I searched frantically for Zach, beginning to feel lightheaded. I couldn’t focus. Red dots danced before my eyes, and I knew it was over as I floated down and landed on the river’s sandy bottom. Silt puffed out around me, making the water murky as my feet floated above me. This was where my life would end. And after all this time and effort, I would fail, dying in this horrific place, in unbearable pain.
My last thought was of Zach, hoping he’d make it out alive.
I was unconscious, lying on the bottom of the Singing Stream. Zach was the first to see me, and he was out of air too. At the moment he saw me, he’d just gotten a particularly bad bite on his arm from a piranha, but he swam for me anyway, and even though his air had run out, he hadn’t taken that one last breath that would fill his lungs with water, like I’d done. By the time he reached me, I was limp and unresponsive. He grabbed my arm and turned for the surface.
Cardy fought against a swarm of tenacious piranha. The halfling’s blood spread through the water like a pink mushroom cloud, making it impossible to see, but Zach couldn’t help the little warrior until I was safe.
Flitwicket’s wand flashed as dozens of blue-skinned sirens grabbed for Zach’s legs, trying to pull him down. He focused only on escape, and because of his new training, he flew past the sirens, their grasping fingers feather light against his ankles.
Bursting through the surface, he flung me onto the wet, muddy bank, where I landed with a thump. With a racing heart, he turned me over, pushing water from my lungs, and then flipping me back to begin CPR. Over and over, he breathed into my mouth, which had I been awake at the time, I would have decked him hard. But I wasn’t, and the CPR didn’t work. Neither Cardy nor Flitwicket had reached the surface yet.
We were stuck in the middle of a dangerous forest, and the sun had almost set. Only a sliver of light remained, and our two friends were under the water, possibly dying. I lay on the muddy bank, already dead. He watched my face go from blue to gray.
But he couldn’t give up!
Zach blew in another puff of air then pressed my chest, forcing my heart to pump. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he counted—one, two, three, four, puff—over and over. What would our parents think when they found out their beautiful, extremely talented daughter was dead because of a stupid game? A game Zach wasn’t even supposed to play? Guilt gnawed at him like a rabid dog, as well it should, but he persevered.
In the middle of a puff, I sputtered. Zach turned my head just as I threw up, coughing and gagging. Relief flooded through him, and a rush of love for his exquisite, loving sister grew inside. Never in his life had he felt such panic—watching me die before his eyes. He exhaled and pulled me to a sitting position, hugging me hard. This part I remember.
My eyes lifted to his. “Zach…” I reached for him, hugging him on the bank of the Singing Stream, and then pulled away to gaze into his eyes, communicating something I’d never actually said before. That I loved him. And I did. Really and truly. All the past mistakes we’d made, the times we’d been cruel to each other… it was all erased and forgiven. We’d been given a second chance, and I was not going to waste it.
After a minute, Zach stood, a pained expression on his face. “I need to go back in.”
“Zach, no! You can’t breathe underwater anymore, and if one of those things grabs you…”
“I need to. They saved us.” With that, he took a deep breath, and then dove into the deadly depths. This is what he told me happened…
The water cleared once he cut the surface, and he saw Flitwicket struggling, but making no progress. Her eyes were large with fear. She was out of air, and not going to make it to the top without help. Zach sped toward her, grasping her weakening hand. A tug-of-war ensued with the vigorous sirens, but Zach slowly gained ground. He yanked the dagger from his belt and stabbed at their reaching fingers.
They grabbed at him, pulling at his pant legs and waistband. He felt himself sinking and his lungs burned like fire. He remembered from his training that he’d been given the talent of cunning, but nothing tricky came to mind.
After a second, an idea grew. What if he dove down instead of up? Maybe it would surprise the sirens. He dove, dragging Flitwicket with him. Immediately, the sea-women let go. Zach swirled in the water, and then jetted for the top. The sirens didn’t react quickly enough, and Zach and Flitwicket burst through the surface.
