Dagger of Doom: A LitRPG Adventure (Beta Tester Book 5) Read online

  Jack shook his head, and related what Mrs. Wellington had told him. His companions listened with varying degrees of interest. Arath’s seemed to evaporate entirely when he heard she was married. “Angry husbands aren’t worth the risk. Not unless she’s something special.”

  Migli waved his objection aside. “Discretion is the better part of valor, my friend.”

  “She’s not interested,” Jack reminded them. “She made that quite clear.”

  “In you, my lad. But you are no Migli.”

  “Leave the poor woman alone,” Ceinwen sighed. “She gave us the information we needed. Let’s not repay her with ill for doing us a good turn.”

  The dwarf laughed, though. “As you say, she did us a good turn. It’s only right to return the favor.” He tapped his chest. “And I’m happy to do my part for the team.”

  Chapter Four

  Migli’s services were not required. The party watched, and laughed, as he struck out with Mrs. Wellington.

  But that didn’t stop him from trying his luck with others. He talked up the barmaid, who giggled a little but told him she didn’t get out of work until midnight. He spent a few minutes scoping out other patrons until he returned, dejected, to his seat. “This place is a nightmare. There’s hardly a pretty girl to be seen anywhere.”

  “One of the great tragedies of our era. Aside from the impending demon apocalypse, anyway.”

  The dwarf seemed to miss his sarcasm, though, because he nodded. “Well, I suppose we’re going to be on the road soon?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So I won’t be here at midnight.”

  “Nope.”

  “I figured as much.” He sighed, lifted his second tankard, and set it down disappointedly. “Empty. Well, I suppose we’ll have time for a second round at least.”

  This was less a question than a statement, because Migli was already on his feet and heading to the bar again. Jack didn’t argue. He felt full after his greasy lunch, and a little sleepy. Something about the warm, smokey atmosphere put him in mind for a nap – and, weirdly, an asthma attack, at the same time.

  So he sipped at his ale while Migli put in his order. Arath decided he’d better grab another round too. “While the getting’s good.”

  Er’c, who had ordered a pot of tea and shared it with Ceinwen, declared he would like another. “My treat this time,” the elf woman said.

  Arath, though, raised his hand. “Let me.”

  The uncharacteristic generosity surprised Jack. But, then again, the ranger already had two beers in his belly. Maybe this was an unexpected positive to his drinking.

  “Anything for you, tall boy?”

  This, apparently, was meant for Karag. The giant raised an eyebrow. “I’ll pass.”

  “You sure? We might not find another tavern before the world ends.”

  Karag considered for a moment, then nodded. “You make a good point. Alright, I’ll have whiskey. A bottle of it.”

  “Whiskey?” Arath laughed. “You’re not playing around, are you?”

  Karag ignored the question and reached for his coin purse. “But I do not expect you to pay.”

  Again, Arath raised his hand. “Put your purse away, dammit. A bottle of whiskey it is. You need anything, Jack?”

  “Me? No, I’m good. Thanks.” In truth, he felt a little bad for having been so stingy earlier, when he’d pinched and counted his pennies after losing the bet.

  “Oh bollocks. You’re not going to sit there all sober and sad, Jack my lad. Another ale it is.”

  Jack protested that he didn’t really want another. And Arath pshawed and waved his objections away before ambling over to the bar.

  He’d just gone when Migli returned, both hands full again. “This stuff gets better the more you drink of it, you know. Tastes a little less like cat vomit with each sip.”

  “A sterling recommendation,” Ceinwen laughed.

  The dwarf laughed too. “It’s no dwarven ale, and that’s a fact. But it does its job anyway.”

  “What does dwarven ale taste like?” Er’c asked.

  “The nectar of the gods, my lad. The sweetest brew you’ve ever tasted; honey from the heavens, manna from above.”

  “Well,” Ceinwen said, “we are not so far from dwarven lands, are we? Perhaps after we send Kalbidor to his grave, you can show us the way, Migli, and we can try this nectar of the gods.”

