A heavy-set man was working on a clay bowl. He was warming it with a fireball that floated in his left hand. Huh...odd. He looked up as I walked into the shop.

  “Afternoon!” he said excitedly. “I’ll be right with ya.”

  “Take your time,” I said. I looked around at the various bowls, plates, cups, and clay knickknacks on the shelves. “Nice shop you have here.”

  “Thanks.” He released whatever spell had conjured the fireball and stretched to his full height. His back popped several times. “Ahhh, that’s better. What can I do for ya?”

  I showed him the quest poster. “I was hoping you still needed some clay?”

  “Oh!” he exclaimed. “Yeah, I do.” He looked me up and down. “You ain’t from ’round here, are ya?”

  I smiled. “Is it that obvious?”

  Burt laughed. “A bit, yeah.” He took the poster from me. “You up for gettin’ some clay? Could be dangerous.”

  I shrugged. “Survived a bunch of animals coming down the mountain. I should be okay.”

  “Down the mountain, huh? Just like Darius…”

  “Who is Darius?” I asked.

  “An old friend. Came down the mountain, same as you. Makes a guy wonder what’s up there.”

  I shrugged again. “Just an old wood cabin that a friend owns.”

  “Ahh,” he said.

  “So, about the clay?”

  “Right you are!” He handed me a wicker basket. “I’ll pay you ten silver every time you bring this basket back full of clay. That should be enough to feed you and have some left over. If ya need a place to stay while you’re in town, you can probably stay in the shed out back. It ain’t much, but it’ll keep you warm at night. Got some odd jobs that need doin’ ’round ’ere if ya need some extra coin.”

  I nodded. “Sounds great, thanks. I’ll get on that clay right away.”

  Quest Accepted.

  Map location updated.

  Burt nodded once and returned to the piece he had been working on. I left his shop and headed toward the shed he’d mentioned. The shed was equal parts brick and wood. The door was unlocked. I opened it and stepped inside. Light poured in from the open doorway. There was a small trunk at the foot of a wooden cot. Several racks of tools lined the opposite wall where a small window had been shuttered. I pushed open the window bathing the interior with more light.

  To be honest, it wasn’t half bad. Hell, this is nicer than most studio apartments back in California, and this is mostly a tool shed. And the cost of rent? Can’t beat that… I shook my head. There was work to do. I closed the door behind me as I left and headed toward the outer gates.

  I hadn’t really relaxed and taken in the sights when I first got into town. The more I looked around, the more I felt the town was like one you’d find at the base of a mountain in Norway or Sweden. The houses were made of wood, stone, and clay. The colors were earth tones with lots of greens and browns. People walked to and fro carrying wicker baskets filled with groceries and clay jugs.

  The front gates loomed over me. I headed through the archway that housed the gates.

  “We’re closin’ up the gates at dark,” said one of the guards.

  “Understood.” I nodded to the guard. “I should get back before then.”

  “See that you do.”

  “Don’t want to get trapped outside,” said another.

  I followed the gravel road until a dirt path split off to follow along a creek. I had walked for about thirty minutes when I came across an area of the creek that looked like it had been dug at for a while. I unhooked the spade from my back and got to work.

  It took some time to fill the basket with clay, and when it was full, it felt like it weighed a ton. I washed the spade and my hands in the creek and took a long drink from the clean water slightly upstream of the mess I’d made. Satisfied, I made my way back toward the basket. I was about to tie the spade off and lift the basket when I heard a moan come from the bushes ahead of me. I hefted the spade and approached the bushes, cautious of where my feet landed.

  “Hello? Are you hurt?”

  The moan came again. As I neared, the moans stopped. There was a tingling sensation across the back of my neck. Some icon I wasn’t quick enough to read blinked across the bottom of my sight, but I was too busy to care. This was something I’d experienced plenty of times in the real world. Intuition.

  I dropped the spade and threw myself onto my back and projected a flat shield just in front of me. It rotated with my body and stayed parallel to my chest. I thrust it forward, throwing whatever this thing was over top of me and into the nearby tree. I was on my feet in an instant.

  The man shambled to his feet and stood facing me. Skin hung from his face in places. His eyes were dead and sunken. Had it not been for the wires snaking to and fro around his neck and going right into his skin, I would have called this thing a zombie.

  “What are you?” I asked.

  He cocked his head to the side like a dog. He reared back and screamed—an ear-piercing wail that reminded me of the banshee I’d fought a few months back. I covered my ears and gritted my teeth.

  Arms stretched before him, the mechanized zombie charged at me. When he was just within arm’s reach, I projected my shield at a forty-five-degree angle to my body and slammed it to the side. Home run. He smashed into the tree once again, this time with a sickening crunch. Blackened blood stained the tree where he slid down, and yet again, he got back on his feet.

  “I guess it’s obvious that we aren’t going to get along.” I dropped into a fighting stance and waited. I reached into my pocket and grasped my fire totem. The moment he moved, I threw the totem at him with everything I had. I rolled out of the way, dodging a screaming, roaring inferno of chaos and anger. The wailing echoed throughout the forest.

