CHAPTER 29

The next day, right around lunch time, Kopius began to hear the familiar flowing of water in the distance. It was impossible to gauge which direction the sound was coming from, but it was distinct in its cadence. Cici further confirmed that they were approaching the only river in the Pass, known as the Tessel.

After another thirty minutes of walking, they rounded a final hoodoo and came to the bank of the river. With about thirty or forty feet to the other side, swimming across was possible, though it looked shallow enough in some parts that wading was an option, too. Its steady flow snaked around and through the pillars, carving its way into the distance until it faded from view.

Upstream, a fallen pillar lay across the waterway blocking any view beyond it. The river had chipped away at it long enough that a giant hole had formed, leaving a natural bridge of rock to cross. The water had an unusual, unpleasant smell, similar to delta waters in the central valley of Cory’s childhood. A place he had spent a summer in murky—possibly contaminated—sludge-like water, kneeboarding into willow reeds and throwing back slimy catfish.

“Are we at the trail marker already?” Kopius asked.

“Used to be one. Before my time, though.”

Kopius approached the tainted, gutter-green water. He kicked a boulder into the goop and watched the bubbles race away downstream. Kneeling at the water's edge, he could make out small clots of hair-like strings, slogging their way through the muck. A spot of water splashed on his exposed forearm and stuck to him like a loogie. Kopius wiped it away quickly on his pant leg and stepped back from the slime. What the fuck’s up with the river, man? Kopius wondered in disgust.

A window popped up in front of Kopius, and he stumbled back in awe. It was blank, of course, but had a border and sparkle that he had not yet seen. Its border was part crystal garden, part smile-now-cry-later caricatures. Light-blue crystals like ice shards lined each of the four sides, while each of the four corners had white stone faces that would make any kabuki mask proud.

Each mask displayed different expressions ranging from what looked to be joy or elation to pain and despair. Light pulsed from inside the crystal borders, and Kopius anxiously wondered what such a thing could mean.

Cautiously, with his mental fingers crossed, he tried to close the window. It did not close, and Kopius smiled. It’s a quest! And if fancy notification borders mean anything… Yes!

The window closed.

For a few brief moments, Kopius imagined himself amassing a mountain's worth of loot and an ocean of XP. He pictured returning to Oh-jin not at a meager level 10 but at level 50, wearing the finest armor and enough gold to bribe a god.

“Hobbletwat!” Cici exclaimed, breaking Kopius from his brief daydream.

Hobbletwat? Kopius thought. He turned to face the big man. “What?”

“You accepted a quest, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah, it had a fancy border.” Kopius replied with a “what's the big deal” shrug.

“You know, you’re a bit impetuous at times.”

“So I have been told, but I will have you know that I do not know what that word means.”

“It means you are rash, hasty. Sometimes it is like you’re a small child pulling every lever he comes across.”

“That’s it? I’ve been called worse. Listen, it was glittery and shiny and looked important.”

“Not everything that sparkles is special, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, and the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.”

“You don’t even know what you accepted.”

“And you do?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s get atop this rock and I will let you know what you have gotten yourself into.”

“It’s a global quest?” Kopius exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t say global. Regional is more… realistic.”

“You said anyone could get this quest?”

“Right, I did.”

“And anyone who already has the quest can give it out?”

“You’re a good listener, I’ve been meaning to mention.”

“So it can be given out?”

“You wouldn’t give it out. You keep the quest. It’s more like you can include them.”

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“So if I have the quest and then travel to the other side of Metem, I could pass it out to whoever I wanted? Because that's pretty much global.”

“Well yes, but nobody would accept it. There are limits, you know.”

Kopius stared at Cici with a face conveying what his words should not.

“Right you are, right, right.” Cici looked around like someone hoping the simple answer would suddenly appear and explain itself. “Simply put: there is a limited number of quests you can accept or carry at any given time. The amount varies, and I don’t know why or how. Basically, if you only have the ability to carry, let’s say, ten quests, you probably wouldn’t want to waste space on a quest you are unlikely to complete—or even try.” He paused to let that all sink in.

“That makes sense,” Kopius nodded.

“A Ripple quest, like we have here,” Cici gestured down to the Tessel, ”it's not… normal. Most quests are ‘do an action, get something of value’ or some form of that. Additionally, most quests can be canceled and removed from your list whenever you desire.”

“Sounds normal.” Kopius interjected. “It’s pretty much the same as the video games I used to play.”

