The party of three was on their second day of traveling when they started to see the plumes of black smoke rising behind them and to the south.

“Olanna, you’ve got better eyes than any of us. What is it?” Connor asked, pausing on the trail that led through the Black Birch Forest toward their destination of SkyBridge. The elf had been right about their path. After the encounter with Finbar, the next day had seen them find the same route that Connor had trod. It was a narrow but easy path that wound down through the wooded foothills of the Mourn Mountains toward the promontory where the airship port was located.

They were only a day out, at most, Connor had been thinking, when they started to see the smoke rise behind them.

“Carrion,” Olanna said, squinting at the gusts of black shapes that dotted the air behind them.

“I beg your pardon?” Connor frowned.

“Carrion birds. Crows, ravens maybe, vultures . . .” She nodded to the specks that were swarming and breaking, swirling near the plumes of smoke.

“They feast on the dead,” the elf pointed out, and her assumption on what was happening back there was obvious.

The smoke was rising behind them, roughly where they had come from, but Olanna’s keen elvish eyes also saw two more plumes along the route they had traveled.

“They’re following the road. Probably towns or way points,” Olanna guessed.

“The dead,” Dargan coughed gruffly. “Like Finbar said.”

The Sleeper King, Connor thought as an icy apprehension clutched at his heart.

“He’s out of his crypt,” the dwarf continued. “We failed to stop Boudazz from waking him, and now he’s on a rampage.”

“And everyone felled in battle will only add to his army,” Olanna said, shivering to herself as she made a disgusted, hissing noise.

“Well, I haven’t seen any evidence that the dead can fly, and you said yourself that they can’t travel fast through the wilderness.” Connor started forward. “As soon as we’re across the Lack, we’ll be safe.”

“But the dead never tire,” Dargan pointed out as he caught up with Connor, nodding to the nearest plume of smoke. “I don’t know if they rest during the day, but they can march all through the night. If we don’t hurry, they just might get to SkyBridge before us!”

“No chance!” Olanna said bravely. Although Connor, who knew her the best, detected the slightest quaver of uncertainty in her voice.

“Nothing can match the speed of an elf in the wilds, right? Even if she is slowed down by a half-elf and a dwarf.”

“Hey, we’re speedier than you think, pointy!” Dargan said, and although his tone was harsh, there was humor to it too.

At that, Olanna turned and set a punishing pace for her companions. Her claims about elves in the woods was more than mere bravado. She half-marched, half jogged on light feet down the descending path, deftly hopping over tree roots and between rocks as her companions struggled to follow. They did not waste time by stopping for rations or rest, and Olanna used her Basic Plant Lore to indicate what fruits, nuts, or leaves they could pick along the way instead of hunting.

Dargan, in particular, was rather aggrieved at this lack of anything substantial to eat, but the dwarf remained true to his word, too, and did not appear to suffer the same exhaustion and weariness that Connor did.

I was definitely made for towns and cities. Connor was once again considering his skills. What’s the use of being a Rogue in a forest? It’s not like there’s anything to steal!

However, despite their fast pace, by the third hour of their trek, it became clear that something strange was happening behind them.

“Look, can you seen that?” Connor called out when a bend in their road suddenly revealed the patchwork of wooded hills behind them.

There was an ominous, dark cloud gathering, a rising storm, but one that wasn’t racing ahead on winds. Instead, it was floating over the southern road and creeping over the wooded hillsides. When Connor tried to squint at the black morass, the storm just appeared to get darker and darker like a patch of twilight hugging the land.

None of the companions liked what they saw at all. Although it could have been some strange storm of the Mourn Mountains, each one of them knew, in their soul, that it was cover for the Sleeper King’s advance.

Connor’s teeth ached with the feel of magic.

“Do you think they’re spells of the Sleeper King? As a way to hide his army?” The half-elf asked with a shudder.

“Maybe it’s a way to keep marching through the day?” Dargan muttered.

