Feyland: The First Adventure (2 page)

J
ennet followed the mossy path through the white-barked trees. Sunlight sifted in golden shafts between the trunks, and yellow-winged butterflies danced against the deeper shadows of the woods. The oak of her mage staff was smooth and solid under her palm.

This was prime. By
far
the best sim experience she’d ever had. VirtuMax had done an amazing job with their new tech. It was hard to believe she was in a prototype game, the interface felt so smooth.

Something rustled in the bushes beside the path, and she whirled, her breath catching.

“Who’s there?”

No reply. She stood for a long moment, scanning the underbrush, but saw nothing. Warily, Jennet started down the path again. Just because she was in the beginning level of the game didn’t mean she was safe. Monsters and creatures could spring out to attack her at any moment. That’s how these fantasy-type games went.

Although usually a character picked up a quest first, instead of wandering around in the woods, waiting to be attacked. Clearly Feyland was still in the rudimentary storyline phase. She had nothing to go on, beyond exploring the world and hoping to figure things out. No prompts, no cues, no text explaining what her game objectives were.

But as long as the world was so amazing, she didn’t care. The game developers would give her something to do soon enough.

The trees thinned, showing glimpses of emerald meadows and azure sky beyond. Jennet stepped out of the trees, and smiled at the view. Rolling hills spread out before her, spangled with white blossoms. Nestled in a nearby hollow stood a cozy-looking cottage, full-on fairytale with its whitewashed, half-timbered walls and diamond-paned windows. Red flowers spilled from the window boxes.

The path she stood on led directly to the front step.

A brown, squat creature sat there, watching her. Her first quest-giver? Or an enemy? There was nothing about it to give her any indication—no green friendly icon over its head, or red shield that would signal aggression. In most sim games, NPCs, Non-Player-Characters, were marked so that players knew how to interact. Obviously, the programmers had a bit more work to do on the game.

Pressing her lips together in concentration, Jennet reviewed her Spellcaster’s arsenal. Fireball, Wall of Flame, and Arcane Blast. All three spells seemed strong enough to take down an enemy, though Wall of Flame had a ten second cooldown that made it less useful. Still, it seemed a decent enough assortment to work with.

Jennet strode down the path toward the cottage. As she approached, the figure on the doorstep looked up at her. He was a hideous creature.

His dark eyes and thin lips were overshadowed by his enormous, jutting cliff of a nose. The only things larger than his nose were his 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 didn’t seem primed to attack, so Jennet stepped closer, wrinkling her nose at the smell of moldy earth and old wood-smoke. She halted a few feet from the stoop, waiting, but the creature only regarded her from its murky brown eyes.

“Hello?” she said at last.

“Greetings.” His voice sounded like stirred gravel. “Did you bring me milk?”

She glanced around. Was there supposed to be a store nearby? Had she missed a step somewhere?

He folded his spindly arms. “I want milk.”

“Okay.”

If this was the first quest, it was a strange one. She wished she could give the developers some advice.

Clearly she wasn’t going to get anywhere with the weird little creature until she’d brought him milk. Whatever. Jennet walked around the cottage, looking for clues, and when she got back to the front step, the creature was holding a wooden bowl cradled between his knobbly fingers.

“Slow-witted mortal,” he said, holding out the bowl. “Fill this with milk from the black cow over yonder hill.”

Jennet took it, careful not to touch the creature. Something about him was just too odd for comfort. Bowl tucked under her arm, she headed for the rise behind the cottage. The wind tugged a strand of her hair free, and she pushed it behind her ear. She could almost feel the warm sunshine, like a hand upon her shoulder.

At the top of the hill she took a moment to appreciate the view. The grassy hills, green-gold in the sunlight, rolled away before her. A small valley lay below, the silvery glint of a stream at the bottom edged by graceful cottonwoods. Farther out, a darker line of trees stood. Pines, maybe. Behind them, the blue shadows of mountains rose, jagged against the sky.

The world of Feyland beckoned, a fantastic place to explore. But first, she had to get some milk.

A white fence enclosed a small field below, holding—as the creature had promised—a black cow. She’d never actually milked a cow before, but surely the game designers wouldn’t make it too hard.

Of course, she had to catch the cow first. Jennet climbed over the fence. The cow watched her with soft, placid eyes, but every time she got close enough to grasp the red harness it wore, somehow the animal ended up on the other side of the meadow.

She plucked handfuls of grass to entice it, tried sprinting and sneaking, and finally, after ten useless minutes, gave it up.

Fine. Jennet set the bowl down and crossed her arms, deliberately ignoring the animal. What else could she use? There was nothing in her in-game inventory, and somehow she didn’t think blasting the cow with a Fireball would help. The creature had asked for milk, not rare steak.

There was some quote… something about music soothing the savage beast. Could that be the answer? And was it even possible to catch a cow with music?

She had to at least try, no matter how farfetched the notion. Leaning back against the white fence, she hummed a snatch of song they were working on in youth choir—
Ca’ the Yowes
.

To her surprise, the game picked up the song and amplified it. Jennet straightened. She started singing for real, pulling the air deep into her lungs and letting out a strand of melody that felt almost tangible.

Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
 

Ca' them where the heather grows,
 

Ca' them where the burnie rowes,
 

My bonnie dearie.

The cow lifted its head and took a step forward. Jennet imagined the song surrounding the black cow, looping around its broad neck and leading it forward. The animal took another step toward her, then another.
It was working!
Keeping her breath steady, Jennet kept singing, drawing the cow closer and closer. At the last verse, she grasped the supple red leather of its harness with a burst of triumph.

The cow snorted when the song ended, but didn’t seem too unhappy to be caught. Jennet tied the cow to the fence rail and picked up the bowl. Giving a doubtful glance at the udder, she squatted down.

