Chapter 42: Momentary Eternities

Another server shutdown warning clouded my view of the sky island receding in the distance above me. The Mage activated his parachute cloak device and the dull green fabric poofed out, dividing like bisected beetle carapace. He signaled to me to cast my levitate spell, then I watched as he receded above me, shrinking.

A frosty resolve fell over me when I read the cooldown timer for [Spell: Levitate]... 20 seconds left on the hour wait. I had not rotated to look down yet, keeping my eyes on the sky. ‘Don’t look down’ was a cliché worth heeding.

Fifteen seconds left. I readied myself, sure I would crash and splinter into more pieces than there were bones in a skeleton.

Ten seconds. Nine.

And then everything went grey, fading like a lightning bolt aftershock.

I found myself standing behind a rickety fence post, its horizontal boards decaying on the ground. From this perspective, I could still see the puff of dust radiating out from my impact site, not but several fathoms away.

I had indeed crashed and shattered. My spirit was in an old desert graveyard; nothing but a handful of weathered, unreadable grave markers and a dilapidated fence. And Belvan.

Once again, an inexplicable elation took hold, like an unexpected visit from a long-lost friend.

I approached him, sensing that something was different. There was an aura about him, something colorful, but never settling on a specific hue. A lively glimmer in his undead, spectral eyes.

Saying nothing, he removed his [Hourglass Talisman]. I had never witnessed him remove it before. He held it out to me, coiling its chain lightly around his skeletal fingers.

I asked Belvan a slurry of questions, imploring him for an unreasonable number of insights.

He waited patiently, then shook his head and cupped my hand to give me the talisman.

There was a cascade of unorganized pixels and the aura shivered away like floating island mists.

His typical reassuring and otherworldly voice shifted through a whole archive of voices, settling on something softer, feminine. The rainbowy aura shimmered back into being, but more. I angled my head, sensing a trick of optics, wholly incapable of comprehending from within the Spirit Realm as I was. Light functioned differently here, if it was ‘light’ at all. But in my peripheral vision, this presence within Belvan unfurled something resembling a concept of wings.

“Continue your quest Eld, but remember, leave it undone in the end. Take the [Hourglass Talisman] and go to Hourglass Sandfall. Farewell.”

Then the being snapped its fingers with a ‘clack.’

I was flat on my back, blanketed in the thin, colorless alkaline dust, and splayed out down to hardpan.

“The ol’ ‘sky dive and revive’ trick survives,” said Azwold, looking down at me.

Without moving, I cast [Spell: Regen III] through force of will. My vines reeled in my impact-blasted skeletal parts, slowly slithering in to reform my shape.

I stood, unsteady, but straightened more confidently as my last vertebrae crackled into place.

My hands were empty. It should not have surprised me; carrying an item from the Spirit Realm back into the normal one was obviously impossible. Unless you traveled there in player form, not ghostly.

Standing still, a small eternity slid by. I gazed at dust tendrils swirling around in the desert breeze of a late afternoon that felt like countless afternoons strung together.

One moment, or infinite moments, either way; the memory that a goddess had spoken to me was eternally clear.

I understood nothing in a particularly better way, except that my dealings here in Realms of Lore were more important than my lone, simple self.

I dusted myself off. “Let us continue.”

Azwold nodded and motioned further up into the foothills of the Nevahjian Desert’s northern range. I looked south at Blade Peak, equidistantly far away as Agarthea was above. I tried to fathom the desert’s immense oval encircled by jagged mountains.

Azwold was already on the move. With thoughts of deities and dinosaurs, I followed.

[Attention Realms of Lore denizens. The server will go down in one hour. The nature of the emergency may require a sooner shutdown. We apologize for the inconvenience of making it impossible to plan accordingly. Thanks. Have a good day.]

I heard Azwold let out a groan of frustration despite his head start. I retrieved my bone tablet and opened my map. The Mage was seeking a trailhead, the only path to our destination. No flying, no falling, no transportation, magical or otherwise; only walking.

Azwold paused at a bend in the trail to sit on a boulder slab.

“I told you it’d be cutting it close with the levitate cooldown,” he said.

“I survived, but your ‘concern’ is noted.”

“Speaking of cutting things close, let’s keep moving.”

A notion struck me, something idiotically simple. Caught up in questing for Medett, I had become accustomed to vague quest outlines.

