Epic (20 page)

“A million. You’ve spent a million?” Bjorn was amazed. “What on?”

“Magic items for my character mostly. The new olive press was expensive enough, I suppose. But mostly powerful weapons.” There was something slightly defiant in B.E.’s voice, as if anticipating criticism.

“Bloody vengeance, B.E.! That is very extravagant.” Bjorn had also stopped work and was looking at B.E. open-mouthed.

“Oh, come on. What else is there to do with it around here? Erik, how much have you spent on Cindella? She is looking very sharp these days.”

“About three hundred thousand, I would think. Half of that was the Ring of True Seeing.”

“Really, Erik?” Bjorn was still taken aback. “I bought the finest elven armor I could. That was still only ten thousand for everything.”

“Ah, that’s just the items the merchants sell on public display. You have to speak to them for the really nice gear. Don’t you, Erik?” B.E. was buttoning up his coat, which made Bjorn scowl.

“So, no more work for the important dragonslayer; I can see you in twenty years a fat and lazy member of Central Allocations.”

“And I can see you, working hard all your life and dying with four million bezants in the bank, kept nice and safe.” B.E. sounded stung.

Erik intervened to try to head off the bad-tempered conversation of his friends, choosing his words carefully.

“Freya and I have been making plans for Harald’s return.”

“Oh, yes? I’ve been wondering what you would do.” Injeborg immediately put her own shovel to one side and turned to him.

“We have decided to promote a law for amnesty for all exiles.”

“Good luck with that,” Sigrid snorted. “There is no chance that Central Allocations will allow it.”

“No, they won’t. That’s why we’ll have to field a team against them.”

Nobody answered.

“Now, there’s an interesting challenge.” B.E. swung his arms in mock-battle moves. “The young dragonslayers against the old. Nice. Can you imagine how many people will fill the arena for that one?”

“No.” Bjorn shook his head. “Not I. Not this time. We are lucky to be here now, with all our wealth. We cannot take the risk.”

“It’s odd, Bjorn, that we are brother and sister. Sometimes we are so different.” Injeborg scowled at him.

“Ya. You believe in the Erik Haraldson School of Philosophy, that all will come out right at the end, that fortune will favor the deserving. I do not believe that. The world is much more arbitrary.”

“As it happens, I do believe in Erik. It was his work that made us rich. How can you forget it? You are so defeatist,” she groaned. “It’s like our argument about the dragon, all over again.”

“Yes. Perhaps it is. But remember, little sister, before there was you, there was another girl. Ilga. And she died when she was two.” Bjorn swallowed heavily. “That is the difference between us. You are too flighty; like a butterfly in summer, you cannot contemplate the winter. Well I can, and it forewarns me. Keep what you have.”

“Hear hear!” Sigrid applauded Bjorn’s speech and looked around as if to defy anyone to tell her to risk her character in battle with C.A.

“Please, don’t fight about this. Actually I just need the help of two of you.”

“How is that, Erik?” Injeborg was puzzled.

“Harald will fight, of course, and there is another character we know who will help; he is called Anonemuss.”

“You can include me,” said B.E. “I’m bored waiting for University. And I would love to know what my new weapons are capable of.”

“Of course you can count on me,” added Injeborg.

“That’s perfect. Thank you.” Erik smiled gratefully at her.

“But what if you die?” Sigrid turned to her brother. “You will lose everything.”

“And if we win, well there will be five places in Central Allocations to be filled.” Now B.E. was full of energy and no longer looked cold. His jacket fell open as he gestured, but he was mindless of it. “Imagine, the whole world will be looking down into the amphitheater that day. It will be the biggest challenge ever in history. Whatever happens, we will be famous. And I bet that the people are on our side. Wouldn’t you love to see Central Allocations beaten?”

No one responded to B.E.’s fantasy; each was busy with their own thoughts.

“So, Erik, who is this Anonemuss? Is he an exile too?” Injeborg was curious.

