The Cursed Codex Page 11

  Gazing at him from his computer screen, with dark chestnut-brown hair instead of red, was Kyra Redmane, exactly how he’d pictured her.

  His head spinning, he sat up straight and grabbed his face in both hands. “This is too weird.”

  Blinking, rubbing his eyes, and staring even longer at the screen didn’t change anything. The woman sitting on the right side of his monitor—despite being clearly an illustration—matched how he’d imagined Kyra.

  He saved that image as well.

  Leaving the picture on the screen, he grasped the Gamemaster’s Codex and hugged it to his chest, peering over it into Sarah’s eyes. He felt like that critter from Lord of the Rings clinging to its precious as he squeezed his book. The book that took him away from his crummy life, nasty schoolmates, and worse father. With this book, he escaped. With this book—

  “Wait, what?”

  Keith blinked a few times and shook his head. The sudden fear and hatred of his father disappeared as fast as it had come out nowhere.

  “Nothing’s wrong with my dad… or my friends.”

  Elliot had joked at him for getting too into roleplaying Kyra’s dialogue. Half the stuff ‘she’ said, felt like it just came to him out of thin air. He swallowed hard, gazing into the giant red eye set against the blue dragonscale pattern on the cover.

  It seemed alive, as if staring right back at him. He froze, unable to move or breathe. Seconds later, it blinked.

  Keith jumped, yelped, and dropped the book, scooting back on his chair, breathing hard. The Gamemaster’s Codex fell to the floor like any ordinary book would do if dropped. He held still for a few minutes before summoning the courage to pick it back up.

  The eerie sense of being watched had gone away.

  No way. I can’t tell Mom or Dad about this. They’ll send me to a shrink, or worse, take the game away.

  “I know I’ve seen that creature before but…” He grumbled at his closet, set the Codex back on the desk, and rummaged the junk between the keyboard and monitor. When he found Glen’s business card, he held it up like a triumphant knight with a sword.

  He ran downstairs to the kitchen and nabbed the cordless phone from its base. After dialing the store number, he held it against his shoulder with his head and fidgeted the card between his fingers.

  “Dragon’s Cavern, this is Roy.”

  “Hi, umm. Is Glen there? I wanted to ask him something about a game.”

  “Sure, kid. Hang on a sec.”

  “Thanks.”

  His mother walked in from the living room with a tall glass holding mostly-melted ice cubes. She smiled and set about refilling her iced tea. The TV behind her in the living room showed a close-up of a leopard sinking its fangs into something brown. Whatever Animal Planet show she had on in the living room had to be paused—probably Tivo-ed.

  “Yo, this is Glen,” said the man on the phone.

  “Hi. Not sure if you remember me. I’m the kid that got the C&C Player’s Compendium a while ago. I have a weird question.”

  “Shoot. And yeah, I remember you. Ain’t that many kids your age into the old school stuff. Everything’s all video games now,” said Glen, sounding somber.

  “I have this creature in my head, but all I can remember is what it looked like. I can’t find it in the Codex or the Critters Unlimited.”

  “Okay, I’ve been running C&C for like twenty years now, so… lemme have it. What’cha got?”

  Mom raised an eyebrow.

  Keith covered the phone mouthpiece with his hand. “Game store. Got a question for the guy.”

  She nodded and returned to the living room with a full tea.

  “It’s black and shadowy like a Wailing Wraith, but really tall, fills the whole corridor. It’s got a skull face, but long and stretched, like something pulled its chin like two feet down. Bone hands, too. And it, uhh, radiates fear.”

  “Hmm. That’s a pretty unique description.”

  Keith grabbed the phone in his hand and paced. “Yeah. I know I’ve seen it somewhere, but I can’t find it.”

  “Oh! Yeah.” Glen laughed. “I remember it now. It’s from The Devouring. It’s in the Codex.”

  “I checked the Codex,” said Keith.

  Glen put on a voice like an ancient wise man. “Ahh yes, young padawan, but did you check the whole Codex? There’s a few custom creatures after the module in the back. Separate from the creature section.”

