by Rachel Ford
“But his revenge wasn’t finished there. He cursed our people to the same fate, and hid the cure the one place we cannot get it: deep in the blessed caves, where we can never go. He thought, you see, that we would come crawling back to him, penitent and begging for forgiveness. He thought my dearest Arya would choose her beauty over our love.”
The king shook his head in a bittersweet way. “He did not know her. He never knew her. She stayed with me, all these long years. Brutmyr never forgave her for that, not even as he lay dying. With his last breath, he poured out his hatred upon the wind, which carried it back to us.
“So you see, Adventurer, in a way Brutmyr’s curse was worse for himself than us; for we live, and are happy even in our banishment from the world of sunshine. And he is dead, his heart poisoned by his own bitterness.”
Jack tried his best, but it was hard to muster sympathy for an NPC droning on about fake problems while he, himself, was stuck in a videogame. So he said, “Right, that’s really sad. But I do need to get out of here. So what do I have to do to open that enchanted door you mentioned?”
“You cannot. Only myself or my fair Arya can lift the enchantment. And we cannot cross the holy caverns. Not so long as we are cursed. And since Brutmyr died without lifting the affliction, we are trapped here forevermore.”
Jack sighed. He knew what was coming. “Didn’t you say there was some artifact that could lift the curse?”
“Yes. But like the door, it is beyond the blessed caverns, where we cannot tread, for we are cursed.”
“Right. But I’m not.”
“Oh! Adventurer, do you mean that you would seek out the Blessed Tears of Saint Acaria for us?”
“Would you be able to get to the door if I did?”
“Indeed. Once the curse is lifted, we can cross the holy caverns.”
“Great. Then, I’ll do it.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jordan had to go shortly after this. Somehow, her shift had flown by, and it was time for her to go home. But not before talking to Dr. Roberts, she said.
Jack grumbled that it wasn’t necessary, but she would not be dissuaded. Before she went, though, she told him, “I know you want to finish the game as quickly as possible. But, if you’re looking for a merchant, or want to level any of your secondary skills, there’s a whole city here – and tons of side quests.”
That proved true enough. Jack set his alarm, but he didn’t feel tired yet. So he wandered the city, exploring as he went.
He found inns, which struck him as unlikely, given the hidden nature of the place. Who was going to need to rent a room in a hidden world? Still, he filed it away for future use, and kept on looking. He spotted merchants of every kind, and craftsmen too. He found iron workers and leather workers, tailors and cobblers, armorers and weaponsmiths. He found bakeries and markets, and shady looking pawn shops. He met people who shooed him away brusquely on account of the ogre, and those who welcomed him like long lost kin. He found folks who opined how long it had been since they’d seen a human face, and others who sneered and thought it not nearly long enough. All the folk he passed were gnarled and twisted like King Miradorn had been.
His side quest log exploded. He met an old woman who wanted him to find her missing housecat, a boy who wanted him to find his father who had vanished in the caverns, and a wife who needed someone to follow her husband and see if his clandestine late night strolls led to a mistress’s home. Some merchants wanted him to collect precious rocks, or bring him bits of fungi or particular breeds of cave rat considered delicacies. One of the pawn shop owners, a grizzled old fellow called Madiaf, wanted a competitor offed, and was willing to pay handsomely for the favor; and the game presented dueling objectives:
Kill the rival pawnbroker [optional]
Turn Madiaf in to the magistrate [optional]
But Jack did neither. By time he’d strolled through the city, sold off some of his items, and added two dozen odd quests, he was starting to feel the weight of the day. So he headed back to one of the inns and rented a room from a cantankerous old lady. “I’ll let you spend the night, I suppose. But neither your beast nor your horse are welcome in the place. They can sleep in the stables. But it’ll cost you double. And I’ll require a deposit, in case that ogre makes a mess. Unless ye want to be mucking out the stables yourself, anyway.”
Jack had no intention of mucking out the stables – especially not with an ogre staying there. So he handed over the requisite gold, and went to sleep.
