Bard to the Bone Read online

  Another brigand with pockmarked skin smirked. “Not until you hand her over,” he said, gesturing at Krile.

  “No.”

  “That bitch is a rebel spy.” His voice soured like bad milk. “Unhand her at once.”

  “Watch your tongue,” Krile snapped. “I’m not a spy!”

  “You’re a fucking traitor,” he snarled. “And there’s gold for your head.”

  Krile bumped into my side and seized my bicep. “Save me!”

  Naomi gave her an irritated glance. “The idiot keeps forgetting who actually saved her.”

  I shook Krile, but it was like trying to dislodge a vice. Guilt stabbed my chest as she plucked my shirt and pleaded.

  “Should we fight them?”

  “I’m not in the mood.” Naomi faced the guards. “Look, I don’t have a stake in the war. Let me through.”

  “The girl comes with us, or we’ll have a problem.” They shifted their cloaks to reveal their weapons, and Naomi groaned as though she’d had a long morning.

  “Fine,” she sighed, extending the vowel. “I’ll give you twenty gold. Forget you saw us.”

  The guard considered it for a moment. “Done.”

  Naomi made the transaction and growled at Krile. “Your reward better be worth it, or I’ll drag you back here.”

  “Save me, James!” Krile whimpered under Naomi’s bemused glare. “Save me!”

  Krile hung on me the whole way to her neighborhood, a depressing farm with a few mud-soaked horses in a paddock. She squealed and kissed my cheek before tearing away from my arm. “Thank you!”

  I watched her walk away, distracted by popups.

  “Watch where you’re going,” Naomi snapped when I stumbled over a cobblestone pothole.

  Quest Completed: Save Krile

  The innocent peasant girl has been saved!

  Reward: 45 experience

  Level Up!

  “Will she be all right?”

  “Probably.” Naomi counted her coins, looking satisfied. “She’s an NPC. She’ll do whatever her scripted behavior is.”

  Naomi led me to the barges sitting on the bay, which glowed in the magnificent sunset. A soft cascade of reds and purples drifted into the distance. Time wasn’t easy to discern with a purple sky, but I assumed it was early evening. Fishermen paddled to shore with the day’s catch. The docks reeked of fish. I didn’t dare try anything that lived in slime.

  “I’ll pay for lodging here.” Naomi motioned toward a huge barge. Inn was carved into a driftwood sign. “It’s cheap and safe. I’ve stayed here before. Avoid the inn in the town square. Staying there gets you roped into a quest where bandits rob you. It’s a hassle.”

  “Okay.” I committed her advice to memory before it slipped away.

  There had to be a way out. I would find it.

  Fishermen poured drinks from massive casks, slopping foaming ale over their beards. One uttered something lewd at the barmaid, who was young but apparently used to the harassment. She picked up their coins and turned her back on the laughing fishermen.

  I sat apart from the crowd, on a bench that overlooked the water. Naomi slid onto the opposite side and paid the barmaid.

  “That’s for him.” She gestured at me.

  Naomi’s plunging neckline and her spilling breasts didn’t go unnoticed by the fishermen. Their bawdy jokes ceased as they went silent, regarding her with combined awe and fear. A few whistled quietly.

  I focused my attention on the locals.

  [unknown]

  Level 2 Fisherman

  HP: 21/21

  Traits: Drunkard, Diligent

  Relationship: [unknown]

  [unknown]

  Level 2 Barmaid

  HP: 17/17

  Traits: Calm

  Relationship: [unknown]

  [unknown]

  Level 5 Dockmaster

  HP: 34/34

  Traits: Proud, Gregarious, Veteran

  Relationship: [unknown]

  Most of the boxes told me nothing. Damn, these NPCs didn’t have much of a life. A simple AI routine must maintain them on a basic loop, performing the same actions every day. Watching them swap stories with friends was confusing. The simulation was so detailed, I kept forgetting none of it was real.

  “How can you tell the players apart from the NPCs?”

