Chapter 23: Roots n’ Tubers

“What’re you doing?” said Medett, annoyed.

She ushered me aside into the orchard. A murmur of disgruntled complaints followed us from the line.

“Fear not,” I said, “with these [Spirit Walkers], and some things I found in Berem’s tent, my outfit is complete.”

Medett regarded me. “Meh. I’m not a fashion judge. What do you need?”

“I wish to gain experience. I tire of being weak.”

“I see,” she said, thinking. “This ain’t a low level area… but I might be able to find something for you. How are you at pest cleanup? They’re having trouble with kite snakes and rock bunnies up canyon in the roots and tubers yard.”

“What about real monsters?” I said.

She laughed. “You better take Berem with you. Might be a smidgen out of bounds.”

[Quest received: “Roots n’ Tubers”]

Quest Type: Repeatable

Objectives: Neutralize 20 Kite Snakes and/or Rock Bunnies.

Rewards: 20XP, 9gold, [Potato]x2, [Carrot]x2

“Can you drink potions?” she asked.

I looked down at my ribcage waxworks, imagining liquid spilling out of my throat-less neck. “Good question. I do have [Spell: Regen III].”

“Healing’s covered? Okay. Take this [Barkskin*Potion]. Just in case.”

“Many thanks,” I bowed, then went to look for Berem.

~<>*<>*<>~

It was midday by the time Medett cleared her lineup of quest seekers and made her way to join us at the Roots N’ Tubers field. With occasional help from the Beast Ranger, I had murdered scores of snakes and bunnies, enough to reach level 17.

And I now possessed more [Potato]es and [Carrot]s than a singular skeleton had uses for.

We were taking a break beneath an old, solitary tang tree’s shade and Medett said; “You might not guess it, but this tree is quite ancient. Been here since before some of the Soleus Mesa settlements.”

“I have a fondness for old trees,” I said, admiring her. She was more squat and wide than Gnarlroot, with branches twisted as if from centuries of training and careful tending.

“Mmm, me too. Obviously,” said Medett. “Lucky for Enttang, her bark is no longer useful like the young and pliable ones. Not to treat this new sickness, anyway.”

“Enttang holds more secrets than we know,” said Berem. “That’s what my sister thinks.”

“Can you deny me a mystery?” she said. “I gotta have something to keep me going up here, don’t I?”

A shadow fell across the tuber yard.

Berem leapt to his feet, scanning the sky. “Yep. He’s back.”

“Let’s see if he’s dumb enough to get in range.”

I raised a cautious hand. “Do not underestimate. Let us retreat to a safer position?”

“Nah,” said Berem. “We can take ‘em.”

“We’ll be careful,” said Medett. “He won’t set foot on our turf if he has half a brain.”

The Shadow Dactyl landed in the center of the Roots n’ Tubers yard. Medett and Berem strode unafraid to the yard’s wooden signpost to confront the Telemoon Spirit Mage.

Nervous and unsure, I consulted my tablet and map, confirming what I already knew to be true; Trojainous had landed just outside the circle Azwold had drawn on my map. He was in tune with my roaming limitations? I glanced back, spotting the Gremlin by Berem’s tent in the distance.

Something was wrong, and it spurred me to attempt a perception check. I enabled [Sense: Warmth of Life]. Just as I did, movements among the scant shadows between myself and the siblings caught my eye. Before I could holler to warn them, I was flanked by Telemoon Covert Operatives materializing under Enttang’s shade. I did not remember “Covert Operative” as a possible game class. Another materialized before and behind me. Stealth… hiding in plain sight. Such overpowered abilities. My eye-less sight was ill-suited for detecting shadowy nuance. I wished I were higher level. My frantic thoughts hovered around [Spell: Vision Wisps]; the unavailable level 20 vision-enhancing spell.

I watched as Berem and Medett fell victim to an ambush. Swift Telemoon stealthies attached a circular device to either sibling’s shoulder, and they fell to their knees. The Beast Ranger’s pet snarled and snapped, but scrambled away to hide when his master became unresponsive.

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I attempted to cast [Spell: Fright Hand III], but one of them kicked me, interrupting the casting. All my spells went on a 3 second cooldown…long enough for them to immobilize me.

I recalled the device Azwold had shown me, the one he found in a Dreen shop and repurposed to detect compromised NPCs. How could I have forgotten? How could Azwold have? We knew Telemoon possessed NPC override technology. And as my blue-black ninja-tech captors wired an alien device to my ectoplasmic animation source, a singular word filled my mind…

“Cur…ses….”

Then I was silent. Electricity coursed through me and the jolting sensation reminded me of my graveyard stasis. Captive.

Trojainous ambled toward me, leaning on his scythe as his accomplices worked to bind Medett and Berem.

I watched his skeletal minion jangle along beside him. A morbid curiosity filled me, watching the thing’s vacant and lifeless obedience. I wondered if one could suffer from Stockholm Syndrome if one lacked an actual spirit? This line of thinking had lead me down dark paths before, so I cleared my mind as he approached.

Voiceless, I anticipated impending displeasure.

“Well hello again little skeleton,” said Trojainous. “How I’ve missed thee.”

He waved away the Covert Operatives and smiled at me.

Then he performed a strange spell I had never seen. His skeletal minion shambled off into the tubers, fading away in a cloud of pixelated bone dust. But Trojainous’s spell was not done. Now his gaze was on me with vulture-eyed focus.

Just then, Vish leapt at him with a growl. Without even losing concentration, Trojainous swung his scythe mid-spell, severing the fox’s tail from his rump. Vish scrambled away whining, leaving a drip trail of ember-orange blood.

I seethed. He did not know it yet, but this man had just made a lifelong enemy out of Berem. Big mistake.

