The timer next to her endurance bar flashed 10 minutes until recovery. In ten minutes she would be dead. Engulfed in a hellscape of howling wind and swirling sand. Unless the tornadoes got her first. Then she would get a nice ride through the air and splatter across the ground like a melon.
She thought of Bruce at the end of the caravan. All on his own with no mana, no endurance and nobody to help him. She looked for Farook or Shaynala but they were busy giving orders and everyone else was busy obeying them. The caravan was turning slowly, carving a wide arc through the desert at a sixty degree angle. Ahead of them was a shallow river bed, its surface cracked and broken from decades of hot days, cold nights and flash floods.
The camels screamed and bellowed but she couldn't hear them. The only sound anyone heard was the roar of the wind and the shrieking whistle of the tornadoes behind them. The sky was a rusty miasma of sand, rock and debris and dark funnels that ripped through the desert like drunks stumbling home.
Two of these tornadoes clashed and Meg clamped her hands over her ears as the metallic scream of nature crashed over her and flattened her to the ground. Somewhere a camel groaned and fell, tried to rise and failed. The man looked at the storm creeping ever closer, frowned and threw his body over top of the camel. She saw him and was glad he would not abandon the noble beast then grew sad when she realized they would both die.
Meg looked down the curving line of the caravan and found a small bump in the sand where she had left Bruce. He hadn't moved, probably was staring at his death the same as she was. She grit her teeth and rolled onto her hands and knees. If she was going to die she would die doing something.
Meg crawled two feet and collapsed face down in the sand. The timer now read 9 minutes. She shut her eyes against the wind and dug her feet into the sand. Pushed with her legs and pulled with her arms. Two feet, then three and another four. She stopped and pressed her face to the sand.
Her ears tingled and popped and she winced inside her egg. The sound punched through the sand and lurched into her ears, thrashing and pounding through her sensitive canals. Her mind cringed and reeled away from the chaos in her head but there was no escape. It hurt so bad. She wanted it to stop. She'd do anything for the quiet to come back.
In the wet darkness of her VR rig Meg curled into a ball and pressed her eyes closed. She cupped her arms around her ears and shuddered, her muscle fibers twitching as she was overwhelmed by the god awful sound.
Her rig's finely tuned sensors picked up on her distress and the miserable wailing scaled down to a murmur. Meg opened her eyes and breathed in and out. Her vitals floated before her and she was relieved to see her condition return to normal. Then she remembered the sand storm and the death approaching her and she threw her mind back into the game.
Meg ripped her head out of the sand and looked around. The caravan had left her behind. They reached the dry river bed and began to lay the camels down in a tight circle with the human handlers in the center. They lashed themselves to the animals with ropes and straps and then buried their faces against their scruffy hides to wait and hope and pray the storm did not kill them.
Meg glanced at her endurance bar. Five minutes left. Already her legs felt stronger but she didn't want to risk getting up. On her belly she crawled and squirmed, kicked and pulled. Inch by inch she moved towards Bruce in the distance. Every second brought her closer to him and closer to death.
The wind caught her horns and jerked her head back. She scowled and dug her limbs into the sand beneath her and moved forward. Sand and rocks pelted her. Four minutes left.
"Fucking sand," she said.
The wind tore the words away from her lips and drowned them out. She risked giving the storm the middle finger and wondered if it had an hp bar. It might be fun to kill a sandstorm. It wouldn't be fun to die in one though. She thought of the experience loss and cringed.
With three minutes left on her timer Meg redoubled her efforts to reach Bruce. Her scales rustled in the wind, making a sound like a rattlesnake’s tail. The wind slammed into her, jerked her head back and she fumbled trying to find something to grab onto. But there was only sand and she was yanked onto her feet and sent rolling end over end.
She bounced and rolled. Hit a rock sticking out of the sand and yelped. A bloody -3 floated in front of her for a half second and was torn away by the wind. She jammed her feet into the ground and slowed her roll. She grit her teeth, lowered her head and braced her legs then lunged forward like a frog.
The air caught her for a moment and then she landed hard on her belly and grunted. How long could the storm last? She looked at the swirling tornadoes and gave up hoping for a peaceful end.
Meg darted forward as fast as she could, whipping her tail, shoving off with her legs like some frog snake. Every inch she gained was a mini war waged against the elements. She wanted to give up. She was exhausted and hungry and there was sand under her scales.
She shut her eyes and breathed inward. Held it and let it go. When she opened her eyes the storm was still raging across the red landscape. The timer was down to 60 seconds.
