390 days until the Arkon Shield falls

4 days until the Warren is destroyed

There was no way to remove the queen’s body from the lair without cutting it up, and none of the bladed weapons we had were suitable for the task.

After burning free the silk cloth covering the hole, I ended up climbing back down and using flare to burn off the queen’s body into smaller parts. The spell the queen had attempted in her dying moments had dissipated with her death, and while my task was back-breaking, it was not inordinately difficult.

It had taken hours, but finally we were done. I looked down ruefully at my blood-soaked clothes and armour. I would never wear any of it again, I knew. Our grisly work, however, was not without benefits.

You have uncovered a brown spider queen’s Technique: paralysing bite. Your skill in anatomy has advanced to: level 3.

You have uncovered a brown spider queen’s Technique: transformation chrysalis. Your skill in anatomy has advanced to: level 4.

You have the discovered a: champion core. The special properties of this item are: unknown. Your lore skill is insufficient.

Transformation chrysalis? I thought, eyeing the Trials message speculatively. So that was what the queen was trying to do. But transform into what? I suspected it was a good thing that we never got to find out.

I looked down at the object in my hands. The champion core was no larger than my fist, and after being scrubbed clean it resembled a large diamond. It looked quite unlike the lair’s own core. I turned over the crystallised object in my hands. I had not seen any mention of champion cores in the wiki and hadn’t even known they existed.

I pursed my lips in thought. While I didn’t know what purpose the cores served, I could guess. The Trials had to have a means of controlling both lairs and their ‘bosses.’ Looking down at the core I held, I thought I had figured out how it was done.

I shivered as another unpleasant thought occurred.

Was the Trials core in my head similar too? Could I also be controlled by the Trials? I didn’t think so. I could see no reason the Trials would want to control players, not after going through all the trouble of giving them such freedom of choice. But I can’t be certain, I thought, disturbed anew.

Raised voices—lots of them—caught my attention. I stilled, listening intently. Tara, John, and Laura were in tunnels above, transferring our spoils to the sleds outside. It seemed like the three had company. Friendly company, by the sounds of it.

“This way,” I heard Tara say. “They’re back here.”

“I still can’t believe you managed to clear the lair,” replied whoever accompanied her. “They are supposed to be—” The voice broke off and fell into a stunned silence.

“Good God, what is that?” asked another.

Looking up, I saw a blonde head had appeared over the hole. It was Captain Marcus. I smiled. The commander had finally sent help.

✽✽✽

Marcus had two dozen players with him and, thankfully, many more sleds. There was no way we could have transported everything we’d harvested from the warren back to the Outpost without them.

We managed to get all the sleds loaded and moving before nightfall. Four men—miserable about drawing the short straw—were left behind to guard the lair.

I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. They would be the first players from the Outpost to spend a night outside the camp, and the four were clearly afraid. But both Marcus and Tara were certain the men would be safe within the lair. I wasn’t so sure, but I couldn’t argue with the need to guard the area.

After scraping off the worst of the filth and grime covering my armour, I took a last long look at the queen’s cavern. It turned out that the queen had not been lying idle all the time she was in the cavern. She had been laying eggs.

In small, neatly dug shafts beneath the original spot the queen had been occupying, Laura and the others found thousands of glistening, pale-yellow orbs.

Many were still unbroken. Marcus and I had both agreed it was best to leave them undisturbed, in the hope that once the Outpost’s claim to the warren was cemented, the new-born spiders would be friendly, or better yet—allies.

✽✽✽

The journey back to the Outpost felt much longer than the one to reach the lair.

Marcus just would not stop talking.

It turned out that the blonde captain was one of the enthusiastic gamers who had entered Overworld early on. Even though he had known of the existence of the Trials Infopedia, Marcus hadn’t taken the time to study it. Choosing instead to be a pioneer, he had placed his trust in his ability as a ‘pro gamer’—his term, not mine—to figure things out as he went along.

