386 days until the Arkon Shield falls

“Jamie,” Tara greeted, her voice solemn.

“Hi, Tara,” I said, recovering from the shock of seeing her here. “I thought you were still on the plains.”

She shrugged. “Once the ogres turned south, my presence wasn’t necessary there anymore. I hurried back north with a small squad to see what help we could provide.” She smiled. “But I see you had everything under control.”

“It was close, but we managed. The village is finally established.” I fell silent for moment. Now that the moment had arrived, I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of the recent tension between us. I took a deep breath. “Tara, I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day,” I said. “It was—”

“Stop, Jamie, I understand. I should have realised your grief was still too raw.”

My brows drew down in consternation. Not that I wasn’t happy by Tara’s response, but her forgiveness had come swifter than I had expected, especially given her noncommittal response the last time I had tried speaking to her. Had she been dwelling on our conversation from that morning as well?

“Uhm, thank you, Tara. I would hate to think I destroyed our friendship over… something like that.”

Tara nodded, her own face sober. She didn’t say anything further, and for a moment we both stood in uncomfortable silence.

Eventually Tara spoke again. “The others said you were looking for me?”

The others? What others? It didn’t matter though, because it gave me the opening to bring up the other matter I wanted to speak to her about. “I don’t know if you know… but I am leaving.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

It was more difficult than I imagined to speak the words, but I got them out. “Will you come with me?”

Tara let the silence draw out before answering. “Why, Jamie?”

“Because we work well together,” I said. I paused, ordering my thoughts. “I trust you like I do few others. I have ever since my first day on Overworld when, despite everything else going on around, you took the time to school a new fish like me. And again, when you saved me countless times during my first battle. You’re my friend and I think we make a good team,” I finished. There was more I wanted to add, but I didn’t have courage to say any of it.

“No, Jamie,” said Tara gently. “I mean, why do you want to leave?”

I blinked. The question caught me by surprise. “Because I have to,” I said.

“But why?” she prodded. “You’ve done so much already for the village. And there is so much more you can do here. Why leave?”

I fell silent. I wasn’t sure Tara would understand—not like the commander had. “Because I have to,” I repeated.

Tara stepped closer, scrutinising my face. “Is it vengeance?” she asked. Sorrow peeked through her eyes. “Is that what drives you? Are you trying to avenge your mum’s death?”

I closed my eyes against the sudden throb of grief. I didn’t want to discuss any of this. But I had started this conversation, and if Tara was going to accompany me, she had a right to know.

“Yes,” I said, opening my eyes and letting my rage shine through. “Yes, I want revenge. On the orcs that killed my mum, and on the whole entire system that led to her death.” I sucked in a breath and continued more calmly, “But it’s not only vengeance I seek. I want to save humanity. And to do that, I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” asked Tara. “Who is to say we can’t build something here that can stand against the orcs?”

“I fought them, Tara. And I’m not ashamed to say I got lucky defeating them. Every one of the orcs I fought was a Seasoned player, all over level one hundred, and their shaman was a level-two-hundred Veteran.”

Tara was staring at me, her face expressionless.

I leaned forward intently, willing her to understand. “Those five orcs I killed? They were just one hunting party. If you watched the news back on Earth, you know the orcs had dozens of parties roaming our world. The Orcish Federation must have thousands, if not millions of Seasoned players. And they will be not be the worst of what we must face.” My eyes unfocused, remembering. “When I entered the gate, I caught a glimpse of the orc shaman who had created them.” I shivered, feeling my skin prick at the memory. “He felt altogether different… godlike, even.”

My eyes flicked back to Tara. “Do you know how long it takes the average player to reach Veteran status?”

Tara shook her head.

“Two years,” I replied softly. “Humanity doesn’t have two years, Tara. I have to get strong, fast. And I can’t do that staying here.”

Tara cocked her head to the side. “Jamie, humanity cannot stand against what you describe. To save humanity sounds impossible. Why take on such a mammoth task? To even believe you can do this… isn’t it a trifle egotistical?” She voiced the question gently, seemingly in an effort not to offend me. “Why are you trying to shoulder this burden?”

She thinks I am crazy. “Because someone has to try and… I have gifts other players do not.”

“There must be other mages,” she said.

“Not like me, Tara. None of them can do what I can.”

Tara’s brows furrowed and she failed to disguise her scepticism.

I sighed. “I will explain, all of it, if you come with me. Will you, Tara?”

She returned my sigh. “No, Jamie. I won’t.”

I stared at her, stunned. Despite everything, I had not expected her to refuse. I had anticipated resistance, obstinance, and having to work at convincing her, but I had never truly thought she would say no. “Why?” I asked, unable to disguise my shock.

She studied me in silence for so long I thought she wouldn’t answer. “You are driven, Jamie. Obsessed, even, and it makes you reckless.” She held up a hand to still my protest. “All your victories could have just as easily turned out differently. Eventually, Jamie, you will get someone killed. And I don’t want that to be me.”

“But—”

“No, Jamie, listen,” she said. “I’m not like you. I can’t take the same risks you do; I can’t throw myself into danger the same way. Perhaps it is because of what happened to you back on Earth that makes you so rash, I don’t know. What I know is, I can’t do the same.”

“But… but you are a warrior,” I said faintly. “You take risks every day.”

“Measured risks, Jamie,” she said. “Necessary risks. I do not fight when there is no need, nor do I attempt impossible tasks.”

In my defence, everything I had done had been with a singular purpose in mind. But that was her point. I was on a crusade. One which she didn’t believe in herself. A crusade I was willing to die for, but she not.

“I will be more careful, Tara.”

“No, Jamie, you will not.” She smiled, a sad forlorn expression. “Goodbye, Jamie.” Walking past me, Tara squeezed my hand once, then left.

For a long time, I stayed staring at nothing after she disappeared. Rethinking everything I had done and wondering if was all worth it.

✽✽✽

I slept badly that night.

I pondered everything Tara had said and what it meant. She was right: I did gamble with my life. But I did so knowingly and necessarily—or so I believed. I couldn’t deny it.

Was I a danger to others around me? Did I needlessly place my companions at risk?

Could I lead a party out into the wilderness, knowing I might put them in harm’s way?

But there isn’t any ‘might’ about it, is there?

I was leaving the Outpost to actively court danger—all in a bid to get strong enough to face the orcs.

Was it fair to drag others along with me on my crusade?

Some would follow me regardless of the risks. John, for one. Probably Marcus too. And the sisters, Laura and Cass. But then, Tara had been the person I had been most certain of. And I had been wrong about her. I sighed.

I thought back to the moment on the wall, when the commander had had to choose between Lance and her men. Could I make such a choice? If it came to it, would I choose my companions’ lives over my vendetta?

I swallowed. I wasn’t sure.

And if I was not sure, I could not do it. I would not risk John, or Marcus, or even Lance on my behalf. A difficult path, the commander had called it, one that demanded more sacrifices than I realised.

I sighed once more. She had spoken far more truth than I realised at the time. I knew what I had to do.

I have to leave town alone.