Chapter 5: [Grim, Dim Purple Coat]

I thrashed my feet on the floor as I went, traveling the length of the hall incognito. Neither I nor the man above could see where I went. I scratched at the straps of the electric torch strapped to my forehead until it slid up and off of my skull. When I reached the hall’s end, I fumbled for the skeleton hunched against the stone wall. I let Azwold’s lamp gadget float down to point in the other skeleton’s direction, then darted into the last open cell.

When my mud ruckus ruse settled and the dark waters cleared a tolerable degree, I found a lockbox half-buried. Above it were three small, quavering circles of dim light. I glanced over my shoulder at the pile of lamp-lit human bones in the hallway; an eldritch, and hopefully convincing sight. I knew the mage to be a fool, but how complete a fool was yet to be determined.

I dragged myself up the sandy slope and climbed up onto the hardwood box to inspect the ceiling closer. Despite a thin layer of air obscuring the water’s surface in choppy ripples, I saw three holes set into a large disk above. A portal. Metal or stone. The sunken treasure chest was tall enough for my fingertips to stab up through the holes. If I hopped, my shoulders could touch.

I tried to ram the heavy disk upward, unconcerned with the treasure chest I was using as a stepping stool. Treasure mattered little to me until I had my freedom. My attempts were a far cry from a battering tree trunk, but on my third ram, it budged and slid a sliver to one side. I viewed a thin crescent of moonlight. Encouraged, I doubled my effort. I chipped a shoulder blade and felt my healthbar chip along with it, but I cared little. This scenario would no doubt warm living blood, lending a body invigoration. I mimicked an adrenaline rush with my cold, soaked bones, trying harder than before to shove the lid off.

It worked. What mercy. I did not feel any pain. Perhaps phantom pains were the only type I was able to sense. Not the worst thing, I supposed. I gripped my loose left hand betwixt my teeth like a deckhand scaling a mast and jumped up. It was precarious, but I clung to the rim’s edge, ribs bending as I struggled to hoist myself. I clawed until I got a knee up. As sand poured down into the stone-walled cell, I emerged out into open air again.

As slimy green water ran out of me, I hoped there were not any bees in my honeycomb lungs. They would be dead.

Peering around, I found myself next to a teal lagoon with a cave-topped grotto. I was rendered beauty-struck, and could not shake a notion; I had seen such a place before.

Mayhap the Spirit Mage was right. I wavered on admitting my need for him. Could I complete my collection of bones alone? I needed them. But I wondered; how vital was the mage, really? Other ways must exist.

I shambled across sand toward a cliffy outcropping and around its bend toward the beach’s cove. As I came into full view of the beach’s length, I saw Azwold pacing with a hand on his forehead near the oubliette portal. He had not yet come running. My headlamp diversion was working.

The mage threw his long purple coat down to the ground and yelled at the sky.

I made my way around the rocks and up toward the tree line. Employing as much stealth as piloting a clumsy skeleton allowed, I inched closer. I allowed myself a twinge of delight at the mage’s despair.

Skulking ever nearer among the shrubs and short pines, I observed him standing before the murky portal, peering down into it. His stance was grim and defeated.

But I was uncertain of my power to alter circumstances favorably. The mage had burned my beloved tree to the ground. He had done terrible, dark things to reanimate and subjugate me. Why should I show a shred of compassion?

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On the other side of this grimy coin, what if Azwold was my only hope? I looked at my useless left hand bones clasped in my right. A sad vignette of me giving myself an awkward handshake. The fingers lingered.

I resumed my sneaking path along the tree line, careful to stay hidden in what night shade there was. Then I waited and watched, itching to turn his frustration and fatigue to my advantage.

I clenched and unclenched my fist bones. I reached out toward the man, leering at his purple coat and tools sprawled on the sand; the scepter, the tablet, and the car keys hidden inside deep pockets.