  He stopped flailing, turned around to face me, and glared at me with hatred, fire eating away at the flesh of his face. It wailed again. I rushed forward, projected my shield wall half a foot from his face, and thrust forward with everything I had. The impact pressed the shape of his body into the tree. I fired off another shield slam and followed up with a third just for good measure. When the shield collapsed, so did the corpse. It twitched a few times then went still.

  The tingling sensation returned. And so did that nagging icon. I looked down at it, and the world slowed to a crawl. Some sort of line stretched out from deep within the forest. I followed it. It pointed directly at my center of mass. Shit! I threw myself to the side as I tossed one last shield wall.

  A green streak followed the trajectory of the line and slammed against the shield. It ricocheted off and embedded itself in a nearby tree. I felt it the instant my shield collapsed. The shield totem was spent.

  I jumped up to my feet ready for anything. Nothing came. I heard footsteps in the distance quickly retreating.

  You have learned a new skill: Instinctive Foresight

  “Instinctive foresight? What the hell is that?”

  HELP: Instinctive Foresight.

  Years of experience have honed your instincts and senses. Occasionally, a moment of clarity envelopes you allowing you to see things as they could be.

  “Huh…” I scratched my head. I didn’t know there was a help program. “What is help?”

  HELP: Help.

  Administrative subsystem designed to give players information regarding functions of the game.

  “Oh wow.” I grinned. “Help fireball?”

  HELP: Fireball.

  Offensive magical spell. Conjures a flame and focuses it into an explosive ball. Can be used as a light source or hurled at your enemies.

  I laughed. “Well that’s kind of handy. Help map.”

  HELP: Map.

  Administrative subsystem designed to give players information regarding their whereabouts in the game. It is also possible to project your map on to a flat surface.

  I looked down at the broken and charred corpse of the mutilated man. “Um…help…check out? Help identify?” Nothing. Damn. I sighed, frustrated. “Help—What the hell is that?” I pointed at the corpse.

  HELP: Examine.

  Administrative subsystem designed to give players information regarding targets.

  * * *

  Executing Examine target.

  Unknown NPC type. NPC not in system records. Warning: system anomaly detected. Please contact the system administrator.

  “Uh-huh…” A cold shiver ran up my spine. That wasn’t at all what I was expecting. And Nelson has me running around in his game with anomalies that could easily kill me for real? I shook my head. Never thought I’d be in a situation like this. I looked back at the corpse one last time. It had begun to bubble and decay already, which struck me as odd. I watched as it dissolved into a puddle of black goo. I picked up the heavy wicker basket and slung it across my back. I was tired. Achy. Confused. And it would be a long walk back to Burt’s.

  The guards nodded as I passed them with my arms full. No one stopped me while I was carrying the heavy basket. But no one offered to help me carry it, either Not that I’m expecting any help. But it would have been nice.

  I nudged the door to Burt’s shop open with my food and stepped in. Burt jumped up and took the basket from my dead arms. He tossed it to the side.

  “Did ya run into any trouble?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Nah, nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  He chuckled. “Ya look pretty roughed up. But I’m glad you’re all right.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small satchel. “Here ya go.”

  “Thanks. Hungry is what I am. Any recommendations?”

  “Of course!” He opened the window and pointed at a hut in the distance. “That there’s Marie’s. She’s got the best dish in the whole city, far as I care.”

  “What is it?”

  He shrugged. “Some sort of stew, I guess? She ain’t named it yet, but it’s got beef and beans, and it’s thick and red. Goes really good with cornbread, cheese, and onions.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll head that way after I clean up.”

  “Tell Marie I sent ya. And tell her hi for me too.”

  “Will do.” I waved and left the shop. I could smell the different dishes cooking at the various food tents. They were arranged in rows just like food trucks at an event. I grabbed a bucket of water from the nearby well and took it back to the shed. I rinsed off my face and hair. With that out of the way, I headed toward the hut.

  “Hello!” said the old lady.

  “Marie?” I asked. “Burt said to say hi and that I should come try this red stew he mentioned.”

  “Oh, that Burt. Always the charmer.” She grabbed a clay bowl and poured several spoonfuls into the bowl, topped it with cheese and onions, and dropped a large hunk of cornbread on top.

  “Smells delicious,” I said.

  “Just wait ‘till you taste it.” She winked at me and handed me the bowl. I took a seat at one of the nearby tables set up all over the food huts. I dug into the stew, and an explosion of flavors hit me.

  Huh. It’s chili! And damned good too. Before long, I had finished off the entire bowl.

  “Did you enjoy it?” she asked as I brought the empty bowl back to her.

  “Very much so.” I grinned. “I’ll definitely be back tomorrow.”

  She grinned back. “Thank you for your patronage. I look forward to seeing you again.”

  I nodded and turned around. With a full belly, I decided to browse the local shops. All manner of strange offerings were available, but what caught my eye was the staff maker’s hut.

  “Did you have a question?” she asked.

