Josh was lying on the ground with his feet bound together with rope, and his arms tied behind his back. Varian was seated on the opposite side of the campfire. To his right was Ophala. She now wore rich garments, consisting of a full skirt, the hems heavy with embroidery, and a fitted bodice fastened by criss-crossing ribbons. Around her neck lay a fur of some sort. The summer evening air was pleasant, so she didn’t need it for warmth. She watched Josh with a blank, focused gaze that put him in mind of a snake.

On the other side of Ophala was Mistrz, who was busy preparing dinner. To Varian’s left was a scowling boy, maybe a couple of years younger than Josh, dressed all in black. That was Shuriken.

“You should have let me kill him,” Shuriken whined.

“Shut up,” Varian said, not taking his eyes off Josh.

Frenxy was seated on the other side of Shuriken, and opposite her was Wook, the tailor.

Varian was going through Josh’s backpack. He had thrown the vegetables contemptuously aside, as well as the still-damp spare set of clothes. He had regarded the bundle of enchanted feathers as if they were the cute attempts of a toddler to draw a picture in crayon. The only item which had excited his interested was the jar of venom, which he handed straight to Frenxy, who took it with obvious pleasure.

“I tole you we should have gathered the eggs afore we killed that broodmother,” she said, shaking the jar and holding it up to the firelight to inspect the contents.

“The broodmother was the priority,” Varian said. Everyone except Shuriken had been pushed up a level—Wook was 20, Frenxy was 22, Mistrz was 26 and Varian was now 30. That Shuriken had missed out on a large experience gain due to being temporarily dead was probably yet another reason for him to feel resentful towards Josh.

“He’ll give me experience,” Shuriken argued. “Look, he’s hiding his level.”

Josh had toggled his Hide outworlder status the moment he'd left Rob's company. He thought it was a shame that Rob hadn't come across Varian's gang on his way south.

“He was level 3, you dork,” Frenxy said, with disgust. “How would he find that much xp in less’n two weeks?”

Varian set Josh’s pack down very carefully, reached out, and grabbed hold of Shuriken by the back of the neck. From one angle it looked like a friendly gesture, but from the way Shuriken gasped and winced, it must have been painful.

“Josh stays alive until he is higher level,” Varian said, enunciating every word carefully. “There are good reasons for that. If I find you have disobeyed me, I will make my displeasure clear. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Shuriken’s voice was strangled, and he was gritting his teeth, but he didn’t argue again.

Josh’s best chance was probably if Shuriken did kill him, because at least he would then be out of reach of Varian’s gang, and presumably he would resurrect at a different shrine in a week or two. Or maybe they would know which shrine he was most likely to appear at, and lie in wait for him.

“You must be wondering what’s going to happen next,” Varian said to Josh. His tone was still light-hearted and pleasant. “You did do us a favour with the broodmother, but at the same time, you killed one of my people. I feel it’s my duty to teach you how things work around here.” He smiled. “Tomorrow, we are going to retrace our footsteps to the village of Haven, where we will clear out the villagers, and use that to power-level you.”

What? Josh couldn’t help jerking reflexively in his bonds.

“Ah, don’t like that idea, do you? You must still they’re people or something.” Varian laughed. “You have such a lot to learn.”

Josh’s mouth was so dry it took him a couple of attempts to talk.

“They are people,” he said.

Varian shook his head sadly.

“This is a game, haven’t you realised yet? And those so-called people are NPCs.” He meant non-player characters, computer constructs who looked and acted like real people, but were simply following their programming.

Varian’s whole gang probably believed that because it was so much easier. If they didn’t have to care about the locals, they could do anything they wanted.

“What about Ophala?” Josh said desperately. “You can’t think she’s not a real person, surely!”

“She just proves my point.” Varian opened his hands. “She’s gone along with everything we’ve done. If she was real, don’t you think she would have protested before now?”

He didn’t mention upgrading her with Josh’s player core, and Josh decided not to mention it either. If they didn’t know he knew, they wouldn’t expect him to be on guard against it. Josh looked over at Ophala to see what she thought of all this, but she had lowered her eyes to where her hands lay in her lap, and her expression was inscrutable.

“Once we get you past level 10, you won’t be able to hide your level anyway,” Varian continued. “So we’ll know what we’re dealing with.”

“You can’t kill someone and make me complicit,” Josh said.

“There are indirect methods,” Varian told him. “At the most basic, we could make you hold poison and pour it down the well, or even hold a knife in your hand. The system will count that as an assist.”

Josh imagined being held down with a knife in his hand, and Varian’s gang forcing villagers onto the end of it. There was a ringing sound in his ears, and he wanted to be sick.

“You can shove all the experience you want my way,” he panted. “But you can’t make me apply it.”

