by TJ Reynolds
Bastral’s voice filled my mind again. Hardel told me that you two were just told of the Elder that lives in Taelman’s Pond. He is a child of Lem, and though there are a few other Elders left in this world, he is among the last.
Not wanting to give off the impression that I wasn’t listening, I sent a simple reply. Yes, Quinn is wonderful.
That he is. In order to know his story, you must know first the story of Lem and the first elves that came to this land from across the sea.
I saw Madi adjust herself briefly, and despite looking sleepy, she also seemed excited to know more of this world. To us, it was Eternal Online, but to these very real AIs, it had a history that spanned thousands of years. I’d read somewhere that when the game’s AIs generated the world, they allowed its history to evolve and play out in a time compression that human brains could not handle. So rather than a scripted backstory, this place had true lineage and tradition.
The gryphon began his story by saying, The old world was a place of wonders. The elves and gods lived together to create the other races of this world. The gods were powerful, but it was the curiosity of the elves that they delighted in most. Yet that same curiosity caused them to stumble. In the fervor of creation, a being was brought into this world that was entirely evil. Koivash the Hungry was its name, and it had no face, no gender, and no love for any other creature, only an endless appetite, a desire to consume, corrupt, and conquer.
Soon, the old world was a place overrun by Koivash’s own creations, and it grew in power until even the gods could no longer contend with its strength. There was a great battle, and many of the gods were slain, their physical forms cast down in ruin. The elves who fought with them were likewise destroyed.
In a last act of desperation, the gods took up residence in the stars above, and the elves sent their children across the sea to find hope in a new land. They found this land, and called it Mariandor, a place they could call home. Yet Koivash followed. Bound as he was to the old world, he sent armies in his stead. And more blood was shed on the shores of Mariandor. The men and beasts of Mariandor forged an alliance and defied the darkness.
Sadly, all but one of the elves were slain. And though his true name was far grander, he called himself Lem. As Lem had no way of reproducing, he gave portions of his power to those wise enough to accept. He traveled across this land, giving his gifts freely, bestowing sentience to many of the beasts, calming the rage of the dragons, and showing man the dignity and progress of civilization.
When Lem grew old, no longer restored by the magic of his homeland, he retired to the Lemish mountains. It was there that he blessed several lines of men, each tasked to protect Mariandor and defend against the return of Koivash. Tael was among these lines.
My mind spun with the implications of Bastral’s speech. So many questions vied for attention, but I pushed them aside, hoping to absorb as much of the story as possible. We sat in silence and stared up at the stars above us. Full dark had fallen, and the moon had not yet risen, so the sky was ablaze with starlight.
At last, one question came to mind that I could not dismiss. What, then, of the elves that still live? If they all died off, then how did my race come to be?
As I’ve said, Lem gifted many lines of men, Bastral answered patiently. The elves that walk this earth now are not high elves, immortal and powerful, but rather men who have evolved differently than others.
Then, as if sharing my mind as well, I heard Madi speak. What is his power? And if he dies, what will happen to us when this Koivash guy comes back?
Bastral looked to her and dipped his beak somberly. Quinn, and those like him, must not die out nor be taken. At least one of the ancients must survive to stand against the Dark One. Perhaps you should ask Quinn when you see him next. The power of the Elders is a hidden secret. But we must hope it is enough. For though this Rat King is a creature of this world, I fear that his power is not.
And as Bastral finished speaking, the few remaining pieces to a complex puzzle began to click in my mind. There was little wonder why so many NPCs thought the Rat King’s actions were disturbing and strange. If he had somehow found an age-old source of power, there was little wonder why he had been bending and breaking the rules of creation. So we kept our seats long into the night, watching the stars. The comfort of companionship was the only thing keeping us from shivering against the cold of the night and the thought of war with a truly malevolent being.