  “The scrap pieces from the staves—do you sell them?”

  “What on Tempest would you want garbage wood for?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t use staves, but what I need could be similar.”

  “And what would that be?” she asked. She leaned forward as if the suspense was too much to bear.

  “I use totems. I was hoping to make some new ones if you’d be so kind as to assist me in getting the needed reagents.”

  The old lady smiled. “In that case, my dear, I have the end cuts in a barrel here in the back. I usually use them to make charms and such, but I’ll sell you a chunk if you like?”

  “That sounds great, thank you.” She led me to the back and showed me a barrel full of leftover wood and scraps. “Wow,” I said as I picked up a couple pieces. I could feel the tingling of the potential energy. “These are your off-cuts? These are incredible. I would love to buy some of these. I just hope I can afford them.”

  “Such a charming and well-mannered soul.” She grinned. “I’ll tell you what. My son usually does the heavy lifting around here and runs my deliveries, but he’s off doing his own thing. If you’d like, you can do a few of his tasks, and I’ll give you my old carving knife and a pocket full of those scraps you’re drooling over. How’s that sound?”

  I grinned. “It sounds perfect. When do I start?”

  She looked up at the sky. “I’ll be closing the shop in a couple of hours. But there’s a delivery to be made today. The rest we can figure out in the morning.” She pulled a staff from below the counter and handed it to me.

  My eyes widened the moment my skin touched the smooth wood. The hairs on my arms stood on end. I watched as small wisps of static electricity jumped from hair to hair. Power, with a capital P, coursed through it and pulsed against my skin. More so than the scraps ever could have.

  “You’re a sensitive, I see.” She grinned. “What do you think?”

  “I—Wow.”

  Her grin stretched the wrinkles of her face making her look several years younger. “I could teach you a few things if you’d like to learn. It would probably make your carvings more powerful.”

  I bowed slightly at the waist. “I would be honored to learn.”

  “Oh pffft.” She chuckled. “Honor shmonner. And don’t be bowing to me neither.” She laughed at the look of shock on my face. “Go, deliver that to Count Broan at the big brick building in the center of town. You’ll know him by the flaming red robes he wears.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Be here bright and early,” she said. “And bring breakfast. The hut next to the one you ate at has a great breakfast.”

  “You were watching me?”

  “Nah,” she said dismissively and chuckled. “I can smell her cooking on your breath.”

  “I—I guess I need to do something about my breath.”

  She handed me a green leaf from a cup on the counter. “Chew on that. It’ll help.”

  I popped the leaf in my mouth and chewed on it. “Mint?”

  “Yup. Good breath is good for business.” She nudged me in the ribs with her elbow. “Now git.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  24

  Taenaran

  Bridgeport, Glenarm

  * * *

  The door burst open, and a young man ran into the room. “Excuse me, sir,” he panted. “Are—are you Taenaran?”

  My eyebrows shot up as I took him in. He was likely still in his second decade. His shoulders heaved, and he looked at me expectantly.

  “Yes, I am Taenaran. Would you care to catch your breath?”

  He shook his head. “Thank you, sir, but no. I must be on my way.” He pulled a folded piece of parchment from his vest. “This was to be delivered to you posthaste.” He handed me the letter.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He bowed briskly and was gone before the door had shut. I leaned on the sill of the slightly fogged window and simply stared at the folded parchment I held. It had been years since I had heard from Father. For what reason I hesitated to open his letter I do not know. I swallowed hard and forced my shaky hand to unfold the parchment.

  * * *

  Taenaran,

  * * *

  Greetings, my son. I hope that this letter finds you well. Word of your exploits and adventures around Glenarm and up north with the Sword Bearer have reached my ears. I cannot express just how truly proud I am of the warrior you have become. You bring our family honor and respect.

  I too have found a purpose that has pulled me out of retirement. I met a young man some years back—you may know him. His name is Luthor. He came to visit me recently, and we spoke of things to come. The conversation got me thinking about a great many things.

  And then the spiders came. I had no choice but to flee southward for their numbers were too great. Down to the village of Aspen I retreated. Myself, Corbus, the local wizard, and the militia have been holding off the spiders for weeks. The enemy is strong. Fierce. It feels good to have purpose once again.

  Send my love to the family. If fate allows for our survival, I would visit them in the future.

  * * *

  Proudly, with love,

  Jalneer

  * * *

  I refolded the parchment and placed it in my pocket. I hadn’t realized I had been smiling until I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. Beyond the pane of glass, I could see the ocean. The skies were dark, and rain poured at a steady rate.

  Human and Dwarven workers ran to and fro upon the decks of the moored boats. Dockworkers rushed to ferry supplies to the ships to ready them for their upcoming journeys. The rain did little to slow them. Lightning flashed in the distance, sending my mind reeling back to our most recent battle. Garstil...be well, my friend.

  “Cousin?” called someone from behind.

  I turned. “Calistera, I hope all is well?”

  She smiled. “It is, yes.” She paused. “I would ask you the same.”