With each plank I climbed, my heart screamed in fear. I wasn't afraid of climbing; I did that weekly at the gym at home. But the possibility of falling almost paralyzed me. On the rock walls at home, the handholds and footholds were secure. The only times I fell were from miscalculations, and that was rare. And my harness always held me secure.
Here though, I had already seen the deliberate destruction of the stage, and the haphazard way the boards had been re-secured. Falling didn't seem that farfetched a possibility. I didn't want to find out what would happen if I died. Even if it transported me home, it would hurt, and my pain tolerance wasn't that good. And besides, what if it didn't? Getting home by winning the game still seemed the easiest and least painful option.
My palms slipped on the metal beams, but I didn't stop. I paced my climb to the rhythm of the theme song, audible through Deakon and Pipes' impromptu show and the muffled outcries of the crowd. My fear subsided until I reached the top of the scaffolding and balanced against the worn bricks of the outer wall. I squinted towards the sky. Still another fifteen feet to go to reach the top of the wall. The first bit of the climb was partially hidden by the stage, but this last part was exposed. I had to climb quickly or risk giving my friends away.
Deakon and Pipes held back the restless crowd. Their juggling knives and axes flashed in the air. As hypnotic as their routine was, I didn't know how long it would hold off the mob.
Now was the moment of truth. A layer of dust flaked off the wall as I ran my hands over the rough stones. Using the dust as chalk, I covered my palms and tightened my grip within the worn edges. The holes were not as big as I would've liked or as stable as I was used to, but I scampered up the side of the wall.
It took the last of my strength to pull myself over the top edge, and when I did, I melted onto the cold bricks on the other side. A wide hallway of sorts opened up, which I imagined the guards paced regularly.
The commotion of the crowd escalated below me, and I was certain they had broken through Deakon and Pipes' performance. I wanted to peek over the edge, but I didn't dare. Their malicious obscenities frightened me. How could they think I was the bad guy?
I sat up and propped my back against the bricks, remaining low enough to stay out of sight. The rise and fall of my chest mirrored the erratic beat of my heart. This place was driving me crazy. Red blood stained the sleeve of my new shirt. I no longer doubted the reality of this world. I could only be beaten, cut, and attacked so many times before I had to believe. I was stubborn, not stupid, and I needed to start playing smart. I had come too close to game over too many times
I plucked the remaining shards of glass out of my arm and opened the leather bag to see if I had any sort of bandage. Waves of disappointment rocked me. For one moment I had been rich and could have bought anything I wanted. But when I tipped over my leather bag, all I had to show for it was a dark green cloak, a leather belt, a jewel-encrusted dagger, and a few other limited supplies. So much for a shopping spree. My wounded pride spent everything in a flash.
I pulled out the dagger and thrust through the air. The hilt cooled my hands, the sun flashing off the blade. It wasn't the beautiful jewelry from the gown table, but it would serve me better. Maybe it wasn't all a loss. At least I'd gotten the basics I needed to start. I had the costume and a weapon, and I had to believe that I would run into another market soon. They were in several levels of the game. I just had to figure out how to find it.
I pulled my hair back and tightened my ponytail. Whether or not I ended up doing what Deakon and Pipes expected by helping the rebellion didn't really matter. That was a side issue. I only cared about getting home, and that meant I had to win the game. No more fear, and no more letting someone get the better of me.
My stomach growled, startling a couple of birds perched along the outer edge of the tower walls, closest to the outside world. I covered my belly and swore. If I could have gone back and changed one thing I'd done in the market, I would have bought out the bakery cart before meeting Auntie Quinn. I looked at the one bird remaining on the edge, pondered, and then dismissed the idea of eating it. The memory of killing the puff bird still darkened my heart.
Instead of hunting, I hummed the theme song. Even though I sung off-key, the bird scooted closer, joining in harmony. Its iridescent feathers blinded me. I reached forward, drawn to its irrefutable beauty, and snatched my hand back as a new gleam caught my eyes. The feather tips were razor sharp and nearly sliced my hand.
