Trinket

  Trinket

  A FEYLAND Tale

  ANTHEA SHARP

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real events or persons is purely coincidental.

  Copyright 2013 Anthea Sharp. All rights reserved. Visit the author at www.antheasharp.com and sign up for her mailing list, Sharp Tales, at https://tinyletter.com/AntheaSharp for news of upcoming releases!

  Cover art figure by Atelier Sommerland, licensed via Fotolia

  QUALITY CONTROL: If you encounter typos or formatting problems, please contact [email protected] so they may be corrected.

  TRINKET: A FEYLAND TALE

  High-tech gaming and ancient magic collide when a computer game opens a gateway to the treacherous Realm of Faerie.

  Violet Yamaguchi can’t wait to play the immersive new computer game, Feyland—but she doesn’t suspect that the game wants something in return…

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TRINKET

  OTHER WORKS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  TRINKET

  Violet Yamaguchi leaned against the doorjamb of the family’s computer room and tried to catch her breath. Her side ached from running all the way home from the bus stop.

  The pain was worth it, though. As scheduled, the brand new FullD gaming system had been delivered. Sim chair, processor, helmet, and gloves, all hooked up and ready to go. The equipment sat gleaming in the center of the room, making their beige carpet and walls look grimy, their brown couch unspeakably worn. Even their flatscreen setup seemed like ancient tech in comparison.

  The helmet reflected the room’s overhead lighting in a perfect silver arc, and the gloves were studded with gemlike LEDs—rubies, sapphires, emeralds—waiting to spark into fire. Violet drew in a lungful of air scented with fresh metal and plastic.

  It was the smell of promise and adventure. Of escape. Away from the drudgery of homework, away from her big brother Jay’s shadow, away from the tension that chilled the house every time Mom sat down to pay bills.

  Violet had scraped together her odd-jobbing money and pooled it with her brother’s savings. That, plus the guilt money they’d pried out of dad (thanks to the new girlfriend), had been enough to buy the innovative FullD system. And it was beautiful.

  Heart still thumping, Violet slung off her backpack and walked over to the curve of the sim chair. She ran her hand over the pristine synth-leather, smooth under her palm.

  Two hours until Jay got home from soccer practice. Two hours to sink into gaming, to leave her gray-tinted life behind and explore the brand new world everyone was raving about.

  She pushed her hair out of her face, her fingers brushing one of the dangly silver earrings Obaasan, her grandmother, had given her. They formed the kanji character for luck. Violet felt beyond lucky as she settled into the chair and powered up the system.

  The gloves were comfortable, and incredibly responsive. The helmet fit perfectly, like it was custom made just for her. She pulled down the visor and gave the glove command to enter game.

  WELCOME TO FEYLAND

  The words unfurled across the visor, a rich gold deepening to crimson. Flames flickered along the sides, and the letters faded to gray as though they had burned to ash. Mysterious music chimed through the speakers, and the words whirled into a flurry of leaves the color of smoke. Behind them… Violet blinked. Was that a pair of eyes, gleaming from the shadows?

  The title sequence cleared to show a character-creation interface. Shaking the chill from her shoulders, she studied her options. Feyland was a fantasy-based game, and the character choices reflected that. Spellcasters and healers, warriors and rogues; standard fare. What set the game apart was the new full-simulation technology. Plus some storyline involving evil fairies, which sounded intriguing.

  She scrolled past the boring-looking magic users. That was her brother’s style, to stand back and inflict damage from a distance, but she preferred to get up close and messy.

  The game offered four heavily-armored combat classes: Knight, Mercenary, Centurion, and Samurai. Her dad would approve of her choosing Samurai to honor her Japanese heritage—so that one was completely out. Centurions seemed too limited in their attack styles, and Mercenaries didn’t use shields. Which left her the Knight.

  A sense of rightness warmed her belly as she read.

