Play Testers Wanted Pt. 22

"Honored guest Booker," one said. "After your meal, would you do us the honor of exhibiting your combat skill with a sword, please."

There was something odd in how the word please rolled off his tongue. I got the distinct impression they didn't ask for things very often, if ever.

"Absolutely. I'd be honored to entertain you."

Then they began chattering in a language I didn't understand, yet their meaning was still evident. The brothers were fans of mine, and even out here in the Maze, I had followers.

"Booker, how did you reach the Maze?"

"It is a long story, but if it wouldn't bore you," I began, and I felt their desire as much as I heard their pleas to continue. "Well, it began with the first attempt upon my life. Someone called a Black Decade on me. That is when... oh, you know what it means."

"We do. Continue," one of the brothers said, his tone losing warmth.

"I foiled their attempt and decided to follow a hunch. Someone hacked the Star Wars side of the game. Part of the game played on the homeworld of the Rakata left a clue for me to follow. The coordinates of a real-world location. I traveled from the Numenor facility to Oklahoma City, where the second attempt occurred. Luckily my bodyguard was with me, and we fought off two assassins. Which leaves eight more attempts on my life left."

"No, it does not. There are but seven now."

"Well, that is a relief. It is funny, just like in any RPG or war game; the further you go, the more challenging the enemies become. Life is never dull."

Freak and Gear brought a hovering cart laden with meats, cheeses, fruit, and other assorted food. The woman provided several bottles of liquor to choose from, and one of them caught my eye.

"I remember these characters," I said as I reached out and lifted one of the dark glass bottles up. "I'll give this a try."

"Romgarian Ale, very rare and potent," one of the twins said.

"I'll sip it."

As I ate, Freak, the girl, stood close and refilled my glass when I asked. I stole glances of her beautiful, if feral, features when I could. Her yellow sclera and bright amber pupils only heightened her animalistic nature. The twins silently observed from above as I spoke to Freak to help pass the time.

"Does your hair turn green too?"

"You met Marina, one of our guards. Ha, she treated her hair with a product that had taken off within the Maze. Instead of a traditional hair dye, the compound reacts to certain neural chemical transmitters and alters the color depending upon her mood. It can range from red when angry, blue when happy or tranquil, and green when aroused sexually."

"Green means go; that is what the other guard meant."

"Yes, it is a common enough remark lately," Freak said as she refilled my glass. As she bent over I noticed two things, first, her ample cleavage, and second, the tattoo on her upper arm.

"Nordic tattoo," I commented. "It is a Valknut, is it not?"

"Yes. The intertwined triangles signify that my soul will be carried to Valhalla when I fall in an honorable battle."

"No way," I said as my mind began to connect the dots. "I meant no disrespect. It is. I just made a link. Freak. Gear. I know. I remember. Freki, Geri, Huginn, and Muninn, where is the All-Father where is Odin?" The wolves and ravens served the one-eyed God of Norse mythology.

"I told you he was clever," Huginn laughed.

"I remember," Muninn chuckled. "How is your feast, Booker?"

"Delicious," I replied. "The ale is wonderful. Where does it come from?"

"One of the many dimensions the Maze borders," Geri replied. "I found it during one of our excursions. My sister and I chased down someone that owed quite a sum to the Raven Brothers and collected it. During the pursuit, we came across the ruins of a temple to Sarr and Quinn. They are the twin gods of the Romgarian faith. We felt it was an auspicious omen. We looted the temple, and among the cache of weapons and armor, Freki found the wine cellar."

"That is not all," Freki continued the story. "While loading the bottles into our vehicle, I found a secret door. The room beyond belonged to a scholar. We gave the books, scrolls, and stone tablets to the twins. I claimed as my portion of the loot a map. Over the last century, I have finally managed to find someone to decipher the characters. If the translation is correct, it leads to the last resting place of one of the Solar Titans."

'Bullshit,' Left cursed in my thoughts.

"The wizard yet lives," Muninn said.

"The Duskwalker survived," Huginn added.

"Hello, fellas," Left spoke aloud.

"The bracer," Freki said as she pointed.

"Hush Freki, you talk too much," Geri growled.

The sound wasn't entirely human and hit that range between barely audible and deep into the subsonic. So far down, you felt it in your bones. It left a dull ache that only alcohol and sex can cure adequately. I grabbed the second and only remaining bottle of Romgarian Ale and slid my arm around Freki's waist.

"Now-Now. Booker. We have an agreement. Bring him the weapon." The twins said in their single voice.

Geri left but quickly returned with a rosewood box, bound in gold, with an iridium catch and strange runes carved into the edges and corners. Freki leaned forward and cleared the table of dishes and utensils, then Geri pushed the box across the table for me to open, and his eyes widened in anticipation. No matter how good I was in the game, I was hardly an expert on the occult. The real-world counterpart had no obligation to make sense to me. I reluctantly let go of Freki, and she frowned.

"We will face each other in the bedroom, that I promise," Freki whispered.

"I will hold you to your vow, she-wolf," I replied, and Freki growled contentedly.

"Finally, after all these long years," Geri said. "Will it accept you?"

Geri removed one of his fingerless gloves and opened his hand. His withered palm appeared recently splashed with acid or burned with fire. Geri's answer shocked me when I asked him how long it had been. For decades he had suffered from the curse of attempting to wield whatever was inside the box. Left urged me to continue, his curiosity overwhelming his caution.

'Any weapon that can lay that curse must be worth the attempt.'

I thumbed the catch, clutched the corners, and with a long exhalation, lifted the lid. The diamond-bladed long sword lay nestled on a bed of navy silk. The stunning clear gemstone embedded on the crossguard flickered and twinkled from an inner light source. A dark leather wrap protected the grip and looked newly attached, but a sense of great age radiated from the weapon. The sword's strange black alloy had a pool of amethyst at the blade's center.

'Nightshade,' Left whispered in my thoughts. 'Extremely toxic to the touch, and wounds made by this weapon are as deadly as its edge, a twofold threat.'

I used Left to lift the sword from the box. The weapon produced a single tone that rang in the air as a church bell struck at midnight. I held it close and looked at the slender inscriptions that ran along both sides of the blade. The puddle of purple liquid flowed through the length like violet mercury seeking the lowest point of the weapon. The craftsmanship was that of a master with its balance and how it felt in my hand. I stepped back and gave the sword some tentative swings to see how the liquid reacted. The amethyst fluid raced the tip as the blade cut the air and settled along the lower cutting edge as I held it parallel to the floor.

"Such an elegant weapon just to show off my skills?"

"When you entered the Maze, we sensed the presence of a Duskwalker," Muninn began.

"The one you call Left is not unknown to us. The sword was a test of his purity, purity of purpose," Huginn added.

"Who is my opponent?"

"Opponents, three to be precise," Huginn said.

"Your audience awaits," Muninn declared with a gesture.