  Naomi glanced at the fishermen. “NPCs don’t react the same way we do. If you mention something that doesn’t make sense in this world, they’re programmed to ignore it. Ask your ditzy girlfriend for her phone, and she’ll giggle and return to whatever she was doing.”

  “Krile isn’t my girlfriend.” It felt important to explain myself. “I don’t understand why it said she was kind. She kicked my balls.”

  “That’s just a personality trait. She’s a program that’s designed to follow patterns. Traits determine how NPCs behave. You’ll discover a character’s qualities when you witness associated behaviors, or if you have a higher charisma than them.”

  “When I looked at your info, I saw everything except the secret one.”

  “Because I don’t want you to know it. For players, it’s different. We obtain traits based on our actions instead of them dictating our behavior. You’ll get them soon, so try to pick good ones.”

  Naomi crossed her legs, smiling faintly. She wore black leather boots. Her dress was knee-length, its lacy hem embroidered in an intricate pattern of arcane symbols. It opened at her navel, clinging to her hourglass figure. The fabric squeezed her huge breasts, which somehow stayed in place.

  “See something you like?” She grinned as I met her gaze. “You’re hardly the first guy I’ve caught looking. Worth it for a bonus to spell damage.”

  “Sorry.” I said as the barmaid gave us drinks. “I don’t mean to stare.”

  “You died.” She waved me off. “I’ll cut you some slack.”

  “They’re not the only impressive thing about you. I was blown away when you attacked that monster. Watching you blast it was amazing.”

  Naomi beamed. “Thanks.”

  I sipped the beer. Ugh. It was watery compared to the tutorial mead.

  “Why were you fighting the Swamp Shambler, anyway?” Naomi took a draught of her mug. “It was level eight.”

  “I kept calling it Snotzilla.” I sighed as Naomi snorted. “Those boglin things were about to sacrifice Krile. I was doing fine until it showed up.”

  “I apologize for interrupting your white knight moment.”

  “You think I should have left her to die?”

  “Considering you were only level 1, yes.” A cute blush pinked her cheeks. “You were in way over your head.”

  “She was screaming. I couldn’t abandon her—”

  Naomi laughed. “She’s just an NPC.”

  My face burned. “I felt bad for her, I guess.”

  “Feel bad for yourself. You’re stuck here.”

  I had hundreds of questions. “How long have you been trapped?”

  “A while.” She shrugged. “Probably half a year.”

  I gaped at her. “How is that possible?”

  “You’re not really here.” Naomi mulled over her response. “James lives outside. He’s watching Netflix, eating pizza, whatever.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “I’ve been here ages, and other players have been here longer. For all we know, there are thousands—perhaps millions of people unable to leave. If there was a mass death of gamers, it would’ve been broadcasted everywhere.”

  A scandal involving that many deaths would’ve been a major story on every network. The system would’ve been shut down. Cascadia Quest developers would’ve been sued into oblivion. It hadn’t happened, even though the game was released over six months ago. People weren’t dying, but clearly the Cascadia Quest tech was broken.

  No one knew we were stuck

  “The theory I agree with is that we’re digital copies of our former selves. A part of your mind connected to the game didn’t log off prope
rly, and somehow you became trapped here with me. Our real-life twins don’t know we’re here. They’re oblivious to our existence. We might share the same memories, but we’re not the same. We’re just ones and zeroes.”

  “There has to be a failsafe. Something that will help us get out of here.” I searched her eyes for a spark of hope, but she was cold and distant.

  “This is our reality now.”

  We sat in silence. I didn’t believe her. Escaping was my top priority. If she’d given up, that was fine.

  I wouldn’t.

  “Any other advice between friends?”

  “We’re not friends.” Naomi smirked. “You’re lucky.”

  “My charm is way too hard to resist.”

  “Nope, I was feeling charitable, so I saved your ass.” Naomi winked at me. “This is a world designed to be full of danger. You should avoid dying at all costs.”

  “Yeah, once was enough.”

  “You don’t understand. NPCs die and vanish, but we respawn forever. That’s how the game works. You give up half your experience and drop most of your inventory when you die. You can build it back up, but there’s an additional complication.”

