The Dragon's Revenge Page 11

  Beside me, Raitha sniggered and sniggered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She said G-string,’ he whispered.

  ‘Who are you?’ I muttered back. ‘Beavis or Butthead?’ Yet all my efforts to project a mature contempt were undone by his continued struggle not to laugh aloud. It started to get to me too. I found myself shaking and tears coming to my eyes. Putting a hand to my mouth, I tried to hide my own laughter.

  ‘Hush. Stop,’ I whispered.

  Raitha, however, couldn’t stop. And now nor could I. What he said wasn’t particularly funny, certainly not funny enough to wrack us both with supressed laughter. It was more the wild giddiness in Raitha’s dark eyes, combined with a feeling that to burst out laughing now would be utterly inappropriate. For one thing, it might be thought that we were mocking that smart woman. I was glad that the room had people in it from all over the planet; that diversity was something I enjoyed about raiding. The mix. Yet if I couldn’t control myself, then not only might I be viewed as the brat who wasn’t a team player, but also everyone might think that despite my Vietnamese features I was a racist and a sexist, maybe an Islamaphobe too.

  With this sobering thought, I drew a deep breath and rid myself of the waves of giggles that had been pushing against my ribs. And when Raitha saw I was done, he too straightened up as if nothing had ever been amiss and, innocent, he looked attentively at the person asking the next question.

  A lot of the questions were dull. ‘Where’s the best place for a level twelve character to get experience?’ That kind of thing. Watson had Blackridge up at the podium now to answer all the in-game stuff. Watson himself just fielded the logistical ones like whether we could sleep in the building (yes, he’d set up hammocks and couches for naps, but it was best to keep a steady routine with at least six hours sleep in bed at your hotel).

  Then a grungy person with long, curly black hair waved for attention. Only when he spoke could I tell for sure he was male.

  ‘Are we all getting paid the same?’ he asked, which was the first question by someone that in any way went against the, ‘we are all team Yuno’ spirit of the meeting. I liked the guy at once. Ever since Blackridge had treated me like some kind of pawn to be moved in his great strategy, I’d felt like an outsider and maybe this kid (he was about twenty) did too.

  ‘No,’ Watson answered promptly and with a strength that said he had nothing to hide. I admired him for it, I thought he was going to evade the question. ‘Our basic remuneration is three thousand dollars a month, most of you are getting that. For some people, especially those of you who had to give up higher paid work to support this project, we had to increase the figure.’

  There was a level of restlessness now among the gathering of gamers. With only a perfunctory look across the room, Watson asked, ‘Are there any more questions?’ His tone suggested that it would be best if there weren’t.

  When I put my hand up high, Raitha looked at me, half surprised, half amused.

  ‘Yes?’ Watson pointed at me and a hundred faces turned in my direction.

  ‘It’s more by way of a statement than a question. I’m Tyro; I’m standing next to Raitha. If Braja, Sapentia and Grythiss are here, could you please come find us after the meeting.’ I was about to add so we can form a group, but I checked myself. No point flagging my intention in front of Blackridge and getting into a row in front of everyone.

  ‘Thank you, er, Tyro. Well, that concludes the meeting. Good luck everyone.’

  A round of applause broke out, friendly, comradely, not too frenzied though. This was a cool crowd, not inclined to get carried away.

  Chapter 10

  Friends Reunited

  Braja, it turned out, was an ex-army, now postal worker American from near Chicago. Unlike some people on leaving the army, Braja had stayed fit. He was lean, small – not much bigger than me – and had a light moustache to match his fair hair, which he kept short, army style.

  Sitting beside Braja was Grythiss a tall but soft-looking (especially next to the muscular Braja) Swede. Dark hair, heavy-metal T-shirt, black leather jacket, denim jeans, about thirty. The two of them were across the table from Raitha and me.

  Having made the introductions, Braja was talking about the crap he had to put up with in his sorting office.