“Then you lack imagination,” Varian returned calmly. “I assure you, I can be very persuasive. By the time I’m finished with you, you will be desperately begging to apply every last little drop of experience I feed you.”

Josh’s throat closed up and he found himself unable to speak. His mind kept trying to suggest all the sorts of ways Varian might choose in order to bend Josh to his will.

Varian saw his expression, and smirked, but after that appeared to lose interest in him. The gang busied themselves with their evening routines. Wook was working on a piece of embroidery, Frenxy finished her inspection of the venom and pronounced it poor quality and amateurish, Shuriken brooded, Varian sat and murmured in Ophala’s ear, Ophala giggled and tossed her head, and Mistrz finished cooking and serving dinner.

Josh wasn’t offered anything, although he felt too sick and churned up to eat anyway. He had gone from hoping the moth haunt wouldn’t respawn, to praying that it would. If it did, would it venture out of the library cavern? Would it explore its surroundings enough to find them here? If it found them, maybe he would be able to escape in the confusion. He didn’t hold any hope that the moth haunt would be able to take out everyone in Varian’s gang—it wasn’t a high-level boss—but it was the only distraction he could think of that might allow him time to escape.

After dinner, Mistrz went through Josh’s things, carefully inspecting each item and replacing it in Josh’s pack. When he was done, he laid it against a nearby boulder, just out of Josh’s reach, but still within his sight. Mistrz picked up the bow and arrows Josh had been practicing with.

“I want to test venom,” he said to Frenxy. She shrugged and held the jar out, and Mistrz went out into the forest. He came back a little while later.

“Is good,” he said.

“I coulda’ told you that afore you wasted it,” Frenxy exclaimed with irritation. Aside from returning the jar, however, Mistrz ignored her. He carefully bundled up the bow and arrows with Josh’s pack.

It had been fully dark for several hours now, and there was no sign of the moth haunt. Josh had been slowly testing the rope that held his arms together, but all he had for his pains were red and painful wrists. He had felt all around him for a rock or anything that he might use to wear away at the rope, but his captors had inconveniently neglected to leave anything so helpful lying around.

He also had another problem, and that was a full bladder. He had hesitated to announce his needs, fearing that Varian might use that to humiliate him, but perhaps Mistrz picked up on his discomfort, or maybe they had had experience of dealing with captives before, because Mistrz pulled him one-handed to his feet, released the bonds around Josh’s ankles enough to allow him to take short steps, and escorted him into the woods to relieve himself.

Of all Varian’s gang, Mistrz seemed the most emotionally balanced. Wook was a mess, Shuriken was in love with the idea of becoming a cold-hearted killer, Frenxy was thoughtless and self-absorbed, and Varian was psychotic.

Maybe, Josh thought, while he suffered the humiliating necessity of relieving himself under Mistrz’s disinterested gaze, he should try to talk to Mistrz, try to relate to him.

How should he go about doing that?

Josh tried asking Mistrz how long he had been in Spiralia, but all he got in return was a command to shut up. Mistrz didn’t sound the least bit sympathetic or caring. And then before he could think of a different tack, Josh was being escorted back to the campfire, and his bonds tightened again. He felt as if he’d missed an opportunity to escape, even though he knew it would have been futile—Mistrz was a lot stronger than he looked, and Josh was confident that wherever he ran, Shuriken would be able to track him.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

It was only as Mistrz re-tightened the rope around Josh’s wrists that he felt something cold and smooth pressed into his hands. He did his best not to react, nor even look at Mistrz. His fingers explored the shape of the object he had been given, and he realised it was flake of flint, curved and wickedly sharp.

Why was Mistrz trying to help him? Did he not agree with Varian's plans?

It didn't really matter. All that mattered was Mistrz had given Josh a chance to escape. He made himself wait until the others were sleeping, a plan that was immediately put at risk when Varian ordered a watch rotation. Fortunately for Josh, Wook was the one who was allocated the first watch. This was, as Varian disparagingly put it, because Wook was the most useless of them all, but it meant that Josh’s escape would be carried out under gaze of the least observant member of the gang. From the things the others had said earlier, Varian had banned Wook from drinking, and he didn’t look happy about it.

Cutting ropes around your bound wrists with a lethally sharp flake of flint was not nearly as easy as Josh had envisioned. There was no handle he could use to grasp the flint firmly, and after a while his fingers ached from holding it. At one point the flake slipped and sliced into his finger, which stung worse than a papercut, and rendered his fingers sticky and slippery with blood.

Eventually, though, he felt the ropes loosen, and immediately froze, looking across at Wook, who had chosen to spend his watch with his hands clasped morosely around his knees while staring into the campfire.