He didn’t anticipate a good night’s rest. He hadn’t been having much luck with that lately. So he wasn’t surprised to wake up a little while later. What did surprise him, though, was that he hadn’t woken up on his own.
“Yo, Jack? You there?” someone was saying, adding in an almost sing-song tone, “Jaaaaaack…”
He blinked into his darkened room and tried to collect his thoughts. His alarm hadn’t gone off yet, so Jordan wouldn’t be back on shift. “Uh…Richard?”
“In the flesh. Well, I guess, you can’t really see that. Anyway, I’m here with Dr. Roberts.”
Jack had met Roberts in person, prior to being trapped in the VR unit. Roberts had all the bedside manner of a block of ice; and it was all on display when he grunted, “Hello.” At least, Jack thought it was a hello. It might have been a hey, or afternoon, or a simple clearing of the throat. It had been about as articulate as the ogre’s attempts at conversation.
“Hi, Dr. Roberts.”
The grunt repeated, and then the doctor said, “So Jordan tells me you’ve got some problems going on?”
Jack shook his head, wishing she’d listened to him. “Not really.”
“Oh. Okay, good. I’ll call it a day, then.”
Jack frowned now. He’d expected a little more resistance than that. “The thing is,” he said, “she thinks…well, it’s probably nothing.”
“Well is it or isn’t it something? If it’s nothing, I can go home. If it’s something, I need to look at it.”
Jack’s frown deepened, and he decided, if only out of spite, to follow up on Jordan’s concerns. Dr. Roberts wouldn’t be going home yet. So he laid out what she’d observed, and explained how he was barely sleeping, and how his in-game injuries seemed to manifest physically on his avatar. Roberts said nothing at all as he talked, and Jack started to feel a little foolish for pursuing the matter. “It’s probably nothing,” he said again.
Roberts grunted in a fashion so ambiguous, Jack couldn’t tell if he agreed or not.
“So, uh, what do you think?”
“I think I’m going to be yelled at for being late for dinner. That’s what I think.” Then, Roberts sighed. “We’re going to have to run some tests. It probably is nothing, but I’d be negligent if something like this got reported and I didn’t follow up on it.”
Jack had the strong impression that Roberts’s concern extended as far as covering his own ass, and no further. Still, he nodded. “Okay, what do we do?”
“We’ll have to hit you with some damage, and see how you respond.”
Jack glanced around at his empty room. “Well, that might be a problem. I’m in some kind of cursed city, but there’s no bad guy here to aggro.”
Richard’s voice jumped on the line. “I could spin my character up again, and blast you.”
Unlike the doctor’s ambiguous tones, there was no mistaking the eagerness in the intern’s voice. But Jack didn’t have a better idea. “Alright. If you think that’ll work, Dr. Roberts?”
Again, Roberts grunted. Richard took the sound to be affirmation, because he said, “Sweet. Loading now.”
It took a minute, but Loreesha spawned by the doorway, looking exactly like she had when he’d last seen her. “Alright,” Richard said via the orc, “you ready to bleed?”
Jack frowned, and Richard laughed and drew his axe. Loreesha came in swinging like a maniac, hacking and slashing and cutting great gashes into the still prone Jack. His health plummeted. “Alright. Jumping J
iminy, enough already. I’m going to die.”
Richard pulled back, laughing at his own over exuberance. “Just trying to help.”
Dr. Roberts said, “Get closer. I want to see Jack’s avatar.”
Loreesha came over, until she was hovering over the bed. Jack glanced down, looking at the still tingling impact sites all over his limbs and torso. They all looked fine.
“Looks good to me,” Roberts said. “I don’t know what Jordan was getting on about, but it’s clearly nothing. She must have imagined it.” Then he muttered, “Might have to talk to Avery about her. Too much drama.”
Jack felt his ire raise. “Actually, she wasn’t imagining it. I saw it too.”
