Epic (30 page)

So Erik sat beside him, and for a while they worked their way through the equipment in comfortable silence, filing away flecks of rust on the buckles before coating them in a protecting layer of grease. Away from his persona of the dragonslayer, Svein was different, Erik observed with discreet glances. The former chief librarian’s face lacked the charisma it commanded at the time of the dragonslaying celebrations in Hope. Close up, his thinning hair and wrinkled face were not the features he associated with the warrior in the game—he could have been one of the old men from the village, and have spent his entire life here.

One of the donkeys snorted, and shuffled in its stall. Svein looked up and caught Erik’s stare.

“So, what next for you and your friends?” That Svein’s question was meant to be supportive was shown by the warm smile that accompanied it.

“I’m not sure. We have a meeting this afternoon to discuss what to do,” Erik replied.

“I don’t suppose I could join you there? On my portable set?”

“No. Well, maybe later. We have to discuss matters among ourselves.”

“I understand. You have a date for your duel with C.A.?” Again Svein sounded sympathetic.

“Well, I spoke to Thorstein yesterday, the Hope librarian. He said it would be towards the end of next month. Such challenges are rare.”

“Rare!” Svein chuckled. “They never happen. A constitutional change like that. It will really rattle them all; I can just imagine the C.A. meeting to discuss it.” He laid down the harness that he was working on. “I wonder if the people will support you, or if they will fear the return of the exiles? You do know that you are setting loose people convicted of violence?”

“Like my dad?” Erik asked defensively.

“No. His actions were understandable. There are other, much worse cases.”

“I know.” Erik was indeed troubled by this problem. “But still, who are we to pick and choose? It has to be all of them.”

Svein pulled a face that suggested he did not agree, but he said nothing.

“How about you?” asked Erik with genuine curiosity. “What are you going to do now? Will you rejoin Central Allocations?”

At once, Svein’s good-natured expression fell away to be replaced by a stern, set mouth and fierce gaze. “They will have to beg for my return—all of them. Anyway, why should I? I’m free from all duties. I can devote myself to the Epicus Ultima. Let them deal with me when I have completed that. In any case,” he continued in a less animated tone, “it would not be right to return to C.A. now, while you have a challenge pending, even if they did beg for me—which I very much doubt will happen. You brought me back to life. The least I can do is stand aside until your challenge is done, whether I agree with it or not.”

For the first time, Erik felt that he did not have to be on guard in the presence of Svein Redbeard. The words struck him as true, reflecting Svein’s sincere gratitude that the Osterfjord Players had saved him from the loss of his beloved character.

 

Estimating that midday had arrived and the meeting would be starting, Erik went upstairs and clipped up.

Cindella the Swashbuckler twirled out of her box, hands on hips, ready to defy the world; soon afterwards, a whirlpool of sound and color rushed up to engulf him.

“Here we are.” The first words he heard were those of Anonemuss, coming through to him while the world of Epic steadied around him.

Yesterday they had unclipped near to a pleasant, sandy shore, in a grove of tall palm trees. Reassuringly nothing had changed; out to sea, the sparkling blue waves rolled up to the shore and dragged layers of sand back with their undertow, creating the faint brushing sound that could be heard with soothing regularity in the background.

More or less in a circle were Harald Goldenhair, Anonemuss, Injeborg’s witch, Sigrid’s healer, B.E.’s warrior, and Bjorn’s warrior. Cindella was indeed the last to arrive.

“What did Thorstein say?” asked Harald, at once getting to the point.

“Yes. The challenge is lodged. He says it is such an important law that it will have to pass up the system. We won’t get to fight until the end of next month.”

“That’s a shame, but we can wait.” Sigrid spoke. She was sitting on a barnacle-covered rock, making patterns in the sand under her feet.

“Perhaps we can. But not in complete safety.” Anonemuss rested his hand on the hilts of his curved blades.

“What do you mean?” asked Injeborg.

“So long as we meet by day, we are safe from the vampyre. But not from their assassin. Suppose he uses magic to find us? A month is long enough to come from Newhaven and hunt us down. Or if we stay out of Epic altogether, long enough to prepare to ambush us as we go to the arena of Cassinopia.”

