Faery Worlds - Six Complete Novels (111 page)

T
he question hung in the cold air. Jennet blinked, trying to find the words.

“Jen?” Her dad squeezed her hands.

“I…Tam…” She swallowed the lump in her throat, then tried again. “We were simming in Feyland and…Oh Dad, I’m so sorry.”

“In Feyland? You know that’s off limits!” He took a breath, visibly trying to calm himself. “All right, you were gaming, and then?”

“Tam made a bargain with the Dark Queen - she’s the last boss. And after the fight, he was just lying there unconscious in the sim chair. Dad, stuff that happens in-game affects real life. It sounds crazy, but it’s true. We have to go back in, together, and save Tam!”

“No.”

“But Dad, he could be dying!”

“Jennet, listen to me. Playing a computer game is not going to save your friend. And nobody is going to be using the Full-D system right now. It’s too dangerous.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking suddenly weary. “I never told you exactly how Thomas died.”

A shiver ran through her. “You said he had a stroke - a blood clot to his brain.”

“That’s what the doctors thought. But I don’t mean the exact diagnosis. When they found his body, he was hooked in to the Full-D system. He died while he was simming. And now your friend Tam… there’s something terribly wrong with the hardware. The neural interface of the helmet, something.”

“It’s not the hardware, Dad. It’s the
game
. Feyland is connected to another world, and I have to—”

“Jennet.” He put his arm around her shoulders. “I know you’re upset. But there’s nothing we can do except trust the doctors to take care of Tam.”

“But I’ve simmed a lot on the Full-D, and I haven’t—”

“You were playing right before you got sick this summer, weren’t you?” He gave her a penetrating look.

“I… well, yes, but—”

“And it landed you in the hospital for a week. So, no. No more playing. Those systems need to be examined, dismantled, and rebuilt from the bottom up.”

Oh no. A sick shakiness trembled through her. How could she go back in-game and fight to free Tam if the systems were down?

“There’s one more thing.” Dad cleared his throat. “About Thomas. He had recently found out he had invasive cancer. He was dying.”

Shock pierced the cold surrounding her. “But - what about treatment? Chemo and radiation and all that?”

“By the time they discovered the cancer, it was too late. He chose to not even try. In a sense it was merciful, the way he died. It was fast, and likely painless.”

Thomas had cancer? Terminal cancer? Had he made a deliberate choice to leave his body behind, and enter the Realm of Faerie? He hadn’t been able to save her, but it seemed he had some influence over the Dark Queen. Maybe without him there, Jennet wouldn’t have ever come home from the hospital that summer.

But Tam’s choice was different. He had a family, a life, a body to come back to. She couldn’t let him give all that up - couldn’t live with the guilt of knowing it had been because of her.

“It’s all right, Jen.” Dad squeezed her shoulders. “I need to get to the hospital, meet Tam’s family, and see what the prognosis is. Whatever happens, I bear the responsibility.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice nearly breaking. It was hers. Hers. “Can I come, too?”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“Yes. I have to know.”

Every beat of her heart was fear and guilt and worry, carrying his name. Tam. Tam. Tam.

Tam held a heavy silver goblet to his lips. The scent of wine and spices tingled in his nose, but he didn’t drink. For some reason, he wasn’t supposed to. A memory flashed deep in his mind, like a silver-sided fish. He chased after it, but it was gone, submerged again in shadows.

Around him, the clearing was filled with glowing lights and high, chiming voices. The faeries came and went, swirling about their queen. Music floated through the air. He set the goblet down on the leafy table beside him and looked for the musicians.

There, at the edge of the clearing. A tall, twiggy figure playing the flute. Next to it, a squat, dark troll beating a hand-drum with gnarled fingers, and in the center, a man with a guitar. Tam squinted. There was something familiar about the bard.

As if sensing his regard, the man’s fingers stilled. He nodded to his companions, and then strode over to Tam.

“Well met, brave knight,” the musician said. “And how do you find our fair land?” There was something sad in the question, a weight that Tam didn’t understand.

“How should I find it?” He had a feeling he hadn’t been here that long, but he couldn’t remember where he had come from.

The bard turned wise, weary eyes on him. “You should remember that beauty and treachery exist in equal measure here. It is wise of you to take no food, nor drink.” He nodded to Tam’s untouched goblet.

Tam’s brain felt strange and sludgy. He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the glittery edged laughter of the Dark Queen. One moment the air beside him was empty, the next she was there, luminous as the moon in a midnight sky.

“How now, Bard Thomas,” she said. “What strange tales do you tell our guest?”

The musician gave a short bow. “My lady, I do but discourse on the wonders of the realm.”

The queen smiled at him, but there was a sharpness to it. Tam shifted uncomfortably. He wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that look.

“Enough talk,” the queen said. “Play on, bard. We have a taste for your music this eve.”

“As my lady commands.” Bard Thomas inclined his head. “Fare well, young knight. I shall play you a ballad ere our time here is done.” There was warning in his look, and a message that Tam couldn’t decipher.

The queen waved her delicate hand in dismissal, then turned to Tam. “Are you well, bold Tamlin?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t imagine saying anything but
yes
to the queen.

“Good.” She brought one hand to his face and set her fingers lightly against his cheek. A rush of heat and starlight went right through Tam. He barely heard her next words. “Tomorrow you perform a great feat for us, brave knight. Tomorrow we open the Gate.”