At the same time, Richard said, “Drama? Come on, Doc. She’s cool as a cucumber.”
Roberts sighed. “Well, it’s clearly not happening now. So whatever you two allegedly saw –”
“Did see,” Jack corrected. “And they weren’t cuts. They were bruises. That blessed wizard tried strangling me, and I ended up with a bunch of bruises around my throat.”
“Fine. Choke him, Richard.”
Jack started to protest that he wasn’t asking to be strangled, but the hulking orc had already grabbed him around the throat. He fought and gurgled for a bit, but couldn’t free himself. Loreesha was too strong.
Then Roberts said, “Let him go.”
Jack fell down against his pillow, wheezing and gasping for breath. The orc woman stayed in place, hovering over him.
Richard said, “I see what he’s talking about, Doc – right here.” Loreesha pointed at his neck, and Roberts hemmed and hawed for a second. She raised her hand. “I can try hitting him, if you want: see if that bruises him too.”
Jack started to protest that he didn’t need any more bruises. But at that moment, the door burst open. The old woman Jack had rented the room from stood there, her twisted features looking angrier and more cronelike than ever. “Aha,” she snapped. “A woman. After you paid for a single room. I knew there was something fishy about you, with all that talk of being an adventurer.”
She spat. “An adventurer my foot. And now I find you carrying on like that, under my roof?” She shook her head emphatically. “Oh no. You and your ‘lady’ friend can do what you please – but not under my roof.
“Orcs aren’t welcome here anyway, no more than ogres; and especially not doing…well, that.” She gestured toward Jack and Loreesha, the former sprawled on the bed and gasping for breath, and the latter hovering over him menacingly.
Jack tried to protest that the old woman got it wrong, and so did Richard. Roberts said nothing, but his sighing was audible the entire time.
Neither of them persuaded the innkeeper, though. She marched over, and seized each by the ear. Then she dragged them out of the room, through a packed dining area, and to the front door. Despite his best efforts, Jack couldn’t resist. “You want to be slapped around by an orc?” the old woman asked. “Well, that’s your business. But don’t you never set foot back here again – neither of you. This is a respectable house, with no use for the likes of you.”
Then, brusquely and unceremoniously, she shoved them through the door.
Jack stood there blinking. “What the fluffernutter just happened?”
Richard laughed awkwardly. “That’s in case you try to cheat the innkeepers by buying one room for the night for your whole party. It was…it was supposed to be funny.”
“It wasn’t,” Jack declared. His cheeks felt like they were on fire.
“No,” Richard agreed. “It wasn’t.”
“Alright, if you boys are done getting kicked out of establishments for lascivious behavior…can we get back to the topic at hand?”
Jack scowled at nothing in particular. He wasn’t sure if Roberts had his own monitor, or was viewing from Richard’s screen. So he didn’t know where to focus his anger.
“You do have bruises,” the doctor conceded.
“I told you that already.”
“Richard, squeeze him again.”
“Oh no,” Jack said hotly, raising a hand to ward off any such attacks. “I already got kicked out of the dratted inn.”
“Mr. Owens, do you want me to fix this or not?”
Jack’s scowl deepened, but he lowered the hand. Loreesha reached a finger gingerly to his neck, and pressed.
“Harder,” Roberts said when Jack didn’t respond. “Squeeze him like you mean it. Like you’re trying to choke him out.”
Richard – Loreesha – hesitated. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable doing that…”
“Are you comfortable being fired? Because if you’re not going to do your job…”
Loreesha squeezed Jack’s throat until he was gasping for breath again.
“Good,” Roberts said after a moment. The orc released him. “Did that hurt?”
“Hurt?” Jack wheezed. “No. But it didn’t feel comfortable. And I lost more hit points.”
“I don’t care about your hit points. They’re not real. Pain is.” Roberts fell silent for a long moment, like he was collecting his thoughts. “Okay, so, this isn’t standard behavior. My best guess is, your brain is superimposing the bruising it expects.”
