Feyland: The First Adventure (4 page)

Jennet couldn’t decide if Brock had a bigger crush on her, or on her connection to VirtuMax. She’d destroyed him in a school-organized sim tournament earlier that year, and ever since he’d followed her around as if he were a lost puppy. He didn’t take hints, either.

“So, are you free this summer?” he asked. “Because soon as school’s done, I’m organizing a gaming club. If you joined it would be so prime. We’ll have lots of fun.”

“I bet.”

“Like, my dad said he’d take us to SimCon to see Spark Jaxley!”

The celebrity gamer was a fixture in all of VirtuMax’s ads, her signature magenta hair flying as she flawlessly met any challenge the sim systems threw at her. Jennet understood the appeal, but it wasn’t worth having to spend all summer with Brock just to meet the gaming superstar.

“I have to work this summer,” she lied. “My Dad’s developing a new game, and I’m helping pre-beta it.”

“Oh.” Brock’s eyes widened and he looked even more worshipful. “You’re so lucky.”

“Yeah.”

If
luck
meant being practically an orphan in her own home.

Ah well, she’d learned to deal with the fact her mom had taken off years ago, and accept her workaholic dad with his messed-up priorities. At least she was surrounded by the best tech money could buy, attentive staff, and awesome games. And now she had Feyland.

The bell rang, a discreet ping signaling the end of lunch. Jennet stood and slung her satchel over one shoulder.

“See you,” she said.

Before Brock could reply, she strode away. The force of his adoration always made her feel guilty, like she was a bad person for not finding him appealing in return. He wasn’t a total loser. There was somebody out there for him—it just wasn’t her.

Too bad the guy she was interested in didn’t seem to know she existed. Kenzer was a year ahead of her in school. He wasn’t in any of her classes, but he lived in her neighborhood. She sometimes saw him at the g-board park or getting snacks at the corner store, but the most she’d ever done was muster up the courage to say hello. He’d nodded back, and that was it. Still, she couldn’t help watching for him in the halls of Prep. The sight of his dark unruly hair, crooked smile, and blue eyes always made her heart beat faster.

No sign of Kenzer today, though. The wood-paneled walls absorbed the echoes of yelling students, but this close to the end of school, the excitement was palpable. One more week until summer break. And with Taree not talking to her, and no real boyfriends in sight, Jennet was more than glad to have the sweet distraction of Feyland waiting.

She could spend all summer exploring the game. Plenty of time when Dad was at work, and she knew the staff wouldn’t say anything. Especially since they didn’t have any way of knowing exactly
what
she was doing in the gaming room.

T
he scent of roses and blood filled the clearing housing the Dark Queen’s court. The queen waited upon her throne of knotted midnight, her sharp nails shredding the curling, dark vines beneath one hand. As though alive, the throne shivered in protest.

Behind the throne, a willowy creature with mossy hair played upon a flute, accompanied by the slow, solemn beats of a gnarled drummer, the pulse filling the spaces between the air. Waiting.

An eerie light filled the sky, and the queen lifted her head. She slashed her hand across the darkness and the mournful music stopped, letting the sound of hounds and hooves penetrate the night. The Wild Hunt had returned.

The clearing filled, the sinuous bodies of the hounds flowing like black water, the red-eyed horses lathered and snorting. And riding majestic, the Huntsman.

“Where is my prize?” the queen asked, in a voice boding thunderstorms.

“My lady.” The Huntsman dismounted and bowed, so low his antlered helm brushed the carpet of moss. “We cannot break through to the mortal world. The chink has been sealed.”

“What?” The Dark Queen’s voice cracked through the night, a whip felt across the breadth of her Realm. A killing frost swept the air, and the moss shriveled, flecked with diamonds of cold. The Huntsman did not straighten.

“We could not make our way into the places humans inhabit. The girl is lost to us.”

“I will not allow it. Our salvation lies within reach—and I will
not
let it slip away.” The queen rose, her pale face promising doom to any who met her eyes. “Watch for the mortal girl’s presence. The moment a trace of her is felt, come to me.”

“As you command.”

The Huntsman, wise to the ways of his liege, backed away slowly, never once looking upon the queen’s beautiful, terrible face.

The queen drew forth from the starry depths of her gown her long black thorn, honed to a killing point. Her fingers caressed it, moon-white against its darkness.

All protections against the Realm of Faerie eventually failed—and this one had to have been hastily made, at best. The human world would open again to them, soon.

“MeadowRue,” the queen said, beckoning to one of her handmaidens.

She would set a trap, while they waited. One that the human girl could not escape. The mortal would return and blunder into the queen’s snares.

And when she did, the Realm would take what was necessary.

F
or the next week, Jennet didn’t get a chance to sneak back onto the FullD. Studying for finals squeezed out almost all her free time, thoughts of the game nibbling at her concentration. To distract herself, she watched some vids, took her g-board out in the waning light, and generally tried not to think too much about when she could get back into Feyland.

Still, she finished the year with good grades, despite her distraction. The day after school ended, she slept late and woke up smiling.

Their chef had made scones and left them with a bowl of fresh strawberries, on the dining room table. George, their chauffeur, messaged her tablet to let her know he was available if she wanted to go anywhere, and even Marie, the tight-faced house manager, unbent enough to offer her a cup of tea.

