into the Burgundian warrior, barely able to move the larger warrior’s bulk. Then he disengaged his sword and chopped at the man’s neck.
The helmet and all it contained went spinning away in a spray of blood. The Burgundian’s headless body dropped to its knees, then flopped forward.
Matt tried not to look at it. The Net’s graphics were too real, and Maid of Orleans wasn’t really his kind of game. Shooters where vanquished enemies went up in a puff of ash or flared and disappeared in a laser burst were okay, but the realism of this game was just too much.
“Now that was disgusting.” Leif joined him, pushing up his visor to reveal a dirt-smudged face.
“Yeah.” Matt stepped over the corpse and higher onto the hill. He stared down at the warriors battling across the uneven terrain. “We’re losing.”
“Simply a matter of numbers,” Leif said. “There’s more of them than there are of us.”
“She shouldn’t have brought them here.” Matt felt bad for all the men who’d really died in the battle the game was based on.
“She felt she was doing what she’d been called to do,” Leif said.
“No one should be asked to do this.” Matt’s heart felt heavy. Warriors on horseback battled with men on foot. Most of the time the men on horseback won. The defeated were run down and battered by the armored horses, then dispatched by the mounted warriors. But sometimes the men on foot succeeded in pulling the horsemen down. It was all savagely brutal.
“Lighten up,” Leif suggested. “It’s just a game.”
“Maybe I’m just not in the mood for it.” Matt shaded his eyes against the setting sun. The clouds around it were dissolving into bloodred, as if the sunset was picking up the color from the battlefield.
“The game’s going to be a hit,” Leif promised.
Matt studied the crimson drops running down the ferrules of the sword he held. “Not with me.”
Leif flashed him a grin. “Well, I hear Wover’s got a new game coming out.”
“Defeating monsters in art deco dungeons and grabbing power coins, now there’s a game I could get into right now.” Matt shook his head. “This is too real.”
“You’ve seen worse in history class.”
Thundering hooves came up behind them.
Matt spun while Leif slammed his visor down again.
A rider pulling a small herd of unmounted battle steeds behind him spurred his horse up the steep incline, weaving through the fallen bodies of Burgundian warriors and the defenders of Compiegne. A handful of wounded survivors huddled in the bush.
The rider thundered to the top of the hill, then pulled back on the reins to make his horse rear dramatically. The riderless horses he was leading shied a bit, then stood quietly. Andy flipped his visor up to reveal a broad grin. “Hey, guys. Want to upgrade your transportation?”
“Having a good time, Andy?” Leif asked.
“Out of the three games we visited before this one?” Andy asked. “No comparison. This game is a blast.” He stood in the stirrups. “Chaos and carnage, it just doesn’t get any better than this.” He paused. “Except zombies. They could have used a few zombies.”
“Except we’re looking for a dragon,” Matt said. “This game appears to be historically accurate.”
“Historically based,” Leif said. “The game options also let you win the Hundred Years’ War if you play correctly. The battle we’re in now is the one where Joan got captured and imprisoned till she was burned at the stake as a heretic.”
Matt surveyed the battlefield again, his attention drawn by the hoarse shouts of desperate men. Ragged pennants fluttered in the lackluster breeze, marking groups of survivors taking refuge in each other’s defense.
Suddenly a new phalanx of Burgundian horsemen exploded from the woods to the left. The attackers swept through the irregular line of defenders with lances, breaking through the perimeter easily. Foot soldiers charged after the horsemen, and archers picked out targets.
“Man,” Andy declared, “I can’t just sit here and watch this, and I’m not logging off until I know those people are safe.”
“They aren’t safe,” Leif said. “Back in May of 1429, they were routed and driven back toward Compiegne. Only the guy in charge of the city lifted the drawbridge before they could make it inside. Joan was one of the warriors caught outside. The Burgundians slaughtered and captured the rest.”
“We have to watch that?” Andy griped. His horse stomped its feet impatiently, rocking from side to side and snorting. “What fun is that?”
Leif grinned and slapped his visor down. He took the reins for one of the horses Andy was leading and stepped into the stirrup. “None. So let’s see if we can do something about it. Coming, Matt?”
Matt watched the tide of armed horsemen lunging across the battlefield. He wanted to log off and continue the search for the dragon, but the game held him captive. He couldn’t sit by and do nothing.
“We’ve been good about searching through the other games,” Leif reasoned. “It won’t hurt if we take a few minutes out and enjoy this scenario. We’re still hours from Los Angeles. They’ll let us know if there’s an emergency.”
“You’re right.” Matt took the reins for the other horse and mounted.
“If we go out with a win here,” Leif said, “maybe coming up empty in the other demos won’t feel so bad.”
Silently Matt didn’t see how that was going to happen. Even after only the few minutes he’d been fighting in the demo, his arms felt like lead from carrying the heavy shield and sword. He spurred his horse and galloped down the hill after his two friends.
The strained sounds of a horn blowing retreat cut through the hoarse shouts of men. Pockets of activity erupted into sudden motion. Desperate men, fueled by fear and anger, surged toward each other and fought against the Burgundians.
Matt remained low over the saddle pommel, the sword trailing at his right side. A Burgundian warrior engaged a wounded man on foot a short distance ahead. Despite his reluctance about playing the game, Matt guided his horse on an intercept course.
Trained for battle, the warhorse didn’t hesitate about smashing into the Burgundian and his mount. The other animal staggered and tried to regain its footing. The warrior yanked on the reins and spun in the saddle. “Hey,” he said to Matt, “no fair attacking from behind like that.” The words didn’t carry a Burgundian accent.
Knowing the warrior was being played by someone else who’d joined the demo online, Matt felt a little better. He lashed out with his foot and unseated the Burgundian, who yelled frantically as he thudded painfully to the ground.
“My thanks,” the rescued warrior said, standing on failing legs. Blood streaked his face, cutting into the lines of fatigue.
Matt offered a hand. “Mount up.”
The man wrapped his hand around Matt’s wrists and smiled his thanks. Together, they swung him up behind the saddle. The big warhorse took the extra weight without problem.
Matt turned the horse and spurred it toward Compiegne. The town had a stone wall around it, sealing it from the battlefield. Archers lined the ramparts and arrows filled the air as the retreating forces and their Burgundian pursuers raced toward it.
The man wrapped an arm around Matt’s stomach and held tight. Then he started cheering. “Joan! Joan!”
Heart beating rapidly in spite of the fact that he could log off the game at any time, Matt glanced to the right and saw a large contingent of warriors sweeping into line with them.
Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans, rode at the head of the group. She wore a man’s armor and carried a man’s sword, but her head was bared, leaving her open to attack but immediately recognizable to her own warriors. Short cropped brown hair swirled around a beautiful face.
She leaned out and seized a standard from a nearby rider. “Here!” she roared to the warriors who halted uncertainly around her. She plunged the staff into the ground, leaving the flag fluttering near her face. “We make a stand here to break those Burgundian traitors and allow those on foot a chance to make the town!”
Hoarse shouts, not all of them in support of the move, filled the immediate vicinity.
