The Monolith

by Stephen Roark

  “I needed to make sure you were the one,” she replied, casually extending a hand in a way that seemed as though she meant to touch me, but withdrawing before it reached me.

  “The one?” I asked. “What one?”

  “You’ve seen it, haven’t you?” she asked. My chest heaved before she spoke her next words. I knew what was coming. Somehow.

  “The monolith?”

  But I couldn’t reply. I could only nod. Finally, I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t crazy. The monolith was real.

  Unless you’re still in one of her dreams? my inner voice warned me. I shook my head. No. This is happening.

  “YES!” I blurted out, my eyes blinking rapidly, anticipating the electric buzz and visions to invade my mind once again.

  “Seek the monolith?” she said to herself, almost singing in amusement. “Seeeeek the monolith.” Then, she laughed. “What a way with words.”

  “What is it?” I almost shouted. “What is the monolith?!”

  “Hmmm,” the oracle thought to herself. Somehow, she spun in midair, rolling onto her back as though a circular cushion lay beneath her. Her legs hovered loosely as she preened her thin fingers through her swimming hair. “No, I do not believe it is time for that just yet.”

  “Time for what?!” This time I did shout. I also stepped forward and grasped at her wrist in an attempt to yank her back down to earth. But the cold that seized me was beyond anything I’d ever experienced, forcing me to pull back before my fingers even had a chance to close. The Fortune Teller yawned as though she hadn’t even noticed.

  “No, if you wish to learn more about the monolith, you must seek the spider,” she replied. “He may have answers for you. If his mind is not too far gone by now.”

  “The spider?” I shook my head. Riddles on top of riddles. Nothing was making sense. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ll find him in the bowels of Quelan,” she said so casually that it almost made her words more frightening, like she was referencing some world that I had no knowledge of. I was getting a peek behind the curtain of the world, which was daunting and exciting, but for the moment I just had to focus—keep my shit together.

  “Quelan,” I repeated, almost angrily. After everything I’d gone through to get here, now I had to go somewhere else?

  The Fortune Teller sighed, yawned again and stretched, putting her beautiful body on display beneath the swirling, translucent robes. Out of reflex, I averted my eyes. She giggled. “Don’t worry, boy. I’m not modest. You can look.”

  “That’s uh—that’s okay,” I replied, unsure of how to respond. In the end, I did look back at her, but tried to keep my eyes on her face.

  “Quelan,” she said again. “City of ash. City of eternal flame…”

  “Sounds pleasant,” I grumbled, angry at the chill in the air.

  Fire, huh? That might be nice actually.

  “So—where is this Quelan?” I asked her. “Not close by, I’m sure?”

  “Quelan lies at the cliffs on the western edge of this world,” the oracle told me. I nodded.

  Of course it does.

  “However, I could be convinced to aid you in your journey.”

  The Fortune Teller reached up for the first time and combed her hair from her face with four fingers. Her lips pouted, almost as though she were sad, and for the first time, I noticed her eyes—their colors shifted as she looked at me, like prisms swirling with some secret truth. I felt as though she were looking right through me. Nothing was hidden from her.

  “Convinced,” I repeated warily. I’d already seen what this…girl was capable of, and I didn’t like her choice of language.

  “That’s right.” She smiled. Swiftly, she flew toward me and was inches from my face before I could blink. I felt the chill from her body spill across mine and wash down across my ankles and feet.

  “I, uh—”

  “Kiss me,” she said simply.

  “Wh—what?” I stammered.

  “You heard me.”

  Despite her appearance, there was an uncomfortable strength and truculence in her—it wasn’t just her high level that had me on edge. She was slippery like a snake covered in oil, the totality of her length hidden in the high grass where she lay.

  “Kiss you?”

  “That’s right.” She smiled, brushing the backs of her child hands across my cheek—like Rey had done—like my mother had done. But not really. That was her.

  “But why?” I snapped. “I kissed you when you were Rey, didn’t I? Or are you going to tell me that was just me dreaming and you had nothing to do with it?”