To his credit, Marcus had since come to regret that decision, and after arriving on Overworld he’d searched out and interrogated all those in the Outpost who had read the Infopedia.

In this case, me.

Marcus seemed to believe he had struck gold in finding me. It seemed no one else in the Outpost had studied the wiki to the extent I had. Over the course of our two-hour trip back to camp, the slim captain did his best to wring out every useful piece of information from me that he could.

While I was happy to share what I knew, Marcus’ questions were tiresome. Finally, as we crossed the open trenches of the Outpost, I pleaded exhaustion and fled.

I called out to the red-haired woman before she disappeared. “Laura, can you hold up a sec.” She paused in her steps and swung around to face me. I limped to her side. “I meant to ask you earlier, but didn’t get a chance: how much of the surrounding area have you and the other hunters scouted?”

Laura looked surprised by the question, but answered all the same. “To the east and south, we have explored everything within a day’s journey. To the north, our scouting ended at the foothills. And no one has been foolish enough to attempt crossing the river to the west yet.” She gave me a quizzical look. “Why?”

“The proximity of the warren to the Outpost has made me wonder about the positioning of the gate exit locations. Perhaps they aren’t random after all. Perhaps each is carefully chosen by the Trials and the area around appropriately seeded. If we found one resource nearby, there may be others close by too.”

Laura nodded, following my reasoning. “What are you looking for?”

“An obelisk structure,” I answered promptly. “Made of obsidian, about twenty feet tall, and covered in glowing runes. It should be impossible to miss.”

“From your description, it certainly sounds that way,” Laura agreed. “What is it?”

“The entrance to a dungeon,” I said. Most dungeons in Overworld were supposedly clearly marked and easy to find—deliberately so. There were hidden ones as well, disguised in the far reaches of the Dominions, but I couldn’t expect to find any of those, not yet.

“Hmm,” said Laura. “I won’t pretend to know what that is, and I haven’t come across anything like you’ve described myself, but…” She looked away, frowning in thought. “I do remember one of the other scouts mentioning an artefact like that.” Laura turned back to me. “Let me ask around.”

“Thanks,” I said. “And please, let me know the moment you find out anything. It’s important.”

She nodded agreeably before walking off.

Tara caught up to me. Watching Laura’s disappearing figure, she asked, “What was that about?”

I shrugged. “A hunch. There may be other resources nearby that we can exploit. I’ve asked Laura to find out what she can.”

Tara stared at me. “Our experience in the young warren was bad enough. Please tell me you’re not hoping to find another lair?”

I remained silent. A dungeon, I imagined, would be an even harder challenger than the Brown Spider Warren. But I didn’t think now was the time to tell Tara that.

Tara’s expression twisted, seeming to take my silence to mean she had guessed right. But she let the matter lie, doing no more than shaking her head at my folly before turning to other concerns. “Anyhow, I came to tell you the commander’s conference starts in an hour.” She wrinkled her nose. “You should take the time to clean up before then. I’ll have someone bring fresh clothes to your tent.”

I looked at her in surprise. The skies had darkened and night had fully fallen. “Oh?” I said. “I thought we would have missed it. Wasn’t it supposed to have happened in the afternoon?”

“The old lady postponed proceedings when Cass brought news of our find to her.” She fixed me with a mock glare. “You’ve already delayed the meeting once. Try not to be late the second time too.”

✽✽✽

Before heading to my tent, I stopped by the temple.

The day’s venture had been wildly profitable. Aside from the spoils, Traits, and Feats I had earned, I had also advanced six player levels—far more than I had expected.

I knew my quick return would not please my temple guide, but there was no helping that. I maintained my earlier conservative approach and spent my Marks and Tokens only where essential. It kept my time in the temple to a minimum, but sadly this didn’t lessen Aurora’s ire as much as I hoped.

As I limped out of the temple, I read and dismissed the Trials message confirming my changes.

Your constitution, vigour, and channelling have increased to: level 18.

Your skill in dragon and life magic has advanced to: level 18.

Marks remaining: 14. Tokens remaining: 141.

