SAVE POINT 21
Rosabella
"You're sure...they're...nerds?" Joy's manicured eyebrows pitched upward at a height I'd rarely seen them. ...The pink-haired girl didn't believe us? Or was it that the thought of a hundred nerds completely revolted her?
Yes, geeks, dorks—
Sparo spat telepathically to all of us.
I mean, either that or like a thousand Harry Potter fans dressed up ONLY as Harry.
I could understand the raw agitation in his voice and expression. The Red Vodyaracka was clearly frazzled, nearly pinching apart at the seams. He'd flown us each, in pairs, to the edge of the grasslands—as far as the tracker strapped around his leg would let him. Our group, now, stood on the cusp of the enormous, barren plaza—ragged peaks of mountains climbing next to us into cliffs and nothing but uncertainty and waist-level, yellow grass ahead. ...And heat—Goddamn this sun. I was already sweating under my body armor. But we were here for a reason—to face the thing Sparo and I’d seen from the cliff cave above. If I shaded my eyes with my hand and stared through sun-splotched vision into the horizon, I could make it out.
That dark cloud.
The crowd of people.
But Sparo was the only one who'd seen them up-close—the only one of us who could see them with his enhanced, dragon vision, and it was clearly frustrating him that no one was taking his word for it. ...Well, no one but me.
You all can believe me or not—whatever you want—but I know hundreds of book-thumpers when I see them—
"You know, you aren't being incredibly sensitive right now." The thin sliver of Dormouse's voice trembled in the open air like it'd taken him quite a bit of courage to speak up. Mimi nodded at him, encouragingly.
But the Vodyaracka only snorted, emitting a halo of black smoke.
I call it like I see it, Braino.
Dormouse opened his mouth to come back with what would most likely be the nicest, non-biting retort ever when Rainer's entire body tensed. "Do you see that?" he barked.
The burly Nomad shaded his eyes. I rushed to do the same and...and I did see it.
A figure: the black silhouette of a human stumbling towards us through the tall grass.
"If it's Darken, I win something, and I get first dibs on the kill XP," Joy muttered under her breath, drawing her bow taut and leveling an arrow at the advancing form.
But we were all holding our breaths.
I watched Sparo's scarlet-scaled tail curl instinctively in front of my legs, matting the grass there. The action...like he might be able to shield me from whoever this visitor was or whatever they might bring, but the reality was that that shield would be gone soon. Sparo was tethered to The Higher Place; he had to stay behind. It was a topic we've been actively avoiding.
The figure walking towards us was most definitely a man, not a zombie—I realized that distinctly as he got closer. He was lanky, tall and, by the looks of the way he was picking up his feet so high over the tall grass with each step, awkward. Corn-colored hair, matching the color of the engulfing grass, jutted in scruffy dreadlocks in every direction from the crown of his head like a mop turned upside down. And it was not the only scruffy thing about the guy—that was obvious the nearer he got. The skin of his face was leathery and dotted, and a gritty, untrimmed beard hung under a smile as wide as his face. He flung a waving hand in the air, nearly falling over from the wide movement.
"What the hell are you doing all the way out here?!" the man called boisterously—his grin never leaving his lips or eyes.
"I was about to ask you the same thing," Rainer growled, his voice ten octaves lower than the approaching man and, clearly, not as friendly.
The stranger stumbled closer—it was obvious he was barefoot now. His fingers wiped horizontally in the air as his eyes scanned through the Code and text popping up there. "I don't see your tags in the inventory," he called, barely looking up as he continued plowing towards us, "What are your usernames?"
"He might as well be Darken," Joy griped out of the side of her mouth, "I think he has negative Intelligence—"
“Maybe he wants our Class and tags?” Dormouse tried.
"There's no usernames in The Game," Rainer snorted, overlapping both the nerd and the pink-haired girl's snide comment, "What are you playing at?"