  KNIGHT: Skilled at feats of arms, noble, courageous, and true, the Knight can best almost any enemy in battle. Only magic can bring this hero to their knees - but even then, the Knight’s sword may prove of greater power.

  Below the description stood a basic character, ready to be modified to her specifications. She played with the options, adding detail to the avatar. Her Knight would be female, of course, tall and strong. But not too built—quickness could usually beat strength, if there was room to move. Long dark hair, braided back, and the eyes she’d always wanted—a piercing, icy blue. With a flick of her finger, she put the final touches on her new self.

  The character bounced slightly up and down, and Violet smiled. Now for a name—nothing too girly. She liked using variations of her own name when she gamed.

  She double-clicked her thumb and index finger, the universal glove command to bring up the keyboard. V-I-E, she typed. Vie. Good enough. She closed the interface and studied her avatar. Yes, her Knight looked good, all tough and decked out in shiny silver armor. A sword hung at her side, and she had a grim-looking shield strapped to her back, plus a quiver of arrows and a long, sleek bow.

  Character complete. Enter game?

  She pulled in a breath, then tipped her thumb up. Yes.

  A fanfare of trumpets blared as her vision went golden. The pit of her stomach roiled with an odd, queasy sensation. Maybe she should have grabbed a glass of water when she got home, instead of dashing right to the computer room.

  Then all discomfort was forgotten as her character arrived in Feyland.

  She stood in a clearing surrounded by white-barked trees. The sky was bright blue overhead, the grass a vivid green. Wind moved across the trees, the leaves riffling silver. A bird swooped past, singing, and she could almost feel the warm air against her face.

  Violet turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. There was nothing like seeing a new world for the first time. The emerald grass beneath her feet was starred with blue flowers, and she was encircled by bright red mushrooms dotted with white; a faerie ring. On the far side of the clearing, a fern-lined pathway led between the pillar-like trunks of the pale trees. Shafts of sunlight slanted through, giving the forest a dreamy, peaceful look.

  This was the best simulation she’d ever experienced, no question.

  But she’d played enough games to know that appearances were deceiving—especially beautifully quiet scenes. Before she headed out, she needed to figure out how to use her sword.

  Hard on the heels of that thought, her character drew the blade and settled into a combat stance, shield strapped to her right arm. Violet blinked in surprise. Not only had that been effortless, the game had picked up her physical cues and put the sword in her dominant left hand.

  Impressive.

  She made a few experimental swipes, the blade swishing through the air. It was scary how easily she controlled her character. The boundary between herself and her avatar felt gossamer thin. She was the Knight, ready to embark on a journey through an enchanted landscape.

  Grinning, Violet sheathed her sword. So far, Feyland was everything she’d hoped. She jumped over the mushroom boundary and headed down the path. Soft moss cushioned her footsteps, and the quiet between the trees was broken by the liquid trilling of some unseen bird.

  And a high, muffled laugh.

  She spun around, hand on the pommel of her sword. “Who�
�s there?”

  No answer—but the branches above her head rustled, and she glimpsed a ball of shimmering light. She glanced up, then dodged to the side as a dozen acorns dropped. Most of them missed, but one or two pinged against her armor.

  More laughter, and not just one voice—the mirth was in chiming harmony. Violet stepped back, and this time saw several balls of silver light hovering among the branches. She squinted. Inside each ball, surrounded by the shimmery glow, was a tiny, winged figure.

  They didn’t seem dangerous, unless they landed an acorn in her eye. Keeping a wary watch overhead, Violet continued along the path. No more nut missiles dropped from the foliage, but she could hear the high-pitched laughter above her in the rustling branches as she strode through the woods.

  The pale trunks began thinning out, showing glimpses of rolling green hills beyond. When the forest ended, she stepped out of the trees to find a cottage right in front of her, complete with thatched roof and diamond-paned windows. Very fairytale.

  A small, goblin-like creature squatted on the doorstep. It had skin like old leather, long ears, and a nose that curved sharply downward, almost meeting an equally pointed chin. It watched her approach with dark, unblinking eyes, but didn’t seem about to attack.