I frowned. Keeping three different Attributes maxed was fast draining my surplus of Marks.

I had to find another source of Marks soon, and not just to keep my health, mana, and constitution increasing, but also to invest in my other much-ignored Attributes.

A problem for another day, Jamie, I told myself as I entered the camp.

After I reached my tent, I bathed quickly. Tara, bless her, had managed to get a tub hauled to my tent. It was a cold bath, but still a far greater luxury than I expected. After changing into my new clothes, I hurried to the commander’s tent.

I was still late.

Outside, I found Tara. The black-haired captain didn’t look pleased. Her foot was tapping impatiently. “Finally!” she said. “I was just about to send someone looking for you. Come on in. They’re waiting.”

She ducked inside and I followed her without protest.

The tent was crowded. Besides Jolin, Petrov, and Marcus, there were four others present: two men and two women. The strangers did not wear armour, which I took to mean they were non-combatants—crafters.

The commander’s gaze flicked our way. “Good, we’re all here now. Tara, Jamie, have a seat please. I will spare us all the introductions. We have much to go through tonight.” Her eyes rested on me briefly. “Doubly so after Jamie’s latest adventure.”

In the midst of taking my seat, I paused. Jolin’s glance had been indecipherable. Yet there had seemed to be a hint of something—concern perhaps?—to her scrutiny. I shot my own look at Tara, wondering what she had included in her report to the old lady. Probably everything.

“Before we dive into the details,” the commander continued, “Petrov, please present your report on the state of our defences.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Petrov, his voice a dull rumble. “Our forces stand at one thousand, two hundred and sixty-five. Two hundred and thirty-two are experienced fighters above level twenty, about six hundred are new fish below level ten, and the remainder fall somewhere in between.”

I winced at the numbers. About half the commander’s fighting force were raw recruits. For those ratios to hold true, the Outpost’s daily losses had to be high.

“How many new arrivals did we get today?” asked one of the male crafters.

Petrov consulted his notes. “Eighty-two that survived.”

A blond woman gasped. “Why so few? That’s a sharp drop in numbers. Were our losses from this morning’s river battle that bad?”

Petrov shook his head. “The reverse, actually,” he said, darting a look in my direction. “Thanks to our mage, the murluks barely scratched us today.”

“Why the drop, then?” asked a brown-haired man, his tone tinged with worry. “And what do we do about it? Without a steady supply of recruits from Earth, we’re doomed. We all know that.”

The other crafters jerked their heads in agreement.

Petrov opened his mouth to reply, but the commander waved him to silence. “The numbers of new players entering from Earth has been dropping steadily,” she said, fielding the question herself. “We have known it for some time now.” Her expression turned grim. “I expect the numbers to drop even further over the next few days. There is nothing we can do to control who enters the gate and when. We must assume the worst.” She held each of her subordinate’s eyes in turn. “I expect all of you to plan accordingly.”

Silence fell in the wake of Jolin’s pronouncement. The commander let it draw out for a moment before continuing, “Thank, you, Petrov. Marcus, proceed with your report please.”

The slim and neatly attired captain stood up. “Our complement of hunters and scouts stand at sixty-five.” His lips thinned. “We lost four more in the forest today. As near as the recovery teams could tell, both pairs of scouts were killed by a four-footed predator. This is the third loss we have suffered in the forest in as many days. The same creatures seem to be responsible in all the cases.” He paused. “But we can’t be certain. No one has caught sight of the beast yet.”

No one living, he meant. I shivered. To my mind, the forest sounded a lot worse than the foothills. I was doubly glad my own party had headed north today.

Marcus’ eyes roved across the assembled men and women. “Once more, please urge your people to volunteer for scout duty. I know many are afraid to venture beyond the safety of the camp, but we need more scouts.”

Marcus was openly pleading with his fellows now, the desperation in his voice undisguised. The others shifted uncomfortably and looked away. “Please,” he went on, “we can’t secure the region otherwise.”

