Kostick - The Dragons Revenge

The Dragons Revenge

Conor Kostick

Copyright Conor Kostick 2019

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission from the publisher.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No affiliation is implied or intended to any organisation or recognisable body mentioned within.

Published by Level Up in the United Kingdom in 2019

Cover by Claire Wood

ISBN: 978-1-912701-83-4

www.levelup.pub

A big thank you to Mike Virtue, Russ Liley and especially Patrick Reed.

Praise for Conor Kostick

The most important Irish novel of the year. Celia Keenan, the Independent reviewing Epic .

Just as Saga (2008) exploded beyond opener Epic (2007), this third volume ratchets up this science-fiction gaming series to a whole new level. Kirkus reviewing Edda .

Contemporary and futuristic fantasy can provide a powerful critique of dehumanisation and help explore ideas about identity. Conor Kosticks Saga falls into this category. Sunday Independent review of Saga.

It is a rock 'n' roll, helter-skelter time, a journey not for the faint-hearted but bound to enthral wired-up skateboarders, the mathematically literature and those who just enjoy a well-written narrative. This is what happens when Hal from 2001: A Space Odyssey meets A Clockwork Orange . Village Magazine review of Saga .

Irish author Kosticks powerful debut imagines an agrarian world where violence is illegal, except within a massive computer game that provides the economic and governmental structure for society. Publishers Weekly review of Epic .

A gripping first novel A surefire winner. Kirkus review of Epic .

Chapter 1

Dragon Attack

Lets try again, I spoke patiently.

Its not easy getting a heal rotation to run smoothly, especially if the clerics are relatively new to each other. The Restore spell is a complete healing spell but takes eight seconds to cast. Far too slow for a dragon fight. So you have to recruit eight high-level clerics for the raid, each of whom begins to chant one second after the other. That way, woosh, woosh, wooshthere is a continuous series of powerful heals landing on your tank. It works like kids singing Frre Jacques in the round in primary school and is just as messy to get it going properly.

And go!

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

I was sitting on a rock - well, my warrior avatar, Tyro, was - with the clerics all gathered around me, calling out their number as they began to cast the spell. The curious thing about the scene was that even though all avatars can be fully customised in the world of Epic , these players looked pretty similar. It was like I was circled by clones. Thats because they all had the same quest gear: Neowthlas Breast Plate, a shield of warding and Movs Hammer of the Elements. Top ranking cleric items, representing years of effort. Nothing but the best for my raids. Except.

Five.

The sixth cleric just stood there. No raised arms to cast a spell. Nothing but a blank stare into the distance.

Oh, come on Triggle. Where are you? This time I couldnt keep the exasperation out of my voice.

Sorry, man, pizza arrived just at the wrong time.

And that encapsulates the challenge of organising a big raid. One hundred and twenty-three avatars, all logged in to Epic in the hope of making history. Some were just kids, maybe waking up in the middle of the night to join a raid, the way I used to. Others, perhaps, were middle-aged, hot-shot lawyers, closing their office door and lowering the blinds for an hour of Epic play. And everything in between. I felt responsible for their time and was very conscious of the need to keep everything running to schedule.

Start over please. And go!

Now the rotation was established properly, the clerics twitching in order, landing their spells about a second apart. I let it run through five cycles and called a halt.

Good. Go over to your starting places behind Braja.

As the clerics obediently trudged past me up the hill, I swapped my communications from local to the raid channel, which Id earlier defined as Dragonattack and made an announcement. The pizza incident had caused me to worry.

[Channel Dragonattack] Ten minutes to start, I announced. This is your ten-minute warning. Eat, drink, go to the toilet. We begin in ten.

Then I took my own advice, raising my foot off my little tracking pad and unclipping from the gloves and helmet. It was always a little disconcerting phasing in and out of Epic . The game was this huge fantasy environment, with extraordinary landscapes and incredible skies. There are two moons in Epic and whether by design or just the way the game had evolved, you could get breath-taking evenings, like the one Id just stepped away from, where the sun was setting on one horizon and the moons had risen from the other, to glow as though burnished with copper.

By contrast, I unclipped from the game to see a dingy room barely wide enough to fit my bed. My clothes were strewn on a floor whose faded brown carpet had a well-worn path from door to bed. It was dimly lit, my bedroom, mostly because my curtains were nearly always closed: who wanted to look out at the grim walls and barred windows of a factory on the other side of the alley? I had put shelves in myself and these ran around high up, above my poster-clad wall (two trance-metal bands featured, but the majority of the posters showed scenes from Epic , including one of the dragon Mikarkathat).

If there was one feature of the room that did not look typical for a teenagers bedroom in overcrowded Dublin, it was the high-tech gear on top of the shelving. Black boxes there had small blue and green LEDs, blinking in and out of phase. Thanks to my sponsors, I had enterprise-grade computing and online access. No lag for me.

On entering the bathroom, I was met with a waft of warm, moist air and a strong scent of flowers. The glass panes of the narrow shower stall were covered in droplets. Evidently, Mum had just been in here.

Mum? I shouted downstairs. But there was no reply. Her new cleaning job was in the Bartlett Private Hospital, over an hour away on the south side of town. Shed probably just left. And I wouldnt have heard her call goodbye, not while in Epic .

Refreshed, I clipped up again.

And a whole new - far better - world rushed upon me.

Even clipping up is an intense, addictive experience, let alone fighting dragons. You place one foot on a tracking pad, a foot that becomes adept at spinning it in whatever direction you need to move your avatar; you place the helmet over your head, seeing the login screen and hearing an ambient theme music, and you slide your hands into the gloves.

Then, the moment I lived for. A gesture with your index finger and a sinuous line of pastel colours surges over you like a crashing wave, accompanied by a rushing sound like that of an aeroplane taking off. As your heart beats fast in expectation, the colours turn kaleidoscopic before crystalizing into the environment in front of your avatar.