Read Online Feyland: The First Adventure by Anthea Sharp - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anthea Sharp
Tags: Urban Fantasy, Fantasy - Series, Science Fantasy, Fairies, ya fantasy, teen, fey, computer gaming, teen adventure, YA science fiction, fantasy short story, videogames turned real
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azure sky beyond. Jennet stepped out of the trees, and smiled at the view. Rolling hills spread out before her, spangled with white blossoms. Nestled in a nearby hollow stood a cozy-looking cottage, full-on fairytale with its whitewashed, half-timbered walls and diamond-paned windows. Red flowers spilled from the window boxes.
The path she stood on led directly to the front step.
A brown, squat creature sat there, watching her. Her first quest-giver? Or an enemy? There was nothing about it to give her any indication—no green friendly icon over its head, or red shield that would signal aggression. In most sim games, NPCs, Non-Player-Characters, were marked so that players knew how to interact. Obviously, the programmers had a bit more work to do on the game.
Pressing her lips together in concentration, Jennet reviewed her Spellcaster’s arsenal. Fireball, Wall of Flame, and Arcane Blast. All three spells seemed strong enough to take down an enemy, though Wall of Flame had a ten second cooldown that made it less useful. Still, it seemed a decent enough assortment to work with.
Jennet strode down the path toward the cottage. As she approached, the figure on the doorstep looked up at her. He was a hideous creature.
His dark eyes and thin lips were overshadowed by his enormous, jutting cliff of a nose. The only things larger than his nose were his ears, great ugly flaps of skin on either side of his head. He was covered in a pelt of coarse brown hair, his only clothing a tattered cloth tied about his waist.
He didn’t seem primed to attack, so Jennet stepped closer, wrinkling her nose at the smell of moldy earth and old wood-smoke. She halted a few feet from the stoop, waiting, but the creature only regarded her from its murky brown eyes.
“Hello?” she said at last.
“Greetings.” His voice sounded like stirred gravel. “Did you bring me milk?”
She glanced around. Was there supposed to be a store nearby? Had she missed a step somewhere?
He folded his spindly arms. “I want milk.”
“Okay.”
If this was the first quest, it was a strange one. She wished she could give the developers some advice.
Clearly she wasn’t going to get anywhere with the weird little creature until she’d brought him milk. Whatever. Jennet walked around the cottage, looking for clues, and when she got back to the front step, the creature was holding a wooden bowl cradled between his knobbly fingers.
“Slow-witted mortal,” he said, holding out the bowl. “Fill this with milk from the black cow over yonder hill.”
Jennet took it, careful not to touch the creature. Something about him was just too odd for comfort. Bowl tucked under her arm, she headed for the rise behind the cottage. The wind tugged a strand of her hair free, and she pushed it behind her ear. She could almost feel the warm sunshine, like a hand upon her shoulder.
At the top of the hill she took a moment to appreciate the view. The grassy hills, green-gold in the sunlight, rolled away before her. A small valley lay below, the silvery glint of a stream at the bottom edged by graceful cottonwoods. Farther out, a darker line of trees stood. Pines, maybe. Behind them, the blue shadows of mountains rose, jagged against the sky.
The world of Feyland beckoned, a fantastic place to explore. But first, she had to get some milk.
A white fence enclosed a small field below, holding—as the creature had promised—a black cow. She’d never actually milked a cow before, but surely the game designers wouldn’t make it too hard.
Of course, she had to catch the cow first. Jennet climbed over the fence. The cow watched her with soft, placid eyes, but every time she got close enough to grasp the red harness it wore, somehow the animal ended up on the other side of the meadow.
She plucked handfuls of grass to entice it, tried sprinting and sneaking, and finally, after ten useless minutes, gave it up.
Fine. Jennet set the bowl down and crossed her arms, deliberately
The path she stood on led directly to the front step.
A brown, squat creature sat there, watching her. Her first quest-giver? Or an enemy? There was nothing about it to give her any indication—no green friendly icon over its head, or red shield that would signal aggression. In most sim games, NPCs, Non-Player-Characters, were marked so that players knew how to interact. Obviously, the programmers had a bit more work to do on the game.
Pressing her lips together in concentration, Jennet reviewed her Spellcaster’s arsenal. Fireball, Wall of Flame, and Arcane Blast. All three spells seemed strong enough to take down an enemy, though Wall of Flame had a ten second cooldown that made it less useful. Still, it seemed a decent enough assortment to work with.
Jennet strode down the path toward the cottage. As she approached, the figure on the doorstep looked up at her. He was a hideous creature.
His dark eyes and thin lips were overshadowed by his enormous, jutting cliff of a nose. The only things larger than his nose were his ears, great ugly flaps of skin on either side of his head. He was covered in a pelt of coarse brown hair, his only clothing a tattered cloth tied about his waist.
He didn’t seem primed to attack, so Jennet stepped closer, wrinkling her nose at the smell of moldy earth and old wood-smoke. She halted a few feet from the stoop, waiting, but the creature only regarded her from its murky brown eyes.
“Hello?” she said at last.
“Greetings.” His voice sounded like stirred gravel. “Did you bring me milk?”
She glanced around. Was there supposed to be a store nearby? Had she missed a step somewhere?
He folded his spindly arms. “I want milk.”
“Okay.”
If this was the first quest, it was a strange one. She wished she could give the developers some advice.
Clearly she wasn’t going to get anywhere with the weird little creature until she’d brought him milk. Whatever. Jennet walked around the cottage, looking for clues, and when she got back to the front step, the creature was holding a wooden bowl cradled between his knobbly fingers.
“Slow-witted mortal,” he said, holding out the bowl. “Fill this with milk from the black cow over yonder hill.”
Jennet took it, careful not to touch the creature. Something about him was just too odd for comfort. Bowl tucked under her arm, she headed for the rise behind the cottage. The wind tugged a strand of her hair free, and she pushed it behind her ear. She could almost feel the warm sunshine, like a hand upon her shoulder.
At the top of the hill she took a moment to appreciate the view. The grassy hills, green-gold in the sunlight, rolled away before her. A small valley lay below, the silvery glint of a stream at the bottom edged by graceful cottonwoods. Farther out, a darker line of trees stood. Pines, maybe. Behind them, the blue shadows of mountains rose, jagged against the sky.
The world of Feyland beckoned, a fantastic place to explore. But first, she had to get some milk.
A white fence enclosed a small field below, holding—as the creature had promised—a black cow. She’d never actually milked a cow before, but surely the game designers wouldn’t make it too hard.
Of course, she had to catch the cow first. Jennet climbed over the fence. The cow watched her with soft, placid eyes, but every time she got close enough to grasp the red harness it wore, somehow the animal ended up on the other side of the meadow.
She plucked handfuls of grass to entice it, tried sprinting and sneaking, and finally, after ten useless minutes, gave it up.
Fine. Jennet set the bowl down and crossed her arms, deliberately
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