“Yes,” Harald agreed. “That is a possibility.”

“We could take the chance all the same, and wait a month. Or there is another option.” Erik suddenly saw the opportunity to raise an idea he had been dwelling upon.

“Oh no, not again! I hear the same tone in your voice that you used to have when you talked about killing a dragon.” Bjorn deliberately sounded dismayed, but Erik knew that he was only joking.

“From what the vampyre told us, there is something in the buried treasure that might be able to bring the whole game to an end. Right?” Erik looked to Anonemuss, the other witness to that terrifying conversation.

“Correct. He made that pretty clear. The vampyre was seriously alarmed.”

“But why end the game?” asked B.E. “We are rich and powerful right now.” He laughed aloud, suddenly aware that his question sounded selfish. But still, he needed to be answered.

“Because Epic is not real. Yet everyone is spending hours and hours at it, while the real world collapses. It’s time we woke up from this dream.” Injeborg sprang to her feet. “Erik’s idea is a good one. It takes the power from C.A. and all the committees for good.”

“I like the idea of ending the game,” agreed Anonemuss. “If that’s really what will happen. But who will govern then? Me? With my force of exiles? Shall I march on Mikelgard after all?”

“Don’t be creepy. When you talk like that, I want nothing to do with you.” Sigrid turned away in disgust. Anonemuss simply shrugged.

“No. We use the interface to make plans across the whole world—plans that the majority of people agree to. We can have meetings of all the different branches of industry and agriculture; different specialists can get together over the system. The villages and towns can elect representatives if it gets unwieldy. It will be a lot of work, but it will be real work and we will have a common purpose, instead of fighting against each other.” Injeborg was passionate and had clearly been thinking ahead.

“That’s what I want.” Erik smiled in admiration.

“That sounds good to me,” added Bjorn.

“And to me.” Harald raised a hand.

Sigrid raised her hand next, followed at once by Anonemuss, leaving only B.E.

“Sure, why not?” He hesitated only slightly. “And in any case, we have a month until the battle in the arena. It would be a waste to come all this way and not find the treasure. So, where is it?”

Erik suddenly felt the circle’s focus was on him. “I’ve been wondering the same. I think it’s over there, to the north.” Cindella pointed. “I have the map pretty clear in my head, but it’s hard from here down on the beach to align all the landmarks properly.”

“Draw them for me on the sand. I might be able to help,” commanded Injeborg.

So Cindella snatched up a stick and drew two long lines that intersected, forming a cross. Erik then made small marks on the lines. “This is a stack, out at sea. This is a white rock. This one was labeled ‘hut’; that’s a palm grove; that’s a stream and that’s a blowhole.”

“I see.” Injeborg studied the marks for a while, then she looked up into the sky and out to sea. Sweeping elegantly just above the white foam of the waves was a seagull. For one eerie moment, Erik felt that the gull was the very same one that had been outside the window of the room that Cindella had first materialized in.

“Cawww! Caww!” Injeborg called out to the bird in a scream that startled them, the air crackling with magic. The bird gave a few strong beats of its wings and dived amongst them, landing without the slightest fear. Her eyes closed, cloak thrown back behind her, Injeborg threw her arms into the air and chanted a spell. At once, the bird took to the sky, weaving a path higher and higher through invisible streams of air. No one spoke, fearing to break the witch’s concentration as the seagull circled above them, a distant gray
v
in a blue, cloudless sky. At last, she relaxed.

“Yes. It’s just on that promontory to the north. Follow me.”

It was mid-afternoon before they struck the chest. Bjorn, whose warrior had nearly infinite stamina for this kind of work, had been digging the deepest, longest trenches; it was he who called them over. Typically he had not cried out on the first sign of the wooden box, but had already cleared all around it to make sure it was no false alarm. As they heaved it up, sandy soil poured off the lid, showing the chest underneath to be promisingly massive; thick brass plates were riveted to worn but sturdy panels of oak; great brass hinges were fastened all along the back of the chest, and a strong padlock guarded the contents.