  ‘Whenever it gets busy, they bring in students from the university and while some of them are good kids, there’s a lot think that we are dumb dinks. There was this one – and I am not making this up or exaggerating – there was this one guy, couldn’t have been more than nineteen, comes in and right off the bat says, “I’m the smartest person you’ll ever meet.” So I look over at Kevin, who is hauling a massive bag of mail to tip onto the table and he just shakes his head. A while later, the three of us are standing side by side, sorting the mail into a big display of boxes in front of us and I say to Kev, “Have you finished Being and Time then?” and Kev plays along and says, “Yeah, I read it on the train to Chicago. Not bad.” “I call bullshit on it,” I said. “The dialectics in that book are a complete dead end. It’s not like Hegel, you know, where they are like, sensuous? It’s like eating a dried out old apple instead of a sweet, soft pear.” Kev starts laughing. “A sweet pear. You’ve got it, man, that’s just the way Hegel is.” And so I turn to the kid and say, “What about you, genius, what’s your take on Being and Time?” And the kid blushes and says he hasn’t read it, so I say, “Anything by Heidegger then.” But no, he hasn’t read any Heidegger, or Wittgenstein, or Aristotle, or Hegel. “What?” snorts Kev with derision. “You come in here to sort mail and you haven’t read Hegel. Jeez, man, let me lend you a copy so you can get up to speed by tomorrow.” Well, the kid doesn’t come back.’

  After checking that Braja was done, Grythiss looked up from beneath a long dark fringe. ‘That was very profound, what you said about pears and apples, Hegel and Heidegger.’

  ‘Hah ha! You think so? I know nothing about them. I mean, I tried to read them once. But they are impossible to make sense of. I call bullshit on anyone who claims they have. Right?’ Braja looked up at Grythiss and gave him an affectionate smile.

  There was a pause. Then Grythiss said, ‘I have read Being and Time.’

  ‘No way. What’s it all about then?’

  ‘To me, it spoke of my existence at the deepest level.’ From concentrated eyebrows to narrow mouth, Grythiss looked serious, while Braja was grinning widely now from under his moustache. ‘It told me of the emptiness of meaning.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you’re Swedish. You’re into that kind of thing, like that Munch, Scream, picture.’

  Again a pause. ‘Munch was Norwegian.’

  ‘Same thing,’ Braja came back at once.

  ‘Is Canada part of America?’

  Braja shrugged. ‘Pretty much.’

  All the time Braja was speaking – and he could certainly chat away at speed – I was exchanging amused glances with Raitha and feeling happy. It was a real pleasure to be in the company of these guys, with whom I’d spent hours and hours online.

  ‘Hey Braja, sorry to interrupt your attempts to wind Grythiss up, but how come you are a warrior not a cleric?’

  ‘The guy in charge assigned it to me. And if I get orders, I tend to follow them.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t work for our group. Grythiss can tank, Raitha and I can pull and be DPS. Sapentia will add her DPS too. But we absolutely have to have a cleric. I guess I could try and persuade one to join us, but Blackridge – the guy in charge – is bound to have them all allocated.’

  Looking thoughtful for once, it was obvious that Braja was considering this. ‘Listen, I know we have a job to do here and they are paying us well. But I also know you guys. We’ve been through thick and thin, right? I want to be in your group and be your cleric.’

  Looking into his earnest face, I felt a wave of relief. With Braja as cleric in our group, we’d fly through the levels compared to having to operate without a dedicated healer.

  ‘That’s awesom
e, man.’ Raitha reached out his fist, like I’d shown him, but somehow weak-looking. Still, Braja bumped knuckles and Raitha immediately smiled with satisfaction. ‘If you don’t mind starting again, that has another advantage too.’

  ‘Don’t mind? Of course not. Warriors are boring – excuse me Raitha and Tyro in Epic – I’d much rather play a cleric, where the whole group’s survival is dependent on my reactions, especially in a crisis. I love that pressure. I love the adrenalin. It’s my fix. In fact—’

  ‘You could be a half-elf in the region of Palernia,’ Raitha interrupted Braja hurriedly, before his new train of thought could run away with the conversation. ‘That way you’ll start close to us.’

  I nodded. ‘Our problem then is just getting Grythiss over.’