"No usernames in the..." the man looked up, his thin, pale lips trailing off as his eyes traced over the faces of our group as though seeing us for the first time. And disbelief whitened his already sour-cream complexion as his raised finger moved from the Code to hover over each one of us, interchangeably, "Red dragon...sexually-frustrated nerd...wannabe lumberjack...shark-attack, pink-haired girl, freckled one no one remembers and...brunette chick. Oh shit—oh my fucking God!—you're all from the book?!"
"What book?" I blurted. And I think my confusion spoke for all of us.
The guy's eyes snapped to mine, way past alarmed and, somehow, excited; above him, his sandy dreadlocks shook. "Holy shit, you guys are real?! This is sick AF!" He threw his hands down.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
I watched Rainer trying to process if the guy's words might be a threat, knitting his bushy eyebrows together, and I was about to step in and clear his concern when the stranger spoke again.
"Oh, bro!" he gushed excitedly, "That means the dragon is real? Can I touch it?!" He seemed WAY too thrilled about the action as he eyed Sparo up and down.
"Only if you want your little, baby fingers fried off, and that would be a real shame now, wouldn't it?" Joy cooed in her typical I-don't-give-two-fucks lullaby.
But even her tone and snapping eyes didn't seem to dull the enthusiasm of the stranger. He ran both hands through his dreads, clearly still freaking out, "Oh my God, everyone's gonna flip. The crowd goes wild!" He mimicked fanfare.
"The crowd already is going wild. There's what, hundreds of people out there?" Dormouse complained, clearly losing patience as he gestured to the horizon. I saw my opening.
"What is going on?" I demanded, "Who are all those people, and what is this book you're talking about?"
The guy seemed to come down to the solid ground for a minute.
"5,280," he stated, gesturing openly at us like we should know what he meant.
But I didn't.
And I blinked at him. We all blinked at him.
[SPARO, RED VODYARACKA SKYDRAKE 15: Draconic Telepathy Channel Opened. The Humans Can Hear You Now. +10 XP, 1526/1600]
Tell us what the fuck is going on with the swarm of nerds, or I'll eat you.
Sparo snarled in our eardrums.
And it was easy to see that the stranger could hear the dragon too. His face went slack, the rosy plums of his cheeks, like elephant skin, "Was that—was that just—the dragon just used telepathy?!"
"No pressure, but he usually follows through on his threats," Joy growled, prompting the guy's hands to shake as he gaped back at our group.
"5,280 usernames are cataloged," he sputtered, "—well, Ashwipe#3 hasn't checked in yet—but...here, uh—" he wiped both hands hastily on the front of his t-shirt before extending one towards Joy, but the girl just scowled back at him and made no move to shake it.
"Oh, err—" he kept the hand out but swiveled so that his fingers now extended towards me. His expression was sheepish and wincing even as I accepted his handshake. "Sorry, forgot, you're officially in charge here," he made air quotes on the word 'officially' before nodding at Joy, "She's kinda intimidating in person. DANKFanboi_420 at your service. Honestly, you're kinda cuter than I would have thought—sorry, you're right, totally douchey thing to say. Plus, Sparo's your meat man—I got you." He winked at me, making guns in the air with both hands and fake firing at me. No idea what that was supposed to mean.
...He was talking like he knew me...knew us?
"I'm sorry, do I know you from somewhere?" I leaned forward, trying to recall his face but coming up blank.
And the man's expression broke and morphed, wrinkling everywhere and cracking into an enormous smile, "Oh hell, you guys don't know me! But, geez, you're celebrities around here—better than fucking action figures. It's like, literally, meeting the characters in your favorite book. Damn, I've got it right here."
I watched the man scramble to fish in his back pocket. And he pulled out a small paperback. "When I saw they were selling the pocket-size ones, I had to get me one-a-those, you know?" He flashed the cover at me with a grin.
Dragon Spar? It was like I'd seen it in a dream before—like deja vu that made you pause for a minute. And my mouth dropped open when I read the author's name: 'Prickgada The Psychic'.
