Chapter 2

The virt wasn't big on warnings, and I found myself standing in a dark, dank place. I blinked, smiling as I remembered the incredible eyelashes I now had, and quickly adjusted to the lack of light. Behind me, there was a huge, ornate archway of white and silver metal, with fist sized gemstones embedded in the metalwork. The gems seemed to wink at me, the lights inside them pulsing. The arch touched the wall, and looked to lead absolutely nowhere. I stepped closer, and noticed writing on the metal. Most of it was indecipherable, but a section of flowing letters translated. Elvish, presumably, and it told me that this was a worldgate, a means of traveling between the different virtual worlds. I was pretty sure you could only move from one fantasy world to another, seeing as I really wouldn't fit in a historical or scifi virt. For me, the way was blocked. After an hour of trying to walk through, press any hidden buttons or trigger anything, I gave up, and went the other way. I was in some sort of cave, a man-made excavation rather, and the air was very dry. Before taking more than a few steps, I tried to leave my bow on the ground and call it to me. It worked perfectly.

It was a short walk, and I soon reach an oval of brilliance. I stepped outside, and blinked in the brightness of the light. I looked behind me, and started in surprise. There was nothing there, and it was solid stone to the touch, a boulder in a hillside. Information about the location of worldgates was bound to be a high price commodity, and I wasn't getting this bonus, that much was clear.

The view from that elevation, near the top of the hill, was impressive. The dipping hills were either stark or green, and I could see specks in the sky, birds or monstrous flying creatures. I'd have to look up every now and then, if I wanted to keep my head. To my right, mountains rose to challenge the clouds, their peaks gleaming with ice, excepting only one, whose peak seemed to glow reddish. Some sort of volcano? To my left, the hills grew smaller, but hid whatever lay beyond. Ahead, the hills were more tree-clad, stretching into the horizon. Picking a direction was a simple matter. There were more people to be found in terrain that was not as harsh, even if elves of my sort, or most sorts, lived in forests. Left it was.

I had a few spells that would speed travel up considerably, but chose to walk. I wasn't sure that the teeming masses of a city, or even a small town, were safe for me. There was, after all, the matter of a large bounty on my head. Best meet individuals or small parties, at first. I picked a direction, and started walking. I'd only taken a dozen steps, when they walked out from behind a scraggly tree.

Or rather, one of them walked. The other, a tiny winged woman, the height of the length of my joined hands, perfectly beautiful in an inhuman way, flew. A pair of glittering butterfly wings stuck out from her back, the same blazing violet hue of her hair, and her skin was lavender. Her eyes were molten gold, her ears pointed like mine, her doll's clothing consisting of an extremely brief skirt and halter of loud purple. She held a teeny-tiny length of some dark wood in her left hand. Her companion was not quite as strange. A head or more shorter than myself, he was broad and squat, human-seeming, chunky and powerful looking. Thickly bearded and luxuriantly haired, a coiled mass of bright red, he was heavily armored in scuffed metal breastplate, greaves, pauldrons, and lots of other metal. He carried a shield embossed with the image of an upright, winged hammer, and a heavy, nasty looking battleaxe. The dwarf, if that was what he was, carried marks of scores of battles on his armor and battered shield.

I had Velunthil drawn and ready, an arrow in place, before I even thought about it.

"Woohoo!" The dwarf's deep voice rumbled, "An elf babe. I've got all the luck. Hello there, sweet cheeks!"

The fairy, or sprite, or whatever she was, flitted around him in a blur and piped, in a cutesy, syrupy sweet voice, "Well met, lady fair! I'm Melisande, a pixie sorceress, and the lech is Baldin the not yet balding. He's a priest of the dwarven god of war. We're here to help!"

"Help?" I stared, astonished.

"Ye're a fugitive, elfgirl, right? Well, you see, a bunch of us figured, a long time ago, that throwing newbies out to the sharks just wasn't right or proper. Wasn't properly smart, either. Especially gorgeous, mouthwatering pieces like you, sweetie," Baldin announced unhelpfully.

"You see," Melisande explained, "one of the sysops, a big softie, left a hint. The quests the fugitives get are very significant. They're part of the bigger picture, and they're very, very rewarding. Much more than just carting you off in chains or bringing your head in would be. So just as there are lots of drooling morons who're looking for easy money, we're gathered in a guild dedicated to helping fugitives. Our wizards and seers developed specific divination rituals designed to locate emergences. Many hunters tried the same, but the gods blocked them. They've been trying to steal ours, or follow us to the target, for the last thousand or so years. Not very successfully," she crowed.

"Could you explain what 'guild' means, exactly?"

"They're an association of players and natives, sometimes local, sometimes bigger, dedicated to a purpose. You can belong to many guilds, as long as their aims don't conflict. The association is not just social. You have dues and obligations, but you receive help, bonuses, special things. The social part is very important, though. You're an elven archer?" Melisande looked me over. "Oh, a priestess. You're automatically registered with a guild, your temple. You know, you're radiating a very powerful aura of magic. Just what did they give you?" she looked avidly curious, flitting closer.

"Natives? And why should I trust you, on your word alone? And you're radiating quite a bit yourself," I commented with a raised brow.

"Natives are the nonhostile, nonplayer critters, those who don't automatically want to put you to roast on a slow fire and filet that delightful flesh away, my lovely," Baldin replied, "and you don't got no choice. Actually, you do. Cast a truth spell, silly. Ain't you a priestess?"

I opened my mouth, and closed it sheepishly. Lowering my readied bow and putting the arrow away, I kept a close watch on them and cast a truth spell. It wouldn't make for perfect assurance, as there were magics to mislead or get around it, but it was better than nothing.

