A Second Chance Read online

  Nobody asked me about anything, but Eredani accepted the new member into the group, and training began all over again. While all the newbies were jumping and running on the simulators, we were doing pirouettes in the barrack. As soon as I made a false move, Marcon would appear and correct an arm or a leg or a turn of the head, until he got a perfect result.

  Then everything stopped.

  “Muster! Two minutes until muster! Everybody to the square!”

  The ringing announcement hung in the air. Running out of the barrack, I saw a column of light above my allotted place. The game didn’t believe I would cope with the commotion, and had come to my aid. Eredani stood beside me, and Marcon went to join a group of more advanced students. When all the brethren had taken their places, the difference between the players was obvious. There were fifteen newbies, and we stood behind everybody, at the back of the square, clothed simply, half of us with weapons. Next were the basic- and mid-level players, who were more presentable, about forty of them, I guessed. There were only a couple of high-level players — Braksed and Kurtune. The last group I wasn’t even aware existed — the graduates — those who had completed all the courses, but for some reason stayed in the training camp. The biggest and best-equipped group, there were at least two hundred of them. Their clothes could compete with Braksed’s, but were excessively funereal and blood-stained for my taste. I even spotted Shukir the Vaunted, the Phoenixes representative. Players whispered among themselves, congratulating each other, their smiles never leaving their faces — typical of people who have just finished a difficult project and are waiting for their just rewards. Interestingly, I didn’t see any other tieflings among the new recruits.

  “Brothers! Today we present the world with fifty demon hunters!” Uldaron began his speech triumphantly. “Our heroes have dispatched T’Mir and R’tan to the Abyss! For the first time in my memory, those two archdemons have left the island, and they will need a week to return. N’Got and L’Kri are also in the Abyss, and peaceful times are upon the island. Let us pay tribute to our heroes!”

  “What a coordinated raiding team,” whispered Eredani. Overpowering an archdemon without a tank, without healers. Good lads. The clans will be interested in them.”

  “There were five archdemons on the island,” I reminded him. “He only mentioned four. If the fifth is no cause for Ulderon’s concern, then…”

  “Then it’s not worth speaking about out loud,” said Eredani. Which was true — why state the obvious aloud? There was a dungeon on the island.

  “As a reward, each combat participant will receive the demon-hunter-training-ground graduate’s honorary ribbon! Wear it with pride, and annihilate beasts of the Abyss wherever they may be!”

  The players shouted rapturously and lit up with a snow-white glow — on top of their ribbons, they had all gained a level. Celebratory music rang out as the newly decorated heroes filed one by one into the portal. For them the training stage was over. They were followed by another hundred-odd players who hadn’t graduated — not everybody was willing to wait a week for the rebirth of the archdemons. The training camp thinned considerably.

  “Next muster in six hours! Dismissed!”

  “Kvalen, time is pressing.” We returned to the barrack, and Eredani turned up the heat. “If we don’t complete the newbies’ course now, we never will. I have a new timer — in three hours I’m going to be switched off for maintenance. Twenty-four hours. We’ll fail the task and be kicked out of the camp. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “That’s the whole point, you don’t need to try. It’s impossible to make a dancer of you in two hours. Your task is to lean correctly and at the right time. I’ll do all the rest.”

  “Kvalen, imagine yourself in the jungle,” Marcon butted in. “All around are lianas, snakes, and spiders. You say, ‘I must save Marie Antoinette!’ You take a big breath and ‘Bam!’ You defeat everybody and save your loved one. Don’t think about the dance or the test. They don’t exist. There is you and the jungle!”

  “I’ve never heard so much rot in my life.”

  “No, our flexible friend is right.” Eredani supported Marcon. “You really are overthinking the dance. I have a solution, but I need your consent.”

  “Consent for what?” I didn’t like his tone.

  “For discomfort. Untick Settings — Customization — Automatic Update, and increase the Aridity scale there, in Customization. Let’s say by fifty percent, that should do it.”

  I carried out Victor’s demands and winced as a warm, dry wind blew on my skin. Despite being quite unpleasant, it was tolerable. Instinctively I wiped nonexistent sweat from my face, and the system suggested returning the settings.

  “You get used to air like that quickly, so we must hurry.” Eredani sensed all the charms of the island of demons. “Concentrate on sensations. Feel the blast of heat. Forget about dancing. Let’s go!”

  Two hours later I knew exactly what Eredani wanted from me. I could not relax and rely totally on my partner, because he couldn’t carry us both. At the same time I couldn’t tense up too much, at the risk of knocking him out of rhythm. In the end I managed to find the right state of detachment and allow him to lead me. The hot wind really did help, averting my thoughts and relieving excess muscle tension.

  “You’re a long way from becoming a dancer, but with the necessary application, even a tiefling like you can float like a butterfly,” said Eredani, evaluating my efforts. Two hours of non-stop one-two-three should have crippled me, but Barliona exceeded all my expectations, and I wasn’t even tired.

  “What about my money?” said Marcon. I raised an inquiring eyebrow, and it wasn’t very convincing — tieflings’ facial muscles were wooden. I had to explain:

  “You’ll get your money after we complete the course. No advances.”

