Chapter 8: Going Nowhere

~ Part 2: On the Road Again…Eventually ~

Shadows lengthen as the sun initiates its imperceptible decent to the low horizon. Shadows of houses, trees and bushes, not of people, for today no soul strides along the deserted streets.

Not one soul? Not exactly.

On the dirt of the main road, two solitary silhouettes stretch in the dimming daylight. Birds, perched on nearby rooftops, observe the silent pair. Their eerie trills echo in the evening stillness, otherwise broken only by the faint creaking of shutters. A soft gale carries twirling clouds of dust across the air heavy with tension.

All that’s missing are a couple tumbleweeds, and I wouldn’t be surprised to suddenly hear the sounds of colts firing.

Ah. And the harmonica background. Never forget the harmonica.

However this isn’t some cheap western movie set, only Kansas. But the hamlet is far too quiet for so early in the day. People here rise and lay with the sun. And—I cast a quick glance behind me—the sun obviously hasn’t set yet.

This atmosphere is giving me the creeps. I didn’t expect a parade or anything, but a little send-off would have been nice—though I’m not sure whether or not I’d like to see Meg and her friend again. Yes you would. Regardless, I believe I’ve developed a fairly good relationship with several villagers over the past few days. So I can’t understand this situation.

Only here and there do I catch glimpses of shutters being swiftly shut. Exasperated, I murmur a hearing-enhancement spell, but all I can perceive are the anxious breathings of the hidden villagers, mixed sometimes with muffled sobs. Oh, and the birds. Loud little fuckers.

Like I said— Creepy. Very creepy.

With this, plus Martha’s cryptic goodbyes earlier, my feelings of excitement are starting to get slowly marred with legitimate worry.

I’d ask the Elder, but—my eyes move to the hunched back of the slowpoke walking in front of me—I can tell he won’t talk. After his little display of authority at the house, he’s now back to his happy-go-lucky self and acting like nothing is out of the ordinary. As an expert myself, I can easily recognise the demeanour of a guy who won’t give a straight answer no matter how the question is asked.

I sigh and continue to follow the old man in silence and in direction of the wide emerald mountain.

* * *

Later… Much, much later.

Upon finally reaching his decrepit hut, the Elder declares we’ll wait here until sundown before making way into the valley. I don’t really have any objection, but before I can even think of uttering one, the old man has turned around and is climbing atop a huge boulder standing a few feet away. Up there he sits cross-legged, staring wordlessly into the descending sun. I watch him with a raised eyebrow for a short while, then shake my head. Deciding to take a nap, I drop to the grass and close my eyes.

Sleep doesn’t come easily. As much as I love naps, my brain has trouble shutting down when it’s fixed on a specific goal, which is also rare enough an event that I’d rather not waste the opportunity. Unfortunately, the Elder is the one who knows how to get into Nowhere, and he said we would wait.

And thus we wait.

At some point, the healing spells I’ve been casting continuously on myself finally pay off. The [Poison], [Burned] and [Internal Bleeding] statuses disappear at last from my display menu. I sigh in relief. At the same time, I receive several expected notifications, and one unexpected.

 *ting*

Passive skill [Immunity] has levelled up.

*ting*

Passive skill [Immunity] has levelled up.

*ting*

Passive skill [Immunity] has levelled up.

*ting*

Magical affinity [Poison (Nature)] has levelled up.

“…Geez. Even the magical affinity? Just how strong is that stuff?” Apparently, Martha’s cooking is so bad, the system considers it a form of poisoning magic. I’ll admit I didn’t see that one coming.

Aside from this, nothing pertinent happens, and time continues to pass slowly.

As the sun gradually begins to set, stars are timidly making their appearance in the darkening sky. I can feel myself calming down. The night sky always has this effect on me. Seeing the vastness of the universe, even virtual, makes me feel so small. Some might find the feeling distressing—everyone like to believe they’re important—but instead I’m always soothed by the awareness of how inconsequential my troubles really are in the grand scheme of things. Of how inconsequential I am. Sadness and joy are both passing feelings, so why let the bad stuff muddle the good?