  If this was like other fantasy games she’d played, the creature would give her a quest to complete, or direct her which way to go. The fact that there was nothing hovering over the goblin’s head made it hard to tell what to do; no icon telling her what the creature’s function was, or if it were friend or foe. On the other hand, the lack of big graphic cues sure contributed to the immersive experience.

  One hand resting lightly on her sword, she stopped a few feet from the steps.

  “Hello,” she said to the creature.

  It blinked once, then spoke in a high, creaky voice. “Greetings, adventurer, and welcome to the Realm. I am the goblin called Hob.”

  “I’m—”

  “Vie the Brave,” the goblin interrupted. “When you set foot in this world, your presence was noted.”

  There was an uncanny ring to his words she didn’t like. On the up side, though, it looked like she’d already gained an in-game title. Vie the Brave. She liked the sound of it.

  “Do you seek a quest?” Hob asked.

  “I do.”

  The goblin smiled, showing sharply-pointed teeth. “Heed what I now say. Follow the path beyond yonder hill, to a field of trefoil herbs. One among them has four leaves. Pluck that one only, and no other. Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  She shifted, a chill shadow touching her as a cloud passed in front of the sun. It was crazy how much sensory stimulation this game provided. No wonder people were calling Feyland the best game of the century.

  “Go now, and return to me with the herb,” Hob said, a gleam in his dark eyes. “And ‘ware the Pixies.”

  Violet turned away from the cottage and continued on the path. She glanced over her shoulder once, to see Hob still sitting on the front step, knobby knees crossed, his dark eyes fixed on her. She was glad when the path curved between two hillocks, removing her from the goblin’s sight. Creepy little creature, and hard to tell if he was good or bad.

  One thing she knew. Her quest might seem easy, but it would be dangerous—she hadn’t needed Hob to tell her to beware. The game wouldn’t have given her weapons if she wasn’t going to need them.

  The path descended into a small valley carpeted with clover, and Violet laughed softly. Trefoil herbs—clover. And she was supposed to find a four-leafed one. Classic. A few fat bees buzzed around the pinkish- white flowers, but that was fine—bugs didn’t bother her. On the far side of the meadow a bit of sky was reflected in a tiny round lake, a single blue eye staring straight up.

  She’d start with the left hand side of the path and work her way around toward the water. Despite the peacefulness of the scene, she kept her senses alert as she scanned the plants. A sweet, faint scent drifted up from the flowers; warm and slightly dusty. Her shadow was sharp against the clover, etched there by the sun hanging motionless in the clear blue dome of sky.

  The peace quickly turned to drudgery, leaves and stems and flowers blurring together. Her hands were tired of riffling through the clover, but she was almost to the mini-lake; a good point to stop and rest.

  The water was absolutely transparent. Violet bent over the surface, making sure no clovers grew on the bottom. Her avatar’s face stared at her, black hair, dark eyes…. Wait a second. Hadn’t she chosen blue?

  She frowned, and her reflection frowned back. Either the character creation was glitchy, or she’d hit the wrong button by mistake. Oh well—she’d make another avatar at some point, with the right eyes.

  A light breeze ruffled the grasses, and she stifled a sigh. This was the most tedious quest ever. She hated the ones in other games where she had to kill hundreds of creatures just to win one item, but crawling through a meadow of identical plants, no matter how idyllic, was worse.

  Only one way to get it done, though. Violet shook out her hands and started searching again. She’d only gone a little farther when she spotted a four-leafed clover. Finally! She picked it and held it up—only to see that one of the leaves was slightly separated. Not a four-leafer after all. The game had tricked her.

  The earth trembled. She dropped the clover and hastily got to her feet, drawing her sword. She was about to discover the consequences of picking the wrong plant. The ground in front of her seethed, the foliage melting away to reveal bare earth that bulged menacingly outward, like a bubble about to pop.