The sight behind them only lent speed to their steps as Olanna forced them to move faster than before. By the time that the trees started to thin, and they felt the rising, fresher winds of the Lack buffeting the hills, their legs and feet ached, and Connor’s chest burned with exhaustion.

But they had made it, stumbling out of the woods as night gathered to see their destination ahead of them. Just as before, the collection of buildings formed a cramped town perched on the side of a rocky plateau projecting out from the foothills. A wall of tall birch trunks stretched around the edges of the town but the main gate was open to the southern road. Fat-bellied airships, their magical rings glowing an unsettling blue, eldritch light floated lazily through the air, bobbing in the constant gales of this place.

They had arrived at SkyBridge Outpost.

***

“Clear! Keep the avenue clear!” the red-cloaked guards barked at the trudging line of people that was clogging the main gate to SkyBridge.

“It’s busier than it was before,” Connor muttered as they tried to make their way through the crowd of weary pedestrians, wagons, carts, and riders.

“Stand aside! We’re the Downshaven Watch! We need to get past!” One particular man and his complement of riders was trying to force others out of the way. They wore soiled and dirty pot helmets and ring mail and looked as though they had ridden hard to get here.

Bullies. Connor glared at them, seeing how the captain was using his horse to push aside the families of human villages between him and the gate. Connor had never liked over-confident, bullying men. Maybe it came from of having a weaker frame back in the real world. His pollution-triggered asthma meant that he had grown up being a ripe target for bullies like this.

“Leave them be. Everyone’s trying to get in, same as you!” he heard himself shout out before suddenly regretting it. He was tired and exhausted—that was the reason for his short temper, he realized—but it was already too late to blend back into the crowd. The captain wheeled his horse to squint at the man who had called him out.

“And what business is it of yours!?” the captain of the Downshaven Watch started to snarl before suddenly stopping when he saw who was scowling up at them.

Connor saw a start of recognition from the glaring captain and then a cruel little half smile played over his features.

“And look what we have here? A half-elf, a dwarf, and a full elf!?” The captain sounded surprised, his voice taking on a mocking, showman quality. The riders around him, fellow guardsmen (and women) of the Downshaven Watch, it appeared, started to show an interest.

“What a strange group to be traveling together!” the captain bawled. “Villages up and down the Mourn are being attacked by Goblins or Undead or worse, with the elves of the Third Realm making incursions every day. And now they want to get into one of our towns! A human town like SkyBridge!”

The captain’s voice continued to rise as he spoke, stirring up the crowd. He ended his rant by pointing at them accusatorily.

There was a mutter of voices and shuffled feet from the refugee family ahead, and Connor felt the burn of eyes fall on them.

“No one wants to listen to you, guardsman,” Olanna called out. “We’re all just wanting a dry bed and warm food. Not your bleating.”

“Oh, I know full well what an elf wants! I remember the last elf-human wars! I saw what your kind will do when given the chance.” The captain suddenly spurred his horse toward Olanna, and she let out a gasp as she stumbled out of the way.

Connor growled, his hands moving to the ax hilt at his belt.

“Calm yourself.” Dargan was at his side, his voice low and warning. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea right now,” he grumbled, indicating the complement of almost ten guards around them.

Connor knew that his friend spoke truth, that getting into a fight out here would probably only leave them barred from the SkyBridge, and that would mean unable to cross to Union City—and unable to find the First Gate.

“Or is that why you’re here at all!? There’s war and monsters and worse spilling out of the Mourn. Maybe you’ve got something to do with it?” the captain growled down at Olanna, who was glaring back defiantly.

“Maybe you thought you could sneak into another good and true human town to do your devil work? Is that it? Take advantage of our misfortune?!”

“You sound insane, watchman,” Connor growled, taking a step forward to stand beside Olanna. “We’ve got a right to be here, same as you. We’re on the run from that hell storm, just like everyone else.”