I leaned out, and pulled the nearly unconscious priestess over to the muddy bank. Flitwicket coughed and sputtered, but recovered quickly, taking deep breaths. “Cardy didn’t make it,” she said, gasping for air.
We froze. “What? Are you sure?” Zach asked.
“I’m sure. I saw him.” Flitwicket bowed her head between her knees, her chest heaving.
“Cardy is… dead? Gone? But we were supposed to become great friends, quest, and battle together. Friends don’t die, only enemies.” Zach’s eyebrows drew together in a deep frown. “He’ll resurrect though, right?”
“No, Zach. He won’t.” Flitwicket shook her head sadly, her face drawn and sorrowful. “That happens only in the battlegrounds.” She turned to face me. “How many rubies did you get?”
In shame, I hung my head. “I only got four.” Holding out the glowing, crimson stones, I began to cry, hiding behind my veil of moss-filled hair.
Zach put his arm around my shoulders, squeezing. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “You were amazing.”
I hadn’t heard words of praise like that in a long time. I pulled back to look into his eyes, his mournful expression matching my own. “Not amazing enough.”
I bowed before Lorialai, the priestess trainer, the rubies in my outstretched hand. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t get five.”
Lorialai stepped forward, never taking her eyes from my face. Her long, white robes whooshed around her feet as she reached out to take the rubies. Using her other hand, she counted each one, her ivory skin glowing like alabaster. Her eyes snapped up, meeting my gaze with intensity. I almost jumped back, startled by her expression. Was she going to hit me?
From the corner of my eye, I saw Zach grip his dagger, and I suppressed a chill. Could she be angry that I didn’t get all five? I’d tried. I really and truly tried.
A modest smile curved the trainer’s scarlet lips as she lifted my chin in her steely fingers, and stared hard into my eyes. “You have surprised me, child. That seldom happens.”
She took a long, slow breath, and then turned to the rest of the room, holding the rubies high in her fist. In a loud she voice, she said, “She has found twins!”
The priestesses in the room cheered, and even Flitwicket couldn’t hold back. She clapped her hands in surprise, her crystal-blue eyes shining.
“Twins?” I said, confused.
“Yes, my dear,” Lorialai stated, pointing to the rubies in her palm. “See this large one?” She flicked it with her long fingernail, and it split apart. A hush fell over the room. “This one… is really two. Twins.” Again, she turned to address the room. “These jewels are more powerful than any others because they were sealed, conjoined, united.” She turned back to me. “Do you understand?” she asked in a hushed whisper. “United, bound, loyal.”
“Uh…” My gaze flickered toward Zach. She was talking about us. About how we should be with each other. United. Bound. Loyal.
Lorialai strode to a raised dais at the front of the room and placed the rubies there. She raised an ivory wand, and then turned toward me again. “And what of your fourth companion?”
“He did not survive, Master,” Flitwicket answered, her head bowed.
Lorialai nodded. “I am very sorry. This world is a dangerous place, and the quests received should never be taken lightly.”
“Yes, Master,” Flitwicket said.
Lorialai’s gaze came to rest on me once again. “You will have your desire to become a priestess. You have courage and determination. You have also learned that no matter how terribly you have treated your brother, he is still l
oyal to you.”
I bowed my head, slowly shaking it back and forth. “I know. I’ve treated Zach in the worst way his whole life. I never liked him or wanted him around, but he’s always been patient and nice to me. I’m sorry, Zach,” I whispered, almost too quiet to hear.
Lorialai brought her training wand down on my forehead, its tip glowing red. A flash of light filled the room. “Intellect!” My arms and legs began to tingle, then go numb.
The wand touched my right temple, and the room flashed brilliantly again. “Primary Healing!” I stumbled forward, off balance. The pain of the spell zapping all the way to my toes, like I’d stuck my fingers in a socket and left them there. The surge of power scorched through my veins like molten lava. Not only did every cell in my body burn, but I felt sapped of strength every time the wand made contact with my head.
