Erebos (5 page)

Nick's fingers typed the next sentence almost by themselves. ‘What is it like to be dead?'

The man laughed – a gasping, panting laugh. ‘You are the first nameless one to ask me that!' He threw the rest of his stick into the fire in a distracted gesture.

‘Lonely. Or full of ghosts. Who can say.' He brushed his hand across his forehead. ‘If I asked you what it's like to be alive, how would you answer? Just as everyone lives his own life, so too everyone has his own death.' As if to underline his words, the dead man pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, throwing a shadow over his eyes and nose – only his small mouth remained visible. ‘No doubt you will find out one day.'

No doubt. Nick wiped his damp palms on his pants. He wasn't feeling comfortable with this subject any more.

‘How must I proceed?' he typed, and realised to his own amusement that he was expecting a meaningful answer.

‘Do you wish to proceed? I'm warning you: it's not a good idea.'

‘Of course I wish to proceed.'

‘Then turn to the left and follow the stream, until you come to a ravine. Walk through it. After that . . . you will take it from there.' The dead man withdrew deeper into his cloak, as if he was freezing.

‘And watch out for the messenger with the yellow eyes.'

CHAPTER 4

Nick sent his character along the stream, always keeping its throaty gurgle on the left, at an easy trot that didn't strain the stamina meter too much. Stamina, Nick was discovering, wasn't his nameless character's strong suit. After the smallest climb he started gasping and had to take a rest, wait until the bar on the bottom right-hand edge of the screen started glowing blue again, then go on. Clambering over stones, jumping over obstacles, keeping a look out for the ravine. Nowhere was there a messenger with yellow eyes.

The land to the right and left of the stream was gradually rising, and the dark forest floor was giving way to stony ground. Again and again scree slowed down Nameless's progress, and more than once caused him to fall. It was only when the terrain on both sides was twice as high as his figure that Nick realised that he was already in the middle of the ravine. Moreover, he noticed that he was not alone. There was rustling in the dry undergrowth to the right and left of the path, something was moving, and then – as if at an inaudible command – small toad-like creatures leapt out and fell upon him. Their feet were equipped not just with webbing, but also with claws, with which they did considerable damage to Nick's Nameless. It took a few awful seconds before he remembered the staff his figure was holding in his hands and began to defend himself.

Two of the toads took flight. One died at Nameless's feet from a well-aimed blow with the stick.

‘Strike,' Nick murmured.

But there was one last toad clinging to Nameless's left leg and a bloodstain was spreading beneath its claws. Alarmed, Nick noticed that the red life meter was only a bit over half full. He struck at the space bar, which made Nameless jump, but didn't impress the toad.

Finally, the escape key achieved the desired result. Nameless executed a lightning-quick turn, shook the toad creature off and, at Nick's command, finished him off with the stick.

In the meantime his life meter had plummeted to way under half. Nick made sure that there were no more attackers in sight, then he moused over the toad's carcass, and the information ‘four meat units' appeared.

‘That's something at least,' he grumbled, put his exhausted figure back on it's feet, and got it to collect the meat, before he continued on through the ravine. He was on his guard, and had his stick at the ready to clobber any clawed toad that turned up. But no further adversaries appeared. Instead a noise became audible in the background, rhythmic and rebounding off the ravine walls. Hoof beats.

He made Nameless slow down and creep very cautiously around the next curve, behind which, however, nothing more than further precipitous rock walls and even more scree was revealed. A few moments later the hoof beats broke off. Nick sent Nameless skirting along the rock wall, past thorny bushes as tall as a man. On further, until another rock wall rose up in front of him. Halfway up the wall – but still way above Nameless's head – a wide over-hang towered over the ravine. At the back was the narrow mouth of a cave. In front of this entry, on a giant armoured horse, sat a gaunt figure in a grey tunic, who beckoned to both Nick and Nameless. Nick noticed only in passing the figure's bald, pointy head and the excessively long, bony fingers. All his attention was focussed on his pale yellow eyes.

‘You have been very skilful.'

‘Thank you.'

‘However, your life force isn't looking too good.'

‘I know.'

‘You need to be mindful of that in the future.'

The messenger's businesslike way of speaking stood in bizarre contrast to his gruesome appearance.

‘It is time for you to be named,' he continued. ‘Time for the first rite.' With an unhurried gesture he indicated the cave behind him. ‘I wish you luck, and the right decisions. We will meet again.' He turned his horse around and charged off.

Nick waited until the hoof beats had faded away before he took his figure over to the rock face. Steep steps, cut into the stone, led to the plateau. ‘Time for the first rite.' Why were his hands damp again? He left-clicked on the darkness of the cave entrance. Nameless marched up to it and disappeared. The next moment the screen went black.

Darkness. Silence. Nick shifted around on his chair. Why was it taking so long? He hammered at the keyboard just in case, which achieved precisely nothing.

‘Oh come on,' he said, and banged the monitor. ‘Don't flake out.'

The darkness continued, and Nick's nervousness increased. He could take the DVD out of the drive and put it in again, or he could press the reset button, but that was risky. That might mean he'd have to start again right from the beginning. Or the game mightn't start again at all.

Suddenly there was a sound. Tap tap. A knocking sound, like a heartbeat. Nick opened the top drawer of his desk, got out headphones and plugged them into his computer. Now he heard the noise more clearly, and he thought he could make out something else in the background too. Horns that were playing a succession of short notes. It reminded him of a hunting call. It sounded full of promise. As if, in the background, the game was in full swing without him. He turned the volume up, feeling annoyed that he hadn't thought of the headphones earlier. Perhaps he had missed important information – warnings or hints. Perhaps he hadn't caught the one crucial tip about how you kept the game running!

