26
Faraji fought a state of frigid cold as he trekked his way to the top of the mountain pass. He concentrated on warmth and fire and willed a protective flame wreath into being around him for what must have been the twentieth time since he started at the bottom of the mountain. Snow melted on the ground and in the air around him and turned to water that drenched his hair then rose again in steam tendrils.
He knew his destination but not exactly how to get there. He was headed to the snowy cottage of the training program named Gerimiah, who was himself a means to an end.
He had learned of Gerimiah from the Elders in the Raider council during a meeting at their favorite virtual hangout, the Queens Bloody Pub in the Timor sector of Blizzard’s Gate. The Elders themselves were some of the most proficient users of any game in any country, and Faraji had not stopped thanking his luck, having been introduced to them. They knew every quest in the game, every location of every training program. In short anything that needed knowing. Faraji had asked Elders Belfalas and Orisen just how he might start to look into real world applications for his skills.
The protective shield winked and went out—he had lost his concentration. The cold invaded again faster than before, and he sought its warmth again. He struggled upward. He felt lonely on this mountain. He felt motherless, friendless, but without fear of death in Blizzard's Gate. In response to his questions, the Elders had sent him on a long journey. He knew he wouldn't sleep tonight, wouldn't even go back to the apartment. He had three visits to make.
The first thing to learn was how to fly.
Three hours of icy labour and Faraji could finally see his first destination, a small reddish log cottage among the sharp dagger peaks. Two small windows emitted a welcome glow to either side of an oak door. The door opened before he reached it and a stooped man with deeplined crow's feet beckoned him inside, just like the elders had said he would. This must be Gerimiah, Blizzard's Gate flight trainer, a program only accessible to users of a certain caliber, concentration, and commitment. The Elders, had already told Faraji what would come next, a grueling regiment of mind exercise, and then after that, the secret of flight in Oz.
The snow melted quickly from his avatar's boots as Gerimiah closed the door behind him, shutting up the gusting cacophony and making the cottage an unnatural vacuum. The old fellow took off his fur lined hood, a mere play at reality he ostensibly had put on just to open the door. Slightly pointed lips and a round head gave him a turtle appearance. He smiled at the newcomer.