by Shawn Wyatt
“No,” Tarawi said. The turtle lowered her head back into the waves. “But I bid you to move quickly, as the corruption has already begun to work its way through the lifeblood of this world.”
***
Light rushed across the darkness of the world like water through floodgates. The girl shouted in frustration, her satisfaction short-lived. She had guessed where the portal would appear.
Her guess had not been accurate enough. Over the previous days, she mapped out the appearance of each portal, each one a window into that other world. The portals had to exist in pattern. If she could guess where the next one would open, then she could reach it—and perhaps leave this place of shadow and shade.
This portal had not appeared where she thought it would, but it was closer than any of the others had been.
And as she had guessed, monsters charged the portal. The light drew them, called to them. Whether they craved the light or sought to destroy it, she had not been able to figure out.
She could not ask the creatures. Her conversations with the monsters in this world involved weapons.
Her lungs burned as she ran, the air in this world thin and weak. She activated one of her abilities, one that let her cover twice as much ground in half the time.
Through the portal she saw the face of a giant turtle. No sound emerged from its cavernous mouth. The enormous creature spoke to a ship, the vessel no more than a toy in comparison.
The portal began to collapse, shrinking rapidly as it did so.
“No!” she shrieked. She was so close.
The girl lunged forward. Her fingers brushed against the portal as it snapped shut and took its warm light with it.
But it left something behind. Liquid dripped from her fingertips. She lifted her fingers to her mouth and tasted them.
Salt water.
Chapter Eleven: Onward
After we met with Tarawi, Quinn turned the ship back to the city. We needed to stock up on supplies before we continued. The trip was a silent one—after Tarawi's words, my thoughts had turned inward.
I knew Foscor’s influence would have an effect on this realm, just as it had on Toris. The parallels between the realms surprised me. Like the Terrawalkers on Toris, the Great Turtles of Shella had slowed the advance of the corruption. But it was only a matter of time until the corruption spread across the waves. If we stopped it here, what would the effect be like on the other two realms?
The natural order of things fled from the corruption like light from shadow, and there was still so much to save. No way could we save it all. There wasn’t enough time.
A clammy tension had me in a vice grip. Today had enough worries of its own. The future wouldn’t matter if we didn’t survive this realm. I looked around at the party. “What’s our next move?”
“Well, we need to track down the next of Tarawi’s siblings,” Evey said. “But which one?”
“Quinn, do you have a map?” I asked.
“‘Course I do. What kind of sailor would I be if I didn’t have a map?”
I could think of several ways to describe the Swashbuckler, but I kept the comments to myself. Quinn dipped into his cabin and emerged a moment later with a rolled-up piece of parchment.
“Gather round and behold,” he said. He spread out the map on the deck and pointed. His finger landed on one of five sketches of a turtle, each drawn in a different style. “This is where we are now. It will do no good to speak to Kiribati—“ he pointed to the one in the center of the map “—until we’ve spoken with the others.”
“Why not?” I asked. “Seems like it would make more sense to go straight to the highest authority.”
Quinn laughed. “She wouldn’t give you the time of day. Ever dealt with royalty before? Because that’s what these turtles are. They’re the animal-god-kings of Shella. Kiribati is the highest power in this realm and the mother of the four others. Tarawi, you know. And then we have Napari, Rawaki, and Banabi.” He traced a counter-clockwise circle around the map. “There are smaller islands along the way. True islands, mind you. They don’t move like the cities do. If you ask me, our best bet is to go Fenua. That’s here.”
The island was small, barely half the size of Tarawi. A splash of blue denoted a lagoon in the center of the island.
“It’s the next logical stop along the way,” I said. “Could we save time and bypass it?”
“Not enough to matter. Shella is laid out the way it is because of a massive current that acts as a natural trade route. It keeps ships moving even if there is no wind. Even with the aid of a strong wind, it will take days of sailing to reach Napari. We’ll need to resupply along the way. Besides, there hasn’t been any sort of pirate occupation on Fenua. The prices there will be far more reasonable than those you’ve seen on Tarawi.”
I pored over the map, but I found no fault in his reasoning. “Alright. That works for me.”
The rest of the party agreed. By that time, the ship had reached the docks, and Quinn threw a rope out to the waiting dockhands—actual dockhands, not pirates demanding a fee. An improvement, for sure.
"Quinn," I called. "Now you know what we've set out to do. I won't make you help us. I can charter a ship if you want to go your own way." I could force him to help as punishment for his betrayal, but it didn't feel right. "We can help you find Chrys after we break the corruption."
He shrugged. “Magic’s above my pay grade, which means I don't worry about it. You help me find Chrys, and I’ll take you anywhere you need to go.”
“It’ll be dangerous.”
“Most things in this world are,” he said. “And if it means getting to go home one day, then I’m all for it.”
I nodded. “As long as you understand. We lost people on Toris. Two of our final raid group didn’t make it out of that dungeon alive. You know the consequences of death here.”
“Aye, I do. And the way I see it, it’s no different than reality. This may be a game we’re stuck in, but for now, it’s life. Right? So what’s the point in worrying about it?"
