Erebos (38 page)

‘Sorry, Nick, but this is going to be
my
character,' said Emily.

‘Choose a race.'

‘Fine, I won't interfere, but barbarians are ace,' Nick said. ‘They are incredibly strong and have fantastic endurance. If I had the choice again, I would choose a barbar —'

But Emily had already made her choice.

Human? Disappointed, Nick gave her a sideways glance. Why did she choose a human?

‘I do know my own species best, you know,' she said in answer to his unspoken question. ‘I like being a human.'

‘Choose your appearance.'

Emily gave her human woman short tousled red hair that stood up on her head, and dressed her entirely in black. Boots, trousers, shirt and jacket. Only the belt was red, but then, so was everyone's.

She spent more time on her facial features, made them soft and friendly, with a sense of humour, brown eyes and high arched eyebrows.

‘Choose a vocation.'

‘There's nothing much that appeals,' Emily declared. ‘If I decide on a bard, does that mean I have to sing?'

Nick didn't know. He'd been a knight, but he'd never had to solve any special knightly tasks during the game.

‘I don't think the vocation is all that important,' he pronounced, and Emily decided on bard.

At that moment a gnome entered the tower. Nick had forgotten all about him – the disagreeable visitor during the first rite.

‘A human, now, how original. And ridiculous, don't you think?' he says.

‘No, not at all.'

‘Oh, oh, oh. And a bard to boot. Don't think much of battles, hmm? Rather warble the day away?'

Emily ignored the gnome and looked for the next copper sign.

‘Choose your abilities.'

‘Healing is rubbish,' Nick said at once. ‘That comes off your own life energy. I chose it; it was a big mistake.'

The cursor hovered over the words: Strength, stamina, death curse, sneaking, lighting fires, ironskin, climbing . . .

‘Healing seems the best of them to me,' Emily said after a time, during which the gnome had been hopping from right to left and left to right pulling wild grimaces. ‘After all, you play with other people, don't you? I heal someone one time, and the next time he heals me. I think it will be quite convenient.'

‘But that's not how it works!' Nick yelled. ‘First of all you have to make sure that you make progress yourself. It's no good if you make yourself weaker.'

The gnome turned his head. ‘Are you alone, human woman? Are you following the second rule? Answer!'

‘Of course I'm alone. Why wouldn't I be?' Emily typed.

All at once she was pale, and Nick suddenly felt chilled, too. What made the gnome ask such a question? After all he couldn't see them or hear them; it wasn't possible. The messenger hadn't been able to either.

‘I'm taking too long,' Emily murmured. ‘If I were alone I would decide faster. That's why he's asking, I think.'

Now she hurried. Chose healing, speed, lighting fires, ironskin, jumping power. After a short pause she added far sight, stamina, water walking, climbing and sneaking.

‘Not bad choices,' the gnome declared. ‘For a human. It's a shame you won't live for long.'

‘That's life,' Emily answered, and concentrated on choosing weapons. She selected a slim, curved sabre with emeralds on the handle. And then a small bronze shield.

‘Very pretty, but unfortunately just playthings,' the gnome sniped.

The last tablet. ‘Choose your name.'

‘It's going to be an ugly human name,' the gnome bawled. ‘Petronilla, Bathilda, Aldusa or Berthegund? Well? I'm waiting! We're waiting! You must know a name!'

Emily hesitated for a moment. ‘I did actually think about one. Let's see what he says about it.'

‘Hemera,' she typed.

Nick was disappointed. Hemera didn't exactly sound illustrious. It reminded Nick of the name of a kitchen appliance. The gnome, on the other hand, made it obvious he was impressed.

‘O-ho! Someone's been doing some research, have they? This could be interesting. Hemera! Don't fall out with my master, little human!'

He hopped and limped towards the tower's exit. Nick almost expected that he would stick out his incredibly long green tongue as a parting gesture, but the gnome wasn't in the mood this time, apparently. Wordlessly he slammed the door shut behind him. Plaster trickled down from the tower walls.

‘What did he mean by “doing some research”?'