  “But…” Marcon tugged his ear in disappointment. “But we agreed.”

  “We agreed you would teach us how to complete the course. Where are the results of that agreement? R-i-i-ight — complete. Which hasn’t happened yet. How do I know you showed us the right combination? That’s our safety net.”

  “Kvalen, don’t be like that. Pay him.” Eredani was on the player’s side. “He’s earned the money honestly. We’re on our own now. It has nothing more to do with him.”

  Marcon looked as though he’d lost faith in humanity, but I didn’t care. If it was a total-immersion game, then I was a tiefling. Faith in people had nothing whatsoever to do with me. And anyway, what was all this desire to throw money about left and right? First results, then payment. That’s the only way.

  “As soon as we complete the course, Marcon will receive his thousand gold. That was the arrangement. Let’s go, time is pressing, the test has started.”

  The downhearted Marcon lead us to the newbies’ course and wished us luck. He couldn’t enter it anymore. We made it just in time for the end of the test; there were two players left in front of us. Gurt sighed heavily, looking us up and down, and asked, “You’re going to do it together again?”

  “It’s not against the rules.”

  “Get on with it.” The orc waved a hand. “If you can’t do two obstacles, you both take a dive into the Abyss. I’m not horsing around here. Begin!”

  “Kvalen, I’m not going to make a farewell speech,” said Eredani heavily. “Either we pass, and go looking for a dungeon, or we leave the camp and go our separate ways. Into position, we begin with the waltz. And one-two-three, one-two-three…”

  The state of detachment I’d been practicing for two hours came immediately. I concentrated firmly on the hot wind, only the edge of my conscious noticing the tests-passed indicator. One — the crashing blocks were behind us. Two — the spikes appearing from the floor couldn’t touch us. Three — the poleaxe pendulums were powerless against our reels. Four — the horizontal, fiery flashes could only lick at our reverentially bowed heads. Five — the whirling propellers raised their white f
lag as soon as they heard rumor of our sirtaki. Six — The crossbow bolts made but a few small holes in our clothes, unable to cope with our mind-boggling gyrations. Seven — the barbed wire and densely packed stakes prostrated themselves before our fine waltz, and our tails allowed us to scramble through without interrupting the dance. Eight — the horizontal and vertical blades glanced uneventfully off each other and ushered us through with a dull clang. Nine — the fire from the ceiling and the spikes from the floor and walls were too lethargic for our movements and could only disturb the air. And ten — a variable foxtrot; Marcon wasn’t wrong. Slabs fell from the ceiling, the floor collapsed beneath our feet, and fire and jagged metal attacked us from all sides, but we danced on, progressing mindfully toward our cherished goal — the red flag.

  Characteristic improved

  Agility: +1

  Achievement gained: unrivalled newbie

  Description: You passed at least four obstacles on the newbie assault course at the first attempt. Your agility and ability to foresee danger are impressive. Before you leave the training camp you will receive a Newbie buff: a twofold increase in experience, reputation, and growth rate.

  Bonuses:

  +1 to all main characteristics for passing 6 tests in a row at the first attempt

  +2 to all main characteristics for passing 8 tests in a row at the first attempt

  Additional characteristic accessible: Luck

  Description: Your ability to foresee danger is impressive. You have grabbed the bird of luck by the tail and do not intend to let it go. Every characteristic point increases your probability of developing special techniques (critical strike, chance of improved haul, blunder, etc.) from 0.1% up to 50%

  Step 1 task “Start of Training” completed

  Experience: +12

  Reputation with Light of Barliona faction: +6

  Access to next training step

  Bonus for completing course with full marks: +1 to all main characteristics

  Bonus for completing course together with Eredani: +1 to all main characteristics

  “Oh, mother.” Eredani produced a throttled whisper. I turned around to see him doubled up on his knees and moaning loudly, his face buried in the platform. It was like the system’s white light going into meltdown.

  “Help!” I shouted, but he grabbed my leg with a trembling hand and wheezed:

  “Don’t, I’m fine. It’ll pass in a minute. Аaah!”

  The tiefling’s voice gave no hint of pain or suffering; quite the opposite, it was the groan of someone in a state of ecstasy, or orgasm. I watched stupefied as he came down from his sensory phantasmagoria. Several players rushed to us, concerned by Eredani’s condition, but nobody knew how to react, since his HP was normal, the course was completed, and he was lying on the platform and grunting fit to dub a porno.

  “That’s enough lying about!” Gurt’s bass returned everything to normal. The glow around Eredani went out, and he was able to get to his feet, albeit unstably, due to his recent pleasure injection. “Ten out of ten, and eight of them at the first attempt! Geniuses! Eredani and Kvalen, I proclaim you true demon hunters! You have nothing left to do on the newbies’ assault course. Give my regards to Haldei, the supervisor of the basic course. I am sure that anyone like you can complete it with full marks.”

  Task received: Step 2. Basic training (class-specific task)

  Description: Complete the basic assault course. Minimum completion score: 7 out of 10.

