Spark - ARC (15 page)

Too bad it was the anteroom to a land filled with evil fey folk. She had a few levels to go to reach the court, however—at least according to Jennet.

When the bus had arrived at their hotel for the night, Spark had checked in and then messaged Jennet from the privacy of her room. Apparently, when Jennet and Tam had battled the Dark Queen, they’d had to complete a number of very strange quests, progressing through different areas of Feyland until they reached the court. It was the game, but tweaked.

Although there might be a shortcut. Jennet had advised her to keep watch for Puck.

:That freaky sprite?:
Spark had asked.

:Yes. He can be very helpful, so watch for him.:

Spark wasn’t so sure. She’d only seen a bit of Puck—both in the real world and the realm. While he’d assisted them a couple times, the main thing she remembered was that he’d ridden her fox form as if she was a horse. Kind of demeaning, to be used as the personal mount of a fey little creature.

Something rustled in the underbrush beside the path. Spark whirled, one hand on her dagger. Nothing appeared. She stood still, trying to breathe silently, and stared at the bushes for a long moment.

“Okay then,” she said. “But I know you’re there, whatever you are.”

There was no answer—and she didn’t have time to stand around arguing with shrubbery. Keeping a wary eye out, Spark continued on. So what if her pace increased almost to a run. She was in a hurry.

The trees thinned, and the path led from the forest’s edge into a sunny meadow filled with blue and red flowers. A short way along the path stood a cottage right out of an English countryside postcard, complete with a thatched roof and windows mullioned in tiny squares of glass.

The creature squatting on the doorstep, though, definitely detracted from the picture. He was covered in long black hair, his beard tangled with twigs and mosses. The nails of his knobbly toes and crooked hands were grimy and uneven. A whiff of rotting vegetables rose from where he sat, and Spark wrinkled her nose. Ready to leap into combat if necessary, she slowly approached the cottage.

Two beady, malicious eyes regarded her, but the creature made no move to attack.

“Greetings,” Spark said, stopping a few feet from the door.

“Fox-girl,” the creature said, his voice rough, as though he seldom spoke, “do you seek a quest?”

“I do.”

“Heh.” The hairy man chewed on the end of his beard a moment. Then he spat it out, and pointed down the path. “Yonder lies the tree of copper apples. Fetch one and bring it to me, and you shall succeed. Do you accept?”

There was some trick—there was always a trick—but Spark trusted her wits and reflexes to deal with whatever Feyland threw at her.

“Yes,” she said.

The air chimed with the faint echo of bells, and the hairy man nodded.

“Well?” he said. “Don’t just stand there.”

He probably wouldn’t like it if she laughed at him, but he sounded like a grumpy old aunt of hers. Hiding her smile, Spark turned and headed in the direction he’d indicated.

Over the curve of the hill she found an orchard. Apple trees spread, planted in orderly rows, though not all of them bore fruit. Some were spangled with white flowers, while others unfurled leaves the new green of spring. From her vantage point she scanned the trees, but all the fruit she could see hanging from the boughs was red. The tree with copper apples must be farther in.

As she stepped into the orchard, the raucous cry of crows sounded. Up ahead, a dozen black shapes took to the sky. A murder of crows. She shivered, and stayed under the shelter of the branches as much as possible. Fending off an aerial attack was never fun, especially as her character had no shielding abilities.

The birds swirled up into a dark funnel, and Spark headed directly for it. The trees around her weren’t anything special, despite the various seasons they represented. No—she’d find her copper apples in the part of the orchard where things were happening. Which meant heading for the crows.

Bees hummed among the flowers, and a few petals drifted like snow. The place was peaceful, until rough caws punctured the air. The light dimmed as a thick cloud shaded the sun. Ahead, she glimpsed a dark, gnarled shape: a tree with twisted branches rising into the sky. The area surrounding the tree was blighted, the green grass withered to gray. Her heart gave a thump. At the tip of the highest branch an apple hung, bright as a new penny.

The crows swirled around it, guarding their treasure. This close, Spark could see that their claws and beaks were sheathed in metal.

Great. Combat crows.

She paused beneath a flowering tree and studied her target. The branch bearing the apple was way too thin to take her weight, plus the crows wouldn’t let her get near the tree without dealing some painful injuries.

Injuries that would carry over into the real world, according to Jennet. Spark wasn’t in a hurry to find out the truth of her friend’s words. So, a direct assault on the tree was out.

Slowly, she drew her bow and nocked an arrow. First thing was to get that shiny apple down to where she could grab it. Then she’d have to improvise.

Spark sighted down the arrow and took a deep, steadying breath. The circle of copper glimmered in her vision until her entire being focused on that one spot.

She exhaled and loosed her arrow.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

S
park’s arrow flew true, hitting the apple with a hollow clang. The fruit wobbled, but didn’t fall.
Dammit!

Screeching, the crows flurried into the air. They’d be on her in moments. She pushed down the fear starting to ripple through her and nocked another arrow, aiming for the stem this time. It was a tricky target—but she only had time for one last shot.

The arrow left the string with a hum, and Spark dashed after it. The crows increased their racket and began diving at her. She ducked low, feeling claws tangle in her hair. Ahead, the copper apple fell, the stem neatly severed.

With a final burst of speed, Spark flung herself forward and caught the fruit in one hand. Using her bow, she beat back the dark birds and hurried to summon up one of her elemental spells. Air—that would do it. Clutching the apple to her chest, she chanted the awkward syllables.

A gust of wind swept through the clearing, whipping her hair into her face, and pushing the crows back. Spark turned and ran, the angry calls of the birds following her.

She made it about halfway through the orchard when the blossom-scattered grass before her erupted into a tangle of thorns. Leaping back, she saw that the wicked briars had sprouted all around her, and were closing in quickly. One long, sharp thorn pricked her wrist, painful as a needle.

