Current mood:	accomplished
Current music:	Transformers OST
Entry tags:	sci-fi, storytelling

SF&F short story contest, round 2!
I finished and delivered my submission for the second round of the short story contest. Unlike the first round, where voting was closed and only participants could vote, this time the 21 stories will be up for general public voting starting on June 22nd. I want to marshal the online forces of DEWM that comprise my friends and contacts lists from different media, but since most of my online activity is on English-speaking forums, I used up some time today at work to translate the story, so if you are so inclined to vote, you know what you're voting for! ;) So, here it is, under the cut.

LEGEND TELLS

Words may change, the actors may be different, but heroes and their myths... those are eternal.

All visitors to Uqbar knew this phrase; it was carved into all entrances of the city, as if its architects hoped it would be home to the protagonists of great epics. And, in a way, it was true.

Walking through the streets of Uqbar was easy; the streets were paved in cobblestones and the city itself was exquisitely traced to allow easy access to the city's points of interest from the central plaza. It was also like taking a walk among the prisms of a kaleidoscope; all the races of the world were welcomed behind the walls of Uqbar, its builder's powerful enchantments enforcing the truce that kept visitors from raising sword and spell against each other. It was not surprising to share a beer with a swamp elf one day, and buy magical jewelry from a mountain goblin the next.

"Have you heard of Hrothnar?"

"They say he defeated Varmalix, the dragon from the Burning Ranges."

"They say he had allies, but he dealt the final blow and cut the wyrm's head off."

"Long live Hrothnar, dragonslayer!"

Larai pretended to ignore the rumors and growing enthusiasm in the city that prepared to celebrate Hrothnar. The young priestess smiled to herself as she crossed the plaza, enjoying somehow the reactions of the common folk to the exaggerated feats of a fictitious hero. Larai, just like Hrothnar and other famous heroes of the land, were not of the same stock as the citizens of Uqbar.

 ***

Sylvia also smiled. Unlike most players, she loved to watch the behavior of the background characters, to listen to their predefined dialogues, to watch them act as tireless ghosts that repeated their routine ceaselessly to simulate the hustle of a real city. Sylvia particularly enjoyed the scripts triggered by game events, such as the death of Varmalix by a group of players.

Sylvia took Larai, her character, into one of the city's inns before jacking-off and putting away the interface goggles; despite their light and portable design, they were the cutting edge of communications and entertainment technology. They covered perfectly the user's field of vision to provide full immersion, together with the earphones and sensory simulation cap. The set included a dynamic modem that made the game accessible from any part of the world thanks to its own wireless connection infrastructure. It was like a world hidden behind the world.

Sylvia replaced the sophisticated gear with a viewfinder in her left eye, small and simple but just as complex, and with a completely different purpose. She stored the game's control gloves together with the goggles, and pulled a case from under the bed of the hotel room where she was staying.

With cold and professional detachment, she started assembling the parts she pulled from the luggage, one by one.

Minutes later, Sylvia was pulling the trigger of the high-precision sniper rifle, synchronized with her satellite-link viewfinder. It took a single shot to blow the brains off the representative of the League of Orbital Communities and wreak a little chaos among his entourage. Another job well done, another check in the bank.

 ***

A few days later, Varmalix's death was still the talk of the citizens of Uqbar. Even more so, there was a bard in the plaza retelling the deed. Larai had listened this story before, with other dragons and other heroes.

"Enjoying the Ballad of Hrothnar, milady?" A young warrior addressed her, taking advantage of her brief pause. He was human, dressed in full plate armor without the slightest hint of magic, and of rather poor quality.

"Not really." Larai replied, scanning the newcomer with her eyes. He obviously didn't have much time as an adventurer. "You are quite bold to address me so, warrior... ¿don't you know who I am?"

"The woman whose beauty will inspire my greatest deeds, perhaps?" The warrior winked at her.

"Hmm." The priestess smiled. "You just earned a few minutes of my attention... use them well."

