Chapter 40: Back-of-the-Mind Mouse Nibbles

“We don’t know what’ll happen to you,” said Azwold. He followed me into the Fortune Teller’s shop and grabbed my sleeve. “Now that I think of it, there hasn’t been a server maintenance since you arrived in-game.”

He scrambled to activate his NPC scanner. “Same reading,” he said.

Tapestries and colorful curtains muffled sound in the dim, candle-lit room. Our entry had disturbed the stillness of incense smoke tendrils. I watched them curl, lamenting the rich aromas I was missing.

Strung beads and dangling gems shrouded the Fortune Teller behind a censer, so filled with smoke it looked like water. It was reminiscent of the kobold shaman’s bowl on a pole, except it hung among the teller’s baubles.

The teller, named Furza Billow, was a dark-haired copy of Breza Willow, her shop neighbor. This was not uncommon, I had learned. The game reused character models for NPCs, only changing surface features like hair color or clothing.

She was silent, staring at us over steepled knuckles.

“It’s almost 6PM in the real world,” Azwold reported. “Server’s going down in 2 hours. We need to get you somewhere safe.”

“And where would you suggest?” I said. “Until we get rid of Telemoon and figure out the tangle of trouble I am in, there is nowhere safe for me.”

“What about the Tavern?” he said. “It’s a backtrack. Not ideal, but it might be safer than a random place.”

“When you logged off, I was okay. The game adapted. When forced to use [Spell: Plunder Memory], it banished you, but I remained.” And though I lacked the conviction to match my assertion, I said; “The game will adapt to a server shut down too.”

“You understand what a server shutdown means, right?” he said.

“I believe I do. The only course is to continue on. Now, if you are done, Furza Billow has a paying customer.” I placed a small pile of gold coins on her table and waited.

Her fingers unsteepled themselves, and secreted away the coins faster than I could see. Then she beckoned me closer with a finger crook. I leaned nearer.

Instead of attempting to speak, the Fortune Teller dropped my coins into the liquid smoke of the silver divining bowl between us and stirred the gentle smoke with her old, grainy fingernail. She invited me to look inside.

But I saw nothing, just my small pile of gold coins at the bottom, obscured by swirling smoke.

And then she placed her hands on the bowl’s rim, turning it several times counterclockwise. Tiny zaps from her hands were shimmying up the censer’s wisp-thin silver chains toward the shadowed recesses of the canopy’s fabrics.

She let go, and the bowl twisted clockwise, then back when the thin chains allowed it, then back again. As it continued its centrifugal, pendulum-like motions, I watched the smoky turbulence.

But instead of ‘seeing’ what she wanted to show me, I sensed something. Something urgent and imperative, but unformed and foggy.

It was a repetition of her previous communiques: “Bad mistake,” and “Don’t collect.” But more, I obtained an unspoken idea, one that had been taking tiny nibbles at the back of my mind like a spectral mouse: Telemoon wants me to collect all my bones and complete Azwold’s epic quest.

“Blast!” I coughed, knocking the smoky vision away.

“What?” Azwold tensed behind me. “I didn’t see anything. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing!” I rasped. “You were right. We have no time to waste. Let us away to the Balloon Yard. Make haste.”

“Well alright,” he said. “Onward.”

I stormed outside of the Fortune Teller’s shop, attempting to regain control of myself. Azwold would keep nagging me about what I saw if I remained emotional. Emotions… success with my anger management only made way for more complex emotions, all vying for control.

And anger was not alone now; I felt tinges of my full emotional spectrum. How could the faerie suggest I not complete the quest? To forego my guiding light? I refused to fathom such a notion. Collecting all my lost bones was entirely the goal, my only goal for so, so long.

Knowing that my obsession saturated the Eld’s coding lessened the need for my bones no less. I needed them. To feel whole, I wanted to have all of myself together. Complete.

“Hey,” said Azwold, jogging to catch up to me. I had not realized how quickly I had rushed away.

“Hey,” he repeated at my side. “Seriously, what was that about?”

“It is as you say. We must make haste to the Hourglass Sandfall. We must press on swiftly.”

“I thought we had settled on a policy of truth,” he said. “You’re not keeping secrets from me?”

I saw a mote of light zip into the ear of a bread merchant at his street cart. “Must. Not. Complete.” the NPC mouthed at me from a distance.

“You see your problems multiply,” I hummed, ignoring the bread merchant, “when you continually decide to faithfully pursue a policy of truth.”

“What?” Azwold ran in front of me, blocking my way. “Is that from a song? Are you glitching out on me now, too? Picking up radio waves?”

“No,” I said, swooping to his side, not slowing. “I am merely trying to put the faerie business out of my mind. Dwelling on it hinders me.”

“Ah, okay,” he said, trotting backward as fast as I was forward to look me in the skull. “So you’re not keeping secrets?”

“Nay,” I said, “more like losing a few marbles. My spirit and the Eld coding keep mixing memories. I shall ‘walk it off,’ as they say.”

His eyes narrowed, but then he nodded and resumed a steady pace at my side.

On our way to the Balloon Master, I lost count of how many NPCs tried to whisper warnings at me. The only way to stay calm was to ignore them entirely. So I did.

