Elora flew back and slammed into the patchy dirt, staring up at the camera with a blank expression. The long shaft jutted from her leather chest plate, buried there.

  The air sucked right out of the whole room. Fig’s hand went over her mouth. Akilah stiffened, jaw clenching, eyes going impossibly wide. Jake whispered a curse and squeezed Fig tight. Frag somehow grew even more still.

  My throat clenched, and I looked for that little prick kobold, as if I could hunt him down right then. A rising rumble built in my chest like a wolf’s warning growl that only grew louder as my lips pulled back. I didn’t even realize I’d punched the viewscreen wall that hard, but heard a sickly crunch. The pain hit, fueling my rage.

  My HUD flashed system notifications I ignored as I drew my fist back again.

  When had I crossed the room to the viewscreen? I didn’t care.

  I swung again, but my fist jerked short; someone’s sure grip locked around my arm. I roared in Frag’s face, just pissed and needing to smash something. Even if it was only myself.

  He didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Just looked at me and pointed up at Elora’s screen.

  Her trembling hand lifted a small vial to her lips. The last healing potion I had, given to her when we decided to kit her out the best we could. It wouldn’t give her much, but maybe—just enough.

  11 HP registered on her bar. One decent hit could take her out, but she wasn’t dead. Yet.

  I lowered my arm. Frag rested his hand on my shoulder, and I glanced at the others, who watched me, or stared past me. I’ve been told before I make a better door than a window. I let him pull me back.

  A pistol shot rang out. From the kitsune’s corner came a soft gasp, “Trick shot, bitch.”

  The shadowy fae crumpled to a knee, dark blood pooling beneath her. A tree fell, the top branches crashing down on the fae and Elora. Elora’s screen showed leaves… and green smoke.

  I glanced up at the timer. Five seconds until the flags switched again, and Elora’s team was up by a growing 200 points. I cradled my throbbing fist and glared at the viewscreen.

  The minotaur and the orc battled on the edge of the flag zone, wobbling the score for a few seconds. Elora’s screen revealed a chipmunk racing for the jungle with impressive speed for such a tiny creature.

  [System Alert: North Flag Dormant] [System Alert: South Flag Activated]

  A path opened through the flora for the little brown chipmunk darting along the jungle floor. A snake slithered into her path, tongue flicking. I flinched when Jake gasped. She veered and leaped, clearing the snake’s body. It slithered after her a few yards but gave up. My shoulders relaxed. My spine popped and cracked from the tension release, and I finally exhaled.

  “Run,” Akilah whispered, clutching Frag’s hand much as she had mine the last time.

  I didn’t say it, but I thought it, too. Run like you’re trying for a spot in the damn Olympics, Elora. She had a strong head start, despite her size. The bard tried to follow. Elora’s path closed behind her; the jungle foliage slammed in around the halfling a few dozen yards in. Next came the kobold, a skilled wilderness runner judging by how it slipped through the dense underbrush.

  I squinted at him, trying to memorize the scale patterns in case I saw him outside the Arena. Nameplates didn’t show until people got close. I wanted to spot that little pest from a distance. Elora burst from the cover of the fronds and dashed up the hill. The flag’s faint yellow glow shifted green. She couldn’t be seen on the main screen, so I watched her personal display as she scampered frantically, looking for a hiding place. Finding none, she started digging.

  “I’m literally choking on my heart right now,” Jake whispered, still hugging Fig tight, as if she were the one in danger.

  Kinda made sense, considering what happened during the last Arena match.

  Elora wiggled around, flinging dirt and sprigs of grass on the far end of the south slope, away from the north, where the rest would be coming from. Her team’s score ticked up.

  “How long can she hold that form?” My voice came out rougher than I meant.

  “Hours,” Fig replied. “She’ll be fine.”

  My chest expanded in a breath, and my spine cracked in the center of my back again. Fuck, I was tense. I nodded and repeated Fig’s words to myself. She’ll be fine. We all had five lives—well, except Fig and myself—and an unknown length of journey ahead.

  Just a game. I tried to convince myself, but… It wasn’t just a game. This was captivity, offering some of the same problems and interests as our real lives had. We were trapped in the strange confines of Convergent City, magnificent and chaotic, yet hiding its stagnant decay with things like this. The Arena. Tasks and quests. Entanglements with the other players. Mysteries.

  Elora had pulled a few scraps of dirt and grass over her dugout to better camouflage herself. The kobold crept up the hill, and the flag flickered to yellow again. A glance told me the minotaur and orc had stayed by the other hill, still chipping away at each other’s HP.

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  The kitsune expired from the poison—dead. The shadow fae crawled, unable to stand. Her kneecap had been blown away by the fox girl's final Hail Mary shot. I kinda liked that rowdy little kitsune. I hoped it wasn’t her last life that she spent on chasing glory. If the kobold hadn’t shot Elora, I might have appreciated its skills more, too.

  The small dragon-kin’s eyes combed the area as it slunk to the top of the rise, slitted nostrils flaring, tongue flicking. A gouge of earth rumbled through the trees, spitting the brown-robed fae out. He slowed his run when he saw the kobold already on the hill. His hands snapped into motion, and my heart stopped yet again.

  I barked at the screen, “Elora’s under there, asshole! Don’t!”

  The ground churned under the kobold’s clawed feet. It hopped and bounced, its tail standing out stiffly behind it as it tried to escape the fae’s trap, slithering beneath it. The stupid kobold kept moving closer to where Elora was hiding.

  The fae mage stepped into the zone. The flag shifted from yellow to green once again.

  He flung up a curving wall of seething dirt as the kobold shot an arrow at him. It punched into the dirt but didn’t make it through the dense earth. Without its crazy ladder, the kobold’s massive bow didn’t have the same punch. The kobold had to aim upwards so the weapon didn’t brush the ground as it shot. The arc was off; the arrow fell short of its target.