"You honor me, milady." The young man smiled in return. "My name is Eben, and of course I know who you are... The fame of Larai of the Wind Temple transcends the borders of kingdoms and cities; it is said that even the most reckless army will not suffer casualties as long as Larai is amongst its ranks... there is no better healer in the whole continent."

"Hm..." The young woman chuckled, suspecting that this was not a chance encounter. Among so many heroes in the world, she couldn't be that famous. "You flatter me, Eben, but I'm just merely a vessel of the gods' will; the power of healing comes from them, and my faith only gives it direction."

"In addition, humble." Eben bowed slightly. "However, I am curious... does it bother you that Hrothnar is honored thusly?"

"My answer is the same: not really." Larai shrugged. "This world is so full of opportunities for heroism, yet at the same time the alleged heroes have nothing to lose. How can there be valor if there is no risk?"

"A good point, but legends are not born for the sake of their protagonists."

"No?" Larai arched an eyebrow. "Then tell me: do you not wish to become a legend?"

"That is not up to me, but up to my deeds." Eben wasn't offended by her doubt. "What I mean is that legends are born for the sake of those who hear them; myths and epics teach people that anyone can reach those heights, that hope lies in following the path that others have had the courage to walk."

 ***

# Eben: We're getting a bit philosophical, aren't we? Hi, Larai, it's me, Calix.

Sylvia rolled her eyes when she read the text message. Calix was the name of another warrior with whom she had teamed up for the more difficult quests.

# Larai: I see... and here I was hoping there was another player with a decent vocabulary. If you were going to make a new character, why another warrior?

# Eben: Look closer; I'm a paladin now.

# Larai: Oooh. You wanted to test the new changes for Divine Fury, I gather.

# Eben: Pfft. No way. Eben is going to be a Hospitaller. I want to taste what it's like to be a healer.

# Larai: Ha! It's a thankless job, I promise.

# Eben: Yet it's what you've been doing from the start.

# Larai: I have my reasons. Anyway, do you need help in anything? I was about to jack off, but I can help you with a couple of quests.

# Eben: No, thanks; I want to learn how to use a paladin, and I can do that better alone. Heh... I bet in real life you're a nurse or something. You have a calling to take care of other people.

# Larai: Wouldn't you like to know...

Sylvia sighed. No, she wasn't a nurse, or doctor, or environmentalist, or anything to do with other people's well-being. The only thing that Sylvia and her game character shared was their place at the top of their respective jobs: Larai as a healer and defender, Sylvia as a mercenary sniper. There were nights when she wished she could trade places, that Larai was the real person, and Sylvia a character in some war game.

She used the game to relax before an assignment, especially one as strange as the current one. This time she shared room with another merc from the same company, both of them waiting their controller's orders. Sylvia felt her partner tapping her shoulder.

# Larai: Sorry, got to run. Work stuff.

# Eben: Aha. Emergency room?

# Larai: Sure, why not... see you.

The fantastic Uqbar cityscape faded into a rather more mundane reality. Control had rented the apartment they were hiding in as part of the operation, location and not style being the main selection criterion.

"I don't know how you can waste your time with that videogame." Carter grunted when Sylvia was back in the world.

"Better than wasting my paycheck on booze and gambling, I guess." Sylvia winked at him with some malice. "Any news?"

"Control says we should be ready; the target is on the move." The other man turned and began turning off all the lights. The sun was setting behind the skyline, but even in the twilight gloom, Sylvia could assemble her rifle without hesitation.

"I don't like blind operations." She said when the last piece snapped into place. "I prefer to know beforehand who I'm ‘retiring' from the face of the earth."

"Client's orders." Carter returned to her side, plugging in a small monitoring console that displayed the operation's progress. "The only thing we know is that it's a UN van."

"Bah... another bothersome diplomat asking uncomfortable questions." Sylvia speculated as she took her position by the window, watching the street. "I have visual. Van at the end of the street."

"Check... satellite imaging confirms target, escape route is green... client is online, awaiting target confirmation."

