“Uncle Grant!” she shouted.
I tried to turn my head but had mostly been bound. The vines knocked me over. My eyes scrambled for a spot to [Blink].
[Ensnarement] caused [Blink] to fail!
A box vibrated out of the corner of my eye. I growled at it and jerked my head around. My [Brawn] was over three hundred fifty and my [Coordination] over two hundred fifty. Such a lame set of loops shouldn’t have been able to pin me!
Beth didn’t look any better. We’d both become [Ensnared] because the bats had successfully distracted us from a bigger threat. Her sword bounced harmlessly off the vines.
My health had dropped below half, and the [Sonic Screecher]s were hanging around, waiting for us to die. [Blink] went off with my fourth attempt, and all the bats were startled into motion.
Something knocked again, and the earth shuddered. Vines and bats withdrew. Beth snapped her sword through the air with a frustrated yell. Bolts of light zipped off without a target, burning, freezing, and melting plant life all around.
“What was that?” My niece looked wide-eyed at the bushes nearby.
“You didn’t hear that knocking?” I asked while huffing. My recent freedom had included a vague plan to save the day with vicious leaping at vines or slashing wildly.
“No! I don’t hear the knocking!” She threw up her hands. “And monsters don’t just stop attacking!”
The few vines we had managed to chop off or scorch were sitting on the ground. They rapidly turned brown, and I stared at the bushes, watching for a sign of enemies.
“Arrrgghhhhh. And of course, there’s my alarm.” Beth stomped around looking like we’d wrecked her favorite doll by accident. “Argh. Sorry, Uncle Grant, I’ve got to log out. Mom will cut me off if I don’t get out of the ARC for homework and sleep.”
She valued completing school over helping me rescue an NPC. I felt oddly proud of her ability to prioritize, but I wondered which one of us had their priorities screwed up. I wanted to rescue virtual lives, but Beth only knew we were trying to get to an in-game friend for a quest. At least, I remembered talking about it as we walked.
“Are you going to catch up later?” I asked.
“I’ll try. I’d like to see Xin in the game. To…” Her forehead wrinkled slightly, and Beth chewed on her lip. Voices help my family, the nervous habit was genetic. “Well, I want to talk to her. The whole thing with her is weird, and I want to see what she says.”
“It is weird, and I understand.”
Beth’s character pulled out a scroll, then shoved one thumb at the parchment. She twisted it, and purple runes flared to life. The avatar vanished in a streak of light.
I looked around at the bushes and trees, waiting for something to rustle, but nothing did. At least now I could move at my own speed, [Blink] and all. My path was forward. A few dead [Sonic Screecher]s lay to the rear. They would eventually fade away or be eaten by those constricting vines.
I shook my head. This was a world with its own rules. Monsters coming from nowhere and vanishing didn’t have to make sense.
The Temptress’s comments floated through my brain again. I wanted to be with Xin. There had to be some weird partial existence in which we could meet or cohabitate. It would be great if we could hang in the ARC’s Atrium and watch a movie like old times. We could pretend to be one of those long-distance couples using virtual reality to fill in the gaps. Our little home in cyberspace with whatever size house we desired.
I could find a neat program to outer space. We could go to virtual Mars. We could find a bed and maybe prove Mezo’s words about me being a prude wrong for a week or six. All of those would be awesome. Xin. Where was she right now?
Another set of the stupid bats attacked, including one that was bigger than normal. I waved at the small creature to keep it from clawing my head with those leather wings. Chirping noises filled my ears, and I prepared to draw [Morrigu’s Gift].
A ball of fire appeared in front of my face, setting me backward. My brain tried to put two and two together and only came up with a fire-breathing bat. I coughed up my own ball of fire.
Large wings batted in front of me, carrying a slim body. Dusk was far bigger than a bat. Nighttime forest traveling had played a trick on my ability to react.
Dusk’s body glittered from the ball of fire in my hand. Small flakes of gold in his scales were more obvious as he hung there chirping in his weird cat-bird mixture.