  Naomi pulled a silk cloak from her bag. She draped it over her shoulders as the sun dipped below the horizon. “One or two deaths isn’t bad, but dying too often causes permanent memory loss.”

  I stare at her. “You’re shitting me.

  “No. Respawning resets our stats and our minds. It’s almost like the system is reprocessing us. We lose a bit of ourselves every time. I’ve met players who don’t know their names. People who have zero notion how long they’ve been here or that another world exists. Our humanity disappears, and we become more ingrained in the culture here.”

  “Holy shit. I already died once.” Panic pulsed in my neck. “I thought the confusion was fatigue or something.”

  Was I different? Had I forgotten a crucial part of my existence?

  What bothered me the most was that I wasn’t real. Even if I could leave, where would I go? James didn’t need me. At this very moment, he was drinking a craft beer at a meetup and swapping business cards. Real James was scoping out girls that he didn’t have to courage to engage in conversation.

  Fake James drank shitty beer and had slime in his butt crack. There was one silver lining—I was talking with a gorgeous woman.

  And I had a lute. I slung it off my shoulder and examined the wooden instrument.

  Simple Lute

  Level 1 Instrument

  Damage: 0-2

  Two-Handed, Accuracy +50%

  I was fucked.

  “So we can’t kill ourselves to end the suffering,” I said to break the silence.

  “Not a strategy I’d recommend.”

  A roar of laughter exploded from the table behind us. A fisherman must’ve been too handsy with a barmaid. She’d slapped him. A small 1 popped above him. He didn’t seem to mind the damage, but his cheeks flushed.

  Naomi stood. “You’ll figure it out.”

  “Great.”

  She headed toward the inn, tightening the robe around her waist. It left little to the imagination.

  “Come on,” she barked. “My generosity won’t last forever.”

  I followed her, abandoning the drink.

  The inn was cozy and dimly lit. A handful of people talked at the bar. Naomi waved to the innkeeper, who nodded. She eyed me with suspicion as I climbed the stairs. Naomi’s swaying hips mesmerized me. They were right in my face. No matter how hard I tried to be respectful, I couldn’t stop studying her curves.

  We entered a hallway. Naomi opened a door. “Tiny rooms, but we’ll make it work.”

  A frantic pulse beat in my neck. Were we sleeping in the same place?

  Naomi tossed her cloak over the feather mattress. I hung in the doorway, awestruck. The soft candlelight illuminated her body. Naomi untangled her hair and moved it over a shoulder. I watched the swell of her breasts rising and falling.

  Naomi stepped closer. Too close.

  Her intoxicating presence paralyzed me. She leaned in, her boobs squishing my chest. Everything inside me focused on maintaining eye contact. Her mouth parted. I closed my eyes.

  Kiss her. Just do it.

  I turned my head.

  “You think I’d forget what you looked like naked?” The warmth of her breath billowed over my lips. “Your room is across the hall.”

  Smirking, she shut the door.

  Five

  After I woke up, I took a bath, dressed, and found a note shoved under the door. It told me to meet Naomi downstairs for breakfast. She was waiting for me in the bar but wouldn’t stay for long. I grabbed a slice of toast, stifling a yawn.

  Naomi kept looking outside, tapping her foot anxiously.

  “How many times have you died?”

  “Never.” Naomi shrugged, as though it wasn’t a big deal. “I’m cautious. I’m a min-max player, and I don’t accept quests above my level.”

  “So you haven’t forgotten anything?”

  “Not a thing.” Naomi’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “I grew up in a small town in suburban Massachusetts. Then I went to Cambridge and worked as a backend systems developer. Before coming here, I had a boring tech job.”

  “I see.”

  “Anyway, I should go.” Naomi dusted the crumbs off her and stood. “I helped you get to Marshtown, but now you’re on your own.”

  “Thank you for everything.” Sadness pitted my stomach, but I couldn’t expect her to stick around for me. “Will I see you again?”

  Naomi gathered her things, smiling. “You never know.”

