Feyland: The Dark Realm

  “Can I meet you after school?” he asked.

  She shrugged, like it didn’t matter, but a flame of hope wavered to life. “I guess. I’ll see you out front.”

  “Ok.” He hesitated like he wanted to say more, then gave her a brief flicker of a smile. “See you.”

  He walked away, and her body was suddenly lighter, like she’d finally remembered how to breathe.

  It still took years for the end of the school day to come. A few times, Jennet was certain the clocks had broken, their readouts stuck on the same numbers. But at last her final class ended.

  She made herself walk slowly down the stairs and out the big double-doors. There was no guarantee Tam would be there. He could have changed his mind. Even if he was waiting for her, things might still be bad between them.

  He was there, leaning against the brick wall with his hands shoved in his pockets, his mangy backpack at his feet.

  “Hi,” she said, stopping in front of him. It didn’t seem enough, but everything else she could think of to say was too dumb - or too personal. Clearly his mom was a dangerous topic, as was Feyland. Her apology stuck in her throat, but she scraped it out anyway.

  “I… I’m sorry I barged into your life like that.”

  “Yeah.” He looked down at his scuffed pack. “I’m sorry, too.”

  Ouch. “I’ll stay out of your life from now on, don’t worry.” Tears pricked the back of her eyes.

  “Wait.” He held out one hand. “I didn’t mean it like that - I meant for telling you to leave like that. I, um, brought back your book.”

  “Did you read it?”

  “Yes.” His green eyes caught hers. “It was interesting. Look, Jennet. I’m sorry I said those things to you.”

  “Which things?” She needed it to be perfectly clear. Needed to know exactly which parts he was sorry for.

  A shadow crossed his face. “That you should get out of my life. That you were crazy. Wait—” He held up a hand as she drew breath. “I’m not saying that you’re right, either. But I do know that something strange is going on.”

  “Do you?” It was a start. She pressed her lips together, trying to keep from hoping.

  He rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. There was a red line marring his skin.

  “I got this cut after the fight with the Black Knight. Yeah, I could have cut myself on something else, but ...”

  “But what? You think maybe the game can affect the real world?” Oh, god. He might actually believe her. The painful knots in her chest began to loosen. She’d been carrying this alone for so long.

  “I’m also having weird dreams.” He cleared his throat. “And the game, Feyland - there’s something kind of off about it. So - I don’t believe you. But I don’t not believe you, either.”

  Jennet went limp with relief. She sagged against the wall, her whole body trembling. “Thanks.”

  The word wasn’t big enough to convey the enormous wave of gratitude rushing through her.

  He bent and pulled Tales of Folk and Faerie out of his pack, then handed it to her. “So, when do we go back in-game? I could come over almost any day this week. My mom,” he looked away a moment, then back, “she’s doing better. For now.”

  “That’s good. But… I don’t think we should play again.”

  There was a flash of hurt in his eyes and he straightened. “What do you mean? I thought you needed my help. Or did you find somebody else?”

  “No - nobody else. But Tam,” she gestured to his arm, “you’ve already gotten hurt, and that was in the starting lands, where nothing like that is supposed to happen. It gets worse. A lot worse.”

  He pushed his hair away from his eyes and gave her a long look. She could almost see the thoughts turning in his head.

  “Did something happen to you in-game, Jennet?” His voice held a rough note of concern. “Are you ok?”

  She wouldn’t cry - not here, in front of the school. In front of Tam. Blinking hard, she summoned up the words. “I lost… I lost the game to the Dark Queen. And no, I’m not ok.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. Then another. All the fear she’d kept inside was pushing out, making her skin hot, making her weep despite herself.

  “Jennet.” He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Don’t cry. You aren’t supposed to beat the boss the first time you try. It’ll be all right, I promise.”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “It’s not like that, Tam. You have no idea. The first level of the game—”

  “Hey.” He gave her a fleeting, crooked smile. “Give me another chance. I’m the best simmer around, remember? And this time, I know what we’re getting into.”

