Openings Read online

  Instead of moving one piece, Giant Skull Jack flung out his hand over his forces. King Jeremy raised his arms. The pawns swarmed forward at Chris. He fought like a man possessed. His shield broke pikes, his hammer shattered bones, and he sent many of the pawns to second deaths.

  But, there were too many.

  Like oily, black water, the tide of undead swallowed him down.

  He felt a million tiny stabs, like he was being poked by pins in every square inch of his skin.

  Then, Chris realized that it really did feel like there were pins poking him everywhere.

  His eyes could only see darkness.

  It was hard to breath.

  He was back in the crypt.

  His entire body felt like his foot did when it fell asleep. Slowly, the feeling dissipated and his arms and legs could move again.

  Chris reached up and pulled the bandages off of his face, carefully this time. There was more light in the room than the first time.

  The paladin sat up slowly, and was light headed just like he guessed he would be. The door was open to the outside. There was a familiar looking old man sitting on the threshold, leaning back against one side of the jamb.

  When Chris sat up, this old man pushed his way up using a long staff. He took a stiff step into the crypt. “Where did the ghoul come from yesterday?”

  Chris was puzzled by the question for a moment and wondered if he was still dreaming. Then the memory of how he died came flooding back on him. “Yesterday? Did I sleep for a day?”

  The old man’s eyes were both sad and frustrated. “No. You were dead for a day.”

  “That explains the weird dreams,” replied Chris. He looked up at the ceiling and rubbed his temples.

  “You will have to wait out of the game for a whole day each time you die. It is both inconvenient and detrimental as the other players progress while you sit there dead. If you are more than halfway to the next level, you will lose all your experience back to the starting point for that level. If you are less than halfway, you’ll fall back to the halfway point of the previous level. For you, a Level 1 Paladin, either way means you’re back at zero.”

  “That’s not that bad. I had only gotten 100 XP.”

  Chris looked around at the crypt for a moment, delaying thinking about yesterday. The old man waited patiently. Taking a deep breath, Chris finally felt like he could answer the question without screaming in terror or crying like a baby.

  “The ghoul came through a portal right after I got an update that Jeremy was giving me a gift of one gold piece. It had the gold in its mouth when it came through.”

  The old man shook his head slowly from side to side. “I should have expected the Adversary to find a loophole. That is a clever one, but most of them are. The Adversary is not an idiot. A fool, yes. An idiot? No.”

  Chris sat up and hung his legs over the edge of his marble slab. “You think that wasn’t Jeremy on his own? He’s a pretty smart guy.”

  “I am sure the other player is intelligent. But, he would have never discovered that he could send undead through trade portals if they were somehow used as the container for the goods being delivered. I assume that is what has happened. It is simply too subtle of trick for one who has only just arrived in the Divided Lands. They were probably planning it during the design phase, perhaps that demon Gygax himself. We tried to keep an eye on them and check for this sort of thing. We caught many, many of them, but it would seem not all.”

  “Did you say Gygax?”

  “Yes, I think he was the Enemy’s lead designer. A demon, one supposes. Ours was an educated English fellow by the name of Tolkien. He focused mostly on the setting. Gygax spent his time on the rules. No doubt, tucking little surprises like this into them all the while.”

  Chris’s mind was reeling. “Gygax was a man, a Wisconsinite. I mean, they’re close to demons, but not quite. I read one time that Gygax was a Christian by the time he died. He's probably on our side. And, Tolkien helped designed the Divided Lands?”

  The old man moved over toward the treasure chest in the corner as he tried to explain. “It is more complicated than that. He was the Lord’s lead designer. I believe he focused on languages and cultures primarily. But, each side provided a staff of thousands with different areas of expertise. And, there was the constant back and forth to gain consensus and agreement when the Lord’s and the Adversary’s representatives disagreed.”

  Chris was reduced to just whispering, “Wow,” as he contemplated what the design process must have been like.