“Ripples, though,” Cici continued, ”they are different for several reasons. First off, once you accept a Ripple quest, it can only be removed once the quest is completed. As we have discussed, those that possess it can give it out freely. Thirdly, when the quest is completed—regardless of who completed it—everyone carrying that quest gets a part of the experience reward. Lastly, Ripples will always have a secondary, unknown effect. It’s this last one that makes them… special.”

Kopius was uncomfortable with how Cici used that last word. It sounded to him like ‘‘special’’ had the same range of meaning on Metem as it did on Earth. A blank window opened and was quickly closed.

“Special good or special bad?”

“That’s the thing, nobody knows. There’s no way to tell. Some have had detrimental effects while others have had, ah, happier endings.”

Kopius smirked but remained focused on the subject at hand. “Maybe you guys aren’t reading the fine print.”

“Eh?”

“It’s… nothing,” Kopius sighed. “Can you give any examples?”

“Of the eight or so I have come across in my time, I only know of two that have been completed.”

“You have eight Ripple quests?”

“Ha, no. No, I only have this one. The others I have heard from travelers in passing or ones I have declined.”

“How common—never mind, what happened?”

“Well, the first quest, A Sound Heart, was completed when I was a wee lad. Everyone who had the quest received a noticeable increase to their overall health reservoirs.”

“Even if they didn’t complete it themselves?”

“Well yes, that is part of what makes Ripple quests so tempting.”

“Sounds like a pretty sweet deal. Get all the reward for doing none of the work, I can get behind that.”

“There is a bit more to it than that. In this instance, the longer you had the quest the less of a boon you received. Now, before you accept every Ripple you come across, let me tell you about the more recent one.”

“Okay fine.” Kopius complained, all but pouting as Easy Street disappeared from his imagination.

“The Hand You Hold, a Ripple quest in the swamplands of Kaliboz in the northwest. A small group of adventurers claimed their prize, defeating a fog-filled maze to complete the quest. The group reaped in glorious rewards for their strength and ingenuity. Yet for those that had the quest but did not complete it, they lost two points in Strength and Intelligence.”

“Is that a lot?” Kopius asked.

“Do you want two points removed from either of those?”

“No. No, I would not.”

“Precisely. To further the story, a few nobles from the northeastern kingdom of Lamazil were some of those affected. The bungling fools did not take kindly to their losses and pursued each of those adventurers to the death.”

“How could they have known who completed it?”

“Well now, beside being a braggart or an attention-seeking blowhard—like most adventurers are—the quest sends it out!”

“Hold up, what?”

“Yeah, twice even! That is how I knew you had accepted the quest in the first place!”

Kopius just shook his head in disbelief, his lips puckering dangerously close to that of a duckface.

“After you agree to the quest, every living creature carrying it will be informed of someone new taking it on.”

“They will know what exactly?”

“Just your name in the beginning, not such a big deal. You would also start getting alerted any time anyone else takes the quest for the first time.”

“How, uh, how often do you get these alerts?”

“Not as often these days. Back when I first stumbled across it, I would get a few a day, though.”

As if on cue, a blank, index card-sized window magically slid into Kopius’s upper peripheral, stayed a few moments, and then disappeared.

“See, there is one now!” Cici exclaimed. Three more index card-sized blank windows materialized and disappeared in quick succession. “This usually happens.” The two waited in silence as several more windows came and went before continuing their discussion.

“Hmmm, okay. How many people just learned my name?”

“Most will ignore it.”

“How many people do you think have this quest?”

“That’s a mystery, my friend. Quite a few I would imagine. These waters have always looked like this to me.”

“I don’t get it. Like you said, why would you accept the quest if you weren’t going to do it? Especially if you get stuck with it?”

“It is rumored that there are Ripple quests where the more people you give the quest to, the bigger your reward once it is complete. Even greater if you, or someone you gave it to, is the finisher.”

“This sounds like some weird pyramid scheme.”

“One thing is sure, whoever completes a Ripple suffers no ill effects.”

“Unless there are nobles involved.” Kopius corrected.

“Suffers no direct ill effects,” Cici chuckled.

The two men had a laugh, and some of the worries on their minds were temporarily eased. The rushing water brought with it, imagined or not, a pleasant breeze and relaxing sounds. Beyond the smell of the river below, Escher Pass felt no more dangerous than the woods of Cory’s youth.