Too Young to Die Read online

  Whatever had happened there, the ice-cold water collected on a large plateau before it tumbled slowly over the edge to continue its journey down the mountain. Patches of grass sprang up from the marsh at regular intervals, along with brilliant flowers and some kind of alien lily pad.

  It was there that he learned to be wary of rabbits. When he’d taken the posting for mountain rabbit hides down, he’d pictured easy XP and a few more levels on his Bunny Slayer skill.

  It turned out that mountain rabbits were not the same as the bunnies he’d killed on the plains. These, in a nod to urban legend, had antelope horns. They also had incredibly sharp teeth, which he first found out when Lyle uttered a bellow of surprise from behind him. Justin swung in time to see the dwarf swat something furry and fast-moving out of the air. Having seen fur, floppy ears, and horns, his brain was still trying to parse what it was when he heard a hiss from the marsh nearby and turned to see another crouched in a patch of grass.

  The game had helpfully added a glowing star above its head to mark that it was a quest objective.

  “Well, that’s terrifying,” Justin muttered before the rabbit attacked. He swung his pack up on instinct and shrieked when it latched on and glared at him through red-tinted eyes. Its teeth were embedded in the pack and if looks could kill, the creature was guilty of murder a hundred times over.

  His reaction was purely reflexive. He made a few hopping turns and swung his bag in an exaggerated way until the animal lost its hold and sailed into the water. A yelp and a splash were immensely satisfying.

  THINK OUTSIDE THE BOX, LEVEL 1 announced the game.

  Well, it had worked. Justin looked at Lyle for a moment, saw the dwarf scanning the marshes worriedly, and drew his sword. If there were two of these animals, there were probably more and they’d really pissed the little bastards off now.

  “Lyle,” he said conversationally. He settled into a warrior’s crouch, the sword held at an angle.

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you know this was what mountain rabbits were?” He liked playing with the AI to see how far the conversation options went, and—as usual—he wasn’t disappointed.

  “No,” the dwarf said and sounded surly. “I always heard to not go into the mountains, but no one said why.”

  “It was the rabbits.” He nodded to confirm his assumption. That seemed like his level of luck. He’d taken what he thought would be the easiest quests and this was what the game gave him. Maybe the AI was messing with him.

  He remembered the doctor telling him he had to immerse himself in the game and that it was training his survival instincts. Were they trying to keep him out of his depth all the time?

  Justin had never beaten anyone up, but he had a few people in mind for when he came out of this damned coma. He would level up his Beating Up Smug Assholes skill and, boy howdy, there would be hell to pay.

  A rustle in a nearby patch of grass alerted him and he swung his sword as the rabbit hurtled out at full speed. “Hi-yah!”

  “When ye’re asked for pelts, it’s a good idea to not cut the beast in half,” Lyle called. After a flurry of punching sounds and a few hastily muttered oaths, a dead rabbit landed at Justin’s feet. It didn’t disappear, presumably because they were supposed to skin it. “There. Like that, ye ken?”

  He had a sudden and intense urge to throw up. This game was too realistic sometimes. The next rustle made him wince and this time, he aimed carefully for the neck when he swung. In his quest to be careful, he missed the rabbit entirely but when it landed, he was ready. He stabbed the sword directly down on its head and made a gurgling, horrified noise as the sound effect.

  Way too realistic, he decided.

  When they had five rabbits, he poked Lyle in the arm. “Let’s get out of here. Get these…uh, skinned.”

  “Right.” The dwarf gathered three of the rabbits and exited the marsh at a dead run, leaving Justin to follow. He scooped up the remaining two, prayed that the game blood wouldn’t stick around—he was beginning to smell things now—and left before he heard any tell-tale hissing.

  Skinning the rabbits was, thankfully, something Lyle said he’d handle. The dwarf made a makeshift drying rack, which was to say he walked to a bush, made some thwacking motions as if he had an ax, produced a neatly-stacked pile of branches out of nowhere, and mysteriously produced a long pole like the ones peasants used to carry full water jugs. He hung the rabbits from it and headed back toward Riverbend with Justin, who made it a point to look anywhere but at his companion and the animals.