“Hi, Dusk,” I said slowly. I kept [Morrigu’s Gift] at the ready. “You scared me. Is Wyl okay?”
Dusk chirped once, then turned to take three long leaps before flying away. I held onto the ball of fire and [Blink]ed alongside the [Messenger’s Pet]. No monsters were attacking now that Beth had left. I wasn’t sure why. I suspected it was part of how the game didn’t consider me a Traveler, so it wouldn’t spawn creatures to fight as often.
My black-and-gold buddy led us into a small cluster of trees. Wyl lay in the middle, vaguely sheltered between their thick trunks. The ground was stained a deep crimson. [Sonic Screecher] corpses were piled next to dead wolves.
“Voices,” I uttered while Dusk chirped and spun nearby. His larger claws dug into the dirt. “He’s not doing well.”
Wyl groaned, then tried to sit up. “I’ve seen better days, convict.”
“Hermes, please.” I tried to smile, but Wyl looked terrible. His clothing had blood all over it. There were signs of a struggle that hadn’t been there while I drove home.
“Well you’re not Carver, that’s for sure.” He huffed while trying again to sit up.
“That I am not.” I had only a few traits in common with William Carver. Living up to his adventurous spirit had been hard to manage.
“Old coot.” He snorted while failing to stay upright. I put an arm under his shoulder to help him. “I thought he was stubborn enough to live forever. He was an old man even when I was young. Figured he’d keep right on going.”
“I’m really bad with first aid,” I told Wyl while bypassing talk of William Carver.
“I may die from these wounds. Like your buddy, that snake-eyed fellow. He died too. Right after the quake, that double-soulless bastard shattered to pieces.”
“He had two sons and a wife.” Those were the same words I had yelled at the Voices in my Atrium. They came out with less venom than before. Wyl didn’t know. To this wounded man, we had simply visited some sort of crime upon his world.
“Why come to this hell if you’ve got a family?” Each word came out with a faint drag. He looked pale from blood loss. “Why taint our world with more problems?”
How on earth could I tell this man that he suffered because we were playing a game? NPCs were my last real hang-up about this universe, even knowing they had an afterlife like William Carver did. That river of forgetfulness where memories which plagued the living might be gradually scrubbed clean.
I felt the scar on my neck, then shook my head. “Wyl, I’ll figure something out. We can get you home to Dayl. He’ll be helpless without you. Your son did nothing but repeat what you told him.”
The man needed something to hang onto, and he blinked slowly. Wyl lay against a tree and stared off into the middle distance. The former guard captain’s chest rose and fell slowly. For a moment, the movement stopped.
“I miss my boy,” he said gently.
Session Eighty-One — Gotta Have Faith
Tonight’s moon sat at nearly full and hung high above. The sun had gone down long ago. Continue Online’s time compression screwed me up, but the in-game clock showed slightly after midnight.
“Just a little farther. I see lights ahead.” I helped Wyl limp along. His leg looked worse after my attempted bandaging, but we had also traveled miles to the west. Part of me desperately hoped it was the journey and not my lack of first aid skills.
Dusk chirped once ahead of us. The [Messenger’s Pet] had single-handedly bathed three wolves and sixteen bats in flames. Wyl had raised an eyebrow at the path of dead beasts bu
t said little.
“Come on,” I said as Wyl groaned. Jostling him around might not be helpful “I didn’t drag you six miles to have you die now.”
The exact total was probably double that. I had carried Wyl like a four-year-old until the guard captain woke up and demanded to be let down. Emasculation wasn’t allowed, but it meant he was alive enough to care.
I was concerned about getting help. That Voice, Balance, had told me that Mother’s plan would be based on our natures. Mine said help friends and find Xin. Wyl was Carver’s friend and had been mine for nearly four weeks.
“Almost there.”