Was she actually supposed to grab the gross pink flesh? What if she pulled too hard, and the cow kicked her? Those hooves looked sharp.

She could do this. Really.

Jennet slid the bowl under the udder and grabbed one of the teats. It was warm to her touch, and she tried not to shudder. Pull and squeeze, right? She tugged, and thankfully, a white stream shot out, straight into the bowl.

A dozen more pulls, and the bowl was nearly full. Jennet carefully set it beyond the fence, then untied the cow.

“Thank you,” she said, and turned it loose.

It uttered a low moo and trotted to the far side of the field. A second later it started munching the grass, ignoring her completely.

The smell of warm milk drifted up to tickle her nose. Careful not to spill, she carried the bowl back over the hill and set it in front of the creature who still waited on the step.

“Ah!” he cried with glee.

Picking up the offering, he guzzled the milk in one long swallow. He looked happier when he was finished, his face plumper and not so scowly. Still really ugly, though.

He nodded at her, dark eyes gleaming. “So, mortal. My use-name is Fynnod, and I welcome you to the Realm.”

“Thanks. I’m—”

“We will name you Fair Jennet here,” he said. “What do you seek?”

He knew her name? That was weird—but then, she
had
logged in under the user name of Jennet. Of course she didn’t use her real name when playing actual games, but this was just the pre-beta.

“I seek…”

She paused. What was the goal of Feyland, anyway? The intro storyline was non-existent. Clearly it was a fantasy-type game, but what was the objective?

Fynnod was no help. He sat, still as a stone, and watched her.

“Victory,” she finally said in a firm voice.

“Then you shall continue further into the Realm.” He nodded, something murky and unpleasant moving through his eyes. “Be brave, Fair Jennet. I will send you to the next circle of Feyland.”

He lifted his hand, fingers twisting in a complex pattern. Glowing runes inscribed the air, and Jennet blinked. A moment later, white light swirled around her. The blue sky over her head tipped and shredded away. Jennet gripped her staff tightly, forcing herself to stay calm. It was just a game. It couldn’t hurt her, no matter how real it felt.

The light cleared, and she found herself standing in another clearing, the same pale mushrooms encircling her. This time, though, dark pines surrounded her. The sky overhead was the pearly gray of impending dusk, the air heavy with the scent of dust and sap.

So, this was the second level of the game. She frowned. The starting lands were more appealing, with the wide horizon and sunlit hills. She wouldn’t have minded spending more time exploring there, but clearly the game had other ideas.

Chiming laughter scattered through the air like glitter, and Jennet glanced up to see silvery balls of light floating through the trees. Squinting, she could make out small, winged figures in the center of each shimmering light. Faeries.

They floated to the edge of the forest and hovered, illuminating the beginning of another path. All right. She had time to do a little more adventuring.

Jennet stepped over the mushroom ring, and followed the glimmering creatures down the path. A thick carpet of pine needles muffled her footsteps. Wisps of gray mist floated through the trees, and she was grateful for the little faeries leading the way. Occasionally one would laugh, like high tinkling bells, and they all would float faster. Jennet picked up her pace until she was running through the silent forest, the shimmering lights bobbing ahead.

The crystal set at the end of her staff glowed, sending a dim bluish glow onto the path. No obstacles blocked her way, no fallen limbs or thorny brambles. Dark violet flowers studded the nearby bushes, pulsing oddly in the light.

At last, the balls of light slowed. When Jennet reached them they floated slowly upward, higher and higher, until they twinkled like stars against the evening sky. Then they winked out.

“Hey,” she called. “Come back!”

Even though they’d seemed more like fireflies than sentient beings, she’d been glad of their company. The forest was darker now, the stillness full of menace. Throat suddenly dry, Jennet looked around to see where the faerie creatures had led her.

A dark ruin rose among the trees, a tower, crumbling against the sky. Its empty door gaped blackly. Had something moved in those deep shadows?

Usually she was up for any kind of fight, in-game, but this just felt creepy. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, frantically sending the message
go home, go home.

Too late.

A figure stepped from the doorway; an armored knight clad all in black. The shadows slid away from him, as though his armor were made of an even deeper blackness. His helm completely obscured his face. If he had a face at all.

Jennet raised her staff, her mind scrabbling to recall her spells. She had no doubt
this
was a true enemy.

“Fair Jennet,” the figure rasped, lifting a huge sword, “prepare to meet the Black Knight in battle.”

Oh damn. Spellcaster against heavily armored fighter. This couldn’t end well.

Forcing back her fear, Jennet called up Wall of Flame. Before the knight took another step forward, a sheet of fire roared from her staff and enveloped him.

He bellowed and strode forward, seemingly untouched. Jennet sidled to the right and sent an Arcane Blast at her enemy. A bolt of blue sizzled through the air like lightning, and she took advantage of the distraction to dart for the edge of the tower. Her best bet was to stay out of range of that dangerous sword and try to wear the knight down with magic. If he got close…

Well, she wouldn’t let him.

But he was fast. Before she could summon her next spell, he charged her. She danced back as his blade whistled past, far too close. She wasn’t ready to die in-game. Not yet. Keeping new characters alive for as long as possible was a point of honor for her.

She called up a Fireball and flung it straight at the knight. Orange-red flame scorched through the air, and he staggered back a pace. Jennet slid further around the tower. Maybe she could make a break for the trees, use them for cover.

Clang! The sword bit into the stones right above her head. She dodged away, blinking grit from her eyes. The knight was fast—too fast. His next attack came before she was ready, his sword slicing across her chest. A burning line scored her shoulder, and she stumbled backward.

And fell through the doorway of the tower, into blackness.