“Likely story!” the watch man growled as three others of the guard rode up beside him, their hands on the pommels of their swords.

“In times like these, there ain’t no space for charity for a bunch of deceitful, dark-spawn elvish!” the watch captain said, his voice growing cold and certain—the sort of tone that someone has before they decide to draw a weapon, Connor knew from experience.

“SkyBridge is for humans. Union City is for humans and humans alone!” The watch captain’s face twitched, and his arm suddenly moved. With a ringing sound, he slid his saber from his scabbard.

Phht!

Something flashed through the air, followed by a sudden, audible thump on the ground in front of the watch captain of Downshaven. The captain’s horse reared, kicking at the air.

And there, on the ground between them, was a black-fletched quarrel from a crossbow.

“SkyBridge and Union City both have always welcomed everyone as far as I recall, Watch Captain!” shouted a voice. Another rider pushed their way past the refugees, holding a crossbow.

Connor, Olanna, and Dargan looked up and saw that the figure who had come to their aid wore rugged brown-and-green leathers, heavy cloaks, and his steed was loaded with blankets and saddlebags as if for a long ride.

It was Ranger Marshal Gustav Fenwalker.

“Ranger Marshal!” Dargan burst out, a smile growing on his face.

“Marshal,” the watch captain growled, suddenly looking very uncertain of himself. Connor wasn’t sure of the relationship between the two men, but it appeared that the Ranger Marshal had some sort of superiority here. Or at least notoriety.

“These are hard times,” the watch captain said. “Downshaven itself was attacked by Undead.”

“Then we need every fighter we can get our hands on, don’t we?” the Ranger Marshal said, spurring his horse forward to the side of Connor and Olanna and Dargan. “Come on,” he said with a nod. The waiting line of refugees parted as the Ranger Marshal led them straight toward the gates itself.

Connor heard a disgruntled snort from the bigoted watch behind them. His ears burned with the embarrassment of skipping the line, but he had to admit that he was relieved to be away from the confrontation.

“Don’t look back. You’ll only give them a reason to remember your faces,” Gustav growled at them. He lead the way the head of the line where the red-cloaked guards of SkyBridge were looking skeptically at a wagon, halfway in and halfway out of the gate.

“Sergeant, I’m the Ranger Marshal on urgent business to Union City. I have news of the undead horde,” Gustav called out before nodding to the others with him. “These are my companions,” he said, which seemed to cheer Dargan up to no end but irked Connor a little.

Maybe it’s because I’m set on becoming a Thief, he thought wryly to himself. And the fact that the last few times he’d encountered the Ranger Marshal, the man appeared to know that Connor had ulterior motives.

Like stealing the Ring of Tantor.

“Straight through, Marshal,” said the sergeant—a gray-haired, salty sort of man with a scar that ran from temple to cheek. “Any news from the road?”

Gustav gave a groan. “First the Goblin horde, now the Undead. A company almost two hundred strong came out of the forests just a few days ago led by some kind of Lich. They’ve brought down a darkness over themselves and seem intent on heading this way.”

“They won’t break the SkyBridge, sir,” the sergeant said dourly, at which the Ranger Marshal merely nodded. “Not if we get reinforcements from Union City, no,” he said and spurred his horse.

Connor, Dargan, and Olanna followed the Ranger Marshal through the gate and into the streets of the SkyBridge Outpost.

***

It was just as busy in the city as it was outside. The same worried, tense air radiated from the crowd and was visible on the faces that filled the cramped outpost town, just as on the outside.

“People are scared. Haven’t seen this much chaos and trouble since the Elf Wars,” Gustav said easily. Connor did not get any sense that the Ranger Marshal meant any ill to either himself or Olanna.

“Look! My kin!” Dargan pointed out the group of dwarvish traders singing some sort of dirge as they marched through the streets, hauling small casks on their backs. The dwarves wore dark mail and helmets and did not raise their eyes at Dargan as the dwarf tried to attract their attention.