  The dwarf, though, gazed sadly at his mug and said only, “I shouldn’t count on that.”

  “Are strangers not allowed to visit, then?”

  Migli glanced at the orc boy and laughed, a low, hollow laugh. “I suppose that depends on what you mean by strangers.”

  “You’re some kind of prince, aren’t you?” Karag asked.

  The dwarf nodded. “Yes. My father is King Delling.”

  He might have said more, had not Arath returned with a tray overburdened in drinks and food. “I figured we might like some lizard wings to go with our drinks. And they had raptor sausage rolls. It’s been a lifetime since I’ve had one of those. Dig in, my friends. There’s plenty for everyone.”

  They did – and so did Jack, whose feeling of fullness could not compete with the smell of salty, fried meat of suspect origin. The wings were delicious – the best he’d ever had. He just didn’t think too much about the fact that Arath had called them lizard wings. Likewise, the raptor sausage sounded horrible. But as long as he ignored the ingredients, the golden-brown, pastry wrapping and appetizing smell made his stomach rumble expectantly.

  So Jack ate his fill, and drank down his second ale, and generally felt quite good about life. His companions similarly indulged themselves. Karag drained his bottle of whiskey, and Migli sang about fair maidens and dwarven halls and dragon treasure. After a while, the giant joined in the singing. His songs tended to be darker than the dwarf’s, dealing with death and daggers in dark alleys rather than love and treasure. Still, Jack was glad to see them getting along.

  And they weren’t the only ones. Er’c and Ceinwen drank their tea and spoke in quiet conversations about where they’d go and what they’d do once their adventure was over, and Kalbidor and Iaxiabor had been defeated.

  Arath daydreamed about rewards, and how he’d spend his share. “I might take a bride.”

  “You’d need to find a woman crazy enough to take you,” the giant said.

  But the ranger didn’t see this as an impediment. “I’ll be a hero. We’ll all be heroes. We’ll have women lining up at our doors.” He grinned to himself at the idea while his companions shook their heads. Then, he decided, “I may take more than one wife.”

  “That’s illegal.”

  “Only if you get caught. But there’s seven kingdoms. I could have a wife in each one.”

  Karag shook his head at the other man. “It’ll be a miracle if you can find one that out of her senses, never mind seven.”

  They went on like this for a while, eating and drinking and laughing together – until they’d eaten everything, and drank the last of their ales. Then, Jack decided that they’d better be on their way. “The day is yet young. We can get a good head start on our journey.”

  Jack left a good tip. He figured he’d better, with all the mugs and plates they’d left behind. Which, in combination with Mrs. Wellington’s supper, left him just shy of 1100 gold. He decided he’d have to keep an eye out for opportunities to turn those numbers around again. Nothing that would take too long, of course. But he didn’t want to wind up short of gold. Not this close to the final boss fight.

  Still, he left the Red Fox Inn and Tavern feeling reasonably optimistic. He’d accomplished what he’d come here to do. The fact that the game hadn’t yet marked his objectives complete did confuse him a little. But he supposed they would probably run into more people along the way, who would further direct their steps. After all, right now they just had a vague direction: southwest. They would need more than that to find Kalbidor and the mayor.

  But in the meantime,
southwest would be enough. Not least of all as there was a track leading out of Fox’s Crossing in that direction – a rough track, in humbler shape than the cobblestone road. It seemed to be equal parts suspicious mud and potholes.

  He had sold off his excess goods and baubles and stocked up on supplies right before he landed in the plains realm, so he didn’t scope out any shops or otherwise delay. Instead, he followed the track out of town. The buildings got sparser and more spread out as they went, and soon gardens and then fields sprang up between them. Eventually, the homes were few and far between, and the city looked like a distant cluster of shapes on the far horizon.

  The road, somehow, just got worse. So Jack walked alongside it, through grass and over rich green tussocks. The road notwithstanding, the country here was beautiful. Vibrant grasses and colorful flowers lined the way. Here and there, he found herbs that could be harvested for his potions. Jack didn’t go out of his way to find them. His mission was too pressing for that. But neither did he bypass ingredients that popped up in front of him. Not with the final boss fight so close.