Meg wiggled her way into the sand as far as she could and dragged herself forward. Through the wind and grit she could almost make out Bruce. He seemed to be on his hands and knees, moving even slower than she was. Probably weighed down by all that gold she thought.
"Bruce!"
The wind shredded her words to pieces and scattered them across the desert. She glanced at the timer, 25 seconds left. She hunkered down low and braced herself. The 25 seconds lasted an eternity and then the red light of her endurance bar faded to bright green and the weariness left her.
She lurched up like a track runner and kicked off the ground. The wind lashed across her face. Sand smashed into her and rattled her scales. She powered through it, her eyes half shut against the wind, and dove head first at Bruce. She hit the ground and skidded to a halt and dragged herself the last three feet.
Bruce raised his head and she saw a narrow gash on his forehead and a trail of blood running down his face. "Couldn't pass up a chance to profit huh," he said smiling.
"I haven't saved you yet," she shouted over the roar of the wind.
Bruce turned his gaze on the howling tornadoes and frowned. "This is no good," he said. "where is the caravan?"
She scooted closer and spoke directly into his ear. "Way over there in a dry river bed. Think you can move?"
"If I can't I'm sure those tornadoes will do the job for me," he said.
"Okay boss, nice and low, got it?" She said. "Hold onto my tail if you have to."
Kneeling Meg twisted around in the direction of the caravan and motioned him to follow. Despite changing directions they could not escape the wind. It slammed into them from all directions. A thousand tiny fists, pummeling them over and over again. They stumbled and staggered. Ran when they could and crawled when they had too. Even with full endurance their progress was glacial.
And all the while the tornadoes crept closer. The angry funnels swirled through the desert, whistling and screaming as they tore apart the land. Meg kept going. Anything was better than looking at them.
Bruce yelped and sagged at the knees. She caught him as he fell and lowered him to the ground. A fresh stream of blood seeped from a cut on the back of his scalp and clotted around the granules of sand flung into the open wound.
"How's your health?" She said.
"Marvelous!" He retorted.
She slung his arm over her shoulder and gripped him hard around the waist. He looked paper thin but was as heavy as the boulders around them. "Come on Brucey baby," she said. "almost…"
They made it two feet before a shadow passed over them. Meg half turned and gasped. Then she shut her eyes and made herself as small as possible. She couldn't get small enough though. The boulder above them sailed through the air and dropped on top of them.
Her remaining 11 hp bled out of her in a single bloody -300 and the world went dark.
Meg drifted in the inky darkness. Her body weightless and slack. In death there was no pain. No rush except for her own desire to get back into the game. A prompt appeared below her in big gold letters.
DO YOU WANT TO RESURRECT?
YES OR NO?
Meg rolled her eyes. Of course she wanted to resurrect. Who the hell wanted to float in the endless void all day? She thought YES and the prompt disappeared. The weight returned to her body and she sank through the darkness and braced herself for the leap back into the game.
Black gave way to blue and in a storm of bubbles she crashed into the clear water of the Grand Elder's lake.She grunted and clamped her mouth shut but was too late. Water seeped down the back of her throat and turned to steam as it hit her inner flame.
She flailed and kicked and swam for the surface. Her limbs ached, her endurance bar flashed red again, but at least she was alive. She broke the surface and took a harsh gulp of cool mountain air and treaded water.
The current moved beneath her. She looked down and saw the shadow of the Grand Elder and moved towards the shore. His great head rose beneath her and scooped her up and she spread her arms out to stay seated as he surged toward the shore.
He deposited her safely on the shore and moved back to assume his usual contemplative stance. Meg shook like a dog and threw herself down in the grass. She rolled and scooted and stopped only when her scales were dry.
"I didn't expect to see you so soon," The Grand Elder said.
Meg nodded. "Neither did I," she said. "I can't believe the weather killed me."
"The elements are as old as I am," he said. "many who have underestimated their power have perished."
She shook off the last bit of water and said "lesson learned."
"As you are aware, dying is never easy," he said. "and resurrection comes at a cost."
Meg slouched. "I don't suppose you can cut me a break. Just this once?"
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The Grand Elder threw his head back and laughed. "That was very funny," he said. "But no. I cannot."
Meg sighed and folded her arms across her chest. "How much will it cost me?" She said.
The Grand Elder lowered his head until he was at eye level with her and smiled. Despite his fatherly vibes and jovial nature there was always something a little unsettling about the Grand Elder's smile. All those sharp white teeth on display made her think of what would happen if he ever took a bite out of her.
He wouldn't of course. She had never seen him behave violently. Even if you attacked him he laughed it off as something young children do. And he'd never shown up in the game world. Still though if he wanted to he could have eviscerated her in seconds.
