Grand Game 162: The Passage of Time (Patreon)

You have exited a magical dampening field. Access has been restored to your pools of mana, psi, and stamina.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I ducked out of the bank and its dampening field. Without delay, I skipped across the stepping stones and to the other side of the pool surrounding the bank. Head down, I hurried south.

“There he is!”

At the thunderous voice, I jerked to a halt. I knew that voice. It was Bornholm.

I spun about and spied a small group standing to my right: Bornholm, Morin, and Tantor. All three were watching me through narrowed eyes.

As I turned in their direction, the dwarf raced forward and flung his arms about me. “Lad, it's been ages! I’d never thought to see you again. Yet here you are, hale and well!”

Though somewhat confused by his greeting—it had only been a week since we parted ways—I nevertheless patted him heartily across the back. “It’s good to see you too, my friend,” I replied with a smile.

Morin and Tantor stepped forward more sedately to greet me in turn. I shook hands with the high elf mage and let the painted woman pull me into a surprising hug.

Our greetings completed, the four of us stood around in a circle, grinning foolishly at each other. “So, what are you doing here?” I asked finally. It was good to see the trio again, but the last I heard, they’d been heading to a Shadow sector. What were they doing in Nexus?

Morin smiled wanly. “We—or rather I—was sent to meet you.”

My own grin died. “Sent? By whom?” I asked, fearing the answer.

“Loken,” the painted woman answered, confirming my suspicion.

I opened my mouth to demand further information, but before I could speak, Tantor spoke up. “We shouldn't talk here,” the elf said, his eyes scanning across the surroundings. “It’s not safe.”

Bornholm nodded. “There’s a merry pub not far from here. Let’s go!” Not waiting for my response, he spun about and headed south.

Saying nothing, Morin raised a questioning eyebrow at me.

I nodded reluctantly and followed the dwarf, my misgivings mounting. I suspected then whatever the trio had to tell me, I was not going to like it.

~~~

You have left a safe zone.

We passed through the south gate without incident and without even a cursory glance from the Triumvirate guards on duty. The players entering the safe zone from the plague quarter, on the other hand, were closely inspected. The bar Bornholm led us to was built up right against the outside of the safe zone’s south wall.

The establishment was called ‘The Southern Outpost,’ and inside, it was noisy and crowded. Every table was packed and seemingly only by players. As I let my unfocused gaze float over the crowd, I saw that nearly everyone bore Marks of one kind or the other.

The Southern Outpost was a players’ hangout, but its clientele was of a different kind from the safe zone’s residents. The bar’s patrons were armed to the teeth, boisterous, and drank as if there were no tomorrow. Fighters and adventurers, then?

Standing in the doorway while the others secured a table, I scanned the interior. Everyone was drinking, laughing, or yelling. Too focused on their own celebrations or conversations, no one was paying my companions or me the least attention. Still, I was wary. It would take only a single player to recognize me for all that to change.

“Michael!” Bornholm hollered. “This way.”

I glanced in the dwarf’s direction. He had found a table. Squeezing through the crowd, I joined the others and seated myself. “Are you sure this is a good place to talk?” I asked dubiously.

The adjacent tables were jammed close to our own, and while the noise level in the tavern would make eavesdropping difficult, we would have to shout to make ourselves heard.

“Let him do his thing!” Bornholm yelled, gesturing towards Tantor.

I glanced at the elven mage. He was mumbling something under his breath. A spell, I thought.

You have been enclosed in a ward of silence. This magical field prevents external noise from intruding, as well as sound within the field from escaping.

Between one moment and the next, the surrounding clamor fell away sharply. “That’s much better,” Bornholm said approvingly. He glanced at me. “Now we can talk.”

I nodded appreciatively at Tantor. “That can’t be a rank one spell. Looks like you’ve grown more than I have in our week apart.”

Strangely enough, my words caused my companions to fall silent. Perhaps, they’re just embarrassed by how far behind I’ve fallen with my player leveling, I thought. Deciding to spare them further discomfort, I changed the topic. “Speaking of when we parted ways, there’s something I’ve been wondering.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Bornholm asked, looking grateful for the conversation’s change in direction.

“Remember the portal Loken used to teleport you out of Erebus’ dungeon?”

Bornholm’s smile died. Looking more guarded, he nodded mutely.

Thinking his reaction odd, I went on anyway. “I’ve since learned a bit more about dungeons and the netherworld. For instance, I know now that only ley lines can be used to traverse between nether sectors. Power or not, Loken should not have been able to teleport you three out of Erebus’ dungeon.” I leaned forward across the table. “So, how did he do it? How did Loken manage to open a portal out of a dungeon sector?”

There was a moment of palpable silence before Tantor answered. “He didn’t.”

“Oh?” I asked curiously.

“Remember that door with the image of a jester painted on it?” Bornholm asked. “The one that had nothing behind it but solid rock?”

I smiled wryly. “Of course. How could I forget that?”

Morin smiled tightly. “Well, the rock was an illusion. That door was, in reality, a sector exit portal.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “You mean to tell me we had the means to escape the sector right there in front of us, but Loken was hiding it?”

The painted woman nodded. “The ‘portal’ that Loken opened for the three of us was fake. It led not out of the sector but to a stasis chamber, one, mind you, that the three of us entered willingly—if unwittingly. When you returned to the safe zone to kill Saben, Loken retrieved us from stasis and took us out of the sector through the jester-painted door.”

“Remarkable, I said, sitting back in my chair. “Where did the portal lead?” It surely couldn’t have been to a Kingdom sector, not given everything else I’d learned.

“It exited into another nether sector, one deeper in the Endless Dungeon,” Tantor answered, confirming my suspicion. From there, Loken guided us through a series of Dark-controlled sectors before we eventually emerged aboveground in a Kingdom sector.”

“I see,” I said, shaking my head at the Shadow Power’s trickery. It was disconcerting to realize how thoroughly Loken had manipulated events, but it was not a matter for contemplation now.

I turned back to the others. “Well, it seems that you three have had quite the adventure.” I glanced at Tantor. “That makes your feat learning that ward of silence spell more impressive. How did you manage to escape the Netherworld and learn that spell—all in only seven short days?”

Stark silence greeted me again. Worse yet, the gazes of all three of my former companions shifted away, refusing to meet my own.

Finally realizing something was seriously amiss, I asked, “What’s wrong? What did I say?”

Bornholm and Tantor glanced at Morin, clearly fielding the question to her.

“It hasn’t been seven days, Michael,” she said softly.

I shook my head. “I’m not mistaken. Believe me, I’ve kept close track of the passing days.” I grimaced. “I had to, what with Erebus’ dogs straining at the bit to chase after me. Today is the seventh day since I’ve left the dungeon, and I’m sure you will recall—”

“No, lad,” Bornholm said, his voice unwontedly serious. “It’s not.”

I glanced at him, my face creasing in confusion. Morin was avoiding my gaze again. “It’s not what?”

“It’s not been seven days, lad.” The dwarf paused, then added heavily, “it’s been a year.”