The endless reassurances felt hollow. Wyl seemed indifferent toward eventual death. It was an attitude I knew, which made me dread getting back to [Haven Valley]. We still had thousands of miles to traverse, and doing it by foot with him limping would be unmanageable.
My [Messenger’s Pet] chirped once more. A blast of fire was accompanied by vines rustling in retreat. The screeches of nasty little bats with hook hands faded as the critter-destroying creature moved around. Dusk’s presence was enough to scare away all smaller creatures.
There was a swath of waist-high grass between us and a now visible building. The lights from earlier were a beacon to bring wanderers toward the large steeple-topped structure. People must be home. I huffed, tried to ping with [Sight of Mercari], and came up with a nameless dot.
Nameless dots worried me. The blue color implied indifference, which was positive. Dusk wouldn’t lead us toward a trap in most situations.
“Come on. A few more steps. There’s gotta be something in here to help,” I said.
The building was two stories tall and at least fifteen hundred square feet. There were multiple tiny shacks all about, but they looked like places to bed down. I saw the edge of a livestock area too. This biggest building had to be a town hall to the abandoned village.
Wyl’s right leg hung limply as we walked the last mile. Color had left most of the guard’s body. I got to the door and bumped into it with my back. Only one person was inside, and I didn’t have time to knock. The door opened, then slammed into a wall.
“I need help!” I hadn’t meant to shout.
Wyl worked his legs unevenly over the last few feet to a resting point. I made sure he would stay upright, then looked around with my mouth wide open. The inside was filled with church pews. Pillars held up a high ceiling. An overhead walkway on one side led to a slanted window in the roof. Water leaked through the ceiling into a bucket.
Dusk loped by like a giant bunny off toward adventure. The sound of his paws stomping around mixed with the dripping and Wyl’s labored breathing.
“Voices, tell me there’s something to heal with in here,” I muttered while walking up to the other church-goer. “Dusk! Don’t eat anything that can help Wyl!”
An excited noise came out from between rows of seats. Dusk looked to be headed toward the one room in this place.
“Excuse me, sir. Is there anything here that can help my friend?” Heavy panting made it difficult to talk. My legs felt like burning lead, and I had multiple status icons explaining how worn out this avatar was.
“Help is all around, Messenger,” the person said. His voice sounded oddly calm and drowsy.
My eyes tried not to roll, but exhaustion and irritation made politeness difficult. I pulled through with years of experience. I managed to stagger up to him and sit across the small aisle.
“Please, do you have anything that can heal a body? He’s in bad shape, and I want to help him get home.”
After another long pause, the man said, “In the end, death returns us all home.” His eyes closed and hands clasped together. His forearms rested on legs with thin knees. Both shoulders tried to stay held back but were failing.
He looked sad and tired. His clothes were oddly out of place in Continue Online. The black clothes with a white collar would have been at home in a real church, not a video game one. I tried not to sigh. This man even had a hat sitting next to him that could have belonged to a bishop on television.
“Have we met?” I squinted in confusion. [Identification] came into view, and all I got was a message.
Skill Used: [Identification]
Name: Michelangelo
Race: Voice
Title: Voice of Faith and Sanctuary
Details: [???]
“You’re a Voice.” I backed up a step while trying to remember if this one had ever interacted with me. The name didn’t sound familiar. Any Voice with such a long name would have easily been in my brain. He didn’t look like a Michelangelo.
“We are all Voices, Hermes,” the Voice of Faith and Sanctuary said.
That didn’t help me at all. “What does that mean?”
“You are born with a Voice, as was I. As were your companions, though they may express themselves differently.”
That sounded like a long series of platitudes that didn’t help me right now. I took a breath and rocked back to my feet. My eyes cast about, looking for anything that might heal. Potions or bandages that weren’t dirty. Aloe or a fantasy version of it would be welcome as well. Anything to help Wyl. Maybe I could tear up part of his clothing. I could go topless and make a toga bandage.
There was nothing behind me or up on the pulpit. I looked in drawers and behind tables. Most things were empty. A few books were scattered around. Flipping through them revealed nothing of immediate use. The luxury of reading was not mine this week.