  “Oh. Derp.” Keith biffed himself in the forehead. “No. I didn’t even look there. I basically memorized the module… Still running it for my friends.”

  “Nice. Nice. How’s that going?”

  “Ehh. Slower than I’d like. They only got to the first village, right past the edge of the black stuff.”

  “First village isn’t in the black stuff. The one with the skeleton ambush?”

  “Yeah,” said Keith.

  “That’s about a day’s walk from the edge of the Devouring. The town of Therewyn is abandoned, not cursed.” Glen sucked in a breath. “Oh, you’re probably changing stuff around. Heh. Don’t mind me. I remember the modules as they’re written. Improv is good. Especially if you think some of your players have read it. Keeps them on their toes.”

  Keith gazed down at his socks. Maybe one of his players did read the module. “I got that old Codex from a yard sale. The girl who used to own it made a bunch of notes.”

  “Cool. Some GMs have a knack for doing stuff on the fly like that. I think after thirty years, my brain’s a dried-up sponge.” Glen laughed. “I don’t have the time or patience anymore and just run ’em as they’re written. Hope you never hit that point, kid. Keep the magic.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Glen.”

  “You got it. Anything else?”

  “No thanks, I’m good now.”

  “Right on. Happy gaming.”

  “Thanks.”

  Keith ran upstairs, jumped in his chair, and grabbed the Gamemaster’s Codex. He pressed his thumb into the edge, measuring depth, and pulled the book open one page shy of The Devouring module. As Glen mentioned, a handful of custom monsters made up specifically for the story came after it, a mini creature-list. When he reached the last page of the section, he stared into the skull-eyes of a near-full-page painting.

  The same creature that had tried to grab him.

  His gaze shot to the little paragraph of stats, and the name.

  Woznar (crossed out and replaced with Yzil in silver marker).

  The Dark Wizard itself.

  15

  The Locked Gate

  Keith lay in bed that night, gazing at the ceiling. The Dark Wizard’s stats had been scary enough; a level ten creature with twice as many health points as Nasir the Bold, even more than Kyra despite her being level eleven. All the other characters had hit only level two at the last game session.

  No, what scared him more than picturing how horribly wrong any encounter with the current party and Yzil would go, was somehow that thing showed up in his closet. Sure, he’d seen the picture before when studying the module even though he’d forgotten about it. The possibility existed that his dream dragged that image out of the depths of his memory and teased him with it.

  But he couldn’t accept it had been a dream.

  Not the way it felt. Not with the cupcakes vanishing or Kyra looking exactly like a twenty-something Sarah. How could he have possibly imagined her appearance correctly? And who was that young girl trying to run down the corridor to him? Did Sarah have a daughter his age?

  “Or, I’ve gone completely nuts.”

  He took a deep breath and sighed it out his nostrils before closing his eyes, determined to sleep.

  The faint scream of a frustrated girl came from his closet, more of an ‘argh!’ than an ‘eeek!’

  Awake in an instant, Keith jumped out of bed and hurried to the door, opening it as fast as he could get his hand on the knob.

  Instead of his clothes and old games, the doorway revealed a dark, foggy forest. Massive pine trees wit
h black bark and needles stood among whorls of luminous blue mist. Crickets sang, and other, larger insects made scraping noises. A heavy, mossy scent washed over him, leaving the taste of earth in his mouth. He gawked at the gargantuan forest, clearly nothing from Earth.

  Metal rattled far ahead and a little to the right, like a jail cell door under attack by an inmate. Feminine grunting accompanied the clatter. The girl sounded as if she struggled to lift or move something too heavy for her.

  Keith looked down at himself, clad in blue pajamas, and pounded a fist into his right thigh.

  “Ow.” He rubbed the spot. “Okay… I guess I’m not dreaming?”

  The distant girl let off a growl of frustration.

  She needs help.

  He stepped into his closet, flinching only a little at the icy, wet forest floor at his bare feet. The glowing fog came up to his knees. After a few steps, he advanced up to a jog, weaving among trees big enough to hollow out for tiny cabins. Something kept him from calling out to her, though as her grunting and struggling grew louder, he urged himself to a run. She seemed to be close ahead, beyond a steep hill.