  ‘Did I hear a problem? Well here’s your solution.’ Entering the canteen and walking purposefully over towards us was a Japanese woman in her late twenties with the most extraordinary look about her. Basically, think goth: long black hair with turquoise and blue streaks; dark eyeshadow; exaggerated eyebrow lines; purple lips; a low-cut, black silk basque-corset thing with delicate lacework beneath it that acted as a skirt; black stockings, with a visible line of white skin above their tops – oh, it was hard to tear my eyes away, though I must or she’d consider me a drooling idiot – and lastly, knee-high boots with large heels and an abundance of straps.

  ‘Are you Sapentia?’ asked Raitha standing up and offering his hand. ‘It’s an honour.’

  The woman of my dreams ignored his gesture, gave a slight bow and took a seat beside Braja. ‘Hai. I’m Sapentia. And you are bunch of anarchists that everyone is talking about. Which one’s Tyro?’

  ‘I am,’ I said, unable to meet her eye for more than a fleeting moment. My cheeks felt warm and I knew I was blushing.

  ‘Wow, you’re young. I imagined you…I don’t know. More commanding.’

  ‘Ouch! That’s got to hurt.’ Braja laughed and, strangely, I actually felt more at ease for him saying it.

  ‘And thought just came to me,’ Sapentia went on, offering me a wink, ‘that at least you’re not that guy with lame moustache. I’d hate taking orders from him.’

  ‘Oh man, burned!’ Raitha offered Sapentia his knuckles and then had to withdraw his hand as she looked at him with withering scorn.

  Then she turned her attention back to me. ‘What’s the plan then, Tyro?’

  Drawing a breath (be still, my beating heart), I took a tray and turned it lengthways. ‘This half is dragon territory. Down here at Port Placida, well away from the action, is where Blackridge is getting everyone grouped. Here is where Raitha and are.’ I marked the spot with a potato. ‘Palernia. Raitha and I are hunters; Grythiss is a shadow knight; Braja is going to start over as a cleric and you are a wizard, right? Not a sorceress?’

  ‘Right. Go on,’ Sapentia answered brusquely.

  ‘We level up to a hundred and cross the mountains, scout Mikarkathat, figure out her defences, then, when we know the route to the dragon and think we have a chance, call everyone in for the raid.’

  With all our eyes on her, Sapentia studied the potato as if it were a complex puzzle. Thoughtfully, she cupped her chin in her hand. My stomach felt tense. It was hard, being in the presence of a celebrity who also happened to be overwhelming your body’s chemistry. Hard, if you like goth girls, which I certainly did.

  ‘Simple. I like it. And your problem is that Grythiss, being lizardman, is at other end of the world, right?’

  By way of an answer, Grythiss gave her a nod. Then, shyly, asked, ‘Where were you at the meeting? I didn’t see you.’

  ‘Meh.’ Sapentia pulled a strand of purple hair back behind her ear. ‘I skipped it to keep levelling. I knew I had to get to ten to get Portal of the Stone Rings as quick as possible. Which is why I’m wizard, you can see, sorceresses don’t get Portal until sixteen. Let me guess what I missed: if we all pull together, work hard, be team, we’ll get this job done. Right?’

  ‘Right,’ echoed Braja, who hadn’t stopped smiling since Sapentia had joined us. ‘It’s like when I was at Fort Benning…’

  Cutting him off, Sapentia leaned across the table and picked up a bean from my plate, then, having placed it on the tray, picked up another. ‘At low levels you have to be ported from ancient stone circles. There’s one down at Risthrastan here and one in Palentia is about here. Grythiss, you’ll be fine, mobs are only level six around yours. Palentia is more hard. I haven’t been there but guide says not only can you have goblins up to level fifteen, but rare spawn at the stones is a lich, level thirty-four. Only seen at night.’

  ‘If the guide is still valid,’ I added.

  ‘True. And it’s getting more bad.’ Sapentia leaned back, took us all in, then abruptly swung her black-clad legs around and stood up. ‘Shall we do it?’ Addressing Grythiss in particular, our wizard added, ‘Meet you at stones as soon as you can get there. Take leak first everyone, we have hell of much grinding to do.’

  ‘Goodness,’ said Raitha, when Sapentia had strode out of the canteen. ‘I’m in love.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said.

  Grythiss sighed. ‘As am I.’

  ‘Kids.’ Braja laughed at us. ‘Take away the garb and make-up and there isn’t a lot to love.’