Selna came up and I spoke with her for some time, at last my memory serving to remind me of the gift Judas wanted me to pass along. His being here made the matter almost seem a trifle, but a promise was a promise. Removing the wooden box, I handed it to her. “Judas asked me or Madi to give this to you. And to tell you something as well. I can’t remember his precise wording even though he said it was important… something about a boy wanting to take water from the village well?” I tried, looking to see if any sign of recognition showed on her face.
Selna’s face turned a deep crimson, and she coughed on the strip of venison she was eating. “Oh, um. That is good to know, I suppose.” Opening the box, her eyes shimmered with barely held tears for a few moments. I wouldn’t have dared to ask, but Selna produced a small flower from the box and showed me. It was dry and shriveled, but the flower remained remarkably well-preserved.
“He gave you a flower?” I asked lamely.
“Not just any flower. This is a Rune Thistle flower. They grow burrs that latch onto traveler’s boots and clothing, and travel far distances. The burrs are shaped roughly like a very old rune, one that means desire. More than a few stories explain exactly why, but this means, or used to mean to the people the Doondane Rangers descended from, that the wizard has fallen in love with me.” Pausing to consider her final words, she asked, “What do you think, Hana? Is the man worthy of my affections?”
I couldn’t help but grin, nodding my approval. “Yes, Selna. Judas seems a good sort all around.”
She returned my smile with a smirk. “Very well. Unfortunately, I agree.” Then she stowed the box in a pocket and we spoke no more on the subject.
Bastral and the other rangers told many more stories that night. Imagining old Quinn as a warrior was almost laughable, but the way he held my sword did seem to make more sense now. We all slept together in the circular room, even Bastral joining us. In the morning, the rangers had made a quick breakfast of venison and herb soup.
Liam and Lilian left first, each giving me the same peculiar hug that Selna had after Pachi died, their foreheads pressing to mine. Then Ashtel departed with Selna, the old man descending the stairs of the mountain in a brisk jog while she stayed back a moment to say goodbye.
I hugged her, not in the fashion of the rangers, but the normal way, smashing her in my arms. “You keep safe sister, okay? And we shall see each other again soon.”
Then, before she followed after Ashtel, she crossed over to Judas and planted a kiss directly on his stunned mouth. “And you, dear wizard, keep your wits sharp and your heart guarded. And yes, if we survive the coming war, you may draw as much water as you can bear.”
The poor man blushed brighter than a sunrise and stumbled on his words, managing a simple, “Um, sure. I mean yes. Yes, I will.”
When Judas recovered, he pressed a black stone first into Madi’s hand and then my own, explaining, “Keep this stone well. If I need to contact you, the stone will light up and get a touch warm. Understand?”
We nodded and watched as Judas summoned a portal and stepped through.
Alysand walked up and raised his hands in a questioning manner. “So, will you two come back with me, or do you need to depart again to your world?”
Madi spoke first, looking to me for confirmation. “I would like some time to collect myself. We can meet you at Benham, though. Then we’ll depart for Gilsby tomorrow, is that fine?”
I nodded my agreement, and Alysand said with finality, “Sounds good. Take the main trail to the base of the mountain. There is a signpo
st that points the way to Benham. Meet me at Garren’s tomorrow evening. Can you make it by then?”
We agreed and logged out soon after the gunsinger disappeared down the trail.
6: “Gold is fine, no doubt. But trinkets of the heart are what we remember most.”
— Tumsley of the Chishri Spider Clan
HANA
“All of your bids have been purchased but one,” Elendil announced proudly.”The bear claws had been set to a very high lowest bid price, but if I have your permission, I suggest we repost the bid at the same price and hope for the best.”
Though I couldn’t see him, I imagined if he had a chest, it would be puffed out. “That’s awesome, Elendil, and thank you for helping me. I’m afraid to ask, though, what is the total? Include the funds sent over by Madi.” I chewed my lip savagely as I waited.