Very slowly and carefully, Josh pulled up his legs until he could just about reach the rope around his ankles, and started sawing at those. By this time, the blood on his fingers had dried and become sticky, but the flake was still sharp. At one point his leg cramped, but he just bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut, and waited for the spasm to pass before continuing to cut.

Finally, he felt the rope loosen around his legs as well.

Wook was still staring at the fire. Then Josh realised that Wook had a flask or bottle hidden in the circle of his wrapped arms. It dangled next to his leg, and every so often he took a surreptitious sip. Josh didn’t have long to wait until Wook had finished it. Wook gave the bottle a miserable glance, then stood up, took a torch from a series of three that had been jammed into the ground nearby, lit it using the embers of the campfire, and walked a little way into the forest to relieve himself.

That was Josh’s chance. He sat up as quietly as he could, afraid that at any moment one of the others would wake and see what he was doing, but none of them stirred. He shook himself carefully free of the rope, crawled over to his pack, and picked it up gingerly, doing his best not to let any of the contents jostle each other and rustle audibly. He took a torch, too, carefully dislodging it from where it had been staked upright, but didn’t light it. After a moment, he grabbed the other torch as well.

None of the others had moved or shown any sign of noticing his movements.

Josh crept out of the camp and into the woods. There was no sound behind him, no cry of alarm. Wook would probably notice Josh’s absence the moment he came back to the camp, however. Josh only had a short amount of time.

Once he was far enough away that he thought his movement through the woods wouldn’t be heard, Josh broke into a slow jog. He still didn’t light either of the torches, because if the others did follow him it would create a beacon leading them to his position. He jammed one of the torches underneath the flap of his backpack, and held the other in his hand. He had traversed the way up to the druid grove a couple of times by now, and even in moonlight he found he knew the way. He went as quickly as he dared, stumbling over tree roots and walking into branches that whipped his face, until he came to the waterfall.

Once he was through the water, he felt safe enough to light the torch, which was just as much of a pain as lighting the candle, and it seemed an age before his frantic striking produced enough of a spark that the resin on the torch head finally caught. From there he went straight to the druids’ garden.

It was covered in shadowy black moths, fluttering from plant to plant.

Josh stopped to catch his breath, but even as the form of the moth haunt coalesced, he had his story ready.

It was easier, now that he knew the script to work from, and it seemed as if the haunt accepted his explanations more readily. Did some part of her remember their last encounter? If he'd known how much simplier it would be to convince her, he would have come straight back to the grove, and maybe he wouldn't have blundered into Varian's camp at all.

This time, Josh told the moth haunt of evil pursuers, allies of Tylas the Undying, who had tried to capture him, and who he was now escaping.

He felt bad for trying to trick her. She didn’t know she was a moth haunt, she truly believed she was the good Queen Halina, avenging her loved one, and that he was her precious son, whom she must protect. He found himself warning her not to face the enemy in the open, and told himself that it was just because she was a low-level boss, not because he felt sorry for her, and anyway, if they didn’t see her coming maybe she would be more effective against them, and be able to delay any pursuit.

Josh left the moth haunt watching the door to the waterfall like a vengeful cat in front of a mousehole. He plunged into the library, slipping and sliding on the rotting masses of books, when he heard a whirring of whings, and a male voice screaming. Was that one of the others, come after him already? He increased his pace, flinging himself into the stairwell that led down to the central cavern. A notification on his achievements showed that he had been awarded an assist for defeating Shuriken again, along with a reduced amount of experience.

He almost felt sorry for the kid, and reminded himself that Shuriken had killed Hold My Beer and Ophala’s brother without a second thought.

Josh ran into the foundation stone chamber, where the secret door was still standing open. He squeezed through, and tried to pull it shut, worrying all the time that Varian would catch up with him. Had just Shuriken followed him, or were all the others chasing him too?

The door finally clicked closed, and he saw a handprint carved into the wall by the door catch. He put his hand in it, and fed a little magic into it. He assumed that would engage the invisibility spell around the secret doorway again, but he didn’t have time to check.

Instead, he hurtled as fast as he dared down the passageway, and through the interminable grottos, until he reached the cave that exited to the forest and the marsh. The chest containing the magic items was where he had left it. He paused.

If he had taken them with him last time, they would very likely already now be in Varian's possession. Should he leave them or should he take them? They clearly didn’t want to be taken, but would Varian’s lot know some way around the don’t-touch-me aura they exuded?

Josh hastily opened the chest, and put his hand on the fur, then paused again, disbelieving. The don’t-touch-me aura was gone. He lifted the cloak out, and then the shoes, throwing the cloak over his shoulders to be sure, and fastening the pin. It was as if there had never been an aura on them in the first place.