  Reward:

  Experience: +5

  Reputation with Light of Barliona faction: +1

  Access to next training step

  Bonus for completing course with full marks: +1 to all main characteristics

  “Did you get an additional characteristic?” Eredani had found the strength to operate his limbs and was clinging to me for dear life.

  “Yes, it’s hanging right in front of my eyes.”

  “Accept it!” he commanded. “It’s one of the most important in the game. Let’s go to the barrack. We need to hire Marcon.”

  The dancer was waiting for us by the course, and before anyone could say anything, I threw him an exchange and handed over twelve hundred gold. Even his elfin ears expressed their surprised joy.

  “That’s a bonus for your patience and the result. Things like that are always rewarded.”

  “Marcon, come with us.” Eredani put a gentle arm round him. “We have to talk.”

  “Master, I’m always happy to talk.” Marcon’s familiar smile crept back to his face. He hadn’t been duped, he’d been paid, and he’d got a bonus. What wasn’t to be happy about? I tried to imagine why Eredani needed a dancer. We would return from Hermit, and Marcon would bring us all the obstacles on the remaining courses on a platter, and I would have to pay. From the easy newbies’ course we took away +5 apiece to all characteristics. Say, five levels. Plus the doubled experience, reputation, and characteristics scale values. Which all gave reason to suppose they might award the same, or even more, for completing the basic course. It was worth splashing out.

  I wasn’t wrong. Eredani had won Marcon over so expertly the latter was willing to pay for the right to help us complete the training camp. Yes siree, the master of their mystical dance sect had asked us for help! The artful tiefling had even drawn up an agreement with the elf — he couldn’t teach anybody else and had to keep mum. This time I didn’t begrudge him the advance, and gave him five hundred gold up front. It was a lucky day for Marcon.

  “What happened to you?” I asked Eredani after Marcon headed off to the basic course. “Was that some sort of hidden bonus for total immersion?”

  “Why hidden? It’s an absolutely official, even obligatory, bonus for prisoner pods.” He shivered at the memory. “D’you want one? Join our ranks. Every time specialities or characteristics level up, you’re overcome by such total immersion that a romp with a real woman in reality is nothing in comparison.”

  “There was nothing like that in the film about the Mahan,” I said, remembering everything I knew about the Shaman.

  “There was a lot missing from that. Films about the Shaman are just an advertizing fairy tale. Damn marketologists don’t think about the youth at all.”

  “So, you’re going to spasm like that every time? That’s not normal. It was like watching a flasher.”

  “How sensitive you are! We weren’t given the choice. You think I like rolling around in front of everyone?” Eredani didn’t appreciate the subject. “I must warn you, for the first ten or twenty level ups, I can’t guarantee to keep my head. Is that a problem for you?”

  “I’ll get used to it. The main thing is it doesn’t happen when we need you.”

  “I can’t guarantee that either. I have thirty minutes left. We move out to Hermit in twenty-four hours, when I return. What plans do you have?”

  “None. Get out into reality, sort out some business. By the way, I forgot to say, when you and Marcon were dancing for the first time, trying to work out who was best, Gurt was very interested. He said it was a ‘ritual Zimbali dance’ and he hadn’t seen it in a long time. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “Hmm,” Eredani thought. “You wouldn’t think it to look at him. It’s strange an orc should know so much about dances. The ritual Zimbali dance is a creation of Rivaldo and his school. It’s made up and has no historical or cultural background. Where could an orc have seen it?”

  “You’re the game expert, you think about it.” Delegation was my favourite pastime. When they couldn’t be bothered to do something for themselves, a savvy boss would find an expert in the field and put them in charge. If they coped with the task, the boss was “da man” for finding the expert employee. If they didn’t cope, it was, “What did you expect? We work with whoever they give us!” The expert got sacked; the boss got rewarded. I loved being a project manager.

  After saying goodbye to Eredani, I settled down onto my bed and pressed the Exit button. The time had come to check up on my hungover hous
emate. In the eleven hours I’d spent in Barliona, Matty should have slept it off, if his habits hadn’t changed with the years. The rainbow flickered, and the warm hoop was removed from my head, returning me to a familiar reality. The roof had already slipped aside and, when the platform tried to eject me from the pod, I fell flat on my face slapstick-style. My outstretched hands didn’t save my head from contact with the oak parquet, because either my strength or my muscles had failed me. The lights in my eyes went out with a dull thud, and an unpleasant noise rang in my ears.

  When the pattern on the floorboards became distinct, I tried to stand. It didn’t happen. I wasn’t in pain, but I felt an all-over weariness and a quite human listlessness. Cool, conditioned air flowed over my body, so I hadn’t lost sensitivity. I clenched my fingers and toes a few times to make sure, but I had no strength for anything more. I couldn’t even close my mouth. My furry cheeks were moist with spittle, and my brain couldn’t decide what to do: ignore it all and sleep, or debate the root cause of my condition. Faulty pod? I’d sue. Have a nap, wipe away the spit, and sue. Or was this the next stage of bodily adaptation? I didn’t remember reading about it. What else might happen? Forget it. It seemed I’d made my decision — sleep.