“Yes. But there is something else I have to tell you all, which complicates matters.” When he had their full attention, Erik continued, “Anonemuss is certain that Central Allocations are able to attack and kill players outside of the amphitheater. We only think that Epic does not allow it because that is what we are used to. But they have codes that allow them to create characters who can kill—and be killed—outside of the arena.” Erik could see that Injeborg was about to speak, but he held up his hand and continued, “Before his first exile, Harald was being trained at University as an assassin. He now believes it was so that he could be used against other players and that Ragnok Strongarm is playing that role. He also believes that if we challenge Central Allocations in any way, they will not hesitate to eliminate us—all of us—before our challenge comes to the amphitheater.”

“No,” said Sigrid. “That’s not possible.”

Bjorn reached out for a steady rock and sat down heavily, deep in thought.

“So. You will go ahead and imperil all our lives? Even those of us who do not wish to challenge them?” Bjorn was thinking aloud.

“Yes and no. We will challenge them, but not until everyone is in a position of relative safety.”

“I see,” said Injeborg. “We hide our characters somewhere until it’s done.”

“Well, we discussed this, Harald, Freya, Anonemuss, and I. The problem with hiding is that they will use magic to locate us. No, our best safety lies in distance.”

“What are you proposing?” Bjorn asked patiently.

“To sail us all to Cassinopia and use the amphitheater there for our challenge. We will be over two weeks away from them, even if they use the fastest ships. The challenge should come before they can do anything to stop us.”

There were several amphitheaters in the world of Epic, and they could be interlocked—it was as if there was only one, universal amphitheater, to which the whole world was connected. But when you left it, you returned to the city from which you entered. This facility was essential, not that players usually traveled far, but some might have picked character classes who were created in cities far from Newhaven. They were not excluded from the legal system, because no matter where your chosen character appeared in the world of Epic, there would be a city nearby with an amphitheater.

“Excellent plan.” B.E. was up on his feet. “We sneak away by night, I suppose?”

“Actually I was thinking it would be more deceptive to pretend that we were all working on my quest—you know, the one about the buried treasure? So we openly recruit a crew and sail off. They will think that we pose no threat to them.”

“Brilliant!” B.E. looked excitedly to the others. “That will work. What do you think, Bjorn? Fancy a voyage with us?”

“I don’t know what to think. Perhaps it is better that those of us not involved in the challenge stay here? If we do, they might leave us alone. If we come with you, even if we don’t fight, they might take revenge on us as well.”

“If they even have the ability to do so. Which I for one still do not believe.” Sigrid flared up.

“In any case, they may be in no position to take revenge. Harald has that extraordinary master thief; Erik’s character is very versatile, and I have my two new swords.” B.E. ran along the loose earth thrown up by their trench, pretending to fence.

Erik turned back to Bjorn. “Think awhile on it, Bjorn. I can tell you where you can meet Harald if you want to ask him about his training and his reasons for believing they can attack players.” As with their argument about fighting the dragon, it was important to keep Bjorn from making a premature decision. Erik had faith that his friend would come around to the idea of leaving the Newhaven area.

“It would be awful to leave you, or Sigrid, behind as possible targets for Central Allocations, but I have to go ahead with this. I hope you understand. You would do the same if it was your dad in exile.”

A slight drizzle was making them all wet. But Bjorn remained seated, head uncovered, clearly unhappy.

“What character type is Anonemuss?” asked B.E., thinking ahead to the battle with Central Allocations.

“He is a dark elf—a warrior, I think.”

“A dark elf—unusual. And does he have good equipment?”

“Very good. He seems to have gathered it up from everyone in exile. And he is quite rich—something to do with the way they run things there. It’s probably from exploiting the others in some way, but they all stand to gain if the law of amnesty is passed, so I suppose it is justified. . . .” Erik paused.

“What?” Injeborg knew him too well and could tell he was troubled, that Erik was leaving something out.

“Well, he . . . from the way he talks, he is . . . dangerous.”

“In what way ‘dangerous’?” B.E. asked.

“Did you ever hear of a book by someone called Machiavelli?” Erik looked at their blank faces. “No, me neither. Apparently he wrote about the pursuit of power, and Anonemuss is always quoting him. Especially when he says ‘the means accuses, but the result excuses.’”