"50 xp," the Grand Elder said.
Meg shut her eyes and counted to three. 50xp wasn't so bad. She would still be at level one and with a few quests or some good roleplay encounters she could gain it back quickly. That didn't mean she liked losing out on xp.
"Alright," she said. "I'm ready."
The Grand Elder pulled back from her and reached out with one of his long claws. "This will sting a bit."
The claw touched her forehead and she winced as if zapped by static electricity. "Ouch," she said.
The word came out of her mouth but made no sound. Her brain drifted. Her limbs sagged and she let out a long silent yawn. And then the world went dark again.
This time she woke up in the desert. Sprawled out on her blanket, her scales warming in the sun. Bruce sat next to her, his lips wrapped around the neck of a canteen.
"Hey there," she groaned.
She sat up and looked around. The skies were clear and quiet. The sand drifted lazily on the wind. The boulder that killed them stuck out of the sand two feet away from them. She saw a dark red stain on its smooth surface and remnants of her scales embedded in the rock. She pried her eyes away from it before the memory could completely take her over.
"Where's the caravan?" She said.
Bruce put the stopper in his canteen and dabbed his lips dry on his sleeve. Some of the weariness had left his face and his beauty radiated through his sharp symmetrical features. No wonder people write so much fanfiction about the Zhanglao, she thought.
"They are up ahead in the riverbed," Bruce said. "I thought it best not to move you."
"Is everyone okay?" She said.
"Losses were minimal," Bruce said.
"Shaynala and Farook?" She said.
"They are okay," Bruce said. "their offspring as well."
The way he wrinkled his nose at the word offspring made her laugh. He stared at her as if she had lost her mind. "What are you laughing at?" He said. "have I got something on my face?"
"No you're just a little cute," she said.
He wrinkled his nose again and scooted a few feet away from her. "Keep it in your pants sister," he said.
Meg got up slowly. Her legs worked as they were meant to but she was beyond sore. Her body ached and throbbed, even her horns felt inflamed. She checked her stats. All her vitals were fine. Only the xp had changed.
"Are you sure you're up to moving?" Bruce said.
"I feel like a boulder crushed me," she said. "but I can move."
Bruce leaned forward on his knees and rolled up her bedding then put it away in her pack. "I'll carry your pack," he said.
She walked over to him and grabbed the top of her pack and lifted it off the ground. "I'm fine," she said.
"I was only trying to be nice," he said.
Meg eased her arms through the straps of her pack, wincing, and stood quietly in the shadow of the boulder until she was used to the added weight. "Thanks but don't think I've forgotten about our little contract dispute."
"Damn," he said. "I was hoping that boulder knocked the sense out of you."
"I was only under that boulder because of you," she said.
"If it wasn't for my magic you would have been under it a lot sooner," Bruce said. "that's the second time my magic has saved your tail."
"That's still not an excuse for keeping your employees in poverty," she said.
Bruce got to his feet and jabbed a finger at her. "A lot of people would kill to make a copper a day!"
"They wouldn't have to if people like you paid their workers better," Meg said. "God forbid you only make one million gold instead of five."
"I, I...damn it." His shoulders slumped and his sun burnt face sagged with the weight of all his years. "I can't believe I'm having this argument with you," he said. "I sound like my idiot father. I used to tell him to pay the staff more. Am I problematic? Oh nine tailed fox I think I need to lay down."
Meg caught him before his legs gave out and walked him over to the boulder. She propped him up against her death rock and made him drink from the canteen.
"Breathe in and out," she said. "this is a good thing. My dad always said the first step in solving a problem is admitting you have one in the first place."
Bruce moaned. "What if you have a lot of problems?"
"You join the club," she said. "we have jackets."
"Meg, you should know I have a lot of skeletons in my closet. I once paid an orphan gang to set fire to my rival's haberdashery."
"How about we focus on the problem at hand," she said.
"Yes but how do you apologize for burning down someone's business?" He said. "especially if you want to avoid a prison sentence."
"I was talking about my wages actually," she said.
His shoulders slumped lower. "Oh," he mumbled. "I suppose I can pay you five copper a day."
"Ten," she said.
"Seven," he retorted.
"Deal," Meg said.
Bruce threw up his hands and was about to argue when he realized what she had said. "There will be no renegotiations after this," he said. "And I will pay you at the end of the week."
Meg spit into the palm of her hand and extended it toward him. He took one look at her hand and shook his head. "I will not be swapping spit with you," he said.
