Erebos (22 page)

Sarius is lying on the ground; LordNick is standing over him and grinning with that horribly familiar face.

‘I was here first,' he says. ‘You're just a pathetic little shit.' He holds out a pouch to Sarius that contains heads: Jamie's, Emily's, Dan's and Finn's. ‘Choose yourself one – or do you want to run around forever with that ugly elf mug?'

Sarius hates LordNick; he wants to leap up and draw his sword, but he can't move, and besides it's as dark as the grave.

‘We could fight . . . what do you think?' he manages to stammer. ‘We'll fight for two levels. But you have to let me stand up.'

‘For levels? Not a chance, Sarius. We'll fight for years. Ten years of your life, what do you think?'

Sarius realises that he's actually hearing the voice of one of his opponents for the first time. Why? And why years of his life, he can't be serious. That's not possible. The thought makes him afraid.

‘I don't want to, that's not a good bet.' He hears his own voice too; it's tearful and high.

‘Fine,' LordNick says and casts the pouch with the heads aside. ‘Then you're eliminated.' He takes his sword in both hands, holds it up and stabs. He pins Sarius to the ground like a butterfly, and Sarius screams, he bellows, he doesn't want to die . . .

It was his own whimpering that woke Nick. His heart was pumping as fast as if he'd been running. The darkness of his dream still surrounded him – perhaps he hadn't really woken up.

There was his clock radio, thank goodness. 03:24. Nick fell back into his pillow and took a deep breath. His own scream was still ringing in his ears – hopefully he'd only let it out in his dream, otherwise it would have woken the whole house.

But all remained quiet in the flat; neither Mum nor Dad was popping in to find out why their son was screaming his head off. He was in luck.

He shut his eyes, and opened them again straight away. The thought of sleep was still too disturbing. It was quite conceivable that LordNick was standing by for another dream incursion, equipped with the pouch of heads and his sword.

It was a better idea to go and pee. He dragged himself to the toilet, being careful not to wake his parents. He tried to recall LordNick's voice, but somehow it had just been any voice, nothing he could place.

Why can't we chat live during the game? Talk to each other properly, like in other online role-playing games?

The answer was obvious, even at this late hour: because the players weren't supposed to recognise each other. Because they weren't supposed to know who they were actually dealing with. But was everyone really keeping their mouths shut?

Nick flushed the toilet as quietly as he could and snuck back into his room. He wasn't at all tired any more. Not a bit. He could have one more go at starting Erebos. If it worked he would go to school in a few hours feeling good.

In the complete silence of the night the noises of the computer starting up seemed hideously loud. Just the droning of the hard disk and the whooshing sound of the fan were bound to wake his parents.

He clicked on the red E, torn between pessimism on the one hand and hope on the other, both yielding to astonished disbelief when the world did open to him again.

Sarius is not in his room at the hostel; he's standing in the middle of the forest. It's almost like at the beginning, when he was still Nameless. The forest is dark, and Sarius is alone. A hint of music floats in the air, buzzing as though to herald approaching disaster.

A narrow track snakes its way through the trees; it's almost impossible to see in the gloom. Sarius doesn't have to grope his way through the darkness for long, though. After a short time the path leads him into a clearing.

He sees at a glance what it is. A graveyard, enclosed by a high wrought-iron fence. The gravestones shine brightly in the moonlight; some are leaning over, some are overgrown with ivy. They look as if they're waiting.

Even though he would like to turn back, Sarius steps into the clearing. A tawny owl screeches; at the same time the music changes. A woman's voice is raised in a wordless, melancholy lament.

It is always courage that the messenger rewards, Sarius thinks, and takes two more steps. It's possible that the others are nearby. Or that I will get a task all to myself. Perhaps a secret is concealed in this graveyard.

He approaches the first gravestone and reads the inscription:

AURORA, CAT PERSON,
DIED FROM INSUFFICIENT ATTENTION.

Aurora? It only takes a few seconds for Sarius to see the image in his mind's eye: the injured cat woman in the labyrinth, and the scorpion looming up behind her with it stinger raised high. But she doesn't see it, she doesn't hear it. Sarius drives it off, but it has already stung her. I didn't know she would die. I thought the messenger . . .

‘Insufficient attention' – does that refer to her lack of vigilance or his lack of consideration? That's not written on the gravestone. He shakes off his bad conscience and goes on.

RABELAR, DARK ELF,
DIED FROM TALKATIVENESS.

Sarius has never come across the name Rabelar before. But talkativeness seems to be a common cause of death. Charmalia – vampire – and Vhahox – barbarian – both fell victim to it.

The dirges are becoming more and more oppressive. The image of a woman appears in Sarius's mind's eye. She's kneeling on the ground with her hands thrown up over her face, rocking backwards and forwards. Her face is hidden behind a black veil and she is singing . . .

He shakes off the thought and goes on. He's looking for one gravestone in particular. He stops again at the one after next.

KASKAAR, VAMPIRE,
DIED A TRAITOR.