  ‘Oh, but you are wrong,’ Raitha sounded offended. ‘She is a free spirit. Freer even than Tyro.’

  Walking back through the control room, Raitha was at my side, Braja and Grythiss right behind us. It was really busy now and with earnest, eager expressions men and women were running as they went to and from the rig rooms. That was new. Were they genuinely that eager to get on with the game? Or was this urgency a way of displaying your devotion to the cause (while in the Den and observable by Blackridge)? All at once there was a meaty, dark guy in my face, a red-haired girl on his shoulder. Neither was much older than me.

  ‘You’re Tyro, right?’ Stocky-guy pointed a finger close to my chest. His accent was hard to place, a south American country, perhaps? If I hadn’t already figured this lad wanted trouble, his expression gave it away: heavy, flushed cheeks; bright eyes that never quite met mine; sneer.

  ‘I am.’ When you’ve been knocked around by the thin, wiry headcases of Dublin 7, you weren’t easily intimidated by unfit wannabe bullies.

  ‘What kind of a scene are you trying to cause here anyway?’

  There was a stir and everyone turned at the raised voice of this self-selected guardian of the cause. Even the runners halted.

  ‘You are the one causing a scene.’ Raitha leapt to my defence and it warmed my heart to see him – a slender rapier to the hefty battle-axe that was this guy – seemingly unafraid and full of indignation on my behalf. For my part, I felt a kind of relief at the aggressive and accusatory shout. Let’s get this out in the open. All the silent treatment; the long stares; I’d had enough of it.

  ‘I’m going to make a scene all right and it will have the corpse of Mikarkathat in it.’ I spoke loudly.

  Scoffing, the guy shook his head ponderously, the girl behind him doing likewise in uncanny synchronicity. ‘You’re not going to get anywhere near that dragon. Not without working with the rest of us. And that means following orders.’

  ‘Does it though? What gives one man the right to boss us around? Since when has one person known more than the collective experience of three hundred?’

  ‘The General wrote a book on Epic. He literally wrote the book.’ This from the girl, her face reddening now to match her hair; she was grinning too, but it was a challenge, not humour.

  ‘I don’t know if you’ve led big raids…’ I began, intending to explain that listening to other people when they offer advice was the key to building a team. That listening to all the expert players gathered here and letting them play with their favourite classes was smarter than forcing them into some rigid schema. Before I could even gather my thoughts on this, however, our troublemaker was leaning over me again.

  ‘Oh, we all know you killed Mikarkat
hat. Sure, boast away. That’s your problem, isn’t it? You think you’re too bloody awesome to follow anyone else.’

  The girl nodded. ‘Yeah. You’re all ego.’

  A glance took in the dozens of faces around me, they were all watching intensely and one or two were scowling and nodding. No one outside of my friends, was with me.

  ‘In my world, leadership has to be earned. And writing a book is fine but putting the hours in is the best way to master the tactics of the game.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be taking the company’s money if you can’t help the rest of us.’

  Brushing past me, Braja’s hand flashed at speed and the hefty lad’s finger was no longer in my chest.

  ‘Ahh.’ My adversary was staggering backwards so as to avoid having his finger broken.

  ‘You’ve made your point. The whole room has heard you.’ Braja let him go. ‘Now get out of the way and let us back into the game.’

  With a heaving chest, the guy clenched his fists, obviously wanting to take a swing at Braja. And equally obviously, even though he was bigger and a lot stockier than Braja, he knew that the lithe man who had driven him back, all the while smiling slightly, would kill him.

  ‘Let’s calm down.’ Blackridge had pushed through the spectators. ‘We’re all in this together, remember.’ He gave me a look. ‘Tyro can do his thing. The rest of us will prove that centralised coordination gets the best results.’

  If Blackridge was waiting me to thank him he could wait forever. I didn’t need his permission to play the game my way. Pushing through a few resistant spectators, heart pounding with anger, I went down a corridor, checking the rooms until I found one with four spare sets. My friends were right behind me; no one was speaking as we clipped up. I guessed, though, they felt the same as me, that they had something to prove.

  It was a relief when the colours and sounds of Epic 2 rushed upon me.