Her eyes were full of magic and mystery. Tam fell into her gaze, and didn’t bother looking back.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

T
he hospital room was dim and smelled of disinfectant, but Jennet barely noticed. She rushed to the side of the bed where Tam lay, and took one of his limp hands in hers.

Her dad stayed by the door, talking to the nurse who had shown them to Tam’s room. Without taking her eyes from the still figure on the bed, Jennet listened.

“What’s the prognosis?” her dad asked.

“We can’t say at this point,” the nurse answered. “He’s in a coma now, and seems stable. If there’s no change in the night, we’ll run some tests tomorrow.”

“The doctor mentioned possible brain trauma?” Her dad’s voice was strained.

“Sir, we really don’t know anything yet. Our specialists will be in first thing to take a look at him.”

Jennet squeezed Tam’s fingers. It was horrible, the way they were talking about him. Like he wasn’t even a person any more. Oh Tam. For the hundredth time, hot tears rose in her eyes. It didn’t seem like she was ever going to run out of them. Her body could shrivel up and desiccate, and she’d still be crying for Tam.

“Did his family arrive?” her dad asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Linn and her younger son are here. They went to the food court, I believe, but should be back soon. If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the station.”

“Of course. Go ahead. We’ll just…” Dad cleared his throat. “We’ll wait here.”

Jennet listened to the nurse’s shoes squeak down the hall. Then there was only the quiet beeping of the machines Tam was hooked up to, the hum of technology. Despair sloshed through her. The hospital could run a million tests, and never find out what was wrong with Tam. Did they have a machine that could tell when somebody’s soul had been sucked into the Realm of Faerie? She didn’t think so.

She had to go back, confront the Dark Queen and get Tam free - before Dad had the system taken apart. Now that she had her mortal essence back, she felt so much stronger. But would she be strong enough?

Voices sounded from outside the door. Jennet looked up as two people walked into the room - a solemn-looking boy and the frail woman who had opened the door the time she had gone to Tam’s. They halted when they saw Jennet and her dad.

“Mrs. Linn?” Her dad had his hand out. “I’m Steve Carter, and this is my daughter Jennet. Your son was at our house today when the, er, accident occurred.”

Tam’s mom ignored the outstretched hand. “What did you do to my boy?” Her voice was low and full of pain. She turned and fixed Jennet with a hollow expression. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing.” It came out a whisper.

How could she possibly explain to this fragile woman with dark-circled eyes that her son had sacrificed himself inside a computer game?

“Now, Mrs. Linn,” her dad said. “I’ve arranged for you to stay in a hotel nearby, and all your meals until… That is, the hospital will do everything they can to determine—”

“I just want him back,” Tam’s mom said.

Me, too.

The little boy came to stand beside Jennet. He peered at the bed, then turned to look at her. Green eyes regarded her, so much like Tam’s that her heart squeezed tight with pain.

“I’m Peter,” he said. “But you can call me Bug if you want.”

“Hi. I’m Jennet.”

“I know.” He looked at the still figure in front of them. “I think he’s still in there.”

“So do I.”

Peter leaned forward. “Hey Tam,” he said loudly into one ear. “Wake up. Mom will make you some eggs if you do. And your computer is almost fixed.” He turned back to Jennet. “I broke his sim-system,” he said. “Not on purpose. I was fixing it. But it didn’t fix right. Tam says you have a really sparked system.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t want to talk about this. Behind her, Jennet could hear Dad speaking to Tam’s mom. His voice was low and reassuring, and she wished she could take some comfort in it. Knowing more than your parents was a terrible thing.

After a fidgeting moment, Tam’s little brother spoke again. “So, do you know Puck?”

“What?” Shock ripped through her like lightning. She glanced over her shoulder, but the adults weren’t paying attention. “What do you know about Puck? And keep your voice down.”

Peter’s eyes widened, but his reply was soft. “One of those scary nights, when we were in the fort, I woke up and it was still dark out, and Tam was talking to this little guy.” He screwed his face up. “Puck. He was just floating there in the air. He looked like a Pokemon who got old.”

“What did Puck say? Do you remember?” Jennet leaned forward. Her body felt like it wanted to take off, explode into action and run, run.

“Mhm.” Peter nodded. He didn’t say anything more.

Impatience flared, making her chest tingle with urgency. “Can you
tell
me what he said?”

“Yeah. He said…” Peter cocked his head to one side, clearly fishing for the memory. “He said
heed the old ballands ‘cause your lady waits
.”

“Anything else?” There had to be something more. Puck was obscure, but he’d give more than this slim hint. He had to.

“Nope. What’s a balland?” Peter’s green eyes were wide, full of questions. If Puck had said anything else, the kid wasn’t remembering.

Jennet wanted to kick something and yell. Instead she squeezed her eyes shut, folded her hands into quiet fists, and concentrated on what Peter had told her.
Heed the old ballands
. Ballads? That made more sense. One of Thomas’s old books was filled with ballads about the faerie-folk. She hadn’t thought to look through those. They were just songs.

“Are you ok?” Tam’s little brother took her hand. His grasp was sticky and warm.

Jennet opened her eyes. “Maybe. A ballad is an old song that tells a story.”

“What’s a
heed
?”

“It means to pay attention to something.”

Maybe, just maybe, there was a ballad that could help. She glanced at Tam. His expression was still, his hair, for once, pushed back from his face and staying that way. The machines surrounding the bed gave off steady blips and beeps.