  “Bye, then.” I’d never been so miserable.

  She gave me a quick, one-armed hug. “Take care, James.”

  “You, too.”

  Naomi smiled. Then she kissed my cheek.

  I felt where her lips had touched me. It was like a hot brand against my skin. Her fingers brushed my trousers. Suddenly, a metallic jingle weighted my pants.

  “This is for you.”

  Heat spread across my face. “What is it?”

  “It’s the gold from Krile’s quest. Keep it.” She grinned at my astonishment. “You got the credit for saving her, so you might as well reap the reward.”

  Begging her to stick around was on the tip of my tongue. “Thanks.”

  Naomi blushed as she waved. Then she stepped into the lavender daylight. Maybe I’d see her again—I hoped I would.

  Brushing my loneliness aside, I reached into my pocket. An indicator appeared above my health.

  38 gold

  The money would cover two weeks of boarding before I ran out of cash, but I didn’t want to stay here.

  Where would I go?

  The Ancient Isle.

  I remembered where it was. Opening my map, I found the island where I’d spawned. I’d need a ship to travel across that ocean. Once there, I could access the helpdesk and get home. Escaping this world was my mission. If I could explain my situation to an admin, they’d help me. First I had to book travel there.

  I walked to the docks. Dockhands and fishermen overtook the benches as they repaired their nets. The ships were underwhelming. Many of them needed repairs. The few that were seaworthy had patched sails. I started with the largest ship. A dockhand coiling rope pointed out the captain of the vessel.

  He was a wiry man with a pronounced limp. He watched the unloading of his vessel and counted each parcel as they rolled down the ramp. A worn sailor’s jacket wrapped around him. It was several sizes too big.

  Captain Previa

  Level 5 Sailor

  HP: 24/24

  Traits: Diligent, Humble, Maimed

  Relationship: Cordial

  I hadn’t seen some of these traits before, so I examined the UI, and a description appeared.

  Humble

  Personality Trait

  Increases relationship with most characters.

  -20% Influence for Feudal characters.

  I fac
ed Captain Previa. “I’m looking for passage to the Ancient Isle.”

  “That’s halfway across the world. Ships from this harbor aren’t fit for a journey like that.”

  Shit. Desperation leaked into my voice. “Can’t you risk it?”

  Captain Previa laughed. “I’m not a superstitious man, but even I know the blessings of the Blue Goddess don’t extend to risk-taking fools. These boats are for fisherman and local traders, such as myself. Sorry lad, I can’t help you.”

  He returned to managing his goods. Captain Previa had the biggest ship in the docks. If the voyage to the tutorial island was too far, I doubted anyone else would be interested. The vessels here were more like rinky-dink cogs than proper ships. If Marshtown was a small port, there had to be bigger boats elsewhere in this region. Finding one could take weeks.

  Panic bubbled inside me. Would I last that long?

  I stamped on my feelings before they grew out of control. The game must have a safety protocol. Fail-safes. I would escape.

  In the meantime, I needed to become stronger. I couldn’t let a tribe of midgets get the upper hand ever again. This city was probably a good place to grab new gear. Improving my experience and earning cash were my next steps. The only way to progress in the game was to play it.

  Retracing my steps from yesterday, I doubled back to the town square. It was a ring of rickety buildings circling a cobblestone plaza. An old well marked the center. It was the driest spot in Marshtown, and therefore the busiest. Locals gathered to draw water, gossiping with neighbors while vendors shouted their wares. Green cabbages, blue mushrooms, and an assortment of dried fungi filled the stands.

  The square was dominated by a vast ship hoisted in the air. Its exterior was wrapped in scaffolding to support it. The forecastle was built up with a roof and a wobbly chimney. Instead of sails, there was laundry swaying in the breeze. The gun ports had been replaced with fogged-over windows, and the anchor was still attached. A rusted chain bound the building under a ship’s bow, looping through cracks in the frame. The chain integrated the anchor into the foundation, as though intended to keep the vessel in place. A painted sign of a corked bottle hung above the door.