Skye is the Limit by Phenomenal Pen (detective books to read TXT) 📗

<All right, we’ll take it,> he said confidently.

Afterwards, both he and Ranger got shirts of chain-mail and, much to Blacksmith’s reluctance, a vial of the Elixir of Burning Conviction for Ranger, which was a buff potion that was supposed to increase his Anima by 60 points for a duration of five minutes.

All in all, Elf’s quiver was the greatest investment. Blacksmith had had his mind set on a Bottomless Quiver which cost a pretty price. It was enchanted and was somehow neurally linked to the user’s Anima. Every time the quiver was down to its last couple of arrows, it would automatically regenerate more. 

Their total bill amounted to all their gold coins plus most of the loot from the Lord Thorne’s litter in the first spawning. The only thing that was off the table was their world map of Erebus.  

<It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,> Hordo said, looking like a Troll that had just eaten an actual canary. < I don’t suppose you’re still in possession of trinkets you wish to dispose of. Is there anything else you wish to barter or purchase?>

<Indeed,> Mage answered. <We seek to acquire a Möbius Strip.>

Hordo was taken aback but quickly regained his composure and led all of them to another branching-off tunnel.

Ranger recognized the name of the item from the op art works of several artists. Blacksmith, meanwhile, thought it was somehow related to maths. Either that or a hangout for vampires.

The next room they entered was another eyeful. If there was the Blue Room, this one was the White Room. It was immaculate and, to Nethril, who was a devout Christian in her other life, suggested heaven – or at least an intermediary place to heaven, like a way station or something. The monochromatic quality also gave the impression of having no boundaries. Even the floor was white so it looked as though they were specks of dust floating in space.

<A back door…> Blacksmith said to himself, his voice and their footsteps taking on an echoey quality. They all looked around, mystified. <You have admin credentials?>

Hordo nodded. <The Dream-maker told me you were coming.>

Everyone wondered about the entity called the Dream-maker.

Hordo snapped his fingers and, from out of nowhere, a dollhouse materialized. The Troll opened its hinged front and grandly motioned.

<See if there’s anything you like.>

The Dreamwalkers peered inside and discovered many curious items: corridors in the shape of a blivet; Penrose stairs; Monty Hall doors that led to either empty shafts or unused rooms; a Twilight Zone door and a splendiferous door that looked like it had just been punched into the cracked concrete; a treadmill that came with its own unknown pursuer; a mirror with a tooth fairy lurking behind it; a Necker cube room; even a garden with a wishing well and a sign that said “Resurrection Ground”.

<We require only the Möbius Strip,> Mage said.

<Very well.>

Hordo grunted and reached into a very steamy bathroom with a hot tub. He picked up a tiny loop that looked like a miniature swim ring. It was the size of a cheese curl but when he placed it on his sweaty palm, it had expanded into the size of a rubber band.

<Please secure it, Elf,> Mage instructed.

Elf did as she was told and studied the object. It looked just like any ordinary band except that it was a little twisted on one side. Elf thought nothing else of it and wrapped it around her wrist. 

<Would that be all?> Hordo asked.

<Not quite,> Mage answered. <What would you say is a fair price for the Nidhoggr skin hanging on your tavern wall?>

****

Once they emerged from the fireplace and stepped back into the common room of Hordo’s inn, a deafening sound was heard. It suggested a dynamite burning down to its blasting cap and then exploding. The explosive bit sounded like the pop of a cork coming out of a bottle of champagne, only a hundred times celebratory. It shook the walls of the entire inn. 

The Dreamwalkers jumped in surprise and whipped around, but Hordo was nowhere in position to spring a trap on them. All at once, the sweet and girly announcement of a disembodied voice rang in their ears:  “Player Level Up! Player Level Up! Player…”

The words rang a total of four times and, each time, a shower of sparks fell in a bell shape over a Dreamwalker’s head down to their feet. As the pyrotechnics descended, great transformations were observed in the Dreamwalker’s appearance. It was as though they were magicians doing a costume-changing illusion except that their faces were the absolute picture of cluelessness.

When all was quiet again and all the lights had vanished without a trace, four unfamiliar figures stood in the common room. The only recognizable Dreamwalker was Mage.

“I feel strange…” Warrior said. His voice sounded more guttural than usual. Much more.

Elf let out a shriek when she turned to him.