by Brian Simons
After a few tense minutes it gave up and wafted away, carrying its telltale sounds with it.
“You fool,” the blue mage said. “You’re the reason that evil came here. The Stricken hasn’t come here for weeks because I hide in the river and kill whatever beating heart might draw its attention.”
“And even though you attacked me,” I said, “I saved your life. I could have left you out there to fend for yourself, but I didn’t. Thank me for that.”
“You’ll know my appreciation by how long I let you live,” she said.
“I’m here to look for my wife, that’s all. Then I’ll leave you alone.”
“If she came through here I killed her. You can stop looking.”
“I will not stop looking,” I said. “Please, just tell me if you’ve seen her. Her name is Nadine Cross, she has—”
“You know Nadine?” the woman asked. My heart jumped.
“Yes,” I said. “Do you?”
“You shouldn’t have come here,” she said. “You’re too late.”
“No,” I said, “I can’t be too late.”
“Get me out of this goddamned tree,” she said.
I pushed my katana through a small gap in the banyan and pried at it until the hole got larger. I started snapping off pieces of the tree until we could climb out of a small hole in its side.
“Nadine came here a long time ago, more than a year,” the woman said. “I was still just starting out. Nadine marveled at all of the plants here. She was so full of life and energy. It wasn’t safe here though. She begged me to go with her, find someplace without monsters, but I refused. She left after a while, and built a home for herself on one of the islands. She would visit me on occasion and pick flowers for her little house. I visited her once too. It was a nice house, small and warm.
“Despite what people say, it is possible to make friends in Ripcord. Or at least, it was. Before the Stricken filled everyone with fear and distrust. Myself included. At first it was just rumors about a black mage turning players into the living dead. Then he swept through here. I hid, but I watched others die or get absorbed. There’s no place safe, it attacks everywhere players are.”
“Not everywhere,” I interjected. “It doesn’t go up the mountains, at least not yet. I met the kids who live up there.”
“The kids,” she said. “God help them with those garuda.”
“I taught them how to fight the garuda,” I said. “They should be ok.”
“You’re sharper than I gave you credit for then,” she said. “Anyway, I’ve watched the Stricken when he stalks through the rainforest. He has no weaknesses.”
“There must be something,” I said.
“If there is I haven’t found it and I suggest you don’t bother looking. Nadine was a little precocious, she might have tried to tangle with the Stricken. I haven’t seen her since he emerged, either because she faced off with it and lost, or because she had the sense to hole up on her little island and not attract its attention.
“I can take you there if you want,” she said, “but it’s getting late. I’m going back to the river to sleep. Survive the night and we’ll talk more in the morning.”
“Wait,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“Grisel.”
“I’m Cale,” I said.
“I know who you are.” She turned and walked toward the river.
I waited for my MP to regenerate enough to Grow back the parts of the banyan I had broken off and cocooned myself inside the tree. My body was exhausted, and all it craved was the comfort of one quick hit of lite. Instead, I pulled the valerian roots from my bag and began to chew. The juices that seeped from the root tasted like sewer gas. In the very least, the putrid taste took my mind off my shaking limbs and twisted intestines. It look a long time, cramped up in that hollow banyan, but I eventually fell asleep.
20
I pried myself out of my banyan chrysalis at first light. I, however, was not a beautiful butterfly. It was only day two of lite withdrawal but I struggled to stand up straight with how knotted my stomach was. I wiped the sweat off my forehead and wandered toward the river.
Grisel was floating on the water, her long gray hair fanned out behind her. “You’re awake,” she said.
“I am,” I replied.
“Ready to talk sea voyage?”
“Sure,” I said. “I was worried you’d change your mind.”
“I did, but luckily for you I changed it back. Follow me to the ocean.”
The river ran quickly under Grisel, but she floated atop the water like she was apart from it. I walked along the riverbank as quickly as I could and she drifted lazily along the water beside me. It took hours to push past the thicket of lush green leaves that formed the rainforest’s understory. Twice she beckoned me into the river to avoid drawing the aggression of nearby treants.
Finally, sunlight broke through the canopy layer. We had reached the river’s mouth.
The ground here ended abruptly with a steep four foot drop of dark brown rocks embedded in exposed mud. The river cascaded in a short waterfall to the ocean, where it formed rings of white bubbles that grew wider as they wafted into the dark blue waters ahead.
“What’s out there?” I asked as Grisel climbed out of the river.
“Islands,” she said. “Beyond that who knows. If there are other continents and other kingdoms, I’d have to venture out too far to find them. I wouldn’t have the energy to make it back safely, despite being the most powerful blue mage you’ve ever met.”