An hour later, Jennet was in the plush quiet of the computer room, belly full, door locked, and the whole day stretched gloriously before her. She flipped the FullD power on and geared up, then settled into the sim chair.

What awaited? Was the Black Knight still stationed outside the ruined tower, sword poised to run her through? If so, she’d be ready.

Adrenaline spiking, she gave the command to enter game. The music sounded a fanfare, but this time there was no dizzying golden light, just a flare of white. Jennet’s avatar materialized in the center of a clearing surrounded by birch trees, a faerie ring of tiny tan mushrooms around her feet. There was no sign of the dark woods, or the ruin—or the Black Knight.

She turned a slow circle to make sure, then let herself relax, tension flowing out of her shoulders. Sunlight dappled the green mosses beneath her feet, and the trees swayed in the slight wind.

A wind she couldn’t feel.

Jennet frowned and dropped to her knees. Putting her face to the ground, she inhaled deeply. Nothing. No scent of herbs and flowers, not even the brown smell of soil. The programmers obviously hadn’t worked the full range of sensory detail into this level of the game. It was a little disappointing.

Jennet stood again, then followed the path winding out the clearing. The trees were richly-detailed, but not as perfectly rendered as the ones in the first level of the game. Still, Feyland was a beautiful, enchanted world—far removed from her mundane life.

The path brought her to another clearing in the woods, larger than the first. The perfectly blue sky arched over a small meadow dotted with golden flowers. On the far side was a granite boulder, the grey stone sparkling with flecks of mica. Atop the stone sat a petite maiden in a yellowish gown, combing out her long dark hair. Her ears were sharply pointed.

A reassuring green glow surrounded the figure. Jennet guessed the aura surrounding the maiden signaled that she was friendly. Not that Jennet was taking any chances. Spells at the ready, she strode forward.

“Greetings,” she said.

The maiden stopped combing her hair. “Greetings, brave adventurer,” she said in a high, sweet voice. “Have you come to aid my people?”

“What aid do they require?” Jennet asked.

This dialogue was much more along the usual lines—a clear script to follow, unlike the weird interactions she’d had with Fynnod.

“Alas, my village has been suffering the attacks of bogles. Will you help defeat them?”

“I will.”

A chime sounded in the air. Quickly, Jennet toggled open her game interface, to see that she had accepted a quest called “Bogle Battle.”

Maybe the programmers hadn’t done a spectacular job with the graphics in this level of the game, but the NPC interaction and storyline was much stronger here. Probably the result of different teams working independently on the various parts of Feyland, then swapping around.

The maiden lifted a delicate hand and pointed to where the path continued past the boulder.

“My village lies yonder. Tell them Mustard Blossom sent you. Many thanks and a fine reward will be yours, if you prevail.”

She picked up her comb again, and the green glow surrounding her faded. Her part was clearly done—though Jennet didn’t think too highly of the programmer who made a character that sat around on rocks and did her personal grooming while her home was being attacked.

Then again, not everything in a game made sense, and at least this level was easier to follow. Jennet headed past the boulder and down the path.

The trees thinned, and beyond them was a small collection of whitewashed cottages. As she got closer to the mini-village, she saw a huddle of petite, sharp-eared figures beside the path. Three of them were weeping while one, a taller male, had his arms folded. He, too, bore the telltale green glow of a friendly NPC.

“Hi,” Jennet said to him. “Mustard Blossom sent me to help.”

He nodded. “We are in dire need. The bogles are rampaging in yonder field, and we fear our village will be next.”

“I’m on it.”

She turned off the path and headed through the first field, where golden stalks of grain waved softly in the breeze. When she came to the end of that field, she paused.

Ahead of her lay a ruined field—the grain trampled and blackened, as if from fire or blight. In the middle were four squat figures wearing rough leather armor and carrying wickedly sharp pikes. The bogles. A reddish glow outlined their figures, and they didn’t seem to have spotted her yet.

Four against one. She didn’t like the odds, but it didn’t look as if any of the cowering villagers were going to help her. Her first real battle, and she was on her own. Jennet’s pulse buzzed with adrenaline.

She’d start with her big opener; Wall of Flame. Sure, then she’d have four hot, irate bogles attacking, but she doubted she could pick them off singly. They were standing so close together that damaging one would alert the others.

The trick would be to keep moving, staying out of their weapon range while doing as much damage as possible. As a cloth-wearing Spellcaster, she was a “squishy” character, an easy pincushion for the bogles’ sharp spears.

Jennet stepped back, finding the farthest range for her spellcasting. Charred wheat stubble crackled beneath her feet. Mentally crossing her fingers for luck, she lifted her staff and sent out her Wall of Flame. The air shimmered with heat and flame as her spell raced toward the bogles. Before it hit, she conjured a Fireball and flung it at the closest bogle.

The two spells reached the bogle simultaneously, and with a screech it fell to the ground. The remaining three turned, searching for their attacker. They spotted her and began yelling, their cries hoarse and guttural. The two nearest her brandished their pikes and sprinted forward, while their companion lagged behind. She really hoped that last one wasn’t a magic-user.

Jennet raced away from her enemies at an angle, casting spells behind her. The lagging bogle raised his arms, red flames dancing at his fingertips. Not good. Hating to pause, Jennet whirled and took careful aim. Just as the bogle’s spell formed, her Arcane Blast took him out—but she’d lost her lead on the other two bogles.