,” extending the “ohhhhl” for several seconds like excited fans do in soccer when their team’s striker finds the net to score. When he was done with his celebration, he found Darshana standing cross-armed, staring down at him like a disapproving mother witnessing a child’s poor behavior.

“You seem quite pleased with yourself.”

“Fucking-ay. That was wicked awesome. Come on. Did you not see me plant my axe in that big fucker’s belly?”

She scowled and said, “Would’ve been even more awesome if you had gotten them both. Then we wouldn’t have to traipse around this wood for the next hour looking for another easy kill to get you to level two.” Then she turned and strode toward the path.

As it turned out, it took them much longer than an hour, and Darshana had to rescue him twice from botched attempts before he reached the next level. The first time was when a small band of orcs swarmed from a cave and almost killed him. Darshana had directed him to wait at the cave’s mouth with his axe ready while she went in and “shook things up.” She had been inside the cave for less than a minute when the first beast came racing out from the darkness with a notched short sword in hand and red eyes fixed on Falin.

The orc was Falin’s size—leaner, but with the same stubby legs. It had dark skin, the color of angry storm clouds, and huge yellow fangs that extended beyond its snarling black lips. A plain metal breastplate covered its chest, and an armored skirt or kilt made from leather woven through small iron rings protected its lower region. The rings clanked together as the beast ran toward him.

Falin dealt with the first orc easily enough. Though fearsome looking, the orc was surprisingly slow and easy to kill. It was the four that emerged behind it that gave Falin the trouble. They were on him before he could pull his axe from the dead orc’s skull. Flashes of red filled his vision as the orcs hacked at him with their swords. A bar graph floated in the upper right corner of his view showing the percent of his lifeforce. The bar, which had glowed green and showed 100 percent when the attack started, was sliding toward zero and had turned red.

Just as the graph began to flash, indicating imminent character death, Darshana swooped in and cut down the orcs with no more apparent effort than if she had been mowing down weeds. Falin had managed to kill two in the melee but killing two simple cave orcs did not get him to level two.

He had been badly damaged in the fight. His lifeforce was so low that if he tripped and fell, he would red-screen. “How long will it take to recover?” he asked her.

“Too long,” she said as she withdrew a magic orb from her pouch. She held the small gold ball up in front of him. It reminded him of a marble. “These cost a coin each. You owe me.” She then whispered some words Falin did not understand and crushed the ball in her hand. She blew the resulting fine gold powder into his face, causing Falin to blink reflexively, and his lifeforce graph moved back to 100 percent and disappeared.

“Wow. I’ve got to get me some of those.”

“Wouldn’t do you any good; dwarfs can’t use magic, remember? What you need to do, Boston, is get in a rig. You’re too slow as a half-in.” She pointed at the dead orcs. “These SIM creatures, the players in the clearing, they are nothing. We are in a tame zone near gates used by beginners. The rest of the Land is not so forgiving, and the Gray Warrior can go anywhere.”

Their next encounter had gone slightly better, but she still had to rescue him. They had hiked for thirty minutes until the path emerged from the white woods onto the banks of a rushing river. The forest did not continue on the opposite bank. Instead, a great sea of tall, green grass extended to the horizon. A gleaming white bridge with towers on either end spanned the banks. The path resumed on its far side where it continued for a short distance until it intersected with a road that ran through the undulating green sea straight toward a white arch that stood on a hill like a fortress perched on an island.

“Finally,” he exhaled, unable to conceal his relief at seeing the exit. He then added in a more downcast tone, “If that’s the gate we are headed for, I guess I won’t make level two today.”

“We’ll see,” she said and stepped aside. “You cross the bridge first.”

The mischievous grin should have tipped him off, but the truth was the trek had exhausted him. Moving about the Land, even if it was all virtual, was as taxing as it was exhilarating. The illusion of mobility was friggin awesome, but he was near his limits. Getting through the gate and resting was all he was thinking about when he stepped onto the simulated marble.

As soon as his boot touched the white roadbed, a pair of pale skeletal figures stepped out from a dark doorway in the nearest of the bridge towers. The figures held metal pikes with ends filed to deadly points which they aimed at his chest.

He’d glanced back at her. She’d, once again, assumed the posture of a disapproving parent. “What do I do now?”

“Got to get across that bridge.”

“Do I attack them with my axe?”

“I wouldn’t,” she’d said while inspecting the nails on her right hand.

He’d taken that to mean he should use his sword. Which was a mistake. Before he could draw it from its sheath, the two figures lunged forward and struck him with their pikes. The lifeforce bar showed yellow this time and at 50 percent.

“Shield would be good,” Darshana called.

Backpedaling away from their attack, he retrieved the shield from his back and used it to deflect their blows while he slashed at them with his sword. The slashing did no good. His sword strikes passed right through the frail-looking creatures and seemed to have no impact. At one point, they placed their pikes on his shield and forced him back off the bridge. He landed on his back looking up at them. His lifeforce was registering 25 percent. He assumed they would finish him, but they stopped their attack and stood like sickly statues with their pikes crossed, barring entrance to the bridge.

He remained down until he heard Darshana’s laughter. Then he scrambled to his feet, but before he could launch into another futile attack, she pulled him back.

“It’s not all fighting, Boston. The Land is full of riddles and puzzles. Not even I could force the bridge wraiths to let us pass.”

“Then how do we get by them?”

“Ask them.”

He turned back toward the wraiths, and she pulled him back again.

“Sheath your sword and put your shield away first.”

He did as she’d said and approached the wraiths, not sure what words to use. “What do I say?”

“Ask if you can cross. Be polite.”

He turned back to the ghostly figures who seemed indifferent to his presence. “Umm. Hi. Sorry about the fight. May I cross your bridge?”

The wraiths withdrew their pikes and turned to let him advance. When they did, he experienced the same yellow glow as when he’d killed the man in the clearing and the same voice said, “Level two achieved. Congratulations.”

By the time they reached the gate, the real person behind Falin could barely keep his eyes open. He’d dozed off several times along the way, opening his eyes to find Darshana, annoyed, pulling on his arm and urging him to keep moving.

She waited at the gate’s threshold for him to drag himself the last twenty feet.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m okay,” he managed as he reached her.

On the brink of unconsciousness, he became aware of a muffled voice calling to him. It was not coming from the speakers in his headgear.

“Can you hear me, baby?” the voice asked.

Oh shit, he thought. “Push me through, push me through,” he shouted to Darshana as his cybermask was removed, and his mother’s concerned face stared down at him.