  “You don’t.” She pushed away from the wall and stared into his eyes. “Feyland is dangerous!”

  “Then show me.” He held her gaze.

  Stubborn idiot. He wasn’t backing down. She wanted to hit him and hug him at the same time.

  “Tam—”

  “Let me choose whether I should keep playing or not. I get it, something’s weird with the game. I’ll be careful. Besides, don’t you still need my help?”

  She dropped her gaze and stared at the ground for a long moment. That was the worst of it. It was hard to argue that he shouldn’t enter Feyland when she needed him so desperately.

  “Yes,” she finally said. “I do need your help.”

  “Then we’re still playing,” he said. “Together.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jennet settled in the sim-chair and glanced over at Tam. Helmet and gloves on, he was leaning forward like a free-faller about to jump.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  Please, let nothing go wrong. She had the twisting feeling that Feyland was a trap, waiting to spring. They shouldn’t be doing this - but she didn’t have any other options.

  “Ready,” he said. His voice was full of anticipation that she couldn’t share.

  “All right. See you in there.” She pulled down the visor of her helm and entered the game.

  WELCOME TO FEYLAND.

  The words scrolled across her vision, flared, then burned down to nothing. She braced herself for the transition, that queasy, whirling golden light that marked full entry into the game.

  When the light stopped spinning, she was standing in a ring of pale mushrooms. Tam was beside her, wearing his armor, his sword at his side. The sky was filled with the grey of early twilight, and the dark forest stretched away on all sides. Directly in front of them a thin trail cut through the pines.

  He glanced around. “Where are we?”

  “The second circle. We unlocked it last time.” Proof, as if she needed it, that she couldn’t go deeper in-game without Tam. “The path should lead to our next quest giver. And don’t forget, each level is more dangerous than the last.”

  “Ok. Let’s go.” His silver armor gleamed as he strode out of the ring. She noticed he was careful not to disturb any of the mushrooms.

  Taking a firmer grip on her staff, she followed. The silence was thick in the forest, the sound of their footsteps muffled by the layer of pine needles carpeting the path. Grey mist filtered between the trees, making everything dim and hazy.

  “Will the sun come out?” Tam asked. “It was a lot lighter the first time we played.”

  “Every circle takes us farther into Feyland. In the center, at the court, it’s night all the time.” The memory of her moonlit battle shivered down her spine.

  “I thought faeries were ok with daylight. They’re not vampires, are they?”

  “It’s the Dark Court.” Even saying the words made her feel cold. There was a sudden ache in her chest, as though the part of herself that belonged to the queen had woken and was tugging at her.

  Tam was silent a moment. When he spoke, she could practically hear the thoughts tumbling into place in his head.

  “In that old book you lent me, there were two main courts. They weren’t called Dark and Light though.”

  “Unseelie and Seelie. We’re in the land of
Unseelie. Unfortunately.”

  “So why aren’t the Light - er, Seelie - faeries around?” he asked. “Don’t all these guys live in the same world?”

  “From what I’ve read, it’s kind of complicated.” She stepped around a bramble bush that tried to snag her skirts. “It’s not that any of them are good or bad, the way we think of it. This isn’t Tinkerbell running around sprinkling pixie dust, you know.”

  “Actually, I’ve read that old story. Peter Pan. You know, she wasn’t a very nice little faerie. She tried her best to kill the heroine.”

  “Exactly,” Jennet said. “They don’t have the same sort of morals as humans. The dark, the light, it’s all fluid. So the Seelie Court may be involved, or may be content to let the Dark Court go about its business.”

  Something rustled in the underbrush, and Tam whirled, hand on his sword hilt. “Who’s there?”

  There was no reply.

  Then motion erupted around them. Thick black roots whipped out of the earth and snaked around Jennet’s ankles. Brambles grasped her skirts with spiky fingers, and the pines reached down, needles tangling into her hair and holding fast. Her mage staff was whipped from her hands and landed in a prickle bush, out of reach.

  “Tam!” she cried, her heartbeat racing. She brought her hands to her head, trying to wrench her hair free. The trees held her fast, and her scalp burned from the pain.