"Right..." Sylvia placed the targeting viewfinder on her left eye, resting the right one on the rifle's electronic sight. Both systems linked together to triangulate target position and give her all the data she needed to end someone's life cleanly and elegantly. "Hurry... the van just parked."

"Receiving intel, I'm patching it through to your finder."

Sylvia's grip was like a corpse's, her breathing slowed instinctively until she reached a level of concentration she had only achieved once in the game.

 ***

It was supposed to be a simple quest: escort a group of children who survived the raid by the Red Duke on their village through a narrow canyon, until they reached the White River fortress. Larai chose not to ride her loyal unicorn this time, following the children on foot. She knew an ambush awaited them; the Red Duke was not in the habit of letting anyone escape him.

And the ambush came. Larai had no problem keeping the Duke's fanatics in check while the children ran through the canyon, until she heard screams of terror from the ones running ahead.

She unleashed a flash of paralyzing light and ran to the front... the children could not advance as ahead of them a huge army of skeletons were in pursuit of a man dressed in leather armor, looking more amused than alarmed. The priestess frowned and prepared to face this new threat and rescue the young man when, suddenly, he winked and leapt to an incredible height, landing on an overlooking rock. The skeletons, unable to reach him, went for the children. The priestess only heard the thief's laughter as he abandoned her to her luck.

 ***

Sylvia bit her lip. This was not the time to remember one of the most frustrating defeats she'd suffered in the game. Her attention returned to reality. The white van bearing the UN logo parked in front of a small museum. Sylvia bit her lip again when it was children from all races and ages who climbed down.

"Target received." Carter informed, and in her left eye she saw the image of a young African woman dressed as a nun.

"You have to be kidding..." Sylvia muttered when her right eye spotted the young woman leading the children. "The target is a nun?"

"Affirmative... take the shot before you lose line of sight."

Sylvia aimed, her mind making all the calculations from her interface data. Her finger froze on the trigger.

"No... not in front of the children." She said softly. "Tell Control to find a new scenario."

"Damn it, Sylvia..." Carter scowled, and she heard the sounds of a large case opening. "The chief was right... you're getting soft... you're done for."

The world stopped. Sylvia saw her partner aim a rocket launcher at the van. Her rational mind relinquished control and instinct took over. The sniper spun and kicked her partner's leg, but the rocket fired nonetheless and an explosion on the street followed as sure as thunder follows lightning.

One shot and her partner dropped dead. Sylvia ran down the stairs and out of the building. The rocket had hit the museum and the nun was on the ground covering the children with her frail body, all of them scared but safe... at least until the backup team arrived to finish the job and leave no witnesses. If Control already suspected her, there was no doubt that the team's order included finishing her off as well.

Sylvia could hear, but she didn't listen, her will answering to the years of frustration and guilt she had been accumulating. The operation's info was still on her viewfinder, and it only took a couple of commands to trace an escape route towards the UN compound from where the van had come. She wasn't sure what she told the nun, but whatever it was, it worked, as soon she was running behind a group of scared children into an alley. A bullet whistled over her head.

She had no other choice than stopping the rest of the mercs at the alley's entrance. She tore the viewfinder from her face and handed it to the nun. The information was still there, with the route already marked along with several secrets of her trade that some intelligence service would find very valuable.

Sylvia took position. It wasn't hard to tell the other mercs from the confused bystanders: they were the ones running towards the blast zone, trying to be inconspicuous.

Her rifle only had five rounds, and she only had one magazine for her pistol. This was going to be interesting.

 ***

"Have you heard about Larai?"

"They say she defeated the Terror Legion while defending a refugee caravan."

"And she did it on her own! She had no help against that horde of undead!"

"Nobody knows what happened to Larai, but nobody has seen the Terror Legion rising again."

"Long live Larai, protector of the people!"

Eben was returning from the Temple after taking his vows as a Knight Hospitaller. It was almost a month since he heard anything from Larai, so the clamor amongst the citizens of Uqbar was a small surprise. However, he couldn't help but smile, typical of Larai to find a great deed that didn't involve killing something as its goal.

Different dragons for different heroes, definitely.