That might have been the most thoughtful thing the Swashbuckler had said. Before I could respond, he shrugged. "Anyway, we’re here. Get what you need from the tavern. Come back when you’re ready and we’ll set sail.”
Our goodbyes did not take long. Roxy didn’t seem surprised when I told her we were leaving for the next island. “You don’t seem the type to stay in one place,” she said. “I’m not much of a fighter if I can help it, but there’s something about you. A spark that other people don’t have.”
“I’ll beat this game,” I told her. “And then we can all go home.”
“I look forward to it. And hey, if you ever need help, you know where to find me.” She patted the wall of the tavern. “I’m going to be right here until this whole ordeal ends. Keeps me comfortable, and now that the pirates are gone, it keeps me safe.”
I laughed. “Hold down the fort, then. I’ll see you, Roxy.”
After I returned to the ship—I still refused to call it Betsy, despite Quinn’s insistence—we set off. Quinn directed the vessel away from the city and into the wide ocean. The current flowed with visible, palpable strength, like a translucent serpent beneath the waves. “When we enter the current, it’ll be smooth sailing,” Quinn said.
Something in his voice caused me to tear my eyes away from the current. He held a looking glass to his eyes and peered out over the ocean, a furrow of worry on his brow. “What?”
“Nothing,” he muttered. “Just looks like there might be a storm building.”
“Is that a problem?” I looked around the ship. There were a lot of barrels and wooden boxes strapped to the deck. I could imagine them falling off the ship in the midst of a storm.
“Shouldn’t be,” Quinn said. “But the weather hasn’t exactly been predictable lately. Betsy can hold up to any storm. The only risk is the nasties that come with it.”
"Like what?"
"Well, remember the monsters Tarawi mentioned? The ones at
the bottom of the sea? They surface during storms. And sometimes there's this algae that comes with them that eats right through any wood it touches."
"The hull is wooden," I said.
"See the problem?"
I glanced out over the waves. “Right. So only ship-eating water full of sea monsters and a few storms to worry about.”
“Like I said, the chance of that is low. We should be fine.” Quinn grinned. “Not much to worry about out here, right?”
“Uh huh.”
Chapter Twelve: Fenua
Docks unfurled from Fenua's shoreline like wooden fingers reaching out to grasp passing ships. Quinn guided Betsy between two such docks until the vessel bumped against the pilings. A group of dockworkers caught the thrown tie line and tied a cleat hitch in seconds. Quinn gave a grand gesture over the island. "Welcome to Fenua, home to commerce, capital, and coconuts."
I leapt onto the dock, dry land a welcome sensation after the time at sea. I had yet to get my sea legs, and the constant rocking of the ship began to take a toll. I didn't know if it was possible to vomit in a full-dive VRMMO, but I didn't want to find out.
Warehouses faced the port, each large enough to contain the wares of a dozen ships. Men scurried from dock to warehouse and back again, usually with something heavy in their arms. For all intents and purposes, Fenua looked like a port town—until I saw the foliage behind it.
Palm trees as big around as a city block reached into the sky with coconuts the size of boulders draped heavy under their leaves. A series of sturdy nets and wooden slides crisscrossed below the canopy, a delivery system to guide the coconuts away from homes and buildings.
I could only imagine the crushing damage someone would take from standing under one of those coconuts.
The island shared similarities with the Grove of the Terrawalkers on Toris.
Evey joined me on the dock, with Boris close behind. He had been clingy since his rescue, or as clingy as a 2,000 pound bear could be. "Remind you of anything?" I asked.
She snorted. "If we're lucky, there won't be any pixies waiting around to braid flowers into Boris' hair."
Bastion and Wish joined us while Quinn tipped the dockworkers. "Thanks again," he said. He turned back toward us. "They always hang out here and help out. Their way of making a living."
“Those are players?” I asked.
“Yeah. They don’t much care for combat, but they can survive by offering a service. It’s not the first instance of entrepreneurship you’ll see here, either. Fenua is one of the main trading posts for the Merchant Marines.”
"That so? We should pay them a visit." If we wanted better gear or weapons, this would be the place to look. And anyone with that wide of access to the realm would have information, too.
“Might not be a bad idea. They’ve got skill trainers in their ranks,” Quinn said. He gave Bastion a long stare.
The Prophet bristled. “Hey, if you think blacksmithing is so easy, you try it.”
“I wasn’t implying anything. Just a suggestion.”
Bastion sighed. “You aren’t wrong,” he said. “Trying to craft armor based on what I've seen in the movies sucks.”
The port district gave way to a thriving marketplace along sand-lined streets. Vendors fought for attention, their stalls placed in front of round, yurt-like homes.
Jaunty music drifted out of some of the buildings and gave the island a tropical feel that had me looking for tiki torches.
Heavy red fabric draped over the door of one yurt and muffled any sound from within. When a man lifted the fabric to leave, the sounds from inside took on a more sensual note. Quinn flashed us a grin. "I'll catch up with you later," he said. "I have business to attend to in here." He ducked underneath the fabric and disappeared from view.