* * *

I must have dozed off, because I’m suddenly startled awake by sounds of ruffling clothes. Opening my eyes, I catch glimpse of movement atop the boulder. I rub my eyes as I slowly get up, then return the gaze of the old man who’s now looking down at me. I raise an interrogative eyebrow.

“That should have been enough,” he says, and agilely jumps down…to the ground…ten  feet below.

This total disavowal of all his previous displays of terminal arthritis earns a derisive scoff from me. “Tss. Didn’t you mention something about a ‘powerless old man’ living around here?” I guess he’s finally decided keeping up pretence was useless. Not too soon if you ask me. Me too.

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The Elder, while nimbly playing majorette with his cane, replies with a chuckle. “Oh…But I am convinced there should be one somewhere, if you search long enough.”

“Who are you then?”

“Nice try.”

“Tsk.”

“Kekeke.” Shaking his head, he glances at the sun like one would at a clock and murmurs distractedly. “Jests aside, we should get going…” His voice trails off. Despite his statement, the ancient chief doesn’t move a step away from his spot. Instead he silently looks down, towards his small village at the bottom of the hill. The hamlet is beautiful, bathed both in the reddish light of dusk and the otherworldly glow of the mountain. The Elder seems to lose himself in thoughts.

I stand a few feet away, trying my best not to let my growing impatience show. I try to be respectful of what seems like an emotional moment, but my lack of caring is making it a little difficult for me, as attested by my left foot, jerkily tapping the ground. You are a bad person. Who asked for your opinion? It’s your opinion too, you know.

…or a lobotomy. Antipsychotics might not be enough. Please don’t. *sells chainsaw on ebay*

Eventually, the old man lets out a deep sight, as if he letting go of some mysterious heavy burden. I couldn’t care less. “Maybe this is fate?” he mumbles.

“Or maybe not,” I can’t stop myself from a quip interjection this time. Being stalked by the Unexpected Personified has apparently made my already shallow belief in predestination even drier. The only certain destination can only be even more chaos. Life is a mess. “Can we go now?”

“I fear my advices about patience are lost on you, boy,” the Elder sighs resignedly. Nevertheless he looks away from the village below. “Now, young knight, there still one task I would like you to accomplish befo—”

“BIIIG BROOOTHERRRRRR!! WAAAAAIT!!”

I groan and roll my eyes. Dottie. Great. What now? As much as I love the little budding bondage queen, I am starting to find all this delaying…err…thoroughly vexatious? Yeah. That.

Both the Elder and I turn our heads towards the source of the call. Running up the gentle grassy slope is a crying and shouting Dorothy, chased by a frowning Martha who is…holding her…nose? O-kaaay?

The sight of Dorothy’s tears softens my initial annoyance a bit, stifling it back to mere indulgent impatience. This girl has a knack for pulling my heartstrings somehow.

“Dorothy, what’s wro—”

“You mustn’t go, Big Brother!” She doesn’t let me finish. As soon as she reaches me, ignoring the Elder close by, Dorothy grabs my hand, turns around, and vigorously starts pulling me in direction of the village. “Let’s go back home,” she says. “If you need something, Dorothy will help you find it. Big Brother doesn’t need the help of that evil old witch!”

…Evil old witch? Oh my, that doesn’t sound too good. Then why are you grinning like a fool? Am I? Not good, I can’t give Dorothy the impression I’m laughing at her.

I force my face in a neutral expression.

Meanwhile, taken aback by my chosen little sister’s vehement behaviour, and also surprised by the strength behind her first pull, I’ve stumbled a few steps downhill. I quickly recover my balance and firmly anchor myself in the ground. My puzzled gaze goes to Martha, but the woman is focused on the Elder.

“Apologies, my Liege. I failed to stop her.” Her voice sounds oddly nasal. Did Dorothy punched her or something? That girl knows no fear. Good job kid.

The Elder dismisses Martha’s apologies with a wave of the hand and a shake of the head. Then he reports his eyes on Dorothy and me, but does not say a word.