  Just outside the town, Lyle set the drying rack down and began to skin the rabbits. He tossed the finished carcasses in Justin’s direction, where they thankfully disappeared into little drumstick icons. The dwarf stowed the antlers in his pack, careful to leave enough of a nub of bone on each pelt that it was clear they’d slain actual mountain rabbits.

  The two wandered until he found a shop with a stretched animal skin on the sign. Inside, the leatherworker was hanging a skin up to dry. The place had such a smell that he paused on the threshold. He half-expected PANSY, LEVEL 1 to pop up on the screen, and he was fairly sure he’d rather be a pansy than smell this ever again.

  “What can I do for you, sirs?” The leatherworker came over to them with a smile. His apron was stained with what was clearly blood.

  “I have the five mountain rabbit pelts you posted for,” Justin said. He gestured to the pile of pelts Lyle was carrying.

  “Is that Lyle Stout?” the tanner asked and raised an eyebrow. “Well, by the Three, there’s a thing I never imagined I’d see. I thought you only made your living with your fists, Stout.”

  “Ye can punch rabbits,” the dwarf grunted.

  “True enough.” The tanner nodded to Justin. “Player Underscore 009, was it? Let me get your reward.”

  “Just a moment.” He held a hand up. “Ten copper for five mountain rabbits isn’t a worthwhile reward.”

  “You accepted the job, did you not?” The tanner laughed. “Those are the terms.”

  “If they were good terms, you wouldn’t post for adventurers to fulfill them, would you?” Justin pointed to the hides. “A silver for the lot.”

  “A silver? You want me to go to ten times the price I offered.” The tanner folded his arms now and stared obdurately at him.

  “Yes. Or we’ll take them on with us to East Newbrook.” He had seen the signs pointing that way. The village was close to Sephith’s keep, so they would need to travel toward it in the end anyway.

  “Fifty copper,” the tanner said after a pause.

  “A silver,” he said again, “but we’ll throw in the antlers.”

  The tanner didn’t smile but he nodded. “Done.” He fished a silver coin out of the pouch at his belt and pointed to a table. “Let me see the pelts before I hand the money over.”

  Lyle spread them out and the tanner walked around the table several times. Finally, he handed the coin to Justin.

  “Your work is as good as your bargaining,” he said grudgingly. “Good luck on your travels, adventurer. I’ll pay the same rate for any more pelts you bring—and twice that for the Rabbit Queen.”

  “Of course. My thanks.” Justin bowed and headed out into the sunlight. He had no intention of ever hunting another mountain rabbit, and whatever the Rabbit Queen was, he made his mind up to stay as far away as possible.

  This time, after their walk to the marshes, the two companions crossed that section of the path quickly. Whether it was fear or lost numbers, no more rabbits attacked them and they were able to reach Peak Crossing near midday.

  Justin, to his amusement, discovered he was weary. His body was lying in a coma but his mind truly believed he was walking through rough terrain. He listened to the crunch of his “footsteps” on the rough path and looked over the valley as he walked closer.

  This was a strange place. The sky almost twinkled there, something he chalked up to a glitch until he saw an actual spark tumble through the air. It drifted like a piece
of flaming paper, light as air, and it carried a faint, rosy glow. He looked around in time to see another, this time bluish-green. He stretched toward it but was surprised by a rough shove from Lyle.

  “Don’t touch those,” the dwarf said. “Keep moving.”

  “Why shouldn’t I touch them?”

  “Ye want magic sickness?” his companion asked rhetorically as he passed him. “Ye want yer blood to turn black an’ yer insides to come alive an’ yer eyes to turn to cursed jewels? That’s what ye want?” Justin had learned that the more worried the dwarf became, the more his native accent came out.

  “Excuse me, what?” He hurried after him.

  “This is where it happened,” Lyle called, not looking back. “Between Sephith and Kural.”