"If you're thinking about changing your mind I'll grab you by the ears and kiss you right on the lips," Meg said.
Bruce cringed and spit into his palm then clasped hands with her. "Okay, okay, enough. Please let go it's slimey!"
MOVING ON UP: SUCCESSFULLY ASKED FOR A RAISE AND RECEIVED IT.
+15xp
+3xp SOCIAL
+1 REPUTATION WITH BRUCE
Meg held on for a second longer then released his hand. He dropped into a crouch and scrubbed his hands with sand, his hair swinging from the effort. Meg grabbed a handful of sand as well and gently ground it between her hands until the sticky spit feeling went away. She agreed with Bruce. It had been disgusting and every second that their saliva had clung to her scales had been a nightmare for her. But it was worth it to make him squirm.
I’m going to check on the others,” She said. “Wanna come with?”
He dusted his hands and stood up. “I suppose we can grace them with our presence,” He said.
They left the bloody boulder behind and made the long walk to the rest of the caravan in silence. The camels ignored them as they approached and she wanted to give each one of them a big hug and tell them everything would be okay. But she could tell just by looking that some of them were missing. She scanned the crowd for the mother and her calf and was relieved to find them chewing on a stunted bush growing out of the side of the river bed. There was always a silver lining she reminded herself.
Shaynala saw them coming and raised both her arms above her head in greeting. “Praise the Grand Elder,” She said. “We thought your wounds would claim you.”
Meg tried not to smile but the woman’s enthusiasm made it impossible. She threw her own arms up and went in for the hug. She would have never done it in real life. Hugs were like handshakes and she avoided them at all costs. Some of her students had noticed this and for a while had referred to her as Miss Cactus before they got bored with it and moved on.
In the game though she didn’t get the same uncomfortable feeling she got when hugging a real person. The weight was different and the smell and texture of their body and clothes were greatly diminished thanks to her settings. Shaynala smelled like spiced wine and lavender which Meg liked. She clamped her arms around Meg, careful not to crush the baby, and lifted her off the ground in a great big bear hug and laughed.
“Apologies for giving you a fright,” Meg said as Shaynala let her down.
Shaynala dismissed the apology with a wave of her hand. “My father had a saying,” She said. “Sometimes you outrun the rock. And sometimes the rock outruns you.”
Meg struggled to come up with a reply and was saved by Farook. He came down the other side of the river bank and trudged over to his wife. Shaynala’s face tightened and she reached out to steady him. He stopped and stared blankly down at their baby, sleeping peacefully in her harness, then up at his wife. A thousand things passed between them in that single look and Meg wished she could have understood it.
“Did you find the camels?” Shaynala said.
“I found tracks,” He said. “but.”
“That is good news,” Shaynala said. “And yet your eyes are heavier than our daughter’s diaper.”
Despite her joke Farook did not laugh. He simply sighed and looked back at the way he had come and shook his head. “I found Tang and Lin. Cut down by blades, their killers are following the camel tracks.”
Shaynala scowled and balled her hands into fists. Her beauty twisted in on itself and Meg took a step back remembering the Grand Elder’s teeth as she watched Shaynala’s rage take hold of her. “Those bastards,” She said. “I will make rope out of their intestines, the birds will feast on their balls, I will spread them across this desert!”
“You cannot leave the caravan,” Farook said.
Shaynala snatched at his collar and shook him. “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!”
Farook took her snarling in stride and placed his hands on her forearms. “They are scared and tired,” He said. “Twenty of our camels are gone and two of our friends are dead. They will need you to set an example.”
“The only example I’ll set is with my scimitar,” She growled.
Farook closed his eyes and shook his head. “These are your people,” He said. “By blood, coin and camaraderie. You must stay and help them. Think of the baby.”
Shaynala shook him loose and turned away from him. Her face was a writhing mask of agony riddled with bloodlust. Meg saw her on a hill somewhere with a gilded scimitar, blood all around her on the sand, bodies cleaved and cut like monuments to an insane God. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, she thought.
“I will track down your camels,” Meg said.
Shaynala twisted around and glared at her. Meg held her breath but didn’t move away. She had made plenty of people angry in her life. It was always a surprise and most of the time she didn’t know what she had done to piss them off. At least this time she understood Shaynala’s anger.
“This is not a task for you,” She said.
“Shaynala is right,” Bruce said. “We are merchants not mercenaries.”
“We fought the Eagle,” Meg said. “And before that I kept the camels safe from snakes.”
“And you were crushed by a boulder,” Bruce said.
“Enough!” Shaynala said. “I must avenge my friends. Only then will my honor be restored.”
