I did not dare ask what she had traded for safe passage. "Thanks, but I think I know some of them."
"This isn't the Light Clan. It’s new, started by a Thief King. They play dirty," the Green Witch said. "They have Thrall Spells. You can lose two lives or be stuck watching them play for a full 24 hours."
I thanked her and made my way cautiously through the Pitch Forest. I needed to follow the trail out to the Black Fields, but I barely knew how to play, much less how to play dirty.
I heard the chatter the closer I got to the trail. The Thief King was building a camp among the redwoods. Once avatars were well-established, they could actually create dwellings. Base camps or homes allowed a player to recharge without leaving the game.
I stopped and studied the command menu. I needed to know how to walk silently. I also needed to know how to hide. I wanted to hear what they were talking about.
"I know there's a way to make the Thralls do what we want," the Thief King was saying. "I read about the possibility of a Thrall army. We can do that and take on the Light Slayer."
I recognized Owen's player name. He was called Light Slayer because early on he had found the Sun Sword. It was part of the reason he was able to become Dark Flag's first clan leader. Too bad others were catching on fast. I did not like the sound of a Thrall army.
I made it past the camp and crossed the trail without being seen. Once I was amongst the redwoods and pines again, I relaxed.
It was a big mistake, since out of nowhere, a Cloaked Corpse appeared. Cloaked Corpses traded the ability to speak for unlimited lives. They were not able to work together with other players so they were often alone. But because of the unlimited lives, they were impossible to kill.
I had no spells, only a Frost Sword. The Cloaked Corpse attacked, and before I could think of a plan, I had to fight. If I did not avoid its razor sharp nails, there was a possibility my avatar would also become a Cloaked Corpse. They were the Dark Flag version of zombies.
I was about to give up and try to run when a bright flash of light obliterated the screen.
"Don't worry, Quinn, I got you," a voice said.
Light Slayer appeared, his Sun Sword sending out solar flares that blinded the Cloaked Corpse. He did not even have to fight to chase off the other player.
"Stop, don't," I told him. "There's a new clan nearby. A Thief King."
"His name's Balon," Owen said. "If we let him get more established, there will be bigger rewards when his clan falls." Still, he sheathed his Sun Sword and told his clan members to go and spy on the rival clan.
We were alone in the Pitch Forest.
It was strange to stand facing Owen's avatar. When he removed his helmet, I saw his avatar looked exactly like him. Not many people chose to be themselves in the game, but there we were, animated versions of ourselves.
"I'm glad you're here," Owen said.
"Me, too." I was about to tell him my quest when I saw his avatar pause.
"Sorry, Quinn, I gotta go," Owen said. He exited the game and Light Slayer disappeared.
I stood by myself in the Pitch Forest.
"Quinn? Can you go get the pizza by yourself?" my mother asked from the top of the stairs. "Your father had to make a phone call."
He would have gone with Sienna, but I was used to being sent off on my own.
#
I got in the car, my head full of Dark Flag. It was easier than thinking about anything else.
Owen's avatar moved differently than any other player. He knew the commands and sequences so well that his avatar moved fluidly. I was impressed – and more than flattered that he had arrived just in time to save me. The game had notifications so a message could be sent when certain players logged on. Owen must have added me. Dark Flag's first clan leader saving some novice human; there was going to be talk.
I smiled to myself. It was nice that there was a whole other world where rumors like that were thrilling instead of awkward. I was wondering if I could handle the same talk in the real world when a knock on the window made me jump.
"I could use a little fresh air," my father said, getting into the passenger seat.
That meant my mother was taking a downturn. "Fresh air" was my father's polite way of saying he could not take the brunt of her blackening mood. He clipped his seatbelt on and turned the radio off.
"Should I take the long way?" I asked.