Jolin laid a hand on Marcus and the captain breathed in deeply to calm himself. “On a more promising note,” he continued, “the foothills to the north have been cleared.” He nodded in the direction of Tara and me. “I’m sure Tara will have more to add on that later.” He sat back down.

“Thank you, Marcus,” the commander said. “The scouting situation is grave. Please heed Marcus’ call, people.” She turned to the first of the crafters. “Soren, your report, please.”

The brown-haired man stood. He was sturdily built and had large, calloused hands. “Work on the palisade is progressing steadily,” Soren began without preamble. He nodded to the three captains. “With the soldiers stopping the murluks from destroying our earthworks, construction on the west-facing wall has advanced smoothly. I expect the first phase of the riverside palisade to be completed tomorrow.”

A sigh of relief ran through the tent.

“Phase one?” I whispered, leaning in close towards Tara.

I nodded thoughtfully. The old lady was thinking ahead. If she managed to realise her vision, I imagined the Outpost would be become a formidable settlement indeed. Finally realising Soren was still speaking, I turned my attention back to him.

“… but progress on other sections of the wall is not going as well. While the trenchwork has been completed all around, we don’t have enough timber to ring in the entire settlement.”

Soren sat down. Not waiting for the commander’s go-ahead, the other male crafter immediately leapt to his feet. “I sympathise with Soren’s concerns, I really do,” he said. “But you all know the conditions under which we are working. Until my people get better tools—saws, axes, shovels, and so on—logging cannot proceed any faster. My men are working as fast as they can, but we need better equipment!” He sat down in a huff and crossed his arms defensively across his chest.

“Thank you, Albert,” the commander said. Her voice was even and neither rose to the crafter’s challenge, nor backed away from it. “We understand the limitations your men are working under. The soldiers are likewise incapacitated. Your people are to be commended for their efforts thus far.”

Albert grunted in acknowledgement, and Jolin turned to one of the women. “Melissa, what is the progress from our smiths?”

The woman sighed. “Slow,” she admitted. “We are still struggling to get the forge going. And until we do, we can’t create any of the tools we need.”

Marcus lifted his head, a grimace on his face. “So still no luck melting the murluk spearheads?” he asked.

Melissa shook her head. “None. We’ve tried everything we can think of. But my people haven’t given up. We’re still trying.”

Jolin’s lips tightened. It was the most concern I had seen her display in the meeting so far. “See that your people keep at it, Melissa,” she said softly. “We need those tools.”

Melissa ducked her head. “Yes, ma’am.”

Jolin turned to the last woman. “Beth, we’ll skip your report for today. I know things are progressing well on the food front, at least.”

Albert shot to his feet, his mouth opening to protest.

“Sit down, Albert,” Jolin said. Her tone was mild, but there was no mistaking the steel behind it.

Albert sat, face reddening.

“Now,” continued the commander, “I believe we have one additional deadline. Tara, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tara said, rising up. “Through Jamie’s efforts, we’ve managed to clear out the warren of brown spiders in the foothills. The Trials have classified the warren as a lair, which both Jamie and Marcus tell me is a good thing. Once we’ve bound the lair to the Outpost, the spiders birthed in it will be tamed and ours to command.”

A low murmur of surprise rippled through the room.

“There is a catch however,” Tara said. “If we are to retain ownership of the lair, we must establish the Outpost as a settlement within four days.”

“Impossible!” Albert exploded, but at glance from the commander he subsided and shrank back in his seat.

“The lair is an invaluable resource,” said the commander. “And it has fallen into our lap thanks to the good work of Jamie, Tara, and their team. We dare not lose it. We will make that timeline.”

This time, no one protested the impossibility of the task. “What do we need to establish the settlement, Marcus?” Jolin asked.

Marcus raised his left hand and began ticking off points on his fingers. “One: a population greater than one thousand. As of today, with combatants and non-combatants, all told we are sitting at just under two thousand. We meet that requirement comfortably.”

“Good,” replied the old lady. “Next.”