She flashed me a smile. It was short lived, but welcome. I smiled back.
“Well, captain,” she said, “first thing you’ll need is a boat.” Grisel lifted her arms and a wooden pole emerged from the water. Then a crow’s next, then the rest of the mast. Soon a small boat appeared, water rushing from the holes in the hull.
“That’s incredible,” I said.
“I know,” she replied. She guided the ship toward us and leaned it against the rocks. From here, we could climb aboard easily when we were ready. The boat was long, with a wooden carving of a dragon at its helm.
“You know you’ll need a crew before you can sail it, right?” she asked.
“It’s just me,” I said.
“Try again.”
“There are twenty or so children on the plateau between the mountaintops,” I said, “I could go back and ask—”
“No more players in my rainforest,” she said.
“They’re good kids, they wouldn’t cause you any trouble. And some of them are quite strong. They would be useful allies if the Stricken came back here.”
“They would bring the Stricken. No. Think again.”
Grisel obviously had an idea in her mind. I stared at her for some time, trying to divine what it was. She rolled her eyes. “You need rowers,” she said, gesturing toward the wooden benches built into the boat. “Summon some treants and let’s get on with it.”
I had been Growing plants for months now in the game, but it never occurred to me that I could create animated plants. My Osmose skill did work on the treants I fought the day before though. I closed my eyes and focused on conjuring a walking, thinking tree creature.
I felt the ground crack open underfoot, heard the creaking of tree bark expanding quickly and splitting at its seams as it filled with life. When I opened my eyes I jumped back and took out my sword. I had brought up a treant almost as tall as myself.
“Calm down, Cale,” Grisel said. “He’s not just any treant, he’s your treant. Tell him to fix the boat. It’s got holes all over the place.”
“Treant,” I said, “please fix the boat.” The tree monster shuffled toward the vessel.
“Next time,” Grisel said, “tell don’t ask. You sound like you’re afraid of the stupid thing. It’s just a pile of branches that walks.”
I nodded. Forget a boat crew, I thought, I could raise a whole army! I wondered if this was how the Stricken got started, ensnaring a single player with his dar
k magic and realizing the unbound potential of accumulating more and more minions.
Mine, however, were not the reincarnation of human beings with hearts and souls who came to Ripcord after something went wrong with their natural life. Mine were born in this virtual world, and didn’t profess to have feelings. Could they? I wondered. Did they have feelings? I decided saying please wasn’t such a bad approach.
“That treant,” Grisel said, “is an earth treant. Look at it. It’s all dry and cracked. Good on land, but terrible in the water.”
My shoulders slumped. “So what do I do about that?”
“That’s where I come in,” she said. “Grow a few small treants one at a time, and I’ll add Aquatic Soul to them.”
“You can do that? You can mix your magic with mine?” I asked.
“You could too if you were stronger,” she said. “It’s ok, you’re young still. You have plenty of time to level up before you die.”
I raised a few more treants, and Grisel did as she promised. These trees had smooth bodies and long nimble fingers. Their leaves were like seaweed wigs atop their sleek bodies.
“Once the boat is fixed,” she said, “they’ll do the rowing. Let’s sit.”
I sat on the ground with Grisel and watched my creations explore their surroundings. In some ways they were the closest thing I had to children.
“I have seen it leave the shores you know,” Grisel said.
“It?”
“The Stricken.” She seemed impatient that I didn’t know intuitively that’s what she meant. “It walks on the water, like I do. Somewhere in that funerary mob is at least one blue mage.”
“Thank you for helping me,” I said.
“If you find her, tell her to come visit,” Grisel said. “As you can imagine, I don’t make friends easily, but she’s one person I wouldn’t mind seeing in my rainforest again. It has been lonely without her.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” I said. It was impossible not to like Nadine. After two years of living without her, and several months wandering Ripcord looking for her, I felt like I was finally making progress on finding her. My life paused the day I lost her. I was anxious to pick up, hopefully where we left off. That is, if she forgave me for sending her to this godawful place to begin with.
I climbed down a few rocks and lifted a stringy wad of leaves that had washed up.
Kelp.
I tossed the plant back into the water. “And my menu of plants grows longer still.”
“What else have you picked up on your travels?” Grisel asked.
“Crocus, cherry blossom, hemlock, molyranth, thistle—”
“Molyranth?” Grisel asked, cutting me off.
“Yeah, why? What good is that?”
“Grow me some. Right now.”
I didn’t bother responding. I simply touched the wet earth beneath us and sprouted some molyranths. The milky white flowers hung from thin stems. Grisel snatched the flowers from the ground and held them up to her face.