“What’s that supposed to be about?” Sigrid was irritated by the whole situation. She really wished they could just return to their normal lives. But then her dad was not in exile.

“It means that he thinks any measures are to be considered for the achievement of power. When I say any measures, I mean absolutely all of them.” Erik could see that they were missing the point. “Well, he has asked me if our strategy of change through the game of Epic was to fail, whether I would be willing to take up real weapons and march with him in an army to Mikelgard and physically overthrow the current rulers.”

“Bloody vengeance!” laughed B.E. “He’s a madman.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” But Erik did not smile. “Only I don’t think he’s joking. He believes he needs only a hundred followers. After all, the Mikelgard people have no physical means of stopping him.”

“That’s awful, even to speak like that.” Sigrid looked sickened. “How can you repeat these ideas, Erik?”

“And we are working with him? Why?” asked Injeborg.

“Because we need him. And because perhaps his bark is worse than his bite. Also, if we can bring about change through Epic, that will take away the basis for his confronta tional plans in this world.”

“I would like to meet him, before I fight alongside him,” mused Injeborg.

“As would I.” B.E. stood up. “Erik, you arrange a place. I’m fed up with digging; I’m going to go get some Epic training in swimming, and some ‘endless breath’ potions. If my character falls off the ship, I don’t want to drown like that poor fellow in the arena.”

The moon was up, covering the surface of the sea with a swath of silver silk. They were bobbing up and down, waves gently lapping against the sides of their small boat. Near them a slight gurgle caused them to turn their heads, but it was only a seal breaking through the surface of the water. For a while the occupants of the boat and the seal watched each other, then the seal sank back beneath the waves.

Lounging in the prow of the boat was B.E.’s elven warrior; Injeborg’s witch and Cindella each had an oar.

From the shore a green light flared.

“There we go.” Erik sounded relieved; they had been waiting in the bay for about half an hour.

“He likes his drama, doesn’t he? We couldn’t just meet in an inn.” It was easy to imagine B.E. displaying his characteristic sneer as his character spoke—although the gray face of the warrior in the game was incapable of that expression.

“He’s a dark elf remember,” Injeborg pointed out, while pulling on her oar to bring them around in order to face the shore. “He can’t come near to town or they will lynch him.”

“Yeah, but still.”

They rowed hard, towards a muddy bank that led up from the estuary to the edge of a wood. When they landed, B.E. stepped carefully through the mud, tying up the boat to a rock.

“Greetings.” Anonemuss was alone, wrapped in a navy velvet cape.

“Pleased to meet you,” replied Injeborg politely.

Erik was amused to see that, probably unconsciously, B.E. was posed, chest out, hands on the hilts of his powerful blades.

“You wanted to discuss the plan with me?” Anonemuss asked them directly.

“Well, not so much the plan as your ideas. You know, about seizing power by force,” answered Injeborg equally bluntly.

“Oh, good. Are you interested in joining me?”

“Absolutely not!” She was shocked. “I just wanted to determine whether you were a reliable partner, or whether you were mad.”

“I’m not mad, young woman. Nor am I hidebound by the indoctrination that we are all fed here. I have read many books—it is a common pastime of those of us in exile. And my conclusion is that violence is not always wrong.”

“How so?” B.E. was intrigued.

“I believe young Erik here once had his appendix removed, correct?” They nodded and the dark elf continued, “Was that not an act of violence, cutting open his skin, wounding him? Yet it was necessary to save his life. Well, society can form cancers, especially if resources are dwindling over hundreds of years. I consider myself not a violent criminal, but a surgeon, one with a diagnosis of the condition of the patient, which is that there is a need for a short, violent intervention to save it.”

“But even if we accept that society needs to change, there is an important distinction from Erik’s operation.” Injeborg was reasoning aloud, defending her own beliefs.

“Do go on, my dear.” Anonemuss bowed.

“Which is that the operation was done with Erik’s consent. You plan to mete out violence against people who do not wish it.”