  “Okay, but where what happened?” He looked around. The valley didn’t seem very welcoming. There was something about the trees and the grass that was slightly…wrong. The colors were off, as were the proportions. On the hillside in the distance, he could see a pine tree that had split into two and one piece grew off with a twisted lean. The music, still faint, had taken on a foreboding sound.

  The dwarf turned. “Ye truly don’t know?”

  “I truly don’t. I—oh, shit! Did I touch that one?”

  Lyle shrugged. “We’ll know soon enough, won’t we? Well, why d’you think everyone’s afraid of Sephith, eh? This valley was ruled by Kural. Not bad for a wizard.” He started down the mountain again.

  “Are wizards generally bad?” Justin asked. He was careful to avoid a few drifting embers as he followed.

  “No worse’n anyone else,” the dwarf said with a shrug. “But once ye have magic, why listen to anyone else? Why be a good lord? Kural was better’n people had any right to expect, so they put up with him just fine. Then Sephith killed him. Dunno why—some wizard dispute. The magic he used is still in the air. It burns what it touches. Some, it turns into his thralls. Some go mad. Sephith doesn’t care.”

  Justin shuddered. In a world of technology, the fear was nuclear fallout. Here, the denizens of the valley lived through some kind of magical Chernobyl.

  “There.” Lyle pointed. “That’s Sephith’s tower, see?”

  He did see. The tower was smaller than he expected, not exactly an Eye of Sauron. Indeed, it couldn’t be more than five stories tall and it stood at the far end of the valley. He suspected it would be one of the only places there that got sunlight for most of the day. The rest of the valley lived in semi-darkness and tried to shield themselves from the fallout of his fight.

  “Keep yer cloak up,” Lyle called and he set off down the mountain to another, smaller plain with a stream running through it. “We need water.”

  “Is the water safe to drink?” Justin asked. One part of him said it was ridiculous for him to be afraid but the doctor had told him not to get himself killed. Drinking irradiated water in a very realistic game seemed like a bad choice to make.

  “Of course it is.” Lyle shook his head. “Ye don’t know anything, do ye? Water is pure. It’s the one thing as never gets touched by magic. Now, come on. Bring the canteens.”

  At least this wasn’t a nightmare with glowing green puddles. He filed the knowledge away and followed him to the stream. They knelt to refill the canteens, and he marveled at the feel of the cold water on his hands. The more time he spent here, the more the game convinced him it was real.

  Or maybe he was regaining brain function.

  It was strange to think of himself as being in a coma when he was awake there. Justin shook his head in confusion. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the floating ember until it was right near his face. He yelled in alarm, ducked away, and tumbled into the stream.

  The water was a shock to the system. He felt the muscles in his ribs contract sharply and his heart gave a sideways leap. In panic, he reached for the air and found ground instead. He didn’t know which way was up anymore.

  His head emerged from the water and he gave one gasped breath before his sodden cloak pulled him under again.

  He had to get out of there. The water had begun to chill him to the bone and the plateau wasn’t large. If he reached the edge and went over the cliff, he was a goner. He wasted one useless moment trying to be Neo in the Matrix and reminded himself that this virtual reality wasn’t real at all—but he’d spent too long there to believe it. It didn’t matter that he knew it wasn’t real. He could feel the cold and he could feel the water pressing against his mouth.

  In that moment, all he knew was that if he breathed the water in or went over that cliff, he would believe on some level that he was dying.

  Justin snatched at something—anything. His lungs screamed for air as his fingers slipped across the surface of one rock and found purchase on another. He pushed his feet onto the streambed as hard as he could and launched himself out of the water to sprawl on the bank of the stream. Only a few feet away, the edge of the plateau cut off sharply and he could hear the waterfall roar down the mountainside. He dragged in a full breath of air and lay there with his heart pounding.

  “Fuck.”

  SWIMMING, LEVELS 1 & 2, the screen announced. JUST DON’T DROWN IN THE BATH! He shut his eyes on the words and groaned. He was in no mood for humor right now.