  “I’m trying!” Tam was stabbing at the foliage holding her, but the bushes and vines were impervious. It was like his sword had been turned to useless plastic.

  “Why aren’t they grabbing you?” She tried to kick free of the roots, but they were iron manacles around her ankles.

  “No idea. Maybe my armor protects me. Are they hurting you?” He kept slashing, but it was no use. The underbrush wasn’t giving way at all.

  “My head hurts, but I don’t think they’re trying to kill me.” After the initial attack, the trees seemed content to just keep her imprisoned.

  “We have to get you free.” He slid his sword back in the sheath and grabbed her mage staff from where it had tumbled into the bushes. “Try this.”

  She took her staff from Tam and pointed the end at one of the thickest roots, at a safe distance from her feet. White flame sizzled, and for an instant it felt like her bonds weakened - but then they cinched even more tightly about her ankles.

  “Ow,” she said. “That didn’t work.”

  “Look.” Tam pointed through the misty trees. “There are lights over there - and can you hear that music?”

  She listened. “No. I don’t see anything.”

  “What if it’s the Seelie faeries, Jennet? I bet they could help us. Anything that plays music like that has to be good.” A dreamy look moved across his face. He turned and took a step into the underbrush.

  “Wait! Hold on - something’s wrong.”

  She heard the music now. It whispered her name, sweet and low, promising help, promising that if she followed, everything she wanted would be hers. Jennet shook her head, sharply.

  “Don’t listen, Tam.” It was hard to ignore the pull of the music - but she was hardly going anywhere, with the trees imprisoning her.

  “They’re just over there,” Tam said, gesturing. “I’ll be right back, with help.”

  “Tam, no… don’t go!” She tried to take a step after him, and fell to her knees as the roots held her feet immobile. The pines wrenched at her hair and she blinked back tears of pain. “Tam!”

  He didn’t turn around, and now she could see the lights. Blue faerie-fire, glimmering and beckoning. The music was louder now, almost impossible to ignore. Obviously Tam had fallen under its spell. She called his name again, but he kept going without a backward glance.

  She had to get free by herself - and fast.

  Brute force wasn’t doing it. She looked at the roots, then hefted her staff again. She needed a different spell. What would work against plants? She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the hammering of her pulse.

  Heat. A soothing warmth that would coax the plants to wilt and droop like leaves on a hot summer day. Could she summon a gentler form of her lightning? Opening her eyes, she coaxed the spell to life, making waves of heat shimmer from the crystal set at the end of her staff.

  For a long minute, nothing happened. Then the roots binding her ankles eased and the painful tangling in her hair lessened. Barely breathing, she kept sending warmth at the roots, the bushes snagged in her skirts, the pine branches overhead. At last, with a creaking sigh, the plants let go.

  Yes! Jennet leapt to her feet and took a few hasty steps away. The roots lay quiet on the path, the pines no longer loomed over her.

  But where was Tam?

  The forest was utterly still. Heart pounding, Jennet picked up her skirts and ran in the direction he’d disappeared. Surely she’d catch sight of him just ahead.

  But there was no Tam. Her fear swelled into the edges of panic. Deep in the forest something glinted. A flash of light, reflected off silver armor.

  Lungs burning, she forced herself to go faster. The underbrush pressed against her, thorny brambles and thick-leaved skunk-cabbage, but she was getting closer to the lights. They resolved into glowing balls bobbing through the thinning trees. The ground softened, and in moments she was slogging through the shallow water of a bog.

  A bog! Oh no. Wisps. Those were the pale balls of light, not help from the Seelie faeries. Tam was following marsh wisps, and they were luring him to his doom.

  She caught sight of him up ahead, striding through knee-deep water.

  “Tam!” she called, her voice high with fear. “Come back!”

  He didn’t give any indication at all that he’d heard her. Instead he marched on, his face turned toward the pale orbs that floated ahead. Panic gave her a spurt of energy. She splashed forward through the murky water and caught his arm.