Bastion broke the stunned silence. “Did he just go into a brothel?”
“Yup." Wish rolled her eyes.
“I don’t want to know,” I said. “Come on.”
The marketplace opened into a paved circular area. Wood and stone buildings stood along the boundary, the signs in front marking their use: sword and shield for an armor shop, a pair of crossed axes for a weapon shop, and a steaming bottle for a potion shop. Other signs bore more literal meanings, like one with a deconstructed ship in front. Two men sat in front of the shop at a small table and filled out paperwork.
"Quinn wasn't joking about entrepreneurs," Bastion said. "But what exactly is that?"
He pointed to the center of the market, where a structure that looked like a tree stripped of its leaves dominated the space. A flock of odd-looking birds sat along the structure. Each had the relative shape of a pigeon, but with a too-large chest and long, fanned feathers like a peacock. A man greeted more of the birds as they landed, feeding each one from a pouch on his side.
He looked up at our approach. "Welcome!" The bird hopped from the man's outstretched arm to the structure, and he turned to me with a flash of recognition. "Ren, right? I've got a few messages for you."
I raised an eyebrow. "How did you know my name? And who sent me a message?"
"I know everyone with a message," the man said. "It's my job. And I don't know who sent the message, but it arrived from Toris. Unfortunately, you cannot respond. The system is one-way only right now, but airships continue to arrive with messages addressed to players here."
A prompt flashed at the bottom of my vision.
You’ve unlocked Inter-Realm messaging! Say the name of the player you want to message, and the bird-keeper will see to it your letter arrives as quickly as possible. It’s best not to question how the system works, though. It upsets the birds.
"I understand," I said.
The man handed me a stack of three letters, their interiors sealed behind a wax brand. I recognized Rune's scribbled handwriting on the outside.
Rune. We hadn’t spoken with him since we left Toris. It felt like it had been so much longer than two weeks. The first letter was simple, with only “Ren” written on the front in a cramped hand.
The second felt thicker, and Rune had included more detail: “Ren the Duelist.”
I took one look at the third letter and burst into laughter. Rune must have lost patience with the messaging system and wrote, “Ren, answer the bloody message” on the front. I guess that served as the subject line in this world.
I opened the first letter.
Ren,
Check it out. A messaging system. It just appeared in the middle of Grenay after we opened up the airship. Useful, huh? Now we can stay in touch. Write back when you get this.
Rune
Unlocking inter-realm travel had unlocked the potential for inter-realm messaging. If I connected all the realms, then messages between all players would be possible. I opened the second letter.
Ren,
Come on, man. Send a letter back. Or have you forgotten your good pal Rune? Things are going well back here on Toris. The guild has grown, and we have added quite a few craftsmen to the mix. Players are also being more careful. I don’t know who is doing it, but flowers are appearing on the graves of Rogue and Pronstar. It seems the constant warnings by the guild master have left an impression. Oh, and speaking of guild master, P!xel has taken over. That wicked sword he picked up from the raid boss gave him a stat boost like you wouldn’t believe. He’d probably be able to take on even your party now.
So P!xel had moved up in the world, huh? He deserved it. The Berserker was a natural born leader, and his influence during the raid had ensured the inexperienced members kept their head during combat. And the fact that people continued to pay respects to our fallen friends reassured me. At least their deaths would serve as a cautionary tale to other players. The more that survived until we cleared this game, the better.
“Hey, check these out,” I said. I handed one letter to Bastion and another to Evey, then turned my attention to the third letter.
Ren,
If you don’t answer this, I will come to Toris and find you myself. Don�
�t worry us like this, man. No one has jumped aboard the airship and followed behind you yet. You four are the only players to go to a new realm, as far as we’re aware. And no one has shown up on Toris, although we did have a few newcomers appear in Grenay last week. Would you believe they battled their way across the face of the realm to get here? The stories they tell, man. You wouldn’t believe.
I saw a thicker mark on the paper, as if he had hesitated while writing.
A patrol spotted Azelbub outside of Grenay. It seems he tried to reclaim the airship landing once more, but the Treant swatted him away. I believe it. I’ve never met a tree with more attitude, but he’s a strong ally. The players that spotted him say his level is only 17, but he is an Elite. We’re putting together another raid to flush him out and eliminate him before he reaches full strength again. Since we cleared that raid, there have been far less enemies encroaching on the city and the roads nearby, and the Terrawalkers have cleared the forest out. They’ve lent a hand in clearing the realm up too. Cathbad is something else. He has picked up a few more animal forms since you left, although I wish he would have told me about them. Watching an oversized Tiger stride into town only to shape shift into a Sylvan is something I won’t get used to anytime soon.
Seriously, brother. For my sanity, answer this message when you get it.
Rune
I sighed. “There’s no way to send a response?” I asked.
The bird keeper shook his head. “You can send messages to other islands and locations on this realm, but not between realms. Not until travel is unlocked from this realm.
Rune would have to wait, though I dreaded to think what his next message would say. I hoped he would get it through his thick skull that we couldn’t answer before he had to find a dictionary to express his impatience.