“Why would it do that?”
“How do I know? You’ve been in there awhile. Your brain is getting used to your digital body.
“You always did score ridiculously high for integration. My hypothesis is, your brain expects to see bruising following that kind of trauma, so it’s creating bruising.
“But, you don’t feel pain, and it doesn’t work for cuts. So I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Just a weird little mental tic.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good, I guess. About the no pain, I mean.”
“It is,” Roberts agreed. “It means I get to go home. Have a great night, Jack.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Since he’d already joined the game, Richard didn’t want to leave; and Jack could think of no nice way to tell him to piss off, no matter how much he wanted to. For the time being, he was still a brain in a box; and Richard had control over that box for quite a few hours in the day.
Jack decided to play nice. So he let Richard talk him into questing. They found the old woman’s cat. It had had kittens, and the discovery meant they had to find a box for the new feline family, and set it up in the old woman’s house. Then, they had to run to one of the shops and buy fish for the cat, and toys. Finally, they had to help her find homes for the kittens. “I can’t possibly keep them all myself,” she told Jack. “But I’d never sleep at night if I didn’t know for certain that my baby’s babies went to good homes.”
Which, in practical terms, meant that Jack had to interview a dozen prospective adoptees, and find the four most deserving recipients. Here, he managed to get a little revenge on the old innkeeper who had turned them out. She was looking for mousers to keep her establishment vermin free. Remarking that it would never be vermin free as long as she resided there, Jack dismissed her adoption application. She scowled and called him a dirty pervert, but went on her way.
Then he listened to eleven more people lay out reasons why they needed a pet cat. Most were basic enough: rodent control and companionship. There were only two applicants that stuck out for the wrong reasons. One gap toothed old codger declared he loved cats, but a perception check revealed there was more to it than that. So Jack pressed him, and eventually the old man cackled and admitted, “Me wife is allergic as hell to them. I reckon it’ll be a hoot to watch her suffer.”
Like the innkeeper before him, the old codger got an unceremonious dismissal. The other no-go was an old crone who cooed at the sight of the feline family, declaring them, “Darling little morsels, aren’t they?” Thinking he’d misheard, Jack pressed her for more information. And every response was worse than the former. “Oh, I can take them all off your hands, my lad. The sooner the better, you know, with cats. The bones are still soft.”
He didn’t need to hear more, even though
she started talking about pies. She was still on the subject of pies when he managed to shove her out the door.
Richard found the entire business hilarious. “I’d have given them all to her. Except maybe one, for the guy with the allergic wife. That would have been funny.”
Jack didn’t. He picked four adoptees at random from the remaining list, and the old woman thanked him profusely for putting her mind at ease. Then, she rewarded him with a golden cat charm and an apple pie – which put in mind the crone’s more grotesque mention of pie. Despite a rising hunger, Jack found himself unable to eat. So he slipped the pie into his pack, and moved on.
They didn’t get far from the old lady’s house when Shimmerfax lost a shoe. This, in turn, spawned an entirely new side quest – and a more pressing one, since the battlecorn’s mobility was extremely hampered.
So Jack spent the rest of Richard’s shift running back and forth, first making deliveries for the blacksmith to free him up to work with Shimmerfax, and then fetching the metals he needed, and finding more fuel to feed his forge, and so on.
They’d barely got the battlecorn walking again by time Richard said, “Oh, heck. Time to go home. Well, we’ll have to do this again tomorrow. That was fun – even if you did wuss out on the cats.”
Then, Jordan signed on, wanting to know right away if he’d heard from Dr. Roberts. So he walked her through everything that had happened, sans the details about being kicked out of the inn. She listened perplexedly, repeating her hope that the doctor knew what he was doing.
“I’m sure he does, Jordan. I told you it was nothing to worry about.”
She didn’t seem convinced, but she agreed that there was nothing more they could do, for now anyway. “And the sooner you’re out of there, the better.” So they set off to locate the artifact they needed.