I balled my fingers into a fist and bit my knuckles. Nothing here came without danger. I kept forgetting, and once again, I almost got hurt. I needed to keep moving. Deakon and Pipes bought me time, and I couldn't waste that gift. Scrambling to my feet, I felt the dust and mortar from the worn bricks shift under me, and I tripped forward, landing halfway over the outer edge of the market's wall. The songbird flew away, its melody fading to nothing.
"I'll sing with you again." I sighed, glancing back down at the edge of the wall. "What's this?" I asked, finding a small hidden ledge and compartment between two of the bricks. Something glittered.
I straightened, threw all my items back in the bag, and leaned over the wall. I wasn't leaving without this.
"Jackpot!" I mumbled, reaching further over the edge for the box of money stuck between the worn bricks. It didn't budge. My stomach grumbled. I needed money, and this time I wouldn't spend it until I found some food.
As I leaned towards the ledge, I felt my balance shift. The edge of one of the bricks crumbled beneath me, jolting me back to my senses. With a desperate grab, I dug my nails into the wooden sides of the box and ripped it from the wall as I fell.
I screamed for a moment, and then smashed into the ground. No leaves softened this fall. My only saving grace was that the back end of the town was built into a hill, so my fall was half the distance of the climb. It may have saved my life, but it sure didn't stop the pain that wracked my body.
The edge of the box bit into my ribs as I tumbled down the hill. Rocks dug into me. I felt fire down my side, and my screams sounded like groans. I wanted to cry, give in to the pain, but the hill refused to let me go. Over and over I tumbled, until light and shadow became one. My neck and cheek burned with dragon weed pollen, but I held on. I plunged into the cold river, still struggling for breath.
The icy water stung. I struggled against the current. Treading didn't help; nothing seemed to help. My racing heart forced the air from my lungs. Once my body numbed, I gave in and let the current take me.
The river pulled me past the marketplace. From the outside, no one would have guessed that there was a festival of dancing and celebration inside the square. Auntie Quinn's distaste for the rebels and their futile attempts at defiance filled my mind. Would Pipes and Deakon's demonstrations really make a difference if no one knew about them? And did they even realize that their celebrations were concealed under the containment of the king's market?
My heart broke for them. They were risking their lives for nothing. I closed my eyes. It hurt too much to cry.
I floated past open fields and a meadow, similar to the one I'd first walked through when I arrived that morning. Had it really only been one day? It seemed like a lifetime's worth of pain.
My earlier resolve to win the game died out. How could I possibly win with all the dangers that I knew—which were formidable on their own—mixed with perils I couldn't expect? The novelty of this place wore thin, sprouting seeds of loneliness. Instead of the theme song, one question ran on repeat through my mind: Where was the game over button?
Just as the sun set behind a range of jagged mountains, the river bent and deposited me along its gravel edge. A subdued palette of orange and blue painted the sky as I hung on to the sharp rocks at the bank. I watched, but the beauty escaped me.
It took every ounce I had in reserves to pull myself out of the river. Even numb, I knew I couldn't float forever. I wanted to cry. I wanted to let the world of Dreamscape know it had hurt me, but I settled for weak protests. Anything more required too much effort.
I flipped over, shoving my bag under my head, and adjusted the wet tunic. The sky softened, and after a slow progression, the blues faded dark, and a blanket of stars covered me.
Stars. I had lamented losing them when we moved, and yet here, in this new world, they shone the same. Spread across the sky in constellations that looked oh-so-familiar, they offered me comfort. I grabbed onto it. It didn't matter if they were the same stars or not; it was enough for me.
Out of the corner of my eyes, a burst of yellow broke my thoughts. Despite the pain in my ribs, I propped myself up onto my elbows. Fireworks. After a handful of deep explosions, the sky erupted into color. Streaks of red flames were followed by blue sparkles, and then yellow stars filled the sky.
I leaned back and laughed. Fireworks symbolized one thing—level one was over.