  The old man extended his hand, “My name is Brother Aleksandr. I used to be a monk in a Russian monastery many years before you lived. I am to be your tutor.”

  Chris reached out his hand and shook the old man’s. The former Russian had a surprising iron grip. “So, you were a real person?”

  The old man gave a belly laugh. “I still am! All the speaking roles in the Game are filled by volunteers from Heaven and Hell. I’m sure the Adversary had more volunteers than we did! A vacation from Hell would be much more attractive than one from Heaven, don’t you think?”

  Brother Aleksandr bent over and opened the treasure chest.

  Wonder and curiosity tickled Chris’s mind as he looked at the old man. He could not help but ask, “Why would anyone leave Heaven?”

  “Those of us who volunteered felt that if the Lord wanted to do this strange thing, we would be happy to help Him any way we could.” The old man took a stack of clothes out of the chest and set them on the marble slab next to Chris. On top of the clothes was a smallish nondescript leather pouch.

  Chris got up, the strength fully back in his limbs now. He squatted down and stood up, windmilled his arms around, and did some torso twists to make sure he was feeling back to normal. “Dying wasn’t any fun. Made me sore and hungry.”

  Brother Aleksandr’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Why don’t you get dressed? I am sorry I could not run faster. Nathaniel came to me as quick as he could.”

  “Would you mind turning your back?”

  “Take off your bandages and you will see why that won’t be necessary.”

  While Chris was unwinding his death wrappings, Brother Aleksandr continued his apology. “I had been expecting you earlier in the morning, but you had not arrived. I went back up to the parsonage to fetch a book to read while I waited. You were supposed to kill the skeleton on your own anyway. That was your ‘combat tutorial’ they had said. Seemed a bit of a short stretch of training for a warrior. But, as I believe you’ll notice quickly, the Divided Lands are quite different from Earth.”

  Chris had gotten down to a simple pair of cotton boxers and a cotton shirt. He tried to remove them. It was the weirdest thing. They would not come off. They were not exactly attached to him. The white cotton clothe flowed over him, but he could not remove them.

  The former monk finished his apology with, “The ambush by the necromancer’s gift was completely unexpected. But, it is still my fault for not being here to help. I was supposed to be your tutor and help you ease your way into the Divided Lands.”

  “Uhhh, I guess the underclothes are cool and all, but how am I going to go to the bathroom?”

  “You won’t have to. It is similar to Heaven that way. Though you become hungry and eat, thirsty and drink, your body will never have waste to get rid of.”

  “That settles a debate I had with a friend of mine. I knew you wouldn’t have to go in Heaven!” He began putting on the clothes.

  With a hint of exasperation, Brother Aleksandr shook his head. “My friends and I debated how many angels could dance on the head of a pin.”

  When he saw Chris set aside the leather pouch, he exclaimed, “Wait, let me explain about the inventory pouch!”

  The old man picked up the round, eight inch wide leather pouch. “This pouch will hold anything you could normally carry. I have no idea how they exactly made it, but it accounts for both size and weight. Increased strength increases its capacity. And, watch!”
r />   The old man reached back into an alcove of one of the statues that looked like a hunter. He drew out a longbow and a quiver of arrows from beside the statue. “This part always gets me!”

  He took the longbow, opened the mouth of the little pouch and slid the bow all the way in.

  Chris’s mouth fell open and he tipped his head to the side as if that might let him see the bow that was clearly no longer there.

  “And the arrows!” The old monk slid the quiver with the arrows into the pouch just as easily.

  “Are there things with those other statues? I didn’t pay any attention to them when I first saw them...”

  “Yes, there is a healing potion with one, a ring that will increase your Paladin skills, and your Ruler’s Scepter that let’s you access your Leader skills. The last won’t work until you actually have a side to lead. I’ll explain that to you over breakfast.”

  Looking over at the wall, Chris noticed his armor was still there, but the war hammer was not. “Wait, where is my war hammer?”