“Do you have any empty vials or bottles?” she asked.
“No,” I said.
“You can Grow the rarest ingredient for mana potions with the touch of your pinky but you don’t have anything to put it in. Do you have any idea how frustrating you are?”
The feeling was becoming mutual. I rummaged around in my inventory bag. “Would this work?” It was Pickman’s glass beer mug.
“Sure,” she said. “Grow me more flowers.” Grisel squeezed some type of nectar from the molyranth blooms and added river water to the mug. The glass glowed as she poured some magic skill over it, and then it was finished. A mug full of liquid that looked like melted gold and smelled like honey.
“Drink the whole thing,” she said, “and it will fill you up with mana again. It’s valuable, so use it sparingly.”
“Thanks,” I said, realizing that the bed of flowers I had just cultivated would serve as her private supply of molyranth after I left. She only needed two flowers’ worth for the potion she made for me.
I could kick myself for throwing away Pickman’s other mug. I discarded it because I didn’t need a canteen for dirt anymore, never dreaming that such a precious elixir would come my way. I tucked my one mugful of MP potion into my bag, thankful that I at least had that.
A leafy treant climbed onto the rocks by us and I jumped to my feet, forgetting for a moment that I had created this one. He waited for further instruction. “Kindly make us some oars for the boat,” I instructed. He shuffled off to do my bidding.
Grisel and I sat on the rocky outcropping staring at the ocean. “Do you think it will ever stop?” I asked.
“No. It will eventually consume us all, it’s just too powerful now. Nothing left to do but enjoy what time we have left and hope for death rather than absorption.”
“There’s really no hope?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you what to do,” she said. “Hope if you’re going to hope. Me, I found hope a waste of energy.”
When my treant returned from oar building it looked a little worn. Its branches were drooping and a crack had split up its right foot. I looked at Grisel for a moment. She must have sensed my question.
“They don’t last forever, Cale. Nothing ever does.” She stood up and climbed aboard our little boat. Four sleek treants sat with oars in their hands, ready to paddle us away.
As we shoved off I watched the rainforest recede from view. My first treant crumbled into a pile of twigs and leaves. The only thing I saw around us was blue water and blue sky, the only sounds the crashing of oars on water.
I had never been much for the water in my old life, but I liked the fresh air and the openness of the sea.
Our boat started to toss to the side a little harder the further we paddled. I wasn’t worried, until I saw Grisel get worried.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Probably just a storm,” she said. The skies, however, were clear and blue. She dove from the boat and disappeared under the water.
In a moment the waters calmed and we continued to paddle forward like nothing changed. Something had changed though. Grisel didn’t come back to the surface, which told me the water was only calm because she made it calm.
I saw what looked like an indentation in the surface of the ocean ahead. “Turn right,” I instructed my oar-plants. They tried, but we seemed to maintain a course directly for that dimple in the water.
The boat rocked violently as Grisel erupted from the water and climbed over the side of the boat.
“We’re getting sucked in,” she said. “I can’t stop it.”
“A whirlpool?” I asked.
“With a mouth,” she said.
The boat started to cut a round path, circling a spot where the water’s surface became unnaturally low. We were caught in a funnel, traveling inexorably toward a point of no return.
Then the tentacles rose from the water. Two massive, slimy arms covered in suckers. They were thick, and slammed into the water with so much force our boat almost capsized.
Grisel started throwing ice javelins at the tentacles, but none penetrated very deeply into the monster’s dense, slimy skin. I filled my hands with silverthorn branches and shot thorns like scythe-shaped bullets at the sea monster, but we weren’t getting anywhere. This creature was too powerful for us. It was a Level 40 Minor Kraken. At least it wasn’t a major kraken.
“Attack!” I yelled. My four treant oarsmen jumped overboard and swam expertly toward one of the massive tentacles. They kept it busy while Grisel and I focused on the other one. Meanwhile, our boat got ever closer to the center of the whirling water.
Grisel dove beneath the water’s surface and the boat stilled. She wasn’t helping attack the sea monster now, but she was preventing the boat from toppling over.
A tentacle whipped past my head and I ducked out of the way just in time.
Spring ivy was no match for this enormous creature. Pollen wouldn’t affect it. My silverthorns barely stuck in its thick sk
in. I was running out options.
Grisel disappeared under a blue-bottomed tentacle as it crashed into the water. She reemerged with only half of her HP left.
“I’m sorry, Cale!” she yelled. Far from the boat, she climbed from the water like someone emerging from a sewer through a manhole until she stood on its surface. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled. “I can’t follow you any further!” The sound of crashing water almost drowned her voice.