Meg turned and planted her hands on her hips. “Honor?” She said. “I don’t think this is about honor or your friend’s memories. I get it this sucks the big one but you want to go out there and hunt down their killers because you feel helpless. You couldn’t stop the storm. You couldn’t save your friends, and now you want to risk your life for the chance to feel like you’re doing something”
“We are friends Meg,” Shaynala said. “But do not think you can tell me what I think or feel. You know nothing.”
“I know people,” She said. “I know how scared I was when I thought the storm might have killed that mother and her calf. Only for you it's worse. You’ve got camels and people to worry about.”
“If you will not see reason,” Farook said. “At least take Meg and Bruce with you.”
“I never agreed to this,” Bruce said. “need I remind you that I am a merchant and Meg is my employee. We can not be conscripted into a posse.”
Meg saw his point. She didn’t want to play a combat class anymore either. When she started she had imagined a slow ponderous existence of buying and selling. Haggling over prices and learning about the game’s economy. Glorious math danced through her head and she almost let herself get swept away in its current. But she couldn’t ignore the people around her or the xp she might get from helping them out. If she was going to be a merchant she had to see people as something more than a source of income.
“We’ll help you out,” Meg said. “but we want half of whatever loot there is. Not counting the camels, those are yours obviously.”
Shaynala’s temper cooled and she loosened the straps of the baby’s harness and handed the child off to her husband. She smiled, regaining some of her usual beauty, and hugged Meg again. The two of them embraced each other quietly and a thrill raced through Meg. She understood this. This was Shaynala thanking her. Not just for the help but for preventing her from making a mistake. The simple joy of actually understanding a basic social cue lifted her heart into the stratosphere and she could have quit right there and been happy for a week. It was moments like these that reminded her why she loved games more than the real world.
Shaynala pulled away first and smoothed her long black hair back and let out a rolling groan as the tension seeped out of her body. “I will fetch my scimitar,” She said. “I look forward to fighting by your side.”
As she strode off to get her sword Farook stepped close and stared deep into Meg’s eyes. “Bring her back to me, alive, or do not come back at all.”
Bruce swallowed hard and glanced sideways at Meg. “On my honor we will bring her back,” Bruce said.
Meg looked down at her feet and nodded. “You can count on us,” She said.
Farook cleared his throat and the intensity of his dark scowling eyes grew weary once more. “The people who killed my friends are probably bandits,” He said. “They are common thugs, poorly armed and clothed in rags. But don’t let their condition fool you. They are killers without mercy.”
“Then we shall show them none.”
Master Leroy walked over to them. Farook pushed his daughter into Bruce’s confused hands and met Master Leroy half way. Bruce wrinkled his entire face and passed the baby onto Meg. She rolled her eyes and scooped her into her arms. The baby wiggled once and fell back to sleep as if the whole world hadn’t just fallen apart.
Master Leroy grabbed Farook by the shoulders and jerked him into a hug. Farook grunted and patted him on the back, sending a puff of dust into the air.
“I will breathe easier knowing you are with my wife,” Farook said.
Bruce leaned down by her ear and whispered. “Are we to split the loot with him too?”
Meg tilted her head until her snout was lined up with his long drooping ear. “I think he’s doing it out of the kindness of his heart.”
Bruce smirked. “Sucker.”
Shaynala returned dressed in dark leggings and a maroon tunic with a cloak draped over her shoulders. Her clothes hugged her slender frame and Meg caught herself staring like a dog waiting for its water bowl to be filled. Graphics had definitely improved. She shut her mouth and tore her eyes off of Shaynala and realized Bruce was gawking as well. She elbowed him to break the spell and he frowned deeply at her but made no attempt to protest or chastise her. Neither of them wanted to anger Farook or deal with the large scimitar strapped across Shaynala’s back.
“You look radiant, my love,” Farook said.
She stood in front of him and draped her arms over his shoulders. Her smile graced them once again and then disappeared into a mashing of lips and the breathless wrestling that accompanied a french kiss. Meg looked at the baby and Bruce looked at his feet until the wet sucking sound ended.
“Gather a few camels. We will escort you to Tang and Ling’s bodies then press on without you.”
Farook’s arms tightened around his wife. His eyes scanned her face. He didn’t want to let go but he had too. The camels were important and friends should be avenged. Meg felt the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. No matter what she had to bring Shaynala back or die trying.
Farook took his daughter from Meg and carried her off in the direction of the survivors. The rest of them sat down and waited. They had a long walk ahead of them and perhaps an even longer fight. But every single one of them were ready. One way or another they were bringing those camel's back.