‘Find out for yourself.' Emily was obviously having fun. ‘And I'd like to find everything else here out for myself, too. I'll see you in the morning, okay? I'll carry on alone from now on.'

But it's just getting exciting! Disappointment settled like a lead weight in the pit of Nick's stomach.

‘Listen, you're underestimating this. You'll get ahead much faster if I help you, and you won't get so many injuries. Just take my word for it, hmm?'

Emily removed the headphones from her iPod and plugged them into her computer. ‘That was one of your tips, wasn't it? If I've got these in my ears I won't be able to hear what you're saying any more.'

‘But . . .'

‘It's fine, Nick. You saw how suspicious the gnome was. I'll manage, okay? For now I'll stick to the rules like everyone else and play alone.'

Nick conceded defeat. ‘If you go berry picking, be careful,' he said. One last cryptic comment couldn't hurt. ‘And if you get stuck or need help – I'll be glad to. Honest.'

‘Good to know,' Emily said, smiling. ‘Thank you, Nick.'

At home he consulted Wikipedia. He discovered that Hemera was the daughter of Erebos, and, what was more, the complete opposite of her father. Hemera was the goddess of day, of morning, of light.

Some say one must be born to victory. The longer I think about it, the more I am inclined to agree. I put my disappointment at not being one of those chosen few behind me a long time ago. Nonetheless I do not feel equal to a further defeat. If I should triumph in the end, I will not be present. That is deliberate. My presence at the finale is not required. Others will be the actors. They will pursue my goal with all their strength.

The time has nearly come. Then my part will be done and I can go. At the end there will be winners and losers. Who the winners will be is irrelevant. What is crucial is who the losers are. I pray that they are the right ones.

CHAPTER 24

The goddess of the morning was the first thing Nick thought of when the alarm sounded the next day. Hemera. He could hardly wait to hear Emily's report. What things she'd seen, how she'd gone, whether she'd received any orders. He would help her, and he'd soon be able to watch her play again. Perhaps it would be easier to recognise motivations when he wasn't in the thick of it. Patterns. He whistled in the shower, and sang as he dressed. It was going to be a good day.

Most days Emily was at school before him, chatting with her friends – or with Eric – however today he couldn't spot her anywhere. He did see Eric chatting with a few girls from Year 10. He looked more relaxed than in recent days, and seemed to have got over the shock Aisha had given him. But would he take action against Erebos again? Nick doubted it. Presumably he was glad not to be the centre of attention any more.

Then Emily arrived. She was walking quickly, as if she was in a huge hurry. Eric waved hello, but she barely nodded back, and kept walking. Nick caught her just before the school gate.

‘Hi, Emily!'

‘Hi.'

It was obvious that she couldn't talk about Erebos right there in front of everyone, but a wink, a conspiratorial smile . . . surely something would be forthcoming? Nick searched her face for a sign, but it was as expressionless as a blank page.

‘Fourth period? Library?' Nick whispered uncomfortably. Emily shrugged her shoulders. ‘We'll see.' She left him standing there without another word.

Further on, Rashid was standing with Alex; Emily headed towards them both. What did she want with them? Nick didn't understand it at all. Incredulously, he watched Emily hanging on Alex's every word as he spoke with extravagant gestures and a mysterious expression. What could he be saying? He could hardly be broadcasting details from the game.

All day long he kept an eye on Emily, but she avoided him, looked past him, or through him – not once did he manage to catch her on her own.

Probably it was because he was so focussed on Emily – but for whatever reason Nick didn't notice till the afternoon that Colin was trailing him. It didn't matter where Nick was, Colin was nearby. He couldn't tell whether Colin was actually watching him; he was just hovering like a dark shadow. Nick considered approaching him and sorting out yesterday's argument. After all, they'd been friends not all that long ago. But simply the thought that Colin had planted the threatening letter on Jamie, and maybe even sabotaged his bike, kept him from doing so. If Colin made one wrong remark, Nick would break his nose.