It came down two more times with the abilities of “Inner Focus,” and “Divine Shield.” By the time the torture ended, I was on my knees, gasping for breath, and was only able to regain my balance with Flitwicket’s help. I bowed to the trainer and whispered a weak, “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome, Lauren of Light,” Lorialai answered. “Now, rest. You will need it.”
Zach and I reclined on a soft feather bed at the inn. Not on the same bed, mind you, but two twin-size beds. I’d slept for hours after my training and had only just woken up. I glanced at Zach as he lay with his fingers interlaced behind his head.
“So,” he said, once he noticed I was awake. “You’re Lauren of Light.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I turned over and faced him. Flitwicket had explained that the honor of a title was rare. Not even she had one. I was sure I didn’t deserve it, and I knew Zach thought the same thing.
Flitwicket had left early to tell Cardy’s family he was never coming home. I was glad to not be a part of that quest. I pushed those terrible feelings aside, telling myself it was only a game. Cardy wasn’t even real. We had no reason to feel guilty or despondent about the warrior’s death. Cardy was just somebody’s character.
“I’m bored, Lauren, and there’s something really fun we could do… if you wanted.”
“What do you have in mind?” Now that I’d slept, I felt really good. Awake. Energetic. I’d just been endowed with Primary Healing, a magic shield like Flitwicket’s, intellect, and inner focus. It would be fun to try them out. Zach must have read my mind.
“A battle.”
We were out the door in a flash, hurrying through the teeming city. We stopped at the Barter House on our way to check out weapons. Zach explained that even though I wanted to focus on healing—and priestesses could focus on either healing or attacking—I needed to have a couple of weapons on me just in case. He wanted something better too, since he only had a small dagger, which didn’t cause much damage.
The barter house bustled with activity, full and noisy. The salty-sweet smell of sweaty battlers hung in the air as patrons dickered over prices. Weapons of all kinds lay arranged on the counters. I yearned to pick up everything, wanting to test their weight even though I had no idea how to use them. The fact that these were real weapons that actually killed people was not something I dwelled on. I was just having fun in the game.
I found an old, used wand that didn’t cost much, and I still had the dagger Zach gave me at the Singing Stream. The other weapons I carried were in my mind, and I couldn’t wait to test them out. I still hadn’t decided if I wanted to focus only on healing, which would make me a Consecrated Priestess, or on attack skills, which would make me a Phantom Priestess. You could do both and be an Artisan Priestess, but that was just too much to think about. Zach said it would be better to focus on just one for now. I could always change later. So, for now, I’d just work on healing.
Zach found two matching short-swords. Their keen edges shining brightly, and their balance light and lethal. He paid his gold, and we went away happy, ready to participate in our first mock battle. We jogged in the direction of the huge arena.
Located at the back of the city, the battlegrounds’ tall, iron gates marked its entrance. Pride rushed through me like cool water over a parched desert. We were here, experiencing something miraculous, something amazing. I couldn’t believe it, and even though I hadn’t wanted to be here in the first place, I was finding Terratir to be enticing and magical.
Zach glanced over, his smile wider than I’d ever seen it, stretching from ear to ear. “Just stay by me,” he said. “Work on healing the other fighters around you, stay away from the enemy, and try to stay out of sight. Healers are always the first ones they go for.”
“What? Now you tell me?” I didn’t want to be a target. I didn’t even have armor yet. Not that armor would really help me, because from what Zach said, priestesses wore long, flowing robes like Flitwicket’s. How much could they possibly protect me?
The first thing I noticed was everyone’s heavy, durable armor. Zach didn’t have any armor either, and I saw him smack his forehead, moaning at his stupidity. His Levis were baggy now, and his old, ratty T-shirt hung off his shoulders. We were so stupid.
He pulled me through the throng of people, toward the battlegrounds. “That’s the Emerald Elf battle master,” he said, pointing to a guy who stood a head taller than any other person in the room. He had cool, green-tinged skin and long pointed ears.