“Show me the quest, please,” I said. “We are on step 8 of 11 if I am not mistaken.”

“Of course.” He handed his tablet to me:

Quest Name: “Gnarlroot the Eld’s Stolen Bones” (Progress: 8/11)

Quest Type: Epic, Multi-Stage, Class-Specific

Class: Spirit Mage (Level 34+)

Objectives: Travel to Hourglass Sandfall

-Answer whatever questions the guardian puts to you

-Carry with you a key that isn’t a key

-Unravel the mystery of the Hourglass Sandfall and the next leg of your journey will reveal itself to you

Quest Rewards: 600XP, 650gold, [Random Lv. 34 Epic Spirit Mage Item]

“Wonderful,” I said. “Might as well have been a Medett quest. What key do they mean?”

“I don’t know. I figured it’d be something the ‘guardian’ gives us after we pass its test, whatever that might be. Either that, or they meant ‘hope,’ or ‘determination,’ or something like that.”

“Helpful,” I said, determined and hopeful that my sarcasm translated.

“Hey, I didn’t have time to prepare. You know, what with being booted offline for days.” He threw his hands up. “Once we bought our balloon ride ticket, things were in the hands of destiny.”

I decided it was time to tell him. “The goddess has been trying to communicate with me,” I said.

“Say what now?”

“I think the faeries are her agents.”

“Faerie stuff again?”

“Do you mean to tell me you do not believe me?”

“No,” he admitted, “I do. It’s far fetched, but that’s the name of the game these days. I knew you were keeping secrets… What has she said, then?”

“To keep forging ahead on our quest,” I tarried on the words… “but if we complete stage 11 of 11... well, she says we cannot see the questline to completion.”

“What.”

“The Mentalist Troika wants us to finish it for them. It is their goal.”

“What!”

“That is what Trojainous was scheming toward,” I said. “When he stole me for his own minion, I think he intended to complete it himself. But, failing that, they seem willing to allow you and I to do their work for them.”

“And so what if we do finish?” Azwold shook his fist. “I’ll be a filthy dumpster ghoul before I let Ralos swoop in and steal my thunder.”

“We must assume they have accounted for our unwillingness. They are the orchestrators. We are the pawns.”

“So what then? Do we give up? Why wait so long to tell me we can’t carry on?”

“We can,” I said, stern. “And we must.”

His mouth was agape. “We’ll find a way around whatever they have planned.”

The Mage failed to grasp that I wanted my bones more than he did. I had arrived at my unsavory conclusion, nonetheless; to leave at least one bone lost.

“I’ll fight him one on one,” he said.

“Continue with me now. Let us solve the task at hand and deliberate further once the server comes back online.”

“Of course we’re gonna keep going. And I thought you’d lost half your marbles with the invisible faerie stuff, but quitting the quest? No way.”

I offered an ambiguous, “hmm.”

“You’re going to be [Spell: Summon Epic Skeleton], Eld. Don’t argue with me.”

“As you say.”

We walked, and I asked Azwold about the Sandfall itself to fill the quiet. He began listing off theories he had heard; electromagnetism, abnormally strong cave winds, ley line power points, among other phenomenological reasons for its behavior. But a steep rise in the stony pathway ended our talking.

And then we were picking our way across a deposit of moraine and mica, footsteps wobbly, demanding our concentration. The trail began anew, but remained steep, and we were soon climbing up via crevices and questionable handholds.

We crested a hill to an open area; a mirror match of the hardpan far below. And in the middle of the circular mountain clearing was a black statue no larger than Azwold’s motorcar.

A Sphinx of Black Quartz.

It sat silent and ancient there in its place, and as we gazed upon it, I experienced another bout of momentary eternity. I thought I glimpsed something transparent and glassy near my animation source betwixt my collar bones, but when I looked down, it was gone.

The moment passed, and we approached the statue. Azwold had his tablet out and was performing a diagnostic scan on the black object.

“I got nothing,” he reported, dour.

“Mayhap it is not as simple as opening a dialogue menu?” I said, but checked my own tablet despite that.

I had something. “Look,” I said.

It was no quest, no map, no inventory menu, just a simple question displayed:

[Interact with Sphinx of Black Quartz?: Yes, No]

“What are you waiting for?” Azwold was tapping his foot. “The servers are gonna drop. Hurry up.”