More from impatience than in the hope that it would speed things up, Nick hammered on the enter key.

The tapping stopped, and now the red letters started to emerge out of the black background again.

‘This is Erebos. Who are you?'

Nick made a quick decision. He would choose the same name that he had already used in a few other computer games.

‘I am Gargoyle.'

‘Tell me your name.'

‘Gargoyle!'

‘Your real name.'

Nick was stunned. What on earth for? Fine. Then he would supply a first name and a last name, so he could finally move on.

‘Simon White.'

The name was there, red on black, and for a few seconds nothing happened. Only the cursor blinked.

‘I said – your real name.'

Nick stared at the screen in disbelief. Once more he had the feeling that someone was staring back. He took a deep breath and had another go.

‘Thomas Martinson.'

Again there was no response to the name for a moment, before the game answered.

‘Thomas Martinson is incorrect. If you wish to play, tell me your name.'

There was no sensible explanation for it. Maybe it was a software glitch and the game wouldn't accept any name whatsoever. The writing disappeared; only the blinking red cursor remained. Suddenly Nick got worried that the program might have crashed, or shut down at the third incorrect answer, like a phone after three incorrect PIN entries.

‘Nick Dunmore,' he typed, half expecting that the truth would be rejected as well.

Instead the program whispered his own name in his ear. ‘Nick Dunmore. Nick Dunmore. Nick. Dunmore.' Over and over again the words were passed around like a chant from one whispering being to another. The welcome greeting of an invisible community.

The feeling of being watched was scary, and Nick groped for the headphones to take them out of his ears. But the writing was disappearing already, just like the voices, and an enticing melody began playing – a promise of mystery and adventure.

‘Welcome, Nick. Welcome to the world of Erebos. Before you start playing, acquaint yourself with the rules. If you don't like them, you can end the game at any time. Okay?'

Nick stared at the screen. The game had caught him lying. Knew what his real name was. Now it seemed it was impatiently awaiting an answer – the cursor was blinking faster and faster.

Nick typed ‘Yes' with the vague feeling that everything would go dark again if he took too long. He would think it over later. Later.

‘Good. Here is the first rule. You have only one chance to play Erebos. If you waste it, it's over. If your character dies, it's over. If you break the rules, it's over. Okay?'

‘Okay.'

‘The second rule. When you play, make sure that you are alone. Never mention your real name in the game. Never mention the name of your player character outside the game.'

How come? Nick wondered. Then he remembered that even Brynne, who had never been troubled by self-restraint, hadn't blabbed anything about Erebos to him. ‘It's incredibly awesome,' – that had been it.

‘Okay.'

‘Good. The third rule. The content of the game is secret. Do not speak to anyone about it. Especially not to people who are not registered. You can converse with players around the fires while you are playing. Don't pass information on to your friends or your family. Don't post information on the internet.'

As if you'd ever find out, thought Nick, and typed ‘Okay.'

‘The fourth rule. Keep the DVD somewhere safe. You need it to start the game. Don't copy it under any circumstances, unless the messenger asks that you do so.'

‘Okay.'

Nick had hardly pressed the enter key when the sun rose. Or at least it felt like that. The blackness of the screen yielded to a delicate red, which soon changed to tones of yellow and gold. Nick's Nameless appeared as a shadow, slowly taking shape, just like his surroundings – a forest clearing flooded in sunlight, in which long grass was growing and through which a beaten track wound its way. It led to a mossy tower, with a door that was hanging by only one hinge. On a rocky outcrop a little to the left sat Nameless, with his eyes closed and his face turned to the sun. Nick felt a twinge of envy, as if he were looking at beautiful holiday pictures. For a brief moment he thought he could smell the resin of the forest trees and the flowering herbs all around the tower. Crickets chirped, and the wind moved gently through the grass.

The crooked door of the tower banged loudly against the wall and the figure, still in ragged clothes, stretched and stood up. He put a hand up to his face and removed it like a mask. Behind it there was nothing but smooth skin, bare as an eggshell.

Another gust of wind unfurled the flag that was mounted at the top of the tower. It showed a faded number one.

This was the way to the first level, Nick assumed, and steered his figure, whose missing face unsettled him more than he wanted to admit, to the tower.

Inside everything is quiet, even the wind is silent, the gate is no longer banging. Among straw and scattered bones stand wooden chests with rusty clasps. Copper tablets on the wall gleam; there are words carved into them. The first word is always the same: Choose.

He inspects the tablets in order.

‘Choose a gender,' the first demands.

Without hesitating he chooses the man. Only after his decision does it occur to him that playing as a women could have a certain appeal. Doesn't matter – it's too late.

‘Choose a race,' he reads on the tablet.

Here he pauses for longer. Rejects the barbarian and the vampire, although he slips their bodies on to try them out; at the sight of the barbarian's shoulder muscles, gleaming with oil, he grimaces. He considers the lizard man for a few minutes – his body scales shimmer so seductively, changing colour in different lights. The human species is an option too, but it's not worth considering. Too everyday. Too weak.

Dwarf, werewolf, cat person or dark elf – these last four options are all tempting. He tries the dwarf body on: small, gnarled and strong. Not bad – the small stature appeals to him; the crooked legs and the pinched facial expression less so.

In the end he decides on the dark elf. Medium height, but agile, elegant and mysterious. His decision is acknowledged. ‘Choose your appearance,' the third copper tablet demands.