“We want to join the battle for Desert Delta,” Zach said to him, still smiling from ear to ear. I stood just behind him, trying to look inconspicuous.
The battle master glanced down his narrow, pointed nose and frowned. “You two seem a little on the small side.”
“I’m a trained maverick, and my sister here is a trained priestess. We just want to get in at the lowest level.”
“It’s your funeral.” He gave us tickets and sent us to the iron doors that had Desert Delta painted above them.
A small group gathered. I was starting to get good at recognizing all the different races in the game, and I counted three elves, tall and fair, five dryads, beautiful and fairy-like, and four humans. The last three to join were halflings, stout and strong, reminding me of Cardy. My chest tightened at the memory, but I didn’t want to feel sad about our halfling friend. I kept telling myself that these people were pretend. They weren’t real, just characters in a dumb computer game.
The iron doors burst open, and a thrill rushed through me. I wished I had taken time to play Zach’s game just once, so I’d know what I was in for.
“We’re going into a magical arena that is also attached to the Legion’s magical battlegrounds,” Zach said once the doors opened and we started to move. “As soon as the battle begins, there will be real beings from the Legion side to attack. Don’t be scared,” he yelled over his shoulder as he raced ahead, wild with abandon.
I stood on the threshold, looking out over a wide valley dotted with trees and boulders and even a couple of small buildings. Our teammates cheered, running to steal the other team’s flag. Zach followed them down a steep hill and over the verdant valley that separated the Guild’s home base from the Legion’s.
I could hear the enemy before I saw them, their battle howls penetrating through a cloud of fear that was slowly developing like a storm in my mind, chilling my blood. I watched Zach slow as soon as he saw them too, and then stop dead in his tracks.
My mouth went dry.
The Legion had giant werewolves with black chain mail on their team, saliva dripping from their exposed fangs. Zombie sorcerers, decked out in colorful magical robes, their skin dangling in clumps from their faces. Finally, the dark-skinned drows came screaming across the field, their daggers glinting in the sun.
I didn’t know we’d be fighting fierce monsters and demonic beings. Suddenly, the battlegrounds didn’t seem so exciting. I quickly hid behind a large rock, panting in fear, because the doors to the battlegrounds had shut and there was no way out. My teammates met up with the enemy in the center of the valley and battled hand to hand.
I pull
ed back farther behind the boulder, my lungs closed tight and unresponsive. Sweat broke out along my upper lip and forehead, and my feet felt like lead weight. I’d give anything to have a hairband for a ponytail. I hated having my hair in my face when I was about to be killed.
I peeked out from behind the rock. Already, people were wounded and dying, and I wasn’t doing my job. I needed to start healing the players, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t go out there and commit suicide. Even if it wasn’t real.
Screams of pain and terror came from a nearby grove of trees. I should have helped. It was only a game after all. If I died, I’d resurrect—perfect and ready to fight again until the battle ended. People always resurrected in the battlegrounds. Flitwicket told me so herself.
Taking two deep breaths, and praying for strength—because I was ready to believe in miracles—I stepped from behind the boulder and pulled out my wand. Nobody was at our base but me, but they would be soon. This was where they’d resurrect after they died.
Taking a deep breath, I searched for someone to heal. Mainly my brother. He’d told me to stick by him, and that was what I intended to do. I found him partway down the hill, holding both his swords, one in each hand. He had just come face to face with a werewolf warrior. I crept close, trying to stay hidden behind anything big enough.
The werewolf howled in delight, his canines dripping with spittle—his thick, bright armor reflecting the sun. His dark eyes narrowed as they focused on Zach who must have looked like an easy target. He took two steps forward, swinging his giant broadsword back and forth in a figure eight.
Zach choked and coughed, sounding pathetic. I felt sorry for him. He must be terrified, forced to fight something so ferocious, but this was his idea. Just as the werewolf brought his sword up and swung, Zach turned and dashed for the small Guild cottage on the hill to our right. His feet sank in the grass, making escape difficult. The werewolf gained, his lips pulled back in a slobbery snarl.