  “Your equipment falls where you do when you die. Even this inventory pouch will be left behind. Only you or a party member will be able to recover it.”

  “In that case, I’m going to put on my armor and go out and get my shield and war hammer back. I don’t exactly feel comfortable going out there again without some more protection on. It seems Jeremy can send me gifts that attack me at anytime. Maybe I should take that bow out just to be safe.”

  “Normally, I would say you were being overly cautious. But, given what it seems your opponent can do, that is probably quite wise. I will pack these other things into your inventory as well as your Experience Book. It is a good thing you had not already read it. You would have lost the level it granted when you died. Once you have your armor on, we can go to the parsonage where Nathaniel is making breakfast for us.”

  Chris paused pulling on his breastplate and asked, “Nathaniel? Was that his name on Earth?” Something about the little boy had seemed familiar to Chris.

  “We all have new names here, and we are not supposed to talk about who we were on Earth. There is an Out of Character penalty and even the possibility of being dismissed for discussing our personal histories. The player’s tutors are the one exception to this, though I am unsure why we were granted this. Perhaps to ease your transition to this world? Or, maybe because there is no question of our loyalty?” Brother Aleksandr seemed to be asking himself these questions as much as he was asking them of Chris.

  Christopher finished pulling on his breastplate and started on his pauldrons. “What do you mean loyalty? Can people on my side be from Hell and working for the Adversary as you call him?”

  “I suppose it is a real possibility. Perhaps the out of character rules are to stop you from interrogating everyone to check on their infernal or celestial origins?”

  Chris shook his head slowly. “The Divided Lands seem like they are going to be... interesting.”

  Chapter 3

  “Hey, where’d my song go?”

  Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy” had been blaring out of the PA system a moment before.

  Jeremy Rogers had spent four hours on a Saturday hacking the system to set up that little bit. He had planned his vengeance down to the last detail. Everything had been going perfectly, except when he had blabbed to Chris in the park. That had been stupid. Jeremy was relieved he had been able to convince his accomplices to move up the date.

  Then, Chris had started coming toward them instead of running away, even after Jeremy had warned him and everything. Of course, Jeremy had said that this was going to happen on Valentine’s Day. But, tough luck, Chris. That’s no reason for you to get in the way!

  Jeremy had let his anger get the better of him when he decided to cross his Rubicon and pull the trigger. “Idiot, why was he trying to mess this up? I was going to let HIM live. He was still sort of my friend.”

  There was a flash of light just as Jeremy was pulling the trigger. He had thought something had gone wrong with his gun. But, it was way weirder than that.

  Facing away from Jeremy, Kaiden, and Emma was a being with a huge pair of white wings. He seemed to be talking to the three kids who had been coming toward them instead of running away.

  “Man, I worked hard to figure out how to get that song playing while we did this. What happened?”

  The overweight boy on Jeremy’s right shrugged his large, round shoulders. “I didn’t screw it up. You know I’d tell you if I did.”

  “I know, Kaiyden.”

  A deep gravelly voice answered Jeremy, “It was that feathered freak over there. Shoot him!”

  Jeremy spun around toward the source of the voice.

  If it were not for the being’s crimson skin and two little horns on his forehead, Jeremy would have guessed he was just a really buff, normal guy. The creature was standing at the end of their line of three making a fourth figure. He was wearing a matching black trench coat just like theirs. But, instead of a t-shirt and jeans like the teenagers, he had a snappy three piece suit on underneath. With his wrap around shades, he looked like the Hollywood version of an FBI agent. Well, except for the skin and horns, thought Jeremy to himself.

  Anger, confusion, and tension wound Jeremy tight. He snapped at the interloper,

  “Who in the Hell are you?”

  “Very apropos idiom, kid. But, names aren’t important. What’s yours?” The words slipped smoothly out of a shark’s smile.

  “Jeremy Rogers.”

  “Yeah, so Jeremy, it seems you’ve already guessed my country of origin, so let’s get down to business, what do you say?”