We made our final approach to the Balloon Yard’s stairways; an elaborate, under-construction scaffolding. And yet another NPC beset me.

The Weaving Craft trainer sat under a tent of shadowweave cloth, whispering to me from several feet away. The words floated to me, unnatural and clear. And this time, it used my name. “Gnarlroot the Eld, heed my words...” it was not glitchy, or stilted.

I glanced her way. Yellow eyes glowed from under her shadowy street tent. So, the faerie was becoming more adept at pirating the consciousness of non-player characters.

And then I saw, to both my astonishment and Azwold’s, a team of Covert Operatives reveal themselves to surround the tent. Without hesitation, two of the Telemoon Operatives shot electrified wires from harpoon guns, piercing the NPC and stunning her. Breathy wails emitted from her. Three other Operatives encircled the shadowweave tent, wielding Gadget Craft enhanced bug-catching nets. NPC incapacitated, they started swinging their nets all around the tent.

“C’mon Eld, quick,” said Azwold, dashing to the nearest scaffolding ladder. “We gotta get up there now.”

I hesitated, concerned for the faerie’s well-being. Though she had told me things I did not want to hear, I knew that harm befalling her would be a terrible thing. In that same back-of-the-mind, mouse-nibbled area, I knew these fae creatures and Telemoon’s kidnapped goddess were kindred.

I struggled against the Mage, feeling his hand on my coat sleeve once more. But then there was a wild burst of darkness from within the tent. Shadow unfurled across the entire cobbled plaza and the Weaving Craft trainer’s low hissing erupted into a haunting wail.

Darkness and silence followed for a span of several breathless moments.

I stared into that darkness, hungry for a hint at what was going on within the tenebrous fray. And then I saw.

The faerie sped up and away, climbing alongside a twisting bend of a bronze-glass spire. And then she was gone.

My non-existent heart ceased its pause, allowing me to re-enter the moment.

“Come the blazes on, Eld!” Azwold tugged me so hard I could not resist, commanding me as if I were a mere minion again.

And I was glad for it, because the shadows were flagging like [Spell: Umbral Veil]’s fading moments. Now the Telemoon scanners were looping in our direction.

“Climb,” I said. “I am at your heels.”

We scrambled up a short ladder to a narrow landing. From there, we ascended a sometimes spiral, sometimes zigzaggy stairway.

“Hold one moment,” said Azwold. “I need to make sure they can’t follow.” Then he cast a spell I had not seen before.

Reading from his tablet, he spoke his creepy, archaic poetry and cast [Spell: Ecto-Puddle].

“It’s an area of effect slow,” he said in answer to my blank gaze. “They’ll have to slog through the slime to get up here. Okay, let’s go.”

I allowed him to relish his mini win, unready to tell him that Telemoon was more concerned with stopping the faerie’s warning than chasing us.

The Mage allowed himself a congratulatory chuckle as we spared a moment to watch them climb the ladder. His [Spell: Ecto-Puddle] hung around the ladder rungs, a circular pool of lavender goo, parallel to the plane of ground below us. It oozed and dripped thanks to the game’s sophisticated gravity modeling engine.

As the first Covert Operative put a hand on the ladder, he tried to pull it away, but it stuck as if mired in melted chewing gum.

Had the spell been necessary, I would have admired the quick thinking. As it was, I simply nodded to him. “Onward then.”

“Onward and upward,” he replied.

When we arrived at the Balloon Master’s lofty perch, a Travel Board greeted us. It displayed everywhere an average player might purchase a balloon ride to and the distance, time, and price each ride required.

There was nowhere near Hourglass Sandfall.

“Welp,” Azwold sighed, “looks like you didn’t become all that worldly while I was away after all. I’m having a hard time coming up with a good Plan B here.”

“What is this up here?” I said, motioning to a square in the top left corner of the Travel Board. It reminded me of world maps, depicting areas disconnected from the main landmass, like an island chain.

“Does it matter?” he said. “Look at the price.”

[Attention Realms of Lore Denizens. The server will shut down for emergency maintenance in approximately 1.75hrs. We apologize for the inconvenience. Please plan accordingly. Thank you.]

“Do we lack the gold?” I said, pointing to an area within the corner sub-map. Curiously, it appeared to occupy a similar space in the world as the low mountains north of Hourglass Sandfall. “I thought you said there was nowhere near we could go?”

“That’s a floating island, Eld,” he said. “Passage is expensive on purpose. It’s meant to deter noobs.”

“Please elaborate?”

“They’re super high level,” he said dismissively. “We’re priced out.”

“Are you sure?” I stole a glance back toward the stairway. “How long does that slowing puddle last?”

“Gah....” Azwold looked flustered. “Fine! Here, take literally all my gold!” and he shoved a hefty sack of money into the Balloon Master’s waiting hand.

The NPC grinned cordially, then handed Azwold the leather cord to a waiting balloon basket.

“Enjoy your flight,” said the NPC. “But be warned: your level is low for this zone. No gold refunds, either. Do you still wish to secure a balloon?”

A confirmation button appeared on Azwold’s tablet. His hand hovered over it, then he closed his eyes and pressed, [Yes].

“Great,” I said. “No time to lose.”

“Years of grinding blown on one flight,” he sighed. “Broke as a joke.”