“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.
For 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 B
last took him out—but she’d lost her lead on the other two bogles.
Forcing her hands to a steadiness she didn’t feel, Jennet sent another Fireball at the closest one, then turned and ran.
The creatures were gaining—the rasp of their breathing scraped the air behind her. She put on a burst of speed to keep from getting a spear in the back, then pivoted and fired a blue bolt of arcane energy at her closest pursuer.
He halted, grunted, then slowly folded over. Before he hit the ground, his body disappeared. The other two bogle’s bodies were gone, too.
Which left one angry bogle still at her heels. Jennet tilted her staff, ready to cast another Fireball, but she’d misjudged. The last bogle was too close, the wicked barbs of his weapon thrusting right for her head.
Heart pounding, she ducked, reflexively raising her staff. Metal met wood with a jar she felt down to her shoulders. The bogle grunted, then pulled his pike back, ready for another jab.
Jennet danced back and sent the glowing orb of a Fireball toward her opponent. The bogle leaped out of the way, then rushed her, his sharp teeth glinting in a cruel smile.
Grabbing the end of her staff with both hands, Jennet swung it like a baseball bat, putting all her strength behind the blow. The bogle’s eyes went wide at her unexpected move, and he couldn’t get his pike up in time to block her attack.
Her staff connected with his leather armor, then kept going, meeting no resistance as her final foe disappeared. The force of her swing pulled her around in a half-circle, and she staggered, finally catching her balance.
The field was empty of bogles.
She’d done it—though not as gracefully as she might have liked. Triumphant music drifted through the air as the inhabitants of the tiny village hurried toward her. Their delicate faces were smiling, and the leader carried a heavy sack.
“Bold adventurer,” he said, bowing to her. “You saved our village. We can never repay you—but please take these gold coins as a token of our gratitude.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, taking the sack.
The moment it was in her hands, it disappeared with a clinking sound. Curious, she toggled open her game interface to see that she now had one hundred gold coins in her inventory. Nice. No doubt they would come in handy.
“Will you take word of your victory to the forest camp?” the leader asked, gesturing to a small road leading away from the village. “Our kin there will be glad to hear of it.”
“Sure,” Jennet said. The NPC continued to look at her, so she changed her wording. “I will.”
This time, the man nodded to her, and she heard the chime that signaled she’d accepted a new quest.
“Be careful on your travels,” the leader said. “Many dangerous creatures lurk within the forest and prey upon the unwary. Farewell!”
He waved, and the villagers bowed to her—her cue to go.
It was time for her to stop playing, anyway, and the road seemed a good place for her to exit Feyland. Jennet strode away from the small village. When she reached the pale, dusty road, she lifted her fingers in the command to log out.
The weeks flew past, and Jennet felt as though she was living two lives—the depressingly mundane one of Jennet Carter, and the rich, lively adventures of Fair Jennet in Feyland. She’d faced off against ogres, fought basilisks, spoken with ethereally beautiful faerie maidens, and completed some of the strangest quests. Things like sorting out a big pile of lentils and rice, or falling down a well and talking to animals.
There was one creature who kept showing up, a Non-Player-Character with ratty hair and a tattered dress who tried to get Jennet to do pointless quests. The creature reminded Jennet too uncomfortably of the ’shipper girl at school, so she tried to avoid the NPC whenever possible. Easy enough to do—the world of Feyland was full of levels and layers. Completing the Deep Forest had taken her most of a week, and that was with hours a day in-game.
When Jennet wasn’t playing Feyland, she was thinking about it. She spent the evenings poring over Tales of Folk and Faerie, so much that Dad even noticed.
Thomas came over for dinner a few times, and Jennet couldn’t help asking him questions about the book; trying to find out what she could about Feyland without being obvious. He gave her searching looks, but answered. Sometimes the answer made no sense, but she didn’t want to push it. Thomas was suspicious enough as it was.
Weekends were the worst. Barred from her secret FullD playing, she wasted time on Screenie games and counted the hours until Dad left for work again. Once, she messaged Taree, but her ex-friend didn’t bother responding. So much for that.
The only other thing for her to do was take her g-board out. Their neighborhood had a local park with half-pipes and ramps. She wasn’t the best boarder, but she knew some tricks—which put her in the uncomfortable, solitary ground between the newbies and the prime riders.