“That’ll be the Ironshod Clan of Mourn,” Gustav intoned. “They’ve kept themselves to themselves up in the mountains for a long time now, only coming out to trade here and a few other places.” The Ranger Marshal’s eyes narrowed, nodding to himself as if making a note of something.

“Come, I know a good establishment. If Pettigrew’s is still running, she’ll be able to give us safe bed and board until morning.”

“And then?” Dargan asked, eager to have the Ranger Marshal join them in their company—which was definitely not a part of Connor’s plan at all.

“Then we take Pettigrew’s tub over the Lack to Union City where I present my findings to the council,” the Ranger Marshal said.

“And us?” Dargan said. “We know about the Sleeper King! We were there. We saw him rise!” Connor hissed at him to stay out of it, but the dwarf appeared not to heed the warning.

“The Sleeper King, you say?” Gustav flicked a glance over their group appraisingly. “And I thought that was an old legend. Some Lord of the UnderWorld trapped in the First Realm and set to sleep by a powerful enchantress.” They saw the Ranger Marshal’s brow furrow. “If the old stories are all true, then he’s going to want to bring the terrors of the Second Realm to this one. He won’t stop until he’s put down.”

“We can help!” Dargan insisted, his eyes shining.

“Dargan!” Connor hissed. “We’re only Level 4, remember?”

“And this sort of quest will take us all the way to Level 10, I bet!” Dargan hissed and gave the half-elf a conspiratorial look.

Gustav led the way through the streets, past the entertainers and soothsayers, the chancers and crowds of leery or wary looking men and women outside the various inns and hotels. There appeared to be more people here than there had been the last time, and Connor got the sense that there had to be entire rivers of people attempting to make the crossing to Union City ahead of the Sleeper King’s horde.

You can have your Sleeper King, Connor thought with a sigh, his eyes rising to look between a gap in the buildings to the distant piers and black storm clouds of the Lack.

I’m heading back to Aviatrix Tower. I’m going to the First Gate, and I’m going to get the hell out of this place.

“You can present your tale to the council,” Gustav announced. “I’ll vouch for you, although whether they’ll listen to a bunch of people who haven’t even chosen a Guild yet, it’s hard to say.”

He turned down a side street where there were fewer crowds, but the shops were smaller and even more cramped than before, if that was possible. Almost all of them were locked for the night with iron bars over glass, but through their windows, Connor caught sight of musical instruments, bolts of cloth, toys, and countless other mundane items.

“Sir.” Olanna cleared her throat as they walked, the first time that the elf had talked since they had entered SkyBridge. “If I may, I’d like to say thank you for your aid back there.” Connor saw that she had pulled up the hood of her cloak to cover her fine elven features, all but covering her white hair.

“Don’t mention it,” the Ranger Marshal said. “Mourn has always been a wild sort of place, but it was never a mean one. Admittedly, elves in this part of the world have always had a tough time of it, but a watch captain should act better.”

Connor heard Olanna thanking Gustav, but internally, he was wondering if both of his friends had lost their minds in regards to the Ranger Marshal.

We’re adventurers! he was screaming inside. We’ve been trapped inside this game—and did no one hear what Finbar said just last night!? We’re stuck in here until we get out. There’s some evil murderous Realm of Annwn out to get us all. Now is not the time to play hero!

To him, it seemed almost like madness. What were they doing if they weren’t trying to find a way out?

“Ranger, sir,” Olanna finished, and Connor realized that he had missed part of their exchange. He looked up to see that Gustav had stopped and was looking down at her studiously for a moment before nodding.

“Well, my job is a little different than what you’re looking for, perhaps. I’m more of a roads and byways sheriff. I look after the provinces and regions, keep an eye on the threats between the villages . . .” he was saying in a measured tone, but he nodded all the same.