  That’s why you drill scenarios that challenge your class. The smug thought came and went on the tide of my attention, the clock and the action taking up most of it.

  The bard’s voice rose—a harbinger of calamity, ringing through the jungle. Before the halfling even appeared, the fae mage had his hand over his ears, the dirt wall crumbling around him. The bard pushed through the fern, lute first, his rich voice swelling to fill the zone. The mage scrambled for cover as the kobold aimed, and another black arrow arced through the air. The fae mage staggered as the black arrow struck, cleaving the robes down his shoulder. Blood flowed. The mage yelped and scrambled for the dense cover of the jungle.

  The flag turned orange as the bard stepped into the zone.

  There was a collective groan in the viewing room. The other team started accruing more points. Elora’s team lost ground quickly.

  I knew she could see the flag shift, but I remembered telling her that it was better to hide and survive than engage and die. I was sure she took it to heart.

  So when she popped up, bow in hand, I stiffened. Silver arrows flew, one slicing into the halfling’s lute, severing strings with a dissonant twang. The kobold whipped around, angling his bow and nocking an arrow.

  Elora shot first, the gleam of her arrow glancing along the kobold’s main hand, opening it up. The creature dropped its bow and snarled at her. It charged, clawed toes digging into the ground. Those little freaks had sharp claws, from what I’d seen.

  Staggering back, Elora spun and fled. She did not leave the zone, and so it looked like a game of tag—except for the part where the kobold would rip her to shreds if it caught her. That was a given.

  The bard dropped his lute and grabbed his arm, wincing. He glanced up to see the kobold in pursuit and pulled a dagger from his belt. The halfling moved to intercept, trying to drive her in the kobold’s direction and away from the flag.

  Elora skipped and bounced, dodging and swatting at them with her bow. The bard opened his mouth to sing, and she whipped a clump of dirt at him. By some miracle or skill, it went right into his open mouth. He gagged and spat, stopping to dig his fingers between his lips to swipe out the grime.

  The room erupted into laughter. My chest loosened, and I chuckled with the others, but my eyes? Still glued to the screen.

  The other team’s score caught up.

  The mage came out of the jungle casting. Spikes of dirt slammed into the kobold and the halfling, knocking them both off their feet. Elora’s bow vanished from her hand. She dashed forward to grab the kobold’s flailing tail. She gripped it and started spinning, turning faster and faster until she had enough momentum to yeet the beast off the hill and into the ferns beyond the designated area.

  “Yes!” I barked, grinning wildly. What a great idea. I’d definitely use it at some point. I could toss creatures bigger than a kobold.

  Elora summoned her bow back into her hands and nocked an arrow, aiming at the bard. She growled, “Get off my hill.”

  Pride surged, and I cracked a fresh smile.

  The bard backed away, hands up. He started to open his mouth, but she cut him off. “Sing and I shoot, Bilbo.”

  “Nah, he looks like Frodo,” Jake said from his spot on the bench.

  The mage ran up the hill, and the orc, bloodied practically beyond recognition, trundled up as well. The bard, outnumbered, stepped out of the zone. The score rocketed, ticking up to 1000.

  [System Alert: Team Green wins!]

  We all crammed out the door and hurried back to the quiet courtyard we’d claimed. Elora was sitting there, hugging her bow. Akilah flung herself at the bloody elf but didn’t grab her into the bear hug I could tell she wanted to do. She sat beside her and petted her hair, while Elora’s lips quivered in a smile.

  “I did it,” she whispered, then burst into tears.

  What ‘it’ was, I wasn’t sure, but she did all of it. She survived to get to level 10.

  Jake knelt beside her, pulling out his kit. A pair of goggles appeared on his head, and he did his version of the Star Trek vitals scan or whatever. Yanking them up to look at her, then us, he said, “We should get her home, where I can work on her.”

  He glanced at me, his usual goofy grin and joking aside, and said, “If she hadn’t had that potion, she’d be respawned in bed right now.”

  Fig and Frag stepped aside so I could kneel in front of her. Her crying made my eyes get misty. I cleared my throat and blinked it away, turning so she could get on my back. When I looped my broken hand around her, I hissed softly. Soon I found a rhythm with the pain and endured. The walk to Heartland Park under the sun would ease it; nothing seemed misaligned. It would heal.

  We left the Labyrinth, Frag and Akilah going their own way. The rest of us went to Verdance and Elora’s little house. Fig and I sat on the grass outside while Jake did his magetech thing. We sat quietly. While I picked at the scabs on my knuckles despite the jarring sensation it caused my fractured bones, Fig stared into space. Elora’s HP went up on my party status field.

  The door creaked, and Jake ducked out, his horns grazing hanging vines. I stood up and clapped his shoulder with gratitude. “Good job, doc.”

  “I’m not a doctor, I’m a—okay, the Bones reference was a fail,” Jake said, his fanged grin bright again.

  “Next time the joke will land, buddy,” I said, grateful for his goofy humor. When he first said he wanted to be a magetech, I kinda thought he was nuts but didn’t argue. He proved my inner thoughts wrong.

  I leaned to look around him, and he stepped aside, glancing at Fig, who looked up and smiled at him, the sun dazzling her eyes. Or, maybe it was Jake that caused that.

  “Go on in, she’ll be okay,” Jake said, his hooves clattering on stone as he offered Fig a hand up. The two glanced at me, then walked off, hand in hand.

  Elora was on her bed, wearing a simple robe. Although she looked better, her eyes were still red-rimmed. She held out a hand and asked softly, “Stay with me?”

  I paused, then nodded. “Sure.”

  -ARCHIVE-