  “Oh, I did.” She nodded, unashamed. “But you thought you were kissing her. I want you to kiss me.”

  I’d faced Boucher the Gravekeeper, the Yama-Uba, the Midwife and the Stone Demon, among countless other monsters since arriving in this harsh world. I’d watched two of my friends succumb to the unknown virus or infection that had turned them into mindless, snarling creatures filled with hate, but nothing frightened me as much as the powerful woman in front of me, hiding behind the entrancing beauty of the body she now inhabited. I wondered if it was even hers, or if she was capable of changing herself for the person she was speaking with. It wouldn’t have surprised me.

  “You know what?” I hissed, growing tired of her games. “I’ll find my own way to Quelan, thank you.”

  I spun around on my heels and began marching away from her, down the slope toward the forest of burnt autumn broccoli. I had no idea what lay beneath the leaves, but if I ran into trouble I could always run. If I died, I died. I’d spent most of my Quintessence, and I could easily work off my death penalty. I’d be back in Ebonmire, could find Fujiko and Altarus (hopefully) and start off for Quelan—wherever it was.

  You’re being stupid, my inner voice spat. You don’t have that kind of time!

  “Fuck!” I snarled, keeping my voice low.

  You know it’s true! Just kiss the bitch!

  Like a gentle wave, I heard the Fortune Teller’s robes swish through the air as she floated effortlessly around me and stopped in front of my face.

  “You don’t have that kind of time.” She smiled.

  “Can you—can you read my thoughts?” I was furious. I’d never felt more helpless. My fingers curled around my Blunderbuss and I thought just how satisfying it would feel to see my slugs pelt that grinning, seductive little face of hers. Would she kill me instantly if I did that? Would I even be able to hit her? She was max level, so it would make sense that her stats would be off the charts compared to mine. Even at this range, maybe my shot wouldn’t even find its mark.

  The Fortune Teller shrugged, giggled, twisted a lock of hair around a pinky finger. “Maybe I’m just perceptive. Either way, are you sure you want to waste all that time tromping around the world, trying to find Quelan before your friends lose their minds?”

  “WHY SHOULD I TRUST YOU?!” I bellowed, stepping up threateningly until our faces were almost touching. “You’re nothing but games and trickery! Why would you help me?!”

  The Fortune Teller tilted her head back and raised her eyes to the glowing orange sky. “Is that all I am? Games and trickery?” Slowly, she lowered her gaze to mine again, then, her head followed. “Aren’t I beautiful?”

  “What—what is this?” I replied as I kept drowning in my own confusion. “What do you want?!”

  “I told you, silly!” she giggled, almost a hiccup. “A kiss!”

  It’s another test. I knew it was. But what was the answer? Kiss her and satisfy her request? Or deny her and show some kind of moral fortitude that would impress her? Her chill was sinking into my bones like the way it feels when you fall into cold water and can’t get warm again. I saw her lips, pouted and sensual, her cheeks, flushed and pale red, her curves and supple physique, like something an artist might draw in an attempt to create an image of the ideal female form—and I felt the boy in me, the man, start to give into her request. I was in control, but at the same time I wasn
’t, as I leaned forward and brought my lips to hers.

  I heard her breath, felt the chill from her body shift into a warmth with wisps and tendrils that began to wrap themselves around my body, starting at my knees and moving up my thighs, down from my shoulders and across my chest. The chill in my mind was gone, but this was almost worse…somehow.

  Centimeters between us—millimeters.

  I heard the sharp intake of the Fortune Teller’s breath. Felt the static electricity between us as our lips all but touched.

  Then, I stopped.

  “No,” I whispered into her mouth. “No, you won’t fool me again.”

  I stepped back, no longer angry, but determined, expecting to see a visage of hate thrown across the oracle’s face. Instead, I saw kindness, a smile of admiration, almost pride, like I’d seen from Rathborne after my first Shadowstep. I wasn’t even proud of myself. I wasn’t happy. I didn’t feel rewarded. I simply understood that what I’d done had been right. I’d passed her test.