“It’s not too different from what you have in mind, though. There are many types of Rangers, after all. Some are hunters, others are scouts for the armies or explorers for the airship merchants.” He shrugged.

“But we all have the same mission in the end: be curious. Explore. Keep out the UnderWorld.”

Connor saw that Olanna’s eyes were shining bright with enthusiasm.

“I’ll take you on, Olanna, teach you what I know. That’s the way I was taught and the best way to learn. I can’t teach you much until you get better at your tracking, herb lore, and whatnot, but I’m sure I can show you a thing or two.”

“Yes!” Olanna sounded uncharacteristically elf-like and characteristically Arianna-ish for a moment as she punched the air.

She’s just been accepted as a Ranger? Connor thought, feeling a compounding sense of jealousy behind his anger. Sure, she wasn’t at Level 5 yet as far as he knew, so he doubted that Gustav was going to be of much use to her, but it still felt a bit like a betrayal to the half-elf.

Aren’t we supposed to choose together? he thought a little bitterly. In his mind, they were a party. Or at least, Olanna and he always had been before. They had made their decisions together, working out ways to maximize their effectiveness.

And now it seemed that she was about to run off with the Ranger Marshal just a few days after he’d found her.

And she’d said that she came in here to save me or some such nonsense, Connor thought, knowing that he sounded petulant but not particularly caring.

Why were they all so eager to settle down in a game no one had given them a choice about?!

“And you, master dwarf?” Gustav turned to Dargan. “I take it you want to be a Soldier or Knight?”

“Giant Killer,” Dargan said with a laugh as they restarted their steps down the SkyBridge street.

“I’m going to be the most famous dwarven warrior that this world or any other has ever known!” Dargan insisted proudly.

“Ha!” Gustav laughed at Dargan’s audacity. “Well, it’s good to dream big, I suppose. I can’t help you with that, but I know the Warden of the Fighter’s Guild in Union City. I can put in a good word for you.”

And finally, the moment that Connor had been dreading, as the Ranger Marshal’s sharp eyes fell on him. They held his for a moment, and Connor remembered how they had looked skeptically at him the first time they had talked, when Connor had been eager to steal for the mysterious Mr. Grey.

“And how about yourself, Connor?” The Ranger Marshal’s tone was light as they walked through the night. The sounds of the busy outpost were all around them, but they were muted now since they had traveled off the beaten track.

What am I supposed to say? Connor wondered, suddenly realizing that he was the odd one out here and feeling the difference keenly. Both of his friends were being showered with opportunities in the game world, it seemed to him, and he was apparently the only one who wanted out of it.

Am I just being jealous? he considered.

“Con?” Olanna’s voice nudged him.

How am I supposed to say to the lawman here that the only way I see of winning in this game is to steal what you can and run fast! Connor thought to himself. He would do what he could to help those in need, he knew, but he didn’t want to get ordered around and thrown into life-threatening situations just for the glory of being killed—especially if it really was his life that he was laying on the line!

“I’ll make my own way,” Connor heard himself say gruffly, pulling up the collar of his cloak against the cold.

“Connor!” Olanna reprimanded him, but one sharp glance from him made her hold her tongue.

“I know a lot of people in Union City, lad,” Gustav said

Suddenly, Connor couldn’t stand how self-important the Ranger Marshal sounded to his half-pointed ears.

“I can help—”

“I said no thanks,” Connor said, hunkering into his shoulders a little.

A low whistle sounded from behind them, too pointed to not be directed at them.

The party turned toward the sound as a figure, previously unnoticed amongst the crowd, stepped out of the nearest alley and threw something onto the ground in their midst.

There was a brilliant flash of light and a bang as smoke filled the space.

Gustav’s horse shrieked in panic, tearing forward, knocking Olanna to the side. Connor could hear Dargan coughing but couldn’t see the dwarf through then thick white smoke that was now everywhere.

Dark forms leaped toward them.