With every passing minute of the day he'd been so looking forward to, Nick felt more lost. His best friend was lying in a coma, Colin and he didn't trust each other an inch, and Emily was pretending he didn't exist. And even people he'd been reasonably friendly with, including Jerome, were looking at him warily. The people Nick knew had been kicked out of the game were trying to make themselves invisible and had no wish to talk, especially Greg.

At some stage during the afternoon, Nick encountered the jacket with the fluoro orange badge in the schoolyard. The girl wearing it must be Darleen Pember. He only knew her by sight, but he remembered that she'd caught Jamie's eye. There was a lot he had to make up to Jamie for.

Nick glanced around, tried to spot Colin. There was no way he would talk to Darleen if his pursuer was nearby. But Nick didn't see any sign of him. Right then, quickly.

He drew her away from the two girls she was talking to. ‘Tell me, Darleen, did you find a hand-written note in your jacket pocket yesterday? Or somewhere else, say in one of your books?'

She looked at him with a mixture of fear and curiosity. ‘No. Why?'

‘No reason. If you happen to find one, keep it. And give it to Mr Watson, but don't let any of the others find out about it.'

She chewed on her bottom lip. ‘A note like the one Mohamed got? Or Jeremy?'

Who were Mohamed and Jeremy?

‘What sort of notes were they?'

She shrugged. ‘I couldn't see properly. They certainly weren't hand-written though; they were typed, I know that. Mohamed called in sick afterwards; he's been away for two days. Do you know what's on them?'

Nick shook his head. ‘Not exactly. Can I ask you something?'

She smiled expectantly; Nick hoped the expectation wasn't anything to do with him. He lowered his voice.

‘In? Or out?'

She didn't get it immediately. Nick mimed fencing moves. ‘Oh! Out, unfortunately. But if they think I'm putting up with it, they've got another thing coming. I've already tried to get a new copy, I've been to a few shops and I even —'

‘Just drop it,' Nick said. ‘The whole thing. Pretend the game never existed.'

‘But . . .'

‘I know. But still.'

She looked at him with wide eyes. Nick tried to imagine her and Jamie together on a park bench, in the cinema, in a field of flowers. A nice image. He hoped she'd ask him how Jamie was. But she didn't.

That evening he sat in his room and didn't know what to do. The only thing he knew was that he couldn't bear the uncertainty. When he thought about it, Emily had behaved logically when she ignored Nick. Completely. Unless . . . unless the game had somehow made him look bad to her. There was an image in his head that had been haunting him the whole day: the messenger telling Emily that Nick had spied on her online. That he'd helped to bring a gun into the school grounds. And to top it all off, the photo of him and Brynne would turn up, and then she'd be through with him forever.

But that was all nonsense. Emily had been cool towards him because she was taking her cover seriously. He'd ring her and clear things up. Immediately.

But Emily didn't answer her phone; her voicemail didn't even pick up. Nick tried again after ten minutes; and again after half an hour. The result was the same.

Oh well, she was probably playing. He hadn't ever answered the phone when he was playing either.

He considered going over to her place. Yes, good idea, keep on ringing the doorbell and wake up her depressive mother – since Emily's headphones would certainly stop her from hearing the doorbell. Maybe that applied to her phone as well.

He sat in front of the computer and thought about it. Surfed over to deviantART and checked Emily's page for new entries. But nothing had been added since
Night
, the poem he already knew.

He spent the rest of the evening with Mum and Dad in front of the telly. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done that, and Dad was pleased, Nick could tell. ‘Swotting all the time isn't so good either,' he said, and patted Nick on the back of the head.

That night Nick dreamed his way into the graveyard in Erebos, and searched desperately for Sarius's gravestone, but suddenly all the inscriptions were convoluted symbols that he didn't understand.

The next day Emily didn't come to school at all. Nick sat in Chemistry class and stared at her empty seat; he felt like howling. He knew the pattern: The game had gained control of her, just like all the others.

I shouldn't have left her alone with it. How would Emily, of all people, just happen to be immune? But now it was too late. There was nothing he could do – she wasn't going to speak to him any more, wasn't going to let him near her. From now on she would only care about carrying out her orders. He should have told her more about the game – instead he'd allowed her to walk straight into a trap, unprotected.