  “Good for you.” She smiled.

  Then she slapped me, gently, almost like the final hard pat you give your dog after he just greeted you with excitement at the door. I burst out laughing.

  “You bitch.”

  “Oh, you don’t even know the half of it.”

  I heard the sound of something entering my inventory, and opened my character sheet to find a new item sitting in the first position. It was different than the others, with a ringed border that pulsed like a heartbeat, shifting colors the way the Fortune Teller’s eyes had done.

  Old Bell of Quelan—This bell once hung in the town square of Quelan and was used to warn villagers of an attack or emergency. A good plan—so long as your Bell Keeper isn’t sleeping.

  Use to return to Quelan.

  “That should help you,” Cliemene told me. Her demeanor had shifted, as though we were lifelong friends so familiar with one another that only so much needed to be said for us to understand each other. I couldn’t help but wonder how much she’d managed to learn about me when she’d been performing her tests. Clearly she had some kind of mind reading abilities, if she’d been able to conjure up such lifelike fantasies for me involving Rey, my home and my mother. I shrugged it off. There was simply too much to think about, and I didn’t need anything else on my mind.

  “Don’t suppose you can help me down the mountain, can you?” I joked. “Or should I just recall?”

  Cliemene eyed me as she floated lazily. I couldn’t help but feel as though I was being probed. “No, I can!”

  “Oh, great—”

  I wasn’t able to finish my sentence. The Fortune Teller moved so quickly I had to replay it in my mind just to try and get a handle on it.

  Basically, what had happened, as far as I could tell, was that she had summoned a blade from thin air—a dagger made of see-through metal or something so pale my eyes hadn’t been able to make out the details. It was a short sword, and cut me completely in half, the sound of a massive strike ringing out as every ounce of blood in my body sprayed across the base of the mountain. And Cliemene was smiling.

  DEATH TAKES YOU!!

  Yeah, no shit…

  50

  Two Old Friends

  “Many people underestimate the many artifacts strewn about this world with immense powers. Such trinkets are of course useless to me, but I see not why I should share my treasures with the rest of the unworthy scum…”

  —Cliemene the Fortune Teller

  I was laughing as I respawned at the lamppost in Ebonmire. I’d just been swept up in a whirlwind while riding a roller coaster, tricked and seduced, examined, poked and prodded, tested and manipulated, and I’d come out the other side with some bells and a nice 5% death penalty.

  “Well, Rathborne,” I muttered. “I did it.”

  “Quint, Quint!” I heard the Blood Merchant cry out from behind her window of fogged glass. “Seeker! Have you Quint for me?!”

  “Get fucked,” I growled as I looked around for my friends. The Blood Merchant seemed so surprised by my response that she swallowed her next words. I’d lost my Quintessence, of course, but it wasn’t enough to cry over, and I wasn’t about to hike back up to the base of the mountain to retrieve it.

  Help me back down, I scoffed. Yeah, technically that’s what she’d done, and I guess it was the most painless way to do it. Her one quick blow had ended me so immediately that I hadn’t even felt it.

  “Fujiko!” I called out, seeing a group of four or so Seekers milling about the town. “Altarus?”

  “Rand?” a voice replied. I turned to see a hulking beast of a man with a large double headed axe slung over both shoulders. “You’re Rand, right?”

  Mongoose—Level 9

  “Uh, yeah?”

  “Your friends came through here a while ago and told me to tell you that they were waiting for you on the other side,” he said slowly. “Any idea what that means?”

  “Yes, I do,” I replied. “Thank you.”

  The big man simply frowned and then nodded. “Uh huh.”

  He wandered off and I quickly skirted between two buildings to get out of sight. I didn’t want anyone seeing me log out and log back in. I couldn’t even imagine what kind of uproar that would cause in a server filled with players who were trapped and unable to leave.

  On the other side, I thought. Sounds an awful lot like dying.

