Spark(42)

Provided they worked in the non-magical portion of the game. Even if they didn’t, he’d get a reward from the queen that would set him up in style.
Once inside the fabric walls of Thomas’s home, Aran headed for his room. He wanted to see if he could get his tablet to turn on, and start making notes about how to do the impossible.
“Not so quickly,” Thomas said, grabbing his arm as he went past.
“What?”
“BlackWing. I thought the name was familiar. How long have you been hacking games, young man?”
“Um.” Aran pulled out of Thomas’s grasp. It was too late to lie, not that he even wanted to. Something about the bard inspired the uncomfortable truth.
“Sit down.” Thomas went to one of the nearby low chairs draped in colorful fabric, and gestured for Aran to join him.
“Three years,” Aran said, warily taking a seat. He’d started learning how in juvie, and turned out to be surprisingly good at it. “How do you know about stuff like that? Games and hackers?”
“How do you think I came here?” Thomas said, a wry twist to his mouth. “The old ways of passage into the Realm of Faerie are gone—the standing stones toppled, the faerie rings and groves razed. The fey folk must find another way to access the mortal world.”
“But a computer game?” Aran shook his head. “That’s tweaked.”
Thomas sighed and leaned back. “What is a game but a doorway into another, temporary, reality? With the FullD system, human technology reached an almost magical place. A between place, where things are and are not at the same time. That is the province of the fey.”
“So somehow the faerie magic connected with Feyland?”
“If the game had not been based on ancient lore, perhaps it would not have.” An old pain shone in Thomas’s eyes.#p#分页标题#e#
“Wait.” Aran sat up straight, suspicion scraping the back of his neck. “What’s your full name?”
“Thomas Rimer.”
“Damn.” Aran jumped to his feet. “I don’t believe it.”
But he did, and things started to make all kinds of sense.
Thomas watched him with a weary gaze as Aran paced the leaf-green rug. Thomas—who was Thomas Rimer, the former lead developer for Feyland. Until he died.
“Am I dead?” Aran asked. “Is this some crazy version of the afterlife?”
“No. You are a living, breathing creature, here within the realm.”
“Are you?”
“My physical body is gone,” Thomas said. “My life essence, or spirit as some might call it, is here, bound to the service of the Dark Queen.”
Aran’s throat went dry. “Did she kill you? Like some kind of vampire thing?”
“I made the choice freely,” Thomas said. “Just as you made the choice to enter the Dark Realm.”
“Yeah, well, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.” Aran rubbed his arms, warding off the sudden chill.
“Too late. You must accept the consequences of your choices.”
“I’m sick of having to deal with the consequences when I’m misled about what I’m stepping into.” Bitterness rose in the back of his throat.
He’d been naïve, and way too trusting of his older brother, when Setch had asked him to hand-deliver a package. Sure, he knew his brother was up to his neck in something shady, but he hadn’t thought it would affect him.
Until he landed in jail, confused and too innocent, and conveniently underage enough to avoid the biggest penalties for transporting narcotics.
Seemed like the Realm of Faerie was similar to juvie, in terms of having its own, dangerous rules that he had to figure out—and fast.
Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Creatures who do not belong in your world appear through a glowing sphere, asking you to come with them. What, pray tell, is misleading about the fact that you ended up in a magical otherworld?”
“Fine.” Aran crossed his arms. Maybe this one was a little more his fault. “So how do I start hacking—”
“Hold.” Thomas rose smoothly to his feet and turned to face the door flap. “Someone approaches.”
Aran stepped back, glancing around for something he could use as a weapon. He saw nothing useful, just a lot of musical instruments. If things got bad, he supposed he could smash a guitar over his attacker’s head.
The door twitched open and a small figure bounded into the room. His hair was a wild tangle festooned with feathers and he wore a costume of leaves and tatters. Bright, merry eyes shone in a sharp-featured face.
“Greetings!” he cried. “I see you have collected another mortal, Bard Thomas.”
“Well met, Puck,” Thomas said, his voice warm. He gestured to Aran. “This is my guest, BlackWing.”