  “I say, what’s going on here? Who’s that winged guy over there? Why is everybody frozen?”

  A more friendly seeming grin spread across the suited man’s face. It definitely ruined his similarity to an FBI agent. Now, he looked more like a mob boss who just heard his biggest rival was found face down in a bowl of cannoli. The only difference was that most mob bosses did not have pointy teeth.

  “Seems you guys had a pretty solid plan going here didn’t you?”

  Kaiyden and Emma both just looked at Jeremy. He had been the one to get the guns from his dad’s girlfriend. He had laid out the plan to them in detail. They had joined in out of anger, spite, and hatred, not originality. Jeremy even had convinced them that he had a plan that would get them off on an insanity plea afterward.

  Jeremy answered tentatively for the three of them. “We sure seemed to. Until Chris and those other two...”

  Emma blurted out, “The girl’s Olivia. She’s sooo trad. She’s a total trader to her gender. She should have to turn in her...”

  Kaiyden plowed into the conversation, “The dweeb with glasses is Leo. I’m in Engineering with him and Chris. He’s just a freshman. Man, takes a lot of nerve for a freshman to try to mess with upperclassmen.”

  Shocked, Jeremy looked over at Kaiyden. “What are you doing in Engineering? Isn’t that class for smart kids?”

  “Yeah, I know, right?” Kaiyden’s thick brow knitted together in frustration. “My dad told my mom during one of their monthly convos that I ought to try it cause there’s lots of jobs in it. Man, I don’t want a job, man.”

  The suit snapped his fingers and spat out a command they could not refuse, “FOCUS!”

  All three of the teenagers’ heads snapped around toward the agent of the Adversary.

  “Listen, those three goodie-two-shoes over there are trying to mess up everything you, and some powerful beings behind you, have been working for.”

  Kaiyden looked around behind himself, trying to see the powerful beings the guy in the shades was talking about.

  Jeremy smacked him on the shoulder. “Figuratively behind us, not literally. Like supporting us, dude.”

  “I knew that.”

  Jeremy just shook his head. He could only recruit from the pool of talent that he had available.

  The crimson creature continued. “But, we’re not about to let that happen. You
three and those other three are all gamers of one sort or another. And, I’m not talking FarmVille, I mean real games. It just so happens, we’ve been putting together a game for just such situations as this. See, normally the Big Clown Upstairs could just flip some switch and your guns would jam, you’d slip on some spilled applesauce, or something else ridiculous like that.”

  Jeremy looked down and saw a snack-sized cup of Mott’s applesauce by his foot. He gritted his teeth and kicked it. It felt like he had kicked a wall, and the applesauce did not budge.

  “Whoah there, Big J-Man. We’re in a time stop here. Nothing is going anywhere, except maybe you guys. Even this bullet you fired right before we got here is stuck, ain’t it?”

  The man lifted up a meaty paw of a hand that was nonetheless perfectly manicured. He pointed a crimson finger at a bullet that was hanging, frozen in the air in front of them.

  “Oh yeah...” Jeremy realized. “I forgot I did that...”

  “Now listen up. You guys game, so you’ll understand me when I tell you that the game we’ve got cooked up is a mix of D’n’D and Civ. But, instead of on a little screen, you’re gonna be playin across a whole wide world. Not as big as this one, but still huge for a game. Pretty rockin actually.”

  “Awesome! I beat Civ on Emperor even though it is a totally sexist and racist game,” crowed Emma as she flipped her blue hair out of her eyes.

  This claim was not exactly accurate. The difficulty setting on the screen had said Emperor, but Emma had gone into a configuration file and made a few edits she had seen on the Interwebs. A 100% bonus to research speed and six free techs at the beginning had really helped. She had still saved and reloaded before each barbarian village and a bunch of important battles.

  “D’n’D is like World of Warcraft, right?” asked Kaiyden.

  “Yeah, it is, big fella,” Jeremy replied. He had a far off look in his eye. “When do we get to start?”