When she arrived at the park, she made a quick scan for Kenzer. Her heart gave a crazy bump when she saw him at the far side, doing half-flips with ease. The afternoon light gleamed off his helmet, and she squinted, trying to see his face.
This time she’d talk to him.
But by the time she worked up her nerve to go over, he’d merged with a group of his friends and they were already heading out, talking and laughing as they left the concrete half-pipes and ramps behind. Jennet clutched her g-board, the edges digging into her hands, and watched as Kenzer and the others piled into a new-model grav-car. The car lifted smoothly and pulled away.
So much for that. At least the park was quieter now, with fewer kids to notice as she tried out some new moves. An hour later, the sun was low enough to make her squint every time she turned around. Still, it hadn’t been a total waste. She’d figured out the board-flip move, even if she had a few bruises to show for it.
When she got home, she stowed her board and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. After that, she needed a shower to wash the faint stickiness of sweat off her skin and hair.
“Jennet?” her dad called as she passed the open study door, “could you come in here, please?”
Apprehension zinged through her, drying her throat. Had he found out she’d been sneaking onto the FullD?
“Sure.” She tried to keep her voice nonchalant.
She stepped into the room and perched on one of the blue upholstered chairs facing the desk. Lacing her hands together, she gave her dad a smile meant to look innocent.
“I have some news.” He paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Something jagged and bright flashed through her. Had he actually heard from her mother, after all these years? She leaned forward. Sunlight sliced through the slatted blinds at the window, falling like promises across the disheveled papers on his desk.
“VirtuMax wants to relocate all the senior employees,” he said, and Jennet sat back, swallowing disappointment. Not her mother. Never her mother.
“Relocate? To where?”
Maybe it would be a big city, or somewhere with beaches. Middland was all right, as far as medium-sized cities went, but there were more exciting places to live in the world.
“Crestview,” he said.
Jennet felt her brows pull together. “Crestview? Where’s that? I’ve never even heard of it.”
“Not many people have.” He steepled his fingers and gave her a weary smile. “It’s in the middle of the country, a smallish city compared to here. But the backbone of the ‘net runs right through, making it ideal for VirtuMax.”
Probably the podunk little town had offered bribes and incentives, too. After all, VirtuMax was the biggest gaming company in the world.
“I don’t really want to move.” Not that she had a lot going on here, but Prep was a great school, and she loved singing in the concert youth choir. Eventually she and Taree would start speaking again. And how would Kenzer ever notice her if she left?
“I don’t want to be separated from you, Jennet, but I don’t want to uproot you, either. Prep has a board
ing option.”
“Wait, you’d just leave me here? Alone?” The thought rose up to choke her. She’d already had one parent abandon her.
“Honey. I only want what’s best for you. I’d miss you a lot, but Crestview doesn’t have much to recommend it. VirtuMax is building an intentional neighborhood for the staff—but right now very few of the amenities are in place. Until the VirtuMax school is built, you’d have to attend the local high school. There’s no choir, none of the kind of cultural activities you’re used to.”
Great. Accept abandonment, or go with Dad to the backside of nowhere. Neither choice appealed.
“I’ll think about it.”
He nodded. “It’s still a few months out. We’ll figure it out.”
She didn’t want to figure it out. She wanted to crawl back inside the game, where winning was practically guaranteed, and where troubles didn’t cling to her like viscous shadows, darkening everything.
“All right,” she said. Though it wasn’t.
Adding to Jennet’s frustration, her dad caught a summer cold that kept him home for a solid week. Though her head itched and her fingers burned with the desire to play Feyland, she couldn’t risk logging into the FullD system. Even when Dad was napping.
Once he felt a little better, Thomas came to visit. The three of them sat in the living room, drinking cups of minty tea. Jennet scuffed at the patterned oriental rug with the toe of her shoe, wishing she could ask him about Feyland.
“Dr. Lassiter was inquiring when you’ll be back to work,” Thomas said to her dad. “She doesn’t want the project to fall behind.”
“I’ve messaged her every day,” Dad said. “Asking you isn’t going to make me miraculously better.” He paused to cough, then took a sip of tea. “I should be back next Monday. And we’re not going to fall behind. We don’t have the time.”
Thomas nodded, and a look passed between the two men that Jennet couldn’t decipher. She wrapped her hands around her mug and studied Thomas. He didn’t look that great, himself; pale and strained, and thinner than the last time he’d been over.