  It exploded with a whump, spraying dirt everywhere. A pebble bounced off her cheek, and she hurriedly stepped back—then lifted her blade as two hideous creatures clambered from the newly-formed hole. They were squat and ferocious, wearing rough leather armor and carrying long pikes. The one in front grinned, sharp-toothed and evil-eyed, and lifted his weapon.

  Now she really wished she hadn’t picked the wrong clover.

  No point in waiting for the attack. She rushed forward, shouting her kiai. Maybe it was the force of her swing, or that the creatures in Feyland were programmed to recognize Karate yells, but her target fell back. Unfortunately for him, he teetered on the edge of the hole.

  “Grahr!” he cried as he tumbled backward, out of sight.

  She grinned. One down, one to go.

  The remaining creature narrowed his eyes and circled away from the hole. Violet leaned forward, putting her weight on the balls of her feet, and raised her shield. Just in time. Her enemy charged, faster than she’d anticipated. She blocked his pike thrust and the barbed head grated across her shield. Her angle wasn’t quite right, and the barbs grazed her forearm, in the gap above her gauntlets. A bright zing of pain went through her—not enough to distract her from the fight, but enough to let her know she’d been injured. Feyland had an incredible neural interface.

  She rushed her opponent in a quick counterattack. The trick was to stay in close and on the offensive. The creature yelped as her sword connected, nicking his arm. Green blood oozed from the cut, but it wasn’t severe enough to take her enemy out. He lashed out again, and Violet whirled into a roundhouse kick—surprisingly easy, even wearing armor. Her heel smashed into his elbow, and he dropped his pike.

  “Ha,” Violet said, brandishing her sword.

  The creature’s eyes widened—no wicked grin on his face now. He whirled and jumped into the hole, abandoning his weapon.

  The earth shut, like a mouth smacking closed, sending up a spray of dust. When the air cleared, there was no sign of the attack. The meadow lay quiet around her, the clover undisturbed. Even the pike was gone.

  Okay then. Time to find her clover—a real four-leafer this time.

  She almost plucked two more fake ones before finally discovering a clover that looked like the real thing. Violet lay on her belly and put her face right up to the plant, the flowers tickling her nose, and counted the leaves. One, two, three. Four.

  She sto
od up before she picked it, so she’d be ready if anything came at her again.

  Her fingers snapped the stem, and she straightened, holding her breath. The air shimmered faintly. She moved the clover to her right hand so her sword arm would be free, though it wouldn’t be easy to fight if she had to hold onto the plant.

  Immediately, the clover disappeared. Her heart bumped up—she couldn’t lose her quest item now!

  In the lower left corner of her interface, a letter I appeared, blinking. I for inventory? She selected it and a series of empty boxes materialized. Empty except one, which held the four-leafed clover. She let out a relieved breath. Just by thinking about it, she’d been able to store the clover away.

  She inspected the other boxes, then closed her inventory. The designers of Feyland didn’t believe in over-gearing a player. No food, no drink, no extra potions or talismans to help her fight. This was a weird game—super stripped-down in some ways, and yet so immersive she felt as though she was there, wandering around an enchanted land. Seriously, she could even sense the soft touch of the wind against her cheek.

  Birds trilled overhead—except that birds didn’t sound high and chiming. Violet looked up. Seven shimmering balls of light flew toward her; the glowing faerie-creatures she had seen earlier. Were these the Pixies that Hob had warned her about?

  The balls of light came at her, closer and closer, without slowing. She took a step back.

  “Hello?” she said. “Um—can I help you?”

  One of the Pixies dived right at her face. Violet ducked.

  “Hey! No need for that.”

  The only response was a giggle. Another ball of light descended to give her hair a sharp tug, while a third buzzed around her armor, no doubt looking for a chink.

  “Cut it out.” Violet batted at the annoying creatures, but the Pixies danced and darted away.

  Fine, then. She drew her sword and waved it.

  “I’m not afraid to use this,” she warned.