  Standing beneath the shadows of one of Ebonmire’s shacks, I closed my eyes and thought hard about leaving. To be honest, I was ready to be gone—at least for a while. I needed a break. I’d been through a Hell of a lot and a trip to the real world to recover, eat and rest for maybe a few hours was going to be just what I needed.

  The orange glow from the hidden sun seemed to brighten, as though the thick clouds that seemed omnipresent in this world were finally going to relinquish their iron grip on the sky. But as I looked up, I realized that something much more dire was happening.

  The glow grew and grew, flaring angrily against my eyes. As I stared at it, I felt a sense of dread begin to move inside me. It was like that feeling you get when you walk through someplace scary in the dark. That sensation you get on the back of your neck when someone is about to grab hold of you. That shudder in your chest from your heart reacting to a loud noise. Nausea hit me like a fist.

  “Oh, no…” I whispered to myself as the edges of my vision went black. “Not now!”

  I came to on the ground feeling like a top spinning on the end of a string, a long string that had begun to fray from twisting upon itself too many times and was now about to break. My eyes weren’t listening to me and could do nothing to calm the swaying of the sky as I tried to focus on the clouds, now dark purple and threatening, hiding a storm behind their coarse grey mounds.

  Looks like a brain, I thought miserably as a tiny wall of crusaders inside me fought against the invading hordes of nausea. Each man slowly fell to their swords, one by one, until none remained. I rolled onto my side and vomited blood.

  “Shit.” I spat thick crimson mucus onto the lifeless grass beside me and wiped my lips with a sleeve.

  I’d had a seizure in the real world, and sure enough, it had translated straight through the Fount and down here. I was impressed, actually, by the incredible technology that could allow something like that to happen, but also furious at the same time.

  Why would I want to feel that down here?

  But then again, what if I couldn’t? I’d never know something was wrong up there. If some axe murderer broke into my house and started hacking off my limbs, I’d want to know that wouldn’t I? Otherwise, I’d just be lying there, blissfully unaware of my predicament, fighting off Midwives or Stone Demons or Yama-Ubas while some psycho cut me to pieces and my character simply dropped down to never move again.

  But why this? I wanted to cry out. Why now?

  I tried to think my way out of the game again, closed my eyes and focused, but I knew instantly that it wasn’t going to happen—not because of the hold th
e game might have on my mind, but because of the fatigue that happened after one of my seizures. Sometimes, a grand mal would knock the wind out of my sails for a day or more. From throbbing headaches, to unbearable nausea—so bad I’d sometimes be bedridden for hours—to a feeling of having been tranquilized or something that made it next to impossible to do anything but lie around watching TV or just trying to sleep it off.

  Whatever it was in me that allowed me the freedom to come and go from the game world was simply buried now beneath the fog of my post-seizure circumstance. Whether I liked it or not, for the time being, I was stuck here.

  “Goddamn it,” I groaned as I struggled to get my feet under me. My right leg held strong, but as I tried to stand, my left leg decided to pout like a little kid and give out from under me. I landed in my own sick, mashing my face into a cobblestone that had been forced from the ground, perhaps by a frost heave.

  “Ow,” I groaned as I rolled onto my back. The sun was going down, which meant I’d been passed out for a good few hours in game, which meant I’d only been out for maybe an hour or less in the real world. Altarus, Fujiko and Mickey would have seen my seizure back at the lab, but I doubted any of them would know what to do about it. Fluids usually helped—for some reason citrus sodas were always something I craved after a seizure. Maybe they had some kind of anti-nausea drugs or something they could give me?

  Yeah, that’s wishful thinking, idiot.

  Besides, if they did, why was I still nauseous now?

  Maybe they’re getting some and I’ll feel better later. But how long until I can log out again?

  I heard the chatter of the other Seekers in town behind me. The Blood Merchant crying out, “Quint, Quint! Have you any Quint for me?!”

  Her voice was like a knife raking up my spine, and I winced and rolled left to get farther behind the building in an attempt to block out the noise. It didn’t work, and only increased my nausea.