My anger deepened as unpleasant sensations coursed through me.

The mage produced an insubstantial satchel. It shifted like smoke with his spell casting movements. From it, he drew a bundle of spectral, rooty twigs and vines. A shiver shocked me. I knew the look of those twigs.

It dawned on me what he was attempting, and it was too late to reverse. He completed the spell, weaving the twigs and vines into manacles, and confirming my horrors.

He had replaced his old skeletal minion… with me.

“There we go!” he clapped at his own handiwork.

I still could not speak, held fast by the device wired to me.

“As it turns out,” he said, “keeping my skeleton alive during the mesa quests was a real pain. I grew tired of starting over when the weakling died. But nice things come to those who wait for the right time, no? Azwold has that determination to get things done. Well done! And now you and I can continue on to the next leg. What say you?”

I was silent.

“Oh, you can’t talk?” he shrugged as if this were news to him. “Honestly, I hate this Spirit Mage stuff. Such a weak class. I have literally the least amount of points invested for the game to call me ‘Spirit Mage’ on technicalities. It’s not an official Telemoon approved build. But that’s why they let me back in, isn’t it? Because I have the orbs to take one for the team.”

I looked to where Berem and Medett were, tied up in a slump on the dirt. Vish had curled into the Beast Ranger’s lap. The fox was shivering. And I thought I saw the raptor talons on Berem’s shoulder move.

I found myself less concerned about gleaning tidbits of evil plot from Trojainous, and more interested in a sibling breaking free. I tried to will it so.

“Now that you’re under my control, let’s get you leveled up, shall we?”

I felt a flood of energy. Levels eighteen through thirty-five blasted by in a cascade of light and sound. The euphoria of power gain mixed vexingly with the heartburn of falling under enemy control.

My level now matched Trojainous’s own.

“Azwold’s tricks are kid stuff compared to mine. You’ll see. No use sticking with him.” He hesitated. “I see you have both your hands. So you’ve been to the oubliette already? Clever, clever, but the tide can’t be turned. That’s what I’ve learned. You don’t want to be on the losing side, do you? No, I didn’t think so. To that end, I’ll be picking your abilities for maximum effect. I’ll thank you to hold your complaints.”

In that moment, my entire disposition toward Azwold evolved. All it took was someone to disgust me worse than he.

“Do you have questions?” he said, adjusting a dial on the device.

I wheezed, testing my vocal capacity. “Many.”

He adjusted the dial again, cutting off my voice.

“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t actually care. I wanted to see if you could still talk. Less glum, more chum, ey? You’re worthy of study. This fact improves your outlook I’d say.”

My rage was molten, but my slightest movement seemed to be under the mage’s control. If it were indeed Ralos inside this avatar, then he knew what I was inside the Eld. If he knew this yet still thought it acceptable to shackle me so… my distaste was evolving deeper into malignancy.

“No time to waste,” he said cheerily. “I have a party assembled at the dungeon entrance. Let’s complete leg seven, shall we?” He began laughing at nothing. “Leg.” He laughed some more. “It’s funny because of pirate skeletons, see? Maybe I’ll have you rip off a foot and replace it with a wooden peg. Too cliché? Speaking of which, where’s that coveted [Eld Kneecap]?”

He slid his sallow hand down my sternum and retrieved the kneecap amulet.

“Here we are. Excellent. Truly. Alright, let’s go.”

He paused to think. “Rip that thing off,” he said with a wave of a hand, “and equip your [Eld Kneecap]. Go on.”

Compelled, I bent down, tore my skipping-stone kneecap free of its vines and connective slimes. I tossed it to the dirt. Then I swiped my golden kneecap pendant from his palm. I twisted into the patella slot, then cast [Spell: Regen III] and [Spell: Calcify I]. My [Eld Kneecap] healed into place.

Then he directed me to board the Shadow Dactyl. I was incapable of refusing, so I abandoned my old stone knee on the ground. My bony frame did exactly as commanded.

But I heard Vish yip again. I saw Berem stir. My bees thrummed inside me like adrenaline. Medett’s head turned to the side, as if listening from a distance. I thought I saw them subtlety working their roped wrists.

I could not see any, but I knew that the Covert Operatives were near.

Vish began biting at Berem’s restraints.

As Trojainous boarded the flying mount, the Beast Ranger broke free with a ferocious bellow. He unlashed a hatchet from its leather and threw it with force. The Shadow Dactyl yowled and leapt into the sky with the hatchet buried in its flank. Mercurial, blueish blood dripped from the wound.

But it flew up and up. Berem’s second axe whizzed past in a twirl of steel, nearly glancing the mount’s leathery wing.

In mere moments, we were beyond projectile range and speeding toward an unknown location; the next leg of the questline. I watched the orchard, river, and canyon shrink below me.

Minion theft… this Telemoon Spirit Mage had defied more game rules than I could wrap my skull around. It made me wonder how much of my initial reanimation was Azwold’s work and how much Ralos’s.

I consoled myself with the fact that this mage seemed to share Azwold’s proclivity for giving away free information. No wonder they used to be friends. If I ever thought Azwold to be lacking in ethical backbone, this new mage had lowered the bar by a long shot.

If it were indeed Ralos in there, how would I get him to confess? The first step, I reasoned, was to regain my voice.

The wind zipping by blew the cowl of my [Grim, Dim Purple Coat] back. More playing along was in store, I feared. Until I gained vital information. Something to use against Telemoon. I could do it. I had done it before.

How long before Azwold, DarkNeon, or Relja found me? I took heart, knowing that it was more of a “when” than an “if.” I surprised myself with the sentiment. Absence makes the waxworks grow fonder, mayhap.

Abducted and sickly-sweet, we flew off into the late afternoon.