The Whispering Horse galloped through the trees in the direction of the downed Scholar. He had one more card until his new hand and he was going to use it. He could use a Slash for a coup de grace.
It was just over the Fisher downed and dead tree, around the half buried granite boulder, and-
There was no Scholar, face down or otherwise. He cursed the only way he knew how and was suddenly very pensive. If the Hoplite had gotten up, the Scholar could be on his feet now too. And there was a reason he’d targeted the Scholar at first.
“I can soak the damage,” he called to the trees and those who may be waiting behind. “And I already got your friends, dude. I know it’s you who’s got the money now.”
It was a bluff, but a calculated one. He knew how to rile people up.
But it didn’t work this time. There was no shock or fireball from behind a tree. No acid shot or earth tremor.
Horse trotted past the trees and look a glance at his remaining card. It had a green border on the face of the card and an image of a sword mid-chop. The text listing the amount of damage the card would deal, the number modified by his Strength stat. He played it and a serrated sword appeared in his hand, assembling itself from triangular particles that seemed to come from the air.
He only had the one swing, and then it would mean a new hand, a new change of tack, adapting to the semi-random abilities pulled from his deck.
A slight sound drew his attention from across the clearing. The soft sound of leaves sliding on earth, perhaps underfoot. He caught a shadow flit behind a trunk. Off in the direction he had come from, he heard the distant rustle of leaves and clatter of branches. He backed into shadows and was swallowed by darkness.
****
Athena crawled down from a tree, secure in her judgment of distance. The area of effect for the Caltrop card could only be so big. Pan clung to her back, and then slid down when the ground was once again near. “I’ve got one more action. Apollo must be moving around. He might be defending himself. Whatever it is, he cast something already.”
“Why are you still holding onto the trunk of the tree like that? Let’s go,” Pan urged.
Peeking around the trunk at the small clearing where they had met the centaur she said, “Something is wrong. I don’t see Apollo.”
And as if by magic, Apollo appeared. He was running across the clearing and shouting. Pan didn’t pick up on what he was saying because he was distracted by the centaur appearing at full gallop on a course to intercept the running Scholar.
A spear appeared in Athena’s hand and now she was running to deliver it point first to the brazen Skulk. This left Pan all alone.
“No! Go back!” Apollo cried as she crouched and grounded the butt of her spear between the centaur and her brother.
She looked back at him to ask, “What?”, but her weapon was deflected by the centaur’s sword, the brute neither swerving or slowing.
A card flashed in front of Apollo, who covered his face with his arm, bracing for impact. The clearing darkened as the clouds instantly thickened overhead. A white line crashed between the three of them as the fury of the heavens congealed as a single lightning bolt.
The three of them went flying at the shock. Pan was momentarily blinded and deafened from the blast.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
When the ringing began to fade and shapes and colors returned, he saw arranged around a smoking black spot in the clearing a prone Athena, a prone Apollo, and a recovering Horse. A faint grey bubble around him was fading rapidly. And then it was gone. He still had his sword in hand.
Pan ran to them. He reached Athena first.
“That’s my Shield done with,” the Whispering Horse said. He flourished the sword, spinning it by the hilt in his palm, as he stepped towards Apollo. “You put up a good fight dude.”
Pan shook Athena, urging her to do something. He looked at the cards floating just outside of his vision. The first one he saw read Forgetfullness, depicting a grey mannequin having a headache, represented by a few halos at rakish angles. The textbox read, “Discard your hand.”
Is that all? he thought to himself.
“Please. Get up. If you can get up, you can save your brother.” He shook her a few more times and she made the faintest of noises. “I’m going to give you an action, ok? Whatever you’ve got, get between him and your brother. I’ll buy you a moment.”
He ran in front of Apollo, halting the centaur.
Frustrated at the latest interruption to his kill, the Skulk said, “Not this again dude. Do you know when you’ve lost? I’ll deal with you in a second. You and the Hoplite can’t have more than the barest life left.”
“I’m not going to let you kill him.” He activated his card, sending it and the remaining cards in his hand to discard.
****
Elsewhere in the forest, a wheel stopped spinning with a small, hard click.
The imp between the two wheels cackled, and the wedges under each arrow began to glow. One, a mash-up portrait of a Hoplite, Scholar, Skulk, and Cursed. The other, a wooden door in a stone archway, cracked to reveal a dark sliver.
****
The Horse laughed. “Look at the hero,” he said, pointing the sword. He mocked Pan, “ ‘I’m not going to let you kill him.’ What do you think this is? I didn’t come here to RP.”
Then something in Pan’s mind clicked. He said, “I thought I recognized something in your voice.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“…Tim?”
A curious and vaguely fearful look stole over the centaur’s hooded face. “Who’s asking?”
“You got the game too. You’re playing it right now. You made fun of me for getting it and you bought it too you lousy hypocrite.” He jabbed an index finger in the direction of the Horse’s nose. The centaur regarded the little faun like one would a strange and growling chihuahua.
Then a battle cry split the air. They both turned to see an angry and desperate Athena, another spear in hand, slicing crosswise at the Horse, bloodlust in her eyes.
“Wait!” Pan cried. He stepped between Athena and the Whispering Horse. “He doesn’t know it’s real! He’s a friend!”
But the swinging spear went over his head. The Horse reacted, but the spear sliced into him. He screamed in pain.
They stood there, Athena with her suddenly dissolving weapon digging into the Horse’s human ribcage from the side. Pan frozen, holding his arms out placating.
“God that hurts!” the Horse yelled, breathing heavily.
“Are you dead?” Pan asked.
“No,” Horse said between pants, “It took a chunk off my HP bar though.” He cursed.
Pan looked at Athena and, in a voice he hoped would draw someone away from a ledge, said, “We got it wrong. This is my friend in real life. If I’ve got things the right way around, I don’t think he knows what’s going on.”
“What’s going on that I don’t know about?” he asked, pressing a hand to his cut.
“The game’s real,” Athena said, also breathless. She seemed about to collapse.
“That’s dumb,” Horse said.
“Yeah, but it’s what happened. Doesn’t this feel a bit too real?”
“My dad got me an immersive environment for Christmas. I could take the gear off and log out to prove it to you.”
Pan shrugged at Athena.
Moments later, proving to himself it wasn’t as easy as removing the accoutrements of immersive environment gaming, Horse began to panic, galloping in circles and gibbering. Athena was sitting Apollo up, who was able to come back from the effects of the blast. Pan was calling to his friend, trying to calm him down by shouting soothing phrases like, “It’s going to be alright!” and “We’re going to make it through this!” On the whole, the calming effect was lost in the delivery.
That was when the door appeared. It distracted Apollo from his injuries, Athena from her brother, Pan from his friend, and Horse from his panic attack.
“It’s just a wooden door,” Apollo said. “I’m sure it wasn’t here before.”
“Look, there’s nothing behind it,” Pan observed. But he was wrong. There was the imp in fancy dress crawling atop the archway.
Horse cursed. “The Wheel of Fate, dude,” Horse said.
“What does it do?” Pan asked.
The door opened and showed him. In the span of a handful of heartbeats, the clearing was empty. There were no more shouts of people being sucked into a disembodied door. There was no door. There wasn’t even an imp in fancy dress.