“There are no walls blocking our path,” I said, looking to the trail. It resumed on the opposite side of the clearing. “We could simply walk past it.”

Azwold looked at me as if I had insulted his family. “One does not simply walk past a sphinx,” he said, then pressed “Yes” on my tablet.

“Right, yes it is then,” I said.

The statue rose from its place, panther-like and gleaming with inorganic life. It grew to fill more of the circular arena of dust, as if under the effects of [Spell: Giant Growth], scraping out massive grooves in the sand. When it was taller than Gnarlroot, it tipped its head toward us, its eyes two intense slashes of neon bronze, inspecting us, judging us.

It stretched, yawned, then leaned into a comfortably cat-like sitting pose.

“Name something taken with solemn intention,” said the deep, velvety voice of a lioness. “Then make one and give it to me.”

“Great,” said Azwold. “A riddle. How unpredictable.”

“May we have a moment to deliberate?” I asked, looking up at the galactic radiation in her eyes.

An oscillation of icy crackling rippled through the beast and the Sphinx had become a silent shape of dark gravity; statue still again.

“Okay, so she said ‘Name something stolen with great intention,’ or something to that effect?” Azwold asked.

“Everyone knows that specifics matter when dealing with things like sphinxes, or genies, or,” my thoughts jumbled momentarily because ‘faeries’ was the next thing that leapt to mind. “... or mythical creatures, and the like. She said: ‘Name something taken with solemn intention,’” I said, recounting her words once, twice, and again, “and then make one and give it to me.”

“Nothing obvious is jumping out at me,” said Azwold, “but I can craft something? And give it up as an offering?”

“My first thought was of my bones,” I said. “That they were taken. But I cannot ‘make’ a new one to give away.”

“That’s probably not it,” said Azwold, rubbing his chin scruff. He peered vacantly up at the mountain stone encircling the arena.

“How could something you build be ‘taken solemnly?’” I said.

“I guess I take my Gadget Crafting pretty seriously,” he shrugged. “I dunno if I’d call it ‘solemn’ per se, but it was only my first idea. Gimme a sec and I’ll keep stewing it.”

I nodded, then turned to look away from both the Mage and the distracting statue. What could I make? I had to make something, take it seriously, and give it to a living statue.

I had a sudden overwhelming need for the rest of my party. Surely DarkNeon would know some obscure riddle bit to help. Relja might have an abstract insight to guide us. Even Vick5 could have a device or data set to inform us of our odds of success.

I turned back, staring at Azwold. He was lost in contemplation.

[Attention Realms of Lore denizens. The emergency shutdown is happening soon. We should have already gone down, honestly. That we haven’t yet really understates the emergency. Things are looking rough for an ETA on coming back up. We’ll continue to...hey! I’m tr yn to tyop[ h... . [end communication]]

I was still staring at Azwold. Scanning his face. He took little heed of the strange server alert. On a chance glance, I noticed the mage was lacking the buff from my [Aura: Wisdom Tooth III]. Somehow the aura had toggled off. I toggled it back on.

And realized it was when I fell to the desert. I had revived and forgot to reactivate my persistent abilities.

Azwold opened his eyes, and I saw a citrine glimmer. He snapped his fingers. “I was half joking about the ‘key’ being something like ‘hope’ or ‘valiance of heart,’ or something. But if we’re up against a trope, seems to me that a classical type of response might work?”

“I follow you,” I said, taking heart. “Let us brainstorm abstract ideas that might fit into the riddle?”

“Okay,” he said, pacing back and forth between the Sphinx’s big, chiseled paws, “she said: ‘Name something taken solemnly, then make one and give it to me,’ yes?”

“Aye.” I noticed myself bobbing my head to unheard music, contemplating. The Cave O’ Whispers drifted to mind. “What about a wish?” I said.

“Oh, that’s good,” he said, turning to observe the statue for any kind of acknowledgement.

It remained cold and dark and still.

“Maybe it wants a promise of some kind?” said Azwold. “Like a quest we promise to finish.” He gave me a significant look.

“That could be,” I said, though the statue did nothing. “This idea path is good. Keep exploring, though. Mayhap she means an oath?”

Nothing changed.

“A vow?” I guessed.

A bright flash like polished angelic armor cut across the Sphinx’s eye.

“It wants a vow, Eld,” said Azwold. “Better think of a good one quick.”