Understanding no answer will come from that pair, I put the two adults out of my mind and concentrate on the child. I’m waiting for her to realise her attempts at dragging me behind her aren’t having much effect. She’s strong for an eight-year-old, but I’m still stronger. Thank God.

When she eventually does notice, she directs at me teary upturned eyes which nearly undo me. Yes, I may be selfish and generally uncaring of other people’s feelings, but I’m not heartless for the cause. I have a squishy spot inside for little kids and small animals—especially kittens and baby otters. Have you seen baby otters?

I kneel before Dorothy, take her tiny hands in one of my palms and gently stroke her hair with the other.

“Bi-Big Brother, you’re really not staying?”

“I can’t, kitten. I promised to the Elder I’d go. And what did I tell you about keeping your promises?”

How hypocritical of you, the usual sarcastic inner voice chips in. I’d have punched myself if I thought it would help.

“But mama said—” Dorothy tries again, but I stop her by moving the fingers of my free hand from her head to her lips.

“And Big Brother also promised not to pry too much into it.” It’s not exactly true, but Martha’s glare did warn me not to.

Dorothy gulps down a sob, and let out a sad chuckles. “Hihi...*sniff* Big Brother really is an idiot.”

I can’t repress an awkward snicker myself. “Haha. Can’t deny that. Even the gods keep telling me so.”

Still laughing without smiling, Dorothy looks around as if searching for more arguments lying about in the grass. Needless to say, she doesn’t find many. Tears well up once more in her eyes. Her voice grows broken, desperate. “Can’t Big Brother just stay here? Is that something so important? More important than Dorothy?”

…How underhanded of her.

I’m so proud.

I hug the crying girl. “Of course it isn’t, Sugar Cube. But didn’t I tell you I’d be back no matter what?”

Dorothy must have noticed her attempt at guilt-tripping me isn’t working, because she eventually stops crying—though she’s still sniffling. She opens her mouth, frowning and apparently about to say something, but a glare from Martha dissuades her. Instead, she fervently asks: “Big Brother will come back, right?! You will escape from the evil witch, right?!”

…Is it ‘escape’ now? Should I be worried? Stop smiling, you’re scaring the little girl. Ah, my bad my bad. It’s true that, for all her attempts at emotional manipulation, she looks genuinely concerned.

“I promised, didn’t I?” I grin, without much effort. “And what did I tell you about promises?” And what did I tell you about being a hypocrite? …Shut up.

However Dorothy doesn’t seem to find my little turnabout wordplay funny. “YOU MUST!!! Dorothy will be waiting…” Not meeting my gaze and visibly uneasy, she adds in a murmur: “…I promise.”

*ting*

New Quest: [There’s No Place Like Home]

Background

The little Dorothy seems terrified of once again losing a member of her newfound family. She asked your absolute promise you would come back whatever it took. She promised to be waiting for you, but it looks like she is hiding something.

Success Condition: Coming back to Kansas, and visiting Dorothy.

Do you accept the quest?

And she starts sobbing uncontrollably, jumping at the neck of her Big Brother—at my neck— and squeezing me like I could suddenly disappear at any moment. Completely at loss and not a little bit shaken by her extreme distress, I wordlessly rest her head on my shoulder, while reassuringly stroking her hair, murmuring soothing nothings and pondering on what to do.

At the height of my confusion, I felt a sudden calmness wash over me. Something clasps shut in my mind, like two cogs falling into place and suddenly rolling smoothly. An odd sensation. Detached. Cold. Destructive. Not really me, I think, but not unfamiliar either. At the back of my thoughts, an old phonograph starts playing a quiet grainy tune.

Still hugging and rocking Dorothy, humming quietly, I distractedly raise my eyes and happened to meet Martha’s. I heard her gasp and see her hand jerks for her waist. Reaching for a sword that isn’t there, I think dismissively.

Returning my gaze to my little sister, I kiss her head and murmur against her soft hair. “I will, Dorothy. I will.”

*ting*

You have accepted the quest [There's No Place Like Home]

And this is promise I fully intend to fulfil.

* * * * *