An impulse transformed into a decision; I dashed from the shrubs, arms grabbing out in front of me. I careened across the beach as fleet as maimed fox. But I possessed no abilities to use on him, so I simply rammed my foot into him.

For 1 damage?

It was a basic attack, but Azwold turned too late. It dazed him. He grabbed out, latching onto my foot. The grave-iron bracelet on the mage’s wrist clacked against ankle bone. There was a spark and a pop and my foot ripped free, vines tearing. A slice of my healthbar went with it, dipping from green to yellow.

Azwold wobbled, then fell backward into the foul water.

He screamed, but the oubliette sealed itself, silencing him. The clank rang out across the beach, echoing once from the stony cove outcropping.

I was alone then; hobbled and vengeful. I heaved a breathless a sigh-growl.

(Error: Player Skeletal Minion functioning independently)

“What?” I said.

The message faded, and I shook my skull. I could not afford to ignore strange occurrences anymore. Though I was unsure how the message had appeared to me, its meaning was clear. I had gained a measure of freedom.

But a solitary skeleton cannot wander the land looking like a skeleton, I reasoned. Before long, the living would mob after me with pitchforks and burning brands. So, I took up Azwold’s [Grim, Dim Purple Coat]. I discovered a hood hidden in the collar. I pulled the heavy coat over my shoulders and drew the hood over my skull until I was in full shadow. Then buttoned it all the way up. The disguise must do.

I retrieved the scepter and a tablet, almost tumbling over in a footless imbalance. But it was not Azwold’s tablet. The game created one for me when I thought of it, like a scapula shaped into a rectangle, framing a foggy sea glass screen.

I needed a crutch, or a foot peg. I took up the long piece of driftwood Azwold used for digging. For the moment, I had little choice but to leave my foot. It would be safe with the mage, alive or dead.

And if Azwold held his breath and swam toward the light, who knows? I imagined that something called a ‘Spirit Mage’ would not die easily.

I rummaged inside the coat’s pockets and discovered they were numerous. An entire inventory could fit. One pocket contained the keyring, attached to a device called the [Gremlin Signal]. In another I found a finger ring. I took it out to inspect. It was a marvel, but I put it back. I would investigate the rest later. Abandoning the beach was my priority.

The complexity of my freedom was befuddling. It felt illusory. I was free at last, so long as I drug my prison along with me. I held the scepter to look inside of it, and saw nothing but emptiness. I tried to equip it, but found that was impossible.

This particular [Hive Scepter] was bound to Azwold in some way. I realized I could not take it with me.

I pondered whether ‘Warden’ Ralos might offer me any assistance from inside the scepter. It was risky to harbor such hopes.

I looked out to sea, and orientation insight washed over me. The next leg of my quest lie northward. Across the water.

Azwold had shown me maps, but somehow they made more sense now. Perhaps this was what he meant about acquiring memories along with my lost bones.

I retrieved my tablet, hoping to glean more specific information from it. But my bony fingertip could produce no effect on it. I shook the thing and held it to my ear. It remained dark.

I needed to get better at perceiving with my skeletal minion senses. Mayhap my shoddy senses could be enhanced by learning a craft?

I slid the bone tablet into a pocket and hid my severed left hand down in the coat’s deepest one.

I considered a trek back uphill, where the Gremlin sat locked and lonely. I imagined opening the door and climbing inside to hide awhile. I knew piloting it was out of the question.

I thought, too, of my graveyard fence, and roads which stretched unfathomable distances. Imagining roads yet to exist, I thought of what I might find besides stolen bones.

With freedom, a touch more ambition had crept into me, mayhap.

So, as dawn threatened to break, I stepped into the foamy edge of the sea. There was a pull. Something I had little power to resist. For the time being, my quest stayed paramount.

As a skeleton, I had no need to breathe. The mage liked to remind me of this. I took his advice and waded into the ocean. There was a tingle in my phantom hand, and I knew which direction to go.

With no other choice, I abandoned the scepter on the shore.

I just hoped he was right about the sharks.