"Everything we told you was true," they said in unison. Truth.

"Can you tell me more about the world, and how things are done here? From the briefing I received, I have a confused impression of rampant chaos."

"Well, it ain't quite as bad as that," Baldin humphed, "But confused is a good way to put it. Things change very quickly, as heroes come and go, dark overlords gain power and are overthrown. Just reading the histories would take you a decade. I know little more than you, on that subject. Signed on again today for three, and it's been half a year now."

"Pooh!" Melisande pulled at his beard and flitted away, avoiding his swat with practiced ease. "It's true that kingdoms, baronies and duchies come and go, but the general shape of things rarely changes. Five hundred years ago, a great landwyrm erupted from the black pit at Lavanthross, and changed the lay of the land until the golden angel killed it. Three hundred years ago..."

"The golden angel?" I interrupted.

"There aren't quite as many powerful folk as you might imagine, pretty," Baldin rumbled with laughter, "boldness and smarts and luck will only carry anyone so far. There are perhaps fifty or a hundred of the great ones, no more than two hundred. Worldwalkers, they're called, beings so powerful that they've found means to transcend mortality, powerful enough to face elder dragons and live to talk about it. He's one of them, a favorite hero. If he ever makes it to demigod status, he'll have quite a few worshippers. Not that he's more than a wart on the arse of the axe twins, whose footsteps shake mountains, whose axes can cleave..."

"Oh please!" Melisande wailed, "Not that, anything but that! Don't get him started on paeans of praise to the paragons of dwarvenkind, to whom he'd gladly kneel and part buttocks," she bent in half, laughing hysterically and flying erratically around us.

Baldin's browned skin flushed red, hand clenching white on the haft of his axe, but to my surprise, he took no action. Melisande was the deadlier of the pair, I quickly surmised, however childish she chose to act. But then again, I smiled crookedly, she wouldn't have picked pixie if she hadn't enjoyed that sort of thing.

"Is she inclined to practical jokes?" I asked the dwarf.

"Oh, is she ever," he sighed, his entire posture radiating despair. "Fortunately, she prefers to practice on foes, and there are mostly enough of them to keep her occupied. Mostly," he grimaced. "Still, for a pixie, she's very reliable. Generally, they're not."

"If it's not rude to ask, how powerful a priest are you?" I could see from his aura that he was a bit stronger than myself, but I wanted to see what he was willing to disclose.

"Actually, that is pretty rude, but anything for you, sweetcheeks. I'm one of the best. Not quite up to opening a gate, magic wise, but I can scorch a mountainside with a firestorm, and heal just about anything. I can also take most anyone with Yorktar, here," he patted his axe. "You'll find that most advanced players can cast some sort of spells, and have at least a couple of battle skills at a min. Bow and spell for you, right?"

"Naturally," I nodded. "So what else can you tell me?"

Melisande, recovered by now, began to spout information, so much that I was hard pressed to absorb the datastream.

"So this portion of the Helverstone hills is claimed by the duke of Helver, the Gritaur mining consortium, the League of Marrak adventurer's guild, the dwarves of clan Fennart, and the archwizard Malator? And it's home to giants, orcs, trolls, crossbred creatures that escaped the Halls of Riven Flesh when a silver dragon attacked those wizards and artificers, fomori, and... who knows what?" I tested my understanding.

"That's about right," Melisande replied after a moment's thought. "Oh, you should know that most players who survive long enough have a patron among the great ones. Mine is the silver sorceress. An elf, she looks like you. Well," she looked me over carefully, "she has silver hair, and silver wings, and lots of sparkly magic. Otherwise, you could be sisters."

"Really? How odd."

"Really. Here, I'll show you," Melisande gestured and chanted briefly, and she was suddenly there. My mouth sagged open. I resembled that? She was perfect of form and feature, elfin beauty arrayed in sparkling silver cloth with floating gems circling her, her skin glowing white, hair and eyes glittering a lambent silver. Her wings were solid feathered silver, and their edges looked wicked sharp. Talisman upon fetish, many small pieces of jewelry and strange materials hung all about her person, enough items of magic to outfit a company. I could not absorb them all before the vision faded. I noticed of a sudden that I had remarkably few illusions within my repertoire of spells.

"Now, commerce takes place in the markets and taverns," the dwarf interjected. "The selection is appropriate to the size of the place — you won't find much in a hamlet, and the selection at Helverton town is limited. Elf girls are a rare treat around here, you could make a lot of money in a few days. I can tell, you're a tight one," he leered at me.

I just stared at him, eyes open wide, dumbstruck. I was so astonished at such open talk, I didn't even blush.

"Transportation, now that's a crazy one. There are networks of teleporters and gates, mirror portals and runic markers, all created by guilds, kingdoms, and who knows what. The keys and passes to such things are worth a lot, but many are trapped or malfunctioning. Some people tame a wyvern, a drake, a pegasus or a young dragon, and fly about. You can actually buy such things. There are even flying machines, rafts and ships. The city in the storm, about a thousand leagues thataway," he pointed casually, "has some big beasty they tamed and breed to carry things up to them. There are a few flying castles and towers around, and some people and things live on solid clouds. Most folk use shank's mare, horses, wagons and such. Oh, there are weird steeds aplenty, of course. I'll never forget the sight of that crazy sorcerer, riding a giant slug into Haptown," Baldin shook his head in wonder. "'Course, we great priests have our own means of transport. And Melly can teleport us around, too."

"Now, lady, we've been very polite, and you haven't even shared your name," Melisande scolded me, shaking a tiny finger at my nose, before moving where I could see her without having to cross my eyes.