Эрнест Клайн - Ready Player Two

Carcharoth froze in midstep and cocked his head sideways to regard her like a curious dog. Art3mis took a step forward and raised both of her hands toward the giant wolf, as if to embrace him. Then she began to sing, and as she did, music arose out of nowhere to accompany her.

“O woe-begotten spirit,” Art3mis sang to Carcharoth, her amplified voice echoing off the high stone walls of Thangorodrim, “fall now into dark oblivion, and forget for a while the dreadful doom of life.”

The giant wolf’s eyelids fluttered, briefly obscuring the fiery-red coals burning at the center of each of his pupils. Then his eyes slammed shut, and the mighty Carcharoth dropped to the ground in front of Art3mis, causing a small earthquake. When the tremors subsided, the only sound in that desolate place was that of the giant beast snoring.

But even before Carcharoth hit the ground, Art3mis was already rushing to my side.

She laid her hands on the bite wound on my shoulder, which had already begun to fester, turning the skin and veins around it black. Then she began to sing another song. This one had Elvish lyrics that I didn’t understand, and my translator subtitles were obscured by my hit-point counter, which now filled my entire HUD. It was also flashing red, to ensure that I knew my avatar now only had five hit points remaining….

Then Art3mis finished her brief song, and my hit-point counter jumped back up to maximum. And it stayed there—an indication that I had also been cured of the ongoing effects of the wolf’s deadly venom.

I just lay there on the ground, shaking. Then I felt Art3mis take my hand, and I opened my eyes to see her staring down at me.

“Thank you!” I said, throwing my arms around her. My voice came out as a whisper. “Thank you for saving me. Thank you for coming back.”

I forced myself to let go of her.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she said. “But what were you thinking?” She shook her head. “That you could just roll up to the Gates of Angband completely unprepared, and half-ass your way through the Quest of the Silmaril?”

“I was not ‘completely unprepared’!” I replied indignantly. “Did you happen to notice that I’m wielding both Andúril and Glamdring right now?” I pointed up the road. “And I rode in here on Shadowfax! I’m doing my best. So don’t treat me like I’m some blockheaded Bracegirdle from Hardbottle!”

That made her lose her composure and snort-laugh several times in a row. When she recovered, her demeanor had considerably softened.

“You almost bought the farm, ace,” she said. “Close call.”

“We didn’t know if you’d get here in time, so I did the best I could. I’m sorry I got Aech killed—” My voice caught, and I choked down a sob. “And I’m sorry I never finished reading The Silmarillion, even after I promised you I would. I’m so sorry….”

“It’s all right,” she said. “Pull it together, Z.” She motioned toward the open gates of Angband. “Right now we have a quest to complete. Aech and Shoto are counting on us.”

“OK,” I said, getting to my feet. “Just give me a second. I want to call Faisal and confirm that Aech’s vital signs are OK, and check on Shoto’s status again too.”

She nodded and I placed the call to Faisal. But he didn’t answer. I let it ring until the call rolled to voicemail, then I hung up and turned back around to face Art3mis. She had her avatar’s inventory open on her HUD and was scrolling through a long list of magic items.

“Do you have Angrist in your inventory?” she asked. “Or Angainor?”

She produced a long, curved Elven knife from her inventory. Then she took out a chain made of some sort of glowing metal and held it up too.

I shook my head. A second later, my HUD helpfully informed me that Angrist was a knife that could cleave iron “as if it were green wood.” And I learned that Angainor was a chain forged by “Aulë to be stronger than all other chains.” It was made of an unbreakable alloy known as tilkal.

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t have time to pick either of them up on my way here.”

Art3mis handed me the knife, then equipped the chain on her belt.

“Can I see the Fifth Shard?” she asked.

I held it out, and we both reread the inscription:

Win her hand through a feat of dark renown

The last two shards are set in Morgoth’s Crown

“It’s a trick, Z,” she said. “Don’t try to cut more than one Silmaril from Morgoth’s Crown—no matter how easy it looks. If you do, the knife will break, and you’ll awaken Morgoth and all of his minions. Then we’ll have Gothmog and Glaurung coming down on us, along with a host of Orcs, wargs, werewolves, vampires, and Balrogs, all led by Ancalagon the Black. Beren makes the same mistake in The Silmarillion. ”

I let out a sigh of frustration.

“I did try to read it, you know,” I said. “But I couldn’t. It reminded me too much of you.”

She studied my face for a moment, then she smiled.

“What’s your avatar’s alignment these days, ace?” she asked me.

“It’s still Chaotic Good,” I replied. “Why?”

“Because if your alignment is any brand of evil, the Silmaril will burn your hand and you won’t be able to pick it up.”

“Good to know,” I said, locking eyes with her. “I’m really glad you’re here, Arty. Thank you for coming.”

She raised her chin up at the towering peaks of Angband looming above us. “Og and Kira were the ones who originally re-created Beren and Lúthien’s adventures here on Arda. They designed and coded this quest together. It’s insanely difficult. No one has ever managed to complete it. Including me. In fact, it’s the only quest on this planet that I haven’t completed. I’ve never even attempted it.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because it’s a two-person quest, Z,” she said. “And I always wanted to complete it with you….”

“Then I ruined everything,” I said. “I know. I’m sorry. It was my fault. This is all my fault.”

“It’s gonna be OK,” she said, grinning at me. “We’re going to complete this quest now, Watts. You and me.”

“All right,” I said. “Just tell me what to do, and what not to do. I’ll follow your lead.”

She started to smile—but then it morphed into a worried frown.

“You’re starting to twitch, Z,” she said. “Are you feeling OK?”

She reached out and took both of my hands in hers. That was when I noticed that they were trembling. And that I couldn’t make them stop. I also realized that I was grinding my teeth, and I was starting to feel like I had a migraine headache coming on….

“Synaptic Overload Syndrome,” I said. “The symptoms are starting to set in. And it’s only going to get worse, so let’s keep moving. No one else can collect the last two shards except me, Arty.”

She stared at me in silence for a moment, then nodded.

“You sure you’re ready?”

“I feel fantastic!” I lied. “Now that you’re here, I have a very positive attitude about all this.”

She smiled. Then she opened her inventory again and took out a beautiful Mithril helmet cast in the shape of a dragon’s head, and covered with jewels and precious gems.

“Here,” she said, handing the helm to me. “Put this on. It’s the Dragon-helm of Dor-lómin. It will protect you in combat and prevent you from being poisoned by the cursed weapons of the Great Enemy. And here—put this on too.”

She handed me some sort of magic fur coat called the Wolf-hame of Draugluin. As soon as I pulled it on, my avatar began transforming into a giant wolf, forcing me to drop down on all fours. Transforming into another animal when you were wearing an ONI headset was a strange experience, because you no longer felt like you were inside a human body. It took some getting used to. But I’d transformed into plenty of other four-legged creatures during quests, so I was already used to the sensation and had plenty of experience getting around on four legs.