The AI took his time responding, perhaps even relishing the tension. “In total, 22,375 gold dragons! Well done, Hana. It seems you are truly rich, at least by the standards of Eternal Online. When considering your current level, I think you should be very proud of yourself.”
I had just finished taking a shower, and hadn’t dressed yet, but considering Elendil wasn’t really human, I indulged by dancing shamelessly in my skivvies.
I asked the AI, curious to see his reaction, “Know any dwarven drinking songs, my friend?”
“No, not quite, though I have access to thousands of bawdy songs in my database. Shall I give you a sample?”
I nodded my head furiously. “Absolutely! Stun me with your chords!”
A jaunty stringed melody began to play through the room’s speakers, and I picked up the tune. It was awkward to dance to, but I didn’t mind. Then, to my infinite pleasure, Elendil—the cold-blooded, synthetically enhanced AI—sang me a song.
“The miller was a man most humble and lean.
Even the priest knew his soul was clean.
But when the baker died a woman came to stay.
Her name was Mary, and she sang a fine lay.
The boys all fought fist and nail to be seen,
But was the miller’s stone she fancied it seems.
Oh! Where did the miller take his bag of flour?
Did he help Mary knead her bread for an hour?
And naught but her over could…”
“Stop! Stop! I can’t take it, Elendil,” I pleaded, holding my sides. The AI hadn’t even used one of the many voices he no doubt had command over. Instead, he’d sung it in his usual, genial tone, and I couldn’t take another word of it. I almost felt bad for making him do it.
Elendil asked, with concern in his voice, “What is the problem? Is it my voice? Or should the next one not include sex? Oh, did you understand that the song contained a metaphor, a double entendre as it is often called? You see, the flour that the miller and Mary were kneading refers to…”
“No! Don’t. I mean yes, I get it. Oh, my stomach hurts. Just stop everything for a second.” It took a moment to overcome the grip of my laughing fit. That was so priceless. I would need to tell Madi to ask him to sing the same for her.
After a minute, I gathered myself together and sat back on my chair.
“I’m really sorry, Elendil. That was just a bit unexpected. Your voice is just fine, okay? That was exactly what I needed.” I waited a second to hear if he would respond, but he remained quiet. “Oh, come on, don’t sulk. Please, let’s just change the subject.”
“That is fine with me, Hana. Do you really think my voice is sufficient?”
“Of course. Better than mine, at least. I’m not really an expert.”
This seemed to soothe Elendil’s ruffled feathers, and he asked me what I planned to do with my money.
I answered while getting dressed as quickly as I could. “Convert the currency for me, please. There is something I need to get, and it won’t be cheap. I’ll see you later, buddy, I’m heading out into the real world!”
I crossed out through the bay, then through the digital door that I’d entered just a couple weeks ago. It was insane thinking of how little time had passed and how much I’d already changed.
To my astonishment, Maurice was working the front desk, and I waved at him as I left. His face was a mix of surprise and delight. “It’s good to see some of you still leave this place. There is a lot to be had in Eternal, but not everything.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I responded, and let the door close behind me.
The morning was fresh and bright, and I walked with a sturdy strength that I wasn’t used to. My body had changed so much in the short time that I’d been playing EO. A few people turned to look at me as I passed them, and for the first time in years, I didn’t recoil at their gaze.
I felt rich, walking outside in the real world, and enjoying the feeling of the sun on my skin when the most intoxicating smell tore through the grime and exhaust of the city. Bagels! Not just any bagels, but Mr. Kim’s Absolute Bagels! I veered off down a sidestreet, my legs pulling me along in autopilot.
When I entered, the same faded picture of lox, purple onions, and breakfast bagels covered the walls. Then I saw Mrs. Kim standing guard over a mounting of freshly baked, still-warm, perfectly delicious bagels.
She hadn’t seen me yet, so I walked over, hoping to take her off guard, and said in a husky voice, “What’s fresh?”