Even though money was no longer important to him, Erik was still excited. Not only was there inevitably something thrilling about discovering a buried treasure chest, but he also felt delighted that he had completed the quest given to him when Cindella was a pauper and had nothing but her wits and her beauty to aid her.

“Well, let’s see.” B.E. raised an ax to break off the lock.

“Wait!” commanded Anonemuss. “Let me check for traps.” The dark elf brought out a small wallet, from which he drew two thin metal tools, which looked like long needles. After probing the lock and the hinges of the chest, he straightened up. “Very well—it’s clear, I think.” All the same, Anonemuss took a step or two back as B.E. lifted an ax again. Erik, too, found himself edging back.

The lid of the chest bounced up from the force of B.E.’s blow, revealing a glow of gold and nothing more harmful.

“Let’s see.” B.E. tipped it over, so that a cascade of gold spilled to the sand with an avalanche of chimes as the coins rang out against each other. Erik laughed aloud. Two months ago, they would have been far more reverential about such a find, and cherished each bezant. There were some interesting items lying in amongst the gold, such as potion bottles, rings, and a delicate, silver urn, but it was a small, innocuous box that caught his eye.

Stooping to move aside a swath of coins, Cindella picked up the plain container that fitted on the palm of her hand. The top fastened to the body of the box with a simple silver clip. Nothing marked out the box as being in any way strange, except that around the rim was written
finem facere mundo
in silver letters that gave off a constant, unwavering glow. He opened it. Inside the box, lying on a velvet pad, was a sturdy-looking key.

“This is what we want.” Cindella passed the box to B.E. on his right, and it was slowly passed from one to another, all the way around the circle of players gathered at the treasure, and back to Erik. “The vampyre told us what those words mean: ‘to make an end to the world.’ ”

“So, where’s the lock for this key?” asked Harald.

“I don’t know. But,” Erik quickly continued, “if anyone does, it is Svein Redbeard. He wants to finish the Epicus Ultima. He will be eager to help. We just . . . well, we shouldn’t tell him that it might end the game altogether. He thinks the Epicus Ultima leads to a great reward of some sort.”

Anonemuss shook his head. “Now it starts to get messy.”

“Not as messy as plan B.” Erik smiled. “So, shall I get him?”

“Go on then.” The dark elf sighed.

It turned out that Svein had unclipped in a cove some distance away, and it took two hours for them to join with him, by which time the sun was beginning to dip. Although the sky to the west was reddening, above them the blue sky remained bright and there was still a while before the sun reached the horizon. All the same, Erik was anxious to conclude their business as quickly as they could. He produced the box and showed it to the old warrior, who took it curiously.

“
Finem facere mundo?
What does that mean?” Svein opened the box and took out the key, holding it up to the light to examine it for runes.

“ ‘You will set free the world,’ ” Anonemuss promptly responded, with utter sincerity in his voice. Erik blushed, but said nothing. Neither did anyone else, allowing the false translation to stand.

“Interesting. To some extent, the words fit with the captured princess quest, though not conclusively. But if the vampyre thought this to be the final Epicus Ultima item, then I have good news and bad news.”

“Tell us,” urged Harald.

“The good news is that there is not much doubt that the Epicus Ultima ends in the Ethereal Tower of Nightmare, which, therefore, is where we will probably find the princess and the lock for this key.”

“And the bad news?” asked B.E.

“I haven’t the slightest idea where the tower is. And I’ve been searching for years.” Svein put the key back in the box and was reaching out to hand it back to Cindella, when he was startled into dropping it by a sudden interjection from Sigrid.

“But that’s easy! It’s near Newhaven.”

“What? Where?” Svein rounded on her eagerly.

“We were told about the ethereal plane when we killed the dragon. It’s how our soulbound djinns travel so fast. I’ve been reading about it; there is another dimension that wraps around this one. It is full of twists, and it is possible to travel the silver paths to move quickly around the whole world, and not just the world—the moons even.”

“Ahhh,” Erik exclaimed. “I’ve seen those paths; with the ‘true-seeing’ spell on, they are visible.”