The stone is one of those that are leaning over. Someone has smeared a hideous gloating face on it.

The grass rustles under Sarius's footsteps. He moves on.

OGALFUR, DWARF,
DIED FROM LAZINESS.

BERENALIS, DARK SHE-ELF,
DIED FROM TALKATIVENESS.

JULANO, HUMAN,
DIED FROM DISOBEDIENCE.

TROJOBAS, VAMPIRE,
DIED FROM INATTENTION.

And then, although he was hoping not to find it:

XOHOO, DARK ELF,
DIED FROM LACK OF SELF-CONTROL.

So Xohoo is really dead. That's . . . a pity. A great pity.

The darkness and the sobbing woman's voice, the fact that no-one apart from him is upset about Xohoo – suddenly it's all hard to take.

Sarius drags himself away from the sight of the gravestone and goes on.

AIRDEE, DARK SHE-ELF,
DIED FROM CURIOSITY.

A cause of death that could be dangerous for me, Sarius thinks bitterly. He quickens his pace involuntarily as he walks further along the rows.

JOSTABAN, WEREWOLF, INATTENTION.

GRUNALFIA, DWARF, CURIOSITY.

RUGGOR, DWARF, LAZINESS.

GROTOK, HUMAN, DISOBEDIENCE.

Sarius has had enough. There are no adventures to be had here, and no quest to solve. The graveyard feels eerie. Any second he's expecting that dead hands will poke through the loose earth and snatch at his legs. He wants to leave this place.

He doesn't finish reading the rest of the inscriptions on the graves, doesn't care that there may be familiar names among them. Although it would be worth the trouble to find Drizzel or LordNick.

Wanting to leave and being able to leave are two different things, however. He can see the wrought-iron arches of a gate gleaming in the moonlight behind the rows of graves, true, but there's only forest beyond it. Some random forest. Probably miles away from the White City.

The wind freshens and stirs up new noises; the swaying tree branches are beckoning to Sarius. Or are they scaring him off? He doesn't know; he wants to cower down and bury his face in his arms, but someone is bound to be watching him.

Died of cowardice, of stone-cold fear. Okay, this won't do. He's going to pull himself together now, he's not going to get freaked out by the darkness or the despairing song, and he's going to find a way out. The gate is a good start.

He walks towards it, past more graves. Many of the inscriptions are overgrown or so weathered that he can't decipher them. Doesn't matter. He has to get out of here.

The singing gets softer as soon as he walks out of the gate. Thank God. But where to now? He doesn't dare to leave Erebos just like that. Who knows where he will find himself next time? Or if there will be a next time.

Then he hears something. A pounding, a knocking. Like sounds from a mine. He draws his sword. In the dark forest the noise is alarmingly loud, as is each of his footsteps. The closer Sarius comes, the louder and clearer the knocking rings out. It's soon accompanied, to his relief, by a gleam of light.

It's another of those gnomes, of course – one of the messenger's minions. He's sitting in a wooden shed with his back to Sarius, a stone tablet in front of him on which he's working with a hammer and chisel. So now Sarius knows where the gravestones come from.

If I stand behind him and look over his shoulder, he'll probably be hammering my name into the stone, to frighten me.

Sarius sneaks closer and looks over the gnome's shoulder. Wrong. The stone bears another name. Shiyzo. And even better, Sarius doesn't know him. Once he's standing right behind him, the gnome turns his ugly face towards him.

‘Unusual hour for a visit, Sarius.'

‘I know. I actually don't want to be here either.'

The gnome gives a screeching laugh.

‘Who does?'

‘Can you tell me how I get back?'

‘Get back where?'

Yes, where? Sarius chooses his words carefully.

‘I would like to leave Erebos briefly, but I don't want to suffer for it.'

The gnome hammers at his stone, and appears to be thinking about it.

‘It's not that simple.'

If it were, I wouldn't need you, would I? Sarius takes care not to say that out loud. He waits patiently while the gnome scratches himself behind one ragged ear.

‘All right then, go. We will expect you back tomorrow afternoon. It is in your interest not to disappoint us.'

‘Yes. Of course,' Sarius says with relief.

‘And give Nick Dunmore the following message: He should not forget the rules; we would find out. And he should keep his eyes open.'

‘Yes. Sure. After all I don't want you to have to make me one of those,' Sarius says, pointing at the gravestone in front of him.

‘Oh. But I made one already. A long time ago. For all of you. Most of you will need one after all, won't you?'

The gnome is still grinning when the screen starts going dark.

Four-forty-two. Too early to get up, and too late to crash again properly. Although he probably wasn't going to be able to sleep, Nick lay down again, pulled the bedclothes up over his ears and closed his eyes. Tried to breathe steadily, but gravestones were dancing around in his thoughts.

Would the others still be on the move? He would ask Colin in a few hours. No he wouldn't, it wasn't allowed. Damn. But at least he was sure to see on Colin's face how frustrated he was at being thrashed as Lelant in the Arena. On this comforting thought Nick finally fell asleep.