  That thought gladdened his heart and gave a quick and lively step to his walk. His companions seemed similarly well-disposed toward the day. Migli had taken up singing again, about halls of dwarven stone darker than day and lined with treasure that would make a dragon envious.

  Karag sang too, although again his tales proved bloodier than the dwarf’s. They were all songs of murder and treachery, of betrayal and death, of poison in glasses and knives in ribcages. It put something of a shiver up Jack’s back.

  Then again, the business of assassination wasn’t exactly lighthearted. So he couldn’t expect much in that way from songs about it.

  Still, it struck Jack after a few ditties that the contrast was really quite remarkable. On his right, Karag was telling of some cheating merchant’s bitter end.

  Crimson ran the blade

  Stillness filled the glade

  A deadly serenade

  And on his left, Migli fantasized about a maiden as fair as she was overburdened with gold.

  Buxom was she, plump and pretty, and richer than a lord

  Suitors came from east and west, and far off Nord

  Great men she turned away, tall elven princes by the score

  Her heart yearned for less, and so much more

  Then Karag’s voice would cut in.

  For his life loud and long he pled,

  But for his trouble he only bled

  On that winter morn the snow turned red

  Another contract filled, another dead.

  While Migli went on,

  Only a dwarf’s love could tame her wild heart

  That shapely maid, with her dowry so fair

  The pair went on singing until Arath threatened to knife them both if they didn’t shut up. That put an end to their vocalizing – but started a quarrel between the giant and the ranger, with each egging the other on to be man enough to back up their words with action.

  Er’c advised Arath not to push his luck. “Have you not heard the songs he’s been singing all afternoon?”

  “Aye, I heard alright. But that’s all he is: talk, and no action.”

  “I’ll be happy to add another verse for you – the coward dying in the dust.”

  Which spawned a second round of threats and insults. Jack was about ready to knock their heads together when Ceinwen pointed to a little grove of trees. “There: we should make camp there. We’ll be harder to spot from the road.”

  Chapter Five

  They ate sparingly as they were still full from their meals and snacking at the Red Fox. Nor did anyone bother with a fire. The temperatures were quite pleasant, and no one wanted to risk drawing unwelcome eyes. Even if they were a few days away from Kalbidor, they didn’t know if he had minions out on patrol. Nor had Karag forgotten about William the Wanderer.

  “That’s a man who knows the feel of a throat cutting. Mark my words on that.”

  Here, at last, Arath found a point of agreement with the giant. “I’d bet my right eye on it.”

  Despite their concerns, his companions fell asleep easily. This proved a pleasant reprieve from the squabbling of the day, and Jack took full advantage of the quiet to sleep too.

  His rest lately had been fitful, coming in spurts here and there and not lasting nearly long enough. Tonight followed the same pattern. He woke three times before sunrise, and getting to sleep proved successively more difficult each time. In the end, he spent the last hours of the night laying wide awake and watching the sky get lighter and lighter.

  One by one, his companions woke and stretched. Migli said he wished he had another ale to drive the sleep away. Ceinwen declared she could use another pot of tea. And Arath just yawned, scratched and readjusted himself before declaring, “I’ll be back. Nature calls.”

  Now that the sun had risen, Er’c lit a fire and set to work preparing breakfast. Arath came back a few minutes later, still scratching and readjusting himself. Jack vaguely wondered when the last time might be that the other man had bathed. If he had to guess based on his general appearance and odor, it hadn’t been a recent happening.

  Er’c had just dropped bacon into the pan, while Migli muttered about the sun being too bright, Ceinwen and Karag worked at paring apples, and Arath readjusted his trousers for the fifth time in a row. Then, the game froze.

  Migli’s expression morphed from half-hungover annoyance to a big, broad smile, “Jack!”

  Jack smiled too. He knew exactly who had taken over the Migli interface. “Jordan.”