That was suspicious. Who had taken the don’t-touch-me off? It couldn’t have just disappeared all by itself, could it? Was there someone or something out there trying to manipulate Josh? Something had cast the illusion that had allowed him to escape Varian’s gang the first time, in the ruins. Was it the same something that had now arranged matters so that the cloak and the snowshoes wouldn’t fall into Varian’s hands?

Was that something trying to help Josh?

He heard voices and footsteps echoing from deeper within the cave system. Was that Varian and the others? It hadn’t taken them long to find the secret door, or open it. Josh had thought that would buy him more time. He had to move. He couldn’t leave the cloak and the shoes behind for them now. He clutched the snowshoes to his chest, and ran out of the cave into the woods.

It was the second time that day he had traversed the entire cave system, and he had subsequently climbed back up the hill to the druid grove earlier that afternoon. It hadn’t been a lot of walking compared to some of his previous treks, but it was still taking its toll. By the time Josh arrived at the wooden walkway, he was heaving and sucking for air, and there was a painful stitch in his side.

He faced the quiet darkness of the marsh and nearly turned back there and then. He had really hoped not to have to use this part of his plan. Only the thought of what Varian would do to the villagers of Haven and then to Josh, if he caught him, forced him to keep going.

Although what was in the marsh might be worse than Varian.

Josh forced himself onto the walkway, until he had run, or limped, maybe three quarters of its length. He didn’t want to go too far.

He hastily strapped on the snowshoes, and began searching for a solid-looking piece of ground on either side of the walkway. He found a particularly thick tussock of grass, with reeds growing out of it. He cautiously used one foot to test how firm the footing was, and the whole surface of matted reeds in the area around him undulated, as if it was merely a thin skin of vegetation over deep, dark water.

Josh snatched his foot back, then felt the vibrations underneath him—Varian's gang had reached the walkway. He couldn’t see them yet, but they would catch up with him soon.

He let himself down, clinging to the walkway and not daring to put his full weight on the tussock. Although it quaked, it held, and the snowshoes—or marsh shoes—made it feel steadier. The torch had gone out a few minutes ago, the resin all burnt away. Josh drew back his arm, and threw it as far as he could along the walkway.

Unfortunately, instead of staying on the walkway, it bounced, and rolled into the mire. Josh had hoped it would lead the gang further on, as a false trail, but there was no time to worry about that now.

As carefully as possible, clinging hard to one of the wooden posts that the walkway was built on, Josh wriggled his way underneath it, so that he was hidden by the wooden slats. He immediately felt cold, muddy water soak into his clothes, weighing him down. He did his best to keep the backpack above the water, because his bow was tied to it, and he didn’t want the string to get wet. He tried not to think about the cold, clutching hands of drowned sacrificial victims grabbing onto his ankles and made himself lie still, half submerged. Weirdly, the fur cloak just floated around him on the surface, remaining dry.

It was a magic cloak. What could it do? Could he even activate the magic inside it? Would it help? Would it make him harder to see, or would it protect him from the marsh?

Josh was fairly sure it had belonged to a druid priest or priestess. The marsh had spirits or ghosts within it. So presumably it would offer protection from those. He should turn the magic of the cloak on. But how?

The cloak was fastened using a heavy pin at the collar, which had tiny sigils carved into the metal. Josh released his death grip on the wooden post, clinging on with just one hand, and put the other hand on the pin. He tried feeding it a trickle of magic. Immediately something snapped into place around him, a sort of bubble that made everything seem more distant.

Above him, three sets of feet ran along the walkway, although they sounded muted. They stopped when they reached where the torch had fallen. Josh was pleased to hear that all three of his pursuers were gasping for breath, as much as he had, but they all recovered much more quickly.

“That’s … his torch …” he heard Frenxy say up ahead. “There, you see it?”

“He went into bog?” Mistrz demanded.

“Fuck!” That was Varian. “He’ll kill himself! Fren, can you find him?”

“I’m outta sense enhancement potions,” she said, sounding unhappy. “I tole you I needed to restock.”

“Yes, alright,” Varian said irritably. “Mistrz, scout ahead. Fren and I will wait for the others.”

Josh heard Mistrz moving further along the walkway.

“How the hell did he get away?” Varian asked, and then swore savagely in frustration. “I’m going to have to teach Wook a lesson he won’t forget.”

After a while, Mistrz came back.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Really?” Varian demanded. “Where does the walkway go?”

“Is old execution place,” Mistrz said. “No sign of boy.”

“This I have to see!” Varian declared. He strode past Mistrz.

He returned a little while later.

“It’s not an execution place,” he said, and his voice was full of glee. “Didn’t you look at it properly? It’s the entrance to a dungeon.”