  “Stop,” she cried, almost losing her footing. “Tam, you’re following will o’ wisps.”

  He still didn’t look at her, but this time he spoke. “Can you hear it? It’s the most beautiful…”

  Clearly Tam was entranced. She circled in front of him and placed herself squarely in his path. Her feet were beginning to sink into the soft mud, and the water was almost up to her hips.

  “You have to listen to me,” she said, putting one hand out. “Tam Linn, you have to—”

  He tried to slosh around her, and then stopped, shaking his head. The soft music seemed to grow louder and the wisps bobbed around them in a semi-circle of cold light. With a jolt of panic, she saw that the water was crawling up Tam’s armor. He was sinking.

  “No!” She pointed her staff at the closest wisp and shot a bolt of white flame at it.

  The wisp flared, then disappeared, leaving behind the smell of rotten vegetables. Jennet tried not to breathe in the stench as she shot the next wisp, then the next. From the corner of her eye, she saw Tam was up to his chest. He was going down fast.

  Calling on all her energy, she sent a wave of fire rippling from her staff. The rest of the wisps ignited, their reflections blurring the water. Then they were gone, burned away to nothing.

  “Jennet?” Tam blinked, as if his eyes had been focused someplace else. “What happened?”

  “Wisps.” She gripped her staff tight and let out a shaky breath. “They lure people into the bog, to drown.”

  Tam grimaced. “Sorry - I shouldn’t have followed them. That was dumb.”

  “You were ensorcelled. But yeah, it was.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on, we have to get out of here.”

  “Um, we have a problem.” He didn’t move. “I’m stuck.”

  “Ok, here.” She handed him her staff. “Use this for leverage. I’m going to push you from behind. Ready?” She went around him and laid her hands on the cool metal of his back. Chilly water lapped at her wrists.

  “Stupid armor,” he said. “Ok, go.”

  Her feet slipping, Jennet leaned and shoved and heaved, and finally, with a sucking splash, T
am stumbled forward.

  “Keep going,” she said. “There’s solid ground just a little further on.”

  They sloshed toward the trees, pushing past lily pads and thin reeds, until the water was below their knees. Jennet let out a long breath and shivered. They’d come too close to disaster. Another minute, and Tam would have been a victim of the bog. Would he have woken in real-life, gasping and choking? Would she have logged off to find him limp and lifeless in the sim-chair?

  She shuddered, grateful to step out of the slimy water to the firmer ground of the forest. Tam was right beside her. His feet came free with a disappointed squelch, as if the bog wasn’t pleased to let him go.

  “Thanks for the rescue,” he said, ducking his head.

  “Yeah, well, we have to look out for each other here. You saved me last time. I figure it was my turn, right?” Her gown was clammy against her legs, and her shoes were filled with mud, but a crazy relief moved through her. “We make a good team.”

  “True enough.” A smile flashed through his eyes, quickly gone. “Now what? Back into the forest?”

  “I’m not sure I could find the path again. And I’m not a big fan of the trees attacking us, either.” She glanced around. The misty light made it hard to see, but to their right she thought there was some kind of a structure. “Do you see something over that way?” She gestured. “A bridge, maybe?”

  He squinted. “Yeah, I think so. Let’s go check it out.”

  As they got closer, the shape resolved into a stone-arched bridge. Which meant a road. Which meant that they could find a quest-giver and start progressing to the next level of the game - before it caused them permanent harm.

  The bridge was tall, the road running on an embankment high above the murky bog. Deep shadows filled the spaces between the arches, and Jennet eyed the darkness. Anything could be lurking in there.

  “Hm,” Tam said. “Did you ever hear that old story about the three goats trying to cross a bridge?”

  “I was thinking the same thing. I bet there’s a troll - or some kind of guardian - under there.”

  “Then we better give it something if we want safe passage across. What do you think - a goat?”

  “I don’t think I can summon a goat. Besides, that’s just wrong.” She thought a moment, and then summoned some bread, honeycomb, and berries. Her hands overflowed with the offerings.