  “Sorry I had to bug out like that yesterday. But the studio has been really pushing back on overtime, and I didn’t dare hang around. Roberts was about to have security escort me out anyway.” She laughed, and even though it was with Migli’s voice, Jack felt his heart lighten too – something that rarely happened at the sound of the dwarf’s voice.

  “No problem. You didn’t miss much.”

  “Really? I thought the testing went well?”

  “Well?” Jack laughed, until he realized that she was serious. “Jordan, it was a disaster. The guy’s a psychopath.”

  She frowned in concern. “Wait, what? Roberts told me you passed all your tests.”

  He snorted. “Did he tell you what those tests were?”

  “Well…no. I mean…he said something about impact testing and prehensile appendages…but I didn’t really follow.”

  “‘Standard primatial prehensile appendages,’” Jack quoted. “Hands. His test was slapping me and asking if I felt it.”

  Jordan gaped. “Oh my God. You’re kidding?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. And apparently he’s got some kind of taser like thing, too.”

  “Oh my God,” she said again. “No way.”

  “It hurt like a mother trucker.”

  “That lunatic. Oh my God. I need to tell Avery. That’s crazy, Jack. He can’t get away with doing that to you.”

  Avery Callaghan was the CEO of Marshfield Studio – and nothing Jack had seen from the man convinced him that there would be anything to be gained from bringing him into this. Which he told Jordan. “The guy practically threatened you if you checked in on me, unless I specifically pinged you. He’s not going to help, Jordan. Heck, he hired Roberts. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “No, Jack. He’s – well, an arse sometimes, I know. But tasing you? He’d flip if he found out about that.”

  He shook his head. “You’re forgetting, this isn’t the first time this has happened.”

  That gave her pause. “William.”

  He nodded. William Xi was a tester who had disappeared into a virtual world years earlier, during one of the first tests of the system. His body was on ice in a medical facility at an unspecified location somewhere, and his consciousness had been trapped in the Marshfield Studio servers ever since. That had happened under Avery’s supervision. And he and Roberts had just covered it up, paid William’s family off, and went on with business as usual.<
br />
  No, Avery Callaghan wasn’t going to do a damned thing to help Jack. And all reporting Roberts’s questionable medical practices would do was bring unwanted scrutiny Jordan’s way. Jack didn’t want that. He didn’t want to risk losing Jordan. She was his best lifeline to sanity. Richard the intern was too scared to do much of anything to help him. Jordan, though, had looked after him ever since he’d got stuck in the game. She’d helped him get around bugs, get through rough patches, and stay sane while he did it.

  He couldn’t lose Jordan. “Please, Jordan, don’t say anything. I don’t want Avery getting pissed off and reassigning you – or worse, firing you.”

  “That’s the least of our worries here, Jack.”

  “It’s not.” He shrugged and tried to laugh nonchalantly. “I mean, I’m going to go nuts if I’m stuck with Richard for the rest of this game.” He grew a little more serious. “And if Avery thinks you’re a liability – he will get rid of you.”

  She nodded slowly and sighed. “You’re right. I know you’re right. Still – it’s such hogwash.”

  He smiled at that. “Hogwash, eh?”

  “Not what I was trying to say.”

  “I guessed.”

  She smiled too and shook her head. “I can’t believe this. So, did he find anything useful?”

  “Kind of. The tests did prove that I still can feel my real body.”

  Her – Migli’s – expression lightened at that. “Oh. Well, that’s good.”

  “Yes. He’s trying to figure out how to – well, do anything with that. Right now, all he knows is that I’m not completely done for.”

  She reached out a hand and squeezed his. “It’s good news. I know it’s not great, but it is still good news.”

  “I know. And for right now, well, the plan is the same as it’s always been: finish the game.”

  She glanced around now, her eyes settling on the glade and then the wide open, green plains. “You’re in plains country?”

  Jack nodded. “About to find Kalbidor. And then it’s the final boss fight, and…” He shrugged. “I should be out.” She didn’t agree this time, which gave him pause. “Right?”