“Two: a guard complement of a hundred at the Trainee rank. Another requirement that we easily fulfil. Three: food stores sufficient for one week. Also, check. Fourth and most problematically: controlling access into and out of the settlement.”

“Which means finishing the palisade,” said the commander.

“Which means finishing the wall,” agreed Marcus.

Jolin closed her eyes in thought. A moment later, she opened them. “Logging trees is now our top priority,” she announced. “Albert, Melissa, drop everything else. I want you two to go away tonight and come up with a plan.”

Albert opened his mouth, but Jolin held up her hand. “I am not finished. Albert, you may conscript whoever you need from the other crafters. Beth’s people, especially, can be spared right now. Melissa’s too.”

“I still want to keep a few people working on the forge,” Melissa said, speaking up quickly.

“You may,” said Jolin. “But no more than a handful.” The commander turned back to the logger. “Will that suffice, Albert?”

Albert’s eyes narrowed. “What about the soldiers?” he asked. “Can I draw from their numbers too?”

Jolin shook her head. “No, you cannot. The murluks remain a threat. Until the wall is up, the spearmen are our main defence. I will not weaken our forces on the river.”

She made no mention of me, I noticed.

Albert scowled and muttered under his breath, but didn’t argue.

Jolin seemed satisfied with his response. “Very well, that’s settled. Albert, Melissa, tomorrow I expect to hear your plan. Understood?”

The pair looked visibly unhappy, but knew better than to protest. Reluctantly, they nodded their agreement.

“Good, then you are all dismissed. Jamie, stay awhile please.”

✽✽✽

It seemed that my audience with the old lady was to be a private one. Jolin waited for all the others, including Tara, to leave before turning to me.

“You keep surprising me, Jamie,” she said, shaking her head. “Tara told me of your fight against the queen. I must say, I am impressed and… disturbed. Once again, you’ve accomplished another seeming impossibility. Thank you.”

I shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. “Just doing what needs doing, ma’am.”

She smiled. “Oh, but I think it’s more than that,” Jolin said. Withdrawing something from her pocket, she held it out to me. “Do you know what purpose this serves?”

I looked at the object in her hand. It was the champion core from the spider queen. “No. I do have a few guesses though. Nothing I am ready to say for certain just yet. But whatever the core’s purpose, I am sure it is both valuable and important.”

“Marcus said the same,” mused the old lady. She set the core on the table. After walking to the tent opening, she stared out into the night. “I doubt I’ll ever understand how this world works, Jamie. How things like that spider queen can even exist, or what that stone is, or even how humanity landed up here.” She shook her head. “It’s all beyond me.” The commander swung around and held my gaze. “But it is not beyond you.”

“You do yourself a disservice, ma’am. I may understand aspects of this world better from my… uh, gaming experiences. But you have done alright—more than alright, to be honest. All these people would be lost without you. They need you.”

The commander smiled. “Thank you for that, Jamie. And you are right, they do need me. For now. But only for now. Their future will be in the hands of people like you, Jamie. People like Marcus. People who understand this world better.”

“That is not a burden I wish to bear, ma’am,” I said softly.

Sadness shone through the commander’s eyes. “It is not a matter of choice, Jamie. You will learn that one day.”

I knew where this conversation was leading now, and I knew what Jolin wanted. I stayed stubbornly silent. What she wanted of me wasn’t in me to give. I had my own mission. Someone else would have to look after the Outpost.

“You know what I am going to ask of you, don’t you, Jamie?”

The old lady was scarily perceptive. “I can’t stay, ma’am.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That is not true, Jamie,” she said, her voice thick with disappointment. “You can. But you won’t.” Sighing, she turned away. “Go. You’re dismissed. And take the core with you. It’s yours by rights.”

I shuffled uncomfortably, shocked by her abrupt dismissal and unaccountably ashamed. She asks too much, I thought, struggling to hold to my anger, but my heart wasn’t in it.

Saying nothing, I grabbed the core and made my escape.