  “Ye all right?” Lyle’s face swam into view. “I grabbed for ye, but the water moves fast. Good thing ye caught yourself.” He sounded almost worried, although Justin knew he was imagining it.

  He was alone there. The truth was that he was alone and he was dying in the real world. Maybe.

  The dwarf suggested they make camp in a stand of trees where the branches would catch most of the drifting embers, and Justin was too tired to do anything but agree. He was glad that the game was set up for party members to make suggestions because right now, his brain had too much going on for him to think about anything else.

  Lyle hummed to himself as he made a fire and after a while, Justin said, “If you could do anything you wanted in the game, what would it be?” He took a contemplative bite of his roasted rabbit. His brain, thankfully, made it taste like rotisserie chicken. He could deal with that.

  “What game?” his companion asked.

  Oh. Right. Justin swallowed his non-existent bite reflexively before answering. “I mean…in the world. What’s your big aspiration in life? It can’t be to spend your days in a village jail.”

  The dwarf pondered this. He didn’t seem to be offended.

  Well, of course he wasn’t. He was an NPC and wasn’t alive at all. Justin shook his head at his own stupidity. The longer he spent there, the more Lyle seemed like a friend. His brain was apparently desperate to not be alone.

  “I want to find,” Lyle said finally, “the strongest brew in the world…an’ drink it.” He took a bite of his rabbit. He seemed very pleased with his goal. “What about you, then?”

  “I…don’t know, actually.” He knew he could simply speak the truth, but he found himself translating his words into the game’s language. “I used to think I wanted to…well, to be a gladiator. Kind of. To play games for others to watch. Or tell stories. Like a…well, a bard?”

  “Huh.” The dwarf snorted and took another bite.

  “My father didn’t want that for me,” he explained. “He wanted me to be a barrister.” That was the word, right? “Or a…town councilman like him. Maybe a doctor.”

  “Sounds boring,” Lyle said, which left Justin wondering if he was always programmed to say that or if the game’s creators had a poor opinion of doctors, lawyers, and politicians. He couldn’t exactly blame them, if so.

  “I thought so, too,” he said. “But now, I’m not so sure. Telling people about stories of defeating wizards isn’t quite so fun…once you’ve done it.”

  “Piece of advice, kid.” His companion finished his rabbit leg and threw the bone into the trees. “Once you live something like this, you take everything you can get as a reward. If Sephith doesn’t turn you into a pile of ash, you might as well take the acc
laim.”

  He nodded, but he wasn’t sure he could agree. Not yet. Not now.

  His hand vibrated and he looked at the medallion, which glowed. He should answer, he supposed, but he didn’t want to anymore. After a slight hesitation, he took a deep breath before he pressed on the blue jewel.

  The face that popped up was his father’s.

  Justin didn’t even think. He closed the message and deleted it, then lay back as the game world lurched into motion around him. His father’s last words to him hadn’t been kind and he didn’t want his brand of tough love now.

  This was hard enough to deal with on his own. He didn’t need to make it harder.

  Chapter Twenty

  The next day dawned rainy and miserable, a fact which made Justin groan when he awoke to water dripping on his face. He was only more annoyed when Lyle uttered a satisfied “Ha!” at the weather.

  “What’s there to be so cheery about?” he muttered.

  “The rain keeps the embers out of the air,” the dwarf said succinctly. “This valley’s the only place in the world where everyone goes out on rainy days. Ye can get more done. Come on, we’ve no time to lose.”

  “I’m not sure we have enough experience to defeat Sephith yet.” Justin considered his words as they packed up the camp and revised them. “I mean, we should…get better armor. Learn more…punches.”

  “How many punches are there?” his teammate asked rhetorically. “And how are ye going to get stronger, lugging that tiny little sword around? Ye should get a battle ax. Of course, ye’d need to have grown up with one. Dwarven babies use them fer teethin’.”

  Justin rolled his eyes and started down the path with a chuckle.

  They were about halfway down the slope when he noticed a dark-cloaked figure waiting for them in the road. He stopped abruptly and fought the urge to scream and run in the opposite direction.