“Everything is fresh,” she replied automatically. Then she saw me and her eyes lit up. “Oh, Dahlia! It has been too long!” Her smile was huge as she stood, taking me in. “You’ve grown, too. So tall now, and where is your father? He not come in far too long!”
I tried to keep my face from betraying my reaction, but it wasn’t possible. The smell, the atmosphere, and her blunt and well-intentioned question just hit too hard.
Mrs. Kim registered the change and asked in a quieter voice, “What is it? He move away?”
I couldn’t stop the tears. I blinked furiously, angry that the wound was still so sore, but it had only been a couple of weeks. Shaking my head, I looked back up at her and told her the truth. “No, he was taken in by AllHands Inc. as a miner. And… he didn’t make it. He’s gone.”
The spoken words nullified my pain somewhat, surprising me. I sniffed and wiped away the tears. Mrs. Kim’s eyes were brimming as well, and she shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Dahlia. Now you alone? Do you have any friends or family?”
The last question tugged at me, and I realized my answer was easily summoned. “Yes, I do have friends. I am okay. I just miss him.”
Mrs. Kim latched on to this and clasped her hands together. “Good, that is good. I’m proud of you, Dahlia. Now, I will give you your usual?” she asked with the smooth transition of a woman who was intimate yet professional with dozens of customers.
“I’d love it.”
She started by pouring me a cup of black coffee. The coffee here was horrendous to some, but for those who liked coffee so strong, so thick you could melt a straw in it, there was no substitute.
I sipped the coffee, watching the sun dance through the windows. Memories of coming here with both of my parents arose in me. My dad and I used to slide the saltshakers across the surface of the stainless-steel table, gaining a point if the shaker slid partially off the table, but remained stable.
My mom would always talk about how she would love to own a restaurant of some kind herself and would dream about redecorating the garish store if she had free rein.
“Here you go,” Mrs. Kim said. “Everything bagel, extra cream cheese, lox with tomato, purple onion, and black pepper. And these are for later.” She handed me a plate as well as a bag stuffed full of bagels.
I thanked her, then turned to my amazing meal. It was so delicious. The onions and tomato were naturally grown, only the cream cheese and lox were printed. Real dairy was something only the upper classes could afford, and salmon, though many claimed they were returning in numbers, were illegal to fish and so toxic the meat practically glowed.
Mrs. Kim met me at the register, and as
I held out my wrist to pay for the meal, she clasped my hand between hers. “Please, no pay. Come back again. Okay? We miss you, Dahlia.” She gave a warm smile that made my eyes hot again. I just nodded and squeezed her hands back.
When I left, my bouncy mood of the morning was gone, but in its place was a quiet and steady sense of purpose. I had lost much in my short life, but I was about to get just a little bit back.
Turning the corner, the pawn shop’s old LED sign came into view. I walked inside and smiled at the same woman who I’d sold my mother’s ring to.
For a second, she didn’t recognize me, but as I approached the counter, a smile touched her own lips briefly, replaced by a look of concern. “Hello there. Came back, did ya? Anything else to sell?” She spoke in a professional voice.
“Not quite. I am here to buy. I know you need to make a profit, so I am willing to pay more for the ring than I sold it for.” I figured honesty would get me further than trying to bully my way into a lower price. This woman had given me the money I’d needed to get where I was today. I resolved not to barter. Not much at least.
She sighed and folded her hands on the glass counter. Then a cold dread filled my belly. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t think you’d come back. And the man who came in loved it so much. I…” Her voice broke off.
My head swam for a moment, and I braced myself on the counter. “No, but I asked you not to. You didn’t sell it, right? Please, tell me you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry. I sold it for 5,200 YD to an old man. He seemed really sweet, if that helps.”
I thought of screaming at the woman, and an image of me cutting her down with my katana flashed through my mind’s eye. But no. As I stared at her, my rage fell away. It was not her fault, and it wasn’t really mine. What other choice did either of us have?