"You're all described in here—this thing's a bestseller. It went fucking viral outta nowhere. It tells all about The Game and, obviously, how to get in here which me and the crew just had to mega check out—"
I'm gonna kill her. I'm finally gonna kill that Witch-bitch once and for all.
Sparo growled in all our minds, the grating grasp of his utter fury clear in every snarled syllable.
"Prickgada wrote a book about how to get into The Game?" Dormouse's eyes were as wide as four continents. "You guys—that crowd on the horizon—is ..from Earth? Humans, not Gamers?"
"That's impossible—" Mimi interrupted, stepping forward like she was about to spew some serious portal passage stats and regulations.
"Obviously not," Dormouse countered sourly, "Prickgada knows enough about the Code work-arounds..."
So, you're saying an army of dweebs, from Earth, have all joined forces and invaded The Game?
Sparo's voice was low and disbelieving as it reverberated in my head. And, I had to admit it, my stomach was dropping octaves with every word of his question. ...Was it...could it be true?
"You make this sound like Star Wars," DANKFanboi_420 brayed with a grating chuckle, "This is just a chatroom that might have gotten a little outta hand. Yes, humans. No to the ‘army’ part. Plus, in case you didn't notice, we have quite a diverse group of people." He swept a wide hand towards the mass on the horizon which we could now pick out easier was actually colligating small groups.
"...As in geek and geekier?" Joy slurred, crossing her arms, unconvinced, over her chest.
"Oh, no" the stranger shook his blonde dreadlocks like he’d suddenly gone into teacher mode. His face was long and serious now, "You see, DS is loved by fantasy and horror fans all over the world so—"
"DS?" I asked.
"Dragon Spar—this book," he shook the paperback at me again.
Right.
"That crowd represents the most active users of the Scare & Warlocks Guild who love survival horror and fantasy. And the horror fans are straightforward, minus the slashers verses the psychological types. …But confusing the fantasy lovers would be utter chaos." He emphasized the last few words.
"As though we aren't already in a shit box here," Joy drawled dryly.
"You have no idea. I mean, take the chasm between J.R. Tolkien fans and Harry Potter fans. They get it," Fanboi gestured at Dormouse and Mimi who were nodding in agreement, "Some of the newer Rowling fans have never even read the other epic!" His mouth dropped in excess shock.
"And that is supposed to be a bad thing?" Joy flipped her pink hair over her shoulder, clearly already bored with the topic.
The guy gaped at her, his head swiveling to Dormouse for some kind of validation, "Is she serious right now?"
"Yep," Dormouse informed him.
But I noticed Rainer was having none of this banter. What was up with him? His face creased and clamped with irritation as he shifted his weight between both feet. In fact, the bearded Nomad looked rather pissed. I saw his fingers curl into fists as his eyes darted over the horizon again. "All I know," he finally griped, "is your band of dorks are getting way too close to the Temple Meherna, and one of my best friends' body is up there. Excuse me, but I can't sit here chatting about paper and ink when something could happen to his body—" His boots crunched in the thick grass as he turned towards me.
"We left him there, Rosabella." He was looking directly at me now, his voice pleading. Tears brimmed in his tortured eyes.
And I nodded because I knew he was asking a question. The burly man turned swiftly at my answer and began trotting towards the Temple balcony that the crowd was getting far too close to.
"Rainer's right," I told the rest of our group, "We should go with him."
But the stranger and Dormouse were, now, engaged in some sort of debate which had Mimi looking like she might just join in, and Joy was testing the sharpness of her sword on her pinky finger—
BOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!
What? The ground rumbled beneath my feet.
My heart lurched as I spun.
Slow motion—
Not fast enough—
The smell of smoke and char filled my nose.
A fiery mushroom cloud billowed into the sky right where—
Terror clutched at my heart.
Right where Rainer’d been standing three seconds ago.