“
Kijherba Oncoti!
” she cried.

Instantly, a wall of flame sprang up before her. Spark gestured it forward, and heard the briars screeching as the fire scorched them. They shriveled, and she leaped over the blackened tangle and kept running.

Spark’s breath rasped in her throat as she raced for the edge of the orchard. She leaned forward, forcing another burst of speed. Behind her, the crows still called. A quick look over her shoulder showed a mass of thorns following in her wake, twisting and writhing along the ground.

She burst out of the orchard, only to rock back at the sight of a huge silver serpent blocking her way. Seriously—the game wasn’t making it easy for her.

The serpent hissed, showing a long, forked tongue, then reared back, preparing to strike. Spark scrolled rapidly through her spells. She’d already burned the charms for air and fire, which left earth and water.

A thorn grazed her boot, and the crows called harshly behind her. Pulling on all her reserves, she wove the words of her remaining elements together, and flung them toward the serpent. Instantly it began to sink, surrounded by a pit of mud. It flailed back and forth, splashing clods of grass and thick gobs of mud up in huge gouts, but it was stuck, and sliding lower by the second.

Tucking the copper apple into her pocket, Spark sprinted to her right, cutting a wide path around the serpent now mired in muck. As she ran, she morphed into her fox form. Four paws dug into the grass, and her keen ears heard the swish of feathers behind her. She zigzagged, foiling the attacking crow. It screeched in anger. Another sound, a weird grinding, vibrated beneath her feet. Ahead, thorny briars burst out of the ground.

She leaped, just clearing the tangle. To her left, the serpent lunged, missing her by inches. It smelled like dry bones.

Her tiny heart pounding, she reached the crest of the hill. As soon as she topped it, the stench of the hairy man hit her like a wall of compost, making her eyes water. The sounds of pursuit faded, but she kept running until she reached the cottage.

“Heehee,” the hairy man said. “A frightened fox. Has it forgotten how to be mortal?”

She almost had forgotten once, during the battle with the Dark Queen, but that time she’d stayed in her fox form far longer.

“Not even,” she said as she transformed back into her human body. “I have the apple.”

He scowled and held out his hand. Spark retrieved the fruit and gave it to him.

“You have succeeded.” He didn’t sound happy about it. “Take the apple.”

She hesitated. Was this some kind of fey trick?

“Go on.” He thrust his hand toward her. The copper apple shone brightly against his coarsely haired palm.

“Why?”

“Your quest was to fetch the apple and show it to me. The reward remains yours. Take it quickly, ’ere I transport you to the next level.”

Spark snatched the gleaming fruit from him. During the final battle with the Dark Queen, both Tam and Jennet had used talismans they’d won in-game. Maybe the apple would prove equally helpful.

Of course, Jennet also had a magic sword she’d gotten from the Elder Fey. Somehow, Spark didn’t think she was in line for a gift like that.

The hairy man lifted his hands, inscribing symbols into the air that left a glowing afterimage. The cottage tipped, the sky reversing, and she was enfolded in dizzying light once again. She gripped the apple, concentrating on its smooth solidity.

After three whirling heartbeats, she landed on solid ground. Swallowing hard, Spark looked around. She was in another clearing, this one in a piney forest. The moon-pale mushrooms surrounded her, and the sky overhead was the dark blue of early evening. A handful of scattered stars dusted the sky.

Good. She was progressing through the world, every level taking her closer to the Dark Court.

Spark tucked the copper apple away. With a deep breath, she stepped over the faerie ring and started down the dusky, beckoning path.

***

Aran followed Thomas back to the tent, his thoughts spinning. He didn’t like being forced to reverse-hack into the real world. On the other hand, think of the cheats and exploits he’d learn, which he could sell once he got back.

Provided they worked in the non-magical portion of the game. Even if they didn’t, he’d get a reward from the queen that would set him up in style.

Once inside the fabric walls of Thomas’s home, Aran headed for his room. He wanted to see if he could get his tablet to turn on, and start making notes about how to do the impossible.

“Not so quickly,” Thomas said, grabbing his arm as he went past.

“What?”

“BlackWing. I thought the name was familiar. How long have you been hacking games, young man?”

“Um.” Aran pulled out of Thomas’s grasp. It was too late to lie, not that he even wanted to. Something about the bard inspired the uncomfortable truth.

“Sit down.” Thomas went to one of the nearby low chairs draped in colorful fabric, and gestured for Aran to join him.

“Three years,” Aran said, warily taking a seat. He’d started learning how in juvie, and turned out to be surprisingly good at it. “How do you know about stuff like that? Games and hackers?”

“How do you think I came here?” Thomas said, a wry twist to his mouth. “The old ways of passage into the Realm of Faerie are gone—the standing stones toppled, the faerie rings and groves razed. The fey folk must find another way to access the mortal world.”

“But a computer game?” Aran shook his head. “That’s tweaked.”

Thomas sighed and leaned back. “What is a game but a doorway into another, temporary, reality? With the FullD system, human technology reached an almost magical place. A
between
place, where things are and are not at the same time. That is the province of the fey.”

“So somehow the faerie magic connected with Feyland?”

“If the game had not been based on ancient lore, perhaps it would not have.” An old pain shone in Thomas’s eyes.

“Wait.” Aran sat up straight, suspicion scraping the back of his neck. “What’s your full name?”

“Thomas Rimer.”

“Damn.” Aran jumped to his feet. “I don’t believe it.”

But he did, and things started to make all kinds of sense.

Thomas watched him with a weary gaze as Aran paced the leaf-green rug. Thomas—who was Thomas Rimer, the former lead developer for Feyland. Until he died.