  Keith scrambled up the incline, grabbing at clumps of dirt and pine needles to scale the steepest part. When he reached the top, he froze still at the sight of a castle keep with long stone walls extending to either side. The pale grey stones caught the moonlight, shining blue and otherworldly.

  Close to the near corner of the building, a pointy archway held a dungeon cell door.

  Two pale hands gripped the bars from inside, shaking and pushing at the gate, which refused to move.

  Keith gasped.

  Abandoning caution, he jumped over the top of the hill, waving his arms for balance as he half-ran, half-skidded down the other side, a shallower grade than the one he’d climbed. For a hair less than a minute, he ran along the wall before coming to a halt by a locked gate, eye to eye with a fourteen-year-old girl dressed in studded leather armor, a green skirt, and soft hide boots with fringe right below her knees. Her chestnut-brown hair reached down to the middle of her back, and her large, hazel eyes widened at the sight of him.

  Keith’s mouth hung open.

  He’d seen her before.

  Hours before to be exact.

  Staring at him from his computer screen.

  “Holy crap. You’re Sarah Norris!”

  Sarah grimaced, pulling at the bars. “Help me open this!”

  He advanced to the door, still too stunned to think.

  She leaned back and kicked at the plate where a key would go. “It’s stuck.”

  “How…” Keith stammered. “How are you still a kid?”

  “What do you mean?” Sarah rummaged around in her hip satchel before pulling out a pair of thin metal tools. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but I have to get out of here. He’s after me, and I can’t fight him like this.”

  “I, umm, can’t open locks.”

  Sarah’s attempt at picking the gate appeared as futile as her trying to break it open. She sighed. “No, not out of here. Out of here.”

  “What?” Keith blinked.

  “I’m not trapped in a cell. There’s a hallway behind me. I can go back out the way I came in, but that’s not the way I want to go. This wall goes on forever. The only way through to the other side is this gate, and it’s not opening. I need to go that way.” She stuck her arm between the bars, pointing toward the hill where he’d come from.

  Keith turned his head to stare at her pointing finger. Unable to help himself, he grasped her hand. The gesture appeared to catch her off guard. She didn’t protest, though she didn’t squeeze him back.

  Her hand felt so soft and warm, he found himself becoming lightheaded. In school, he barely noticed girls beyond occasionally gazing from a distance at the ones far too pretty for him to dare talking to. A few he’d tried to ask out, and one he’d even gone to the movies with—once. Being here was so different. He knew Sarah like he never been close to anyone ever. All her notes, her writing, he’d read them over and over again, never with the slightest inkling he’d ever meet a girl who’d died in 1987.

  “You’re not dead,” he blurted.

  She pulled her hand back to grab the bars. “Not yet, anyway, but Yzil’s trying.”

  “What happened? Where are we and how are you still fourteen?” He closed his hand, thinking he might never wash it again. “I’m Keith. Keith Croft.”

  Sarah stopped trying to rip down the door. “I’m not sure what you’re—”

  Loud growling from the right shocked her silent.

  Three creatures, mostly man-shaped but with the heads of jackals loped out from the trees. Their eyes glowed crimson, their fur jet-black. Ten-inch talons with wicked edges dangled from their fingers.

  Keith whirled around and pressed his back to the gate. “Run. I’ll stall them.”

  She put her hands on his back and pushed. “Don’t be an idiot. You need to get out of here. They can’t open this door either. You’re in pajamas. They’ll rip you to bits. We’re kids, not characters! Don’t be a turdling. Go!”

  A dumb smile spread across his face. She’s touching me.

  “Keith!” shouted Sarah. “Run!”

  He snapped out of his mental fog as the three jackalweres broke into a charge.

  “Gah!”

  Keith took off to the right, sprinting for the hill.

  “Don’t forget me here!” shouted Sarah, her plaintive voice echoing in the forest. “Find the key! I had it, but I lost it!”