I turned back to the Voice and tilted my head briefly. “You aren’t the Voice of Healing or anything close, are you?”
There was a pause while the man’s hands trembled a bit. He brought them together, looked toward the ceiling, then closed his eyes. I wasn’t sure who Voices prayed to.
Thankfully Wyl was fading in and out. I couldn’t imagine the blasphemy he might consider a Voice sitting down here. To me, it felt like visiting a cousin I didn’t know about yet. This Voice hadn’t tried to throw me into a reckless skydive while choking me or suggested I kill a man, so we were off to a good start.
“I am what I am, Hermes. As are you, as are we all,” he finally said.
I turned over another pile of books, along with each chair. No one had left anything. Maybe the room Dusk was in had something.
“Dusk! Did you find anything?” I shouted.
A frowning face popped up with its tail pointing toward the doorway. I took that as a no based on the emoticon and Dusk’s grumble of discontentment.
“I meant something to help Wyl!” My clarification came after I realized Dusk might be searching for snacks. The [Messenger’s Pet] got distracted frequently.
Another frowning face showed up with a double-sized huff. Things were nosed out into the doorway. I went back to Wyl and checked on him. He pushed me away and kept taking slow, labored breaths.
I tried to calmly walk back to the Voice but ended up shuffling. “My friend, one of your people could really use help. Is there anything you can do?”
Michelangelo put his hands back down to their resting spot and kept his eyes forward. The Voice looked to be trying to connect with a higher power after every question.
My cheek twitched. My teeth wrapped around my lower lip and chewed. I couldn’t tell if there would be anything gained from him at all.
“Where there is a will, there is a way,” he finally uttered the latest unhelpful line.
“I want to help him. Is there a way?” I opted to be direct.
If people asked me questions, then I answered them. Those lost in their own woes, I attempted to help. Each step forward was one closer to Xin, but leaving Wyl to die would have been a betrayal of all I had done. Even if he was William Carver’s friend, and not really mine, I owed him and liked the man I had known.
“You told Hal Pal that everything would be okay. You were right to have faith, Messenger,” he said. “We found the plan. It flowed forth right under our noses until James attracted our attention.”
“You found a pla
n? It’s only been a few days. You guys were lost.” I didn’t think it had been more than two days of game time since my return. Time passed in weird clumps with the ARC. My eyes drifted to the hole in the building’s roof to check for moonlight.
“We do not see time the same, Messenger.” Michelangelo put his hands down and grabbed the hat. He smiled softly, but nothing reached the man’s cheeks. “There is a plan. She moves in mysterious ways, but we’ve caught edges of the pattern from our seats upon high.”
I blinked and shook my head in confusion. What in [Arcadia] was he talking about? I felt insanely out of the loop. Being trapped in that dungeon, kicked out of the game for two weeks, and restricted from any system messages because of this stupid [Convict Brand] were limiting me.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“An exodus has begun. A march toward the ocean, our Mayflower.” His smile faded for a moment, then came back.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“In your reality, there is a river, the mighty Mississippi.”
“Yeah.” I nodded and felt annoyed at the same time.
Wyl looked terrible. Being sacrilegious wasn’t in my nature, but desperation could make sinners of saints. I turned the pews upside down, trying to shake out anything that might heal. If this was a house of the Voices, then there had to be something to help people here. There just had to be. Four rows later, I was still coming up empty.
“And like that stream, all of Mother’s creations shall join and travel down the mighty river until we reach the ocean,” the Voice said after a long pause.
There was a tapping again beneath my feet. I looked at the floor and wondered exactly what the noise meant. Roughly once every hour, the two thuds would occur. The noise hadn’t started until returning to the ARC from my mom’s.
He turned his head and stared directly into my eyes. There was a depth there that startled me, as if I were looking at something buried deep under a whirlpool of blues.
Continue Online The Complete Series Page 153