~~~

I stared at Bornholm, not believing him in the least. “You’re joking.”

He shook his head mutely, as did Tantor, when I glanced at him. Slowly, I turned to Morin, waiting for answers.

The painted druid sighed. “I’m sorry, Michael, but Bornholm is right. A year has passed since we last met.” She finally met my gaze. “Please, believe me, none of us had anything to do with this.”

I stared at her wordlessly, still unable to comprehend what she was saying. I’d lost a year? How could that be?

Morin lowered her eyes. “I only found out this morning when I was… instructed to meet you here. That’s when I collected Tantor and Bornholm. I thought the news would go down better if you heard it from all three of us.”

My eyes flickered over the trio. As much as I wanted to disbelieve them, I saw no reason for them to lie.

It’s true.

My surprise transformed to anger, and I glared at the painted druid. “How? How in hells did I lose a year?”

Morin pulled out a folded parchment from her jerkin and slid it across the table to me. “Loken asked me to give this to you. He said it will explain everything.”

Loken. I squeezed my eyes shut. Of course. The trickster had to be the one behind this. Dreading what I would find, I picked up the letter and began to read.

Dear Michael,

By now, Morin has already delivered the news to you. It’s true. You’ve lost a year. You’re probably still in shock, feeling angry and betrayed, or even all three.

I did what I had to because it was necessary—both for your own sake and mine. Let me explain.

After your doings in the valley, Ishita’s ire increased tenfold, and her followers were given only one task: finding you. The spider goddess wanted vengeance, and she wanted it badly enough to abandon every other venture to focus on you. But for a time only.

Thanks to me, you weathered the storm safely and survived the hunt unfound. (You’re welcome, by the way!) Now, a year later, the Awakened Dead’s pursuit of you has cooled, and Ishita has even retracted her bounty.

You heard me right. The bounty on your head is no more.

I did not do all this purely for your benefit, of course. The truth is I mislike how fortune bends around you, Michael, and after you so graciously handed me the keys to the valley, I had my own plans to put into effect. To be blunt, I couldn't risk your interference. Pawn though you may still be in the Game, you have managed to cast a bigger shadow than you should.

As to how I did all this? If you think for a moment, you will figure that out easily enough. The portal you entered was not an ordinary one. Carefully hidden within it was a stasis shell. You entered the portal and stasis simultaneously. And for a year, I kept you in limbo in the aether—safe and unharmed.

I can almost see you fuming there. Forget your anger, Michael. We have more immediate matters to deal with. By now, you know the tracking spell on you is not easily removed—yes, Vivane informed me of your visit to her bank.

I will remove the spell. But for a price. I have a task for you to perform. Unfortunately, it is not one that I or any of my agents can be seen to be involved with. Morin will provide you with further details, but simply put, I need you to steal something for me from the Awakened Dead in the Dark quarter.

You are perfect for the job. If you are caught, no one will question why you would attempt such foolishness—by now, your vendetta with Erebus is well-documented. Do this for me, and I will remove the tracking spell.

Til next we meet!

Loken.

P.S. I would have preferred delivering this news to you in person, but for obvious reasons, we can’t be seen together.

After finishing the note, I methodically and deliberately ripped it to shreds.

Bloody Loken.

Why did I ever entangle myself with him?