  Snarling growls and snapping teeth closed in on him from behind. Keith’s lungs burned. Every third time his foot hit the ground, it slipped in wet pine needles, but sheer terror kept his balance. His heels hit the ground so hard, his pajama bottoms began to slip down. He figured it probably wouldn’t be a great idea to moon werewolves—or jackalweres.

  “Crap!” He grabbed his pants with one hand, holding them up as he cleared the top of the mound.

  Fear of a steep hill paled in comparison to his fear of three giant man-dogs with massive claws and teeth. After only a split second’s hesitation, he tried to run down the sharp slope. Pine needles, mulch, and root gnarls attempted over and over to trip him, but he waved his one free arm and somehow managed to make it to flat ground with no worse than a jammed pinky toe.

  The jackalweres flowed over the hilltop like inky death.

  Keith regretted looking back as soon as he’d done it.

  Ahead, a rectangular portal, his closet door, offered a view into his room.

  He ran like he’d never run before in his life.

  A spectral wail rose from the right.

  For the second time in four seconds, Keith regretted looking at something.

  A lot.

  The ten-foot tall wraith form of Yzil glided at him from the side. Its giant bony hands trailed at the ends of vaporous arms. Long, black tatters of shadow fluttered behind it from how fast it flew. The Dark Wizard hadn’t yet come close enough for its magical aura of fear to take hold, but it didn’t have to. The mere presence of the creature scared him straight to the point of being too terrified to scream.

  He’d seen those stats. One tenth-level character had no business fighting that thing.

  One thirteen-year-old boy in pajamas had no business being in the same world as that thing.

  I’m almost home. Again and again, his feet hammered the ground, the shock carrying up his back into his skull. The stink of wet dog breath blasted at the back of his hair. Crap! They’re right behind me.

  “Gah!” he screamed, desperate to milk every bit of speed out of his burning legs.

  Claws pricked at his shoulder.

  “Aaaah!” Terror gave him wings. His stride stretched longer. The jackalweres fell back a few inches. The closet rushed toward him, barely ten yards away.

  Almost…

  Another black-furred hand grabbed for him. He flung himself forward, barely avoiding four razor-blade claws, but they ripped his pajama top open down the back. One o
f the jackalweres grabbed the trailing fabric, trying to yank him to a stop, but Keith spun with it, shrugging out of the destroyed long-sleeved top while scrambling back around to keep going for the portal.

  Teeth mashed closed inches from his head.

  Two steps from the opening, Keith leapt into a baseball dive, landing on his chest and sliding across wet grass to a stop in the middle of his bedroom carpet. Seconds later, shock wore off, and he rolled on his back, arms folded across his bare chest, paralyzed in pain.

  “Ow…”

  Explaining rug-burned nipples to his parents wasn’t happening.

  Explaining why his pajamas had mud all over them probably wouldn’t go over well either.

  Back to the rug-burned nipples—forget parents, no one would ever hear that story.

  He sat up, panting for breath, gazing into his quite unremarkable closet.

  Shimmery light caught his eye to the right. He turned his head slow, afraid of what he’d see.

  A shroud of ghostly vapor swirled around the Gamemaster’s Codex.

  Keith sat there dumbstruck as the energy rushed back inside the pages like billowing smoke in reverse. When the last of it vanished, his room darkened.

  “Whoa…” He stood, still with his arms clamped to his sore chest. “No one is ever going to believe this.”

  Luckily, the house remained quiet. He couldn’t dismiss what had happened as a dream since he had the mud to prove it. Keith took a pair of flip-flops from his closet to avoid tracking dirt down the hall. From his dresser, he grabbed a clean set of pajamas, and quiet as a mouse, crept to the bathroom to clean up.

  16

  Imaginary Friends

  Tuesday morning, Keith hunched over his breakfast of fried eggs, toast, and freezer sausages. His mother had off on Tuesdays, so she usually cooked him a ‘real’ breakfast. He’d barely slept, constantly drifting between thinking of Sarah and dreaming about her. It baffled him how she could still be fourteen, much less in his closet. Or in whatever world his closet had become connected to. Seeing the Codex glow had set off a battle of emotion inside him. Half of him wanted to throw it out his window and never look at it again, but the other half still thought of it as the most precious thing in the world.