Etude 19: Allegramente Capriccio
Etude 19, posted at last! There's an underlined section that makes very little sense; I wrote it while falling asleep. Literally. I'd close my eyes and still be trying to type and be in that doze-y half-dreaming state and then I'd open my eyes and there'd be words. I woke myself enough to make sure they were proper sentences, but that was all.
Also, I was trying to go for an H.R. Geiger-esque setting with the Shrine of Winter. Jut because.
Armand felt a very slight tug leading off to the west, so there they went. Richsoil had explained to them that the geography of Farelle changed based on the need and desire of those travelling. Two travellers might head for the same place at the same time, and they might end up in entirely different locations once they reached the border of the current region. That said, there were some rules about what regions could border what, and so the directional pull of the Sword of Peace was meant to lead them along the shortest route to retrieve it. Nothing had been said about whether or not it was also the safest route.
"Armand?" Sarah sounded a little worried.
"Hmm?"
"It looks like we're back in the Forest of Winter again..."
"Yikes."
"The Forest of Winter? I've heard of that! It's cold all the time!" Quickling spun excitedly.
"Um, Quickling, it's not a very nice place..."
"That's okay. Who would want to harm meeeee?"
"Well..." started Sarah.
"There might be people who don't want to hurt you but are happy to hurt us," said Armand.
"Ohhhh. That's not nice."
"No, it's not." Sarah turned to Armand. "Is the Sword this way?"
He nodded. "Well, it kind of makes sense, since this is where we were when we lost it."
"I wish it didn't."
"Yeah, me too. Do you see any of those reaver things?"
"So far, not yet."
"Good." He stopped for a moment, then re-oriented himself. "That way."
They trudged on in silence for a while. Finally Sarah spoke up. "Does this place look familiar to you?"
Armand looked up and through the trees. "The Shrine of Winter is pretty close, I think."
"Oh, is this where we got ambushed?"
"Maybe. Or somewhere nearby, at least."
"And let me guess. The Sword seems to be in the Shrine?" Sarah sounded hesitant, as if she hoped that her guess was inaccurate.
"Yeah, it's that way."
"Great."
"I want to see the Shrine!"
"You'll get your chance, Quickling." Sarah turned to Armand. "Why is he with us again?"
Armand shrugged. "Richsoil thought he might be useful. Although personally I think he just wanted us to keep Quickling out of trouble."
"I heard that! And I don't get into trouble!"
"Are you sure? What about that story your grandfather told us about the time you sneaked off --"
"He was exaggerating!"
"Or the time you nearly caused an avalanche on your brothers and sisters?"
"It wasn't an avalanche..."
Sarah shook her head, smiling amusedly. "Anyway. Be careful. If you see any black shapes flitting through the trees, warn us immediately."
"Okay! You mean like that one over there?" Quickling bounced towards the direction.
"Where?"
"Hah hah, made you look!"
"Quickling!"
"Aww, you're no fun anymore."
Armand sighed and shook his head. "Sorry, I'm just nervous about this place. It's giving me the creeps."
They were much closer to the Shrine of Winter now, and could see its spires clearly. They were sharp and jagged, reaching towards the sky like a large, taloned claw. They also seemed to be shining in the winter sunlight -- a bright harsh gleam running over their surfaces. "Damn it, still that way."
"I don't like the looks of that place."
"No, I don't either."
"It looks fun!"
"Quickling!" They both said at the same time.
"But it does!"
"Never mind," said Sarah as Armand was about to tell Quickling off. "I don't think he'll learn."
He looked at the little mound travelling with them. "No, probably not. Come on. I think the entrance is that way."
The trees around them were as bare as the others, but these ones seemed to have lost their leaves to something more than the winter chill. The branches were blackened and twisted, and most of them looked quite dead. Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah thought she could see one of the trees reaching out with its branches, and she shuddered. There were fallen branches by the wayside, and skeletal bushes that looked about as cheerful as the trees did. The growths eventually gave way to a clear path that led straight up to the shrine. The tree branches stretched over the path, hiding the sky even when the path below was clear. Slowly, the shrine came into view. It gleamed in the wan winter light, the light caught in the intricate traceries that patterned its entire surface. It was made entirely out of metal.
"Um... Is the shrine supposedly to look like that?" Sarah sounded worried.
"I don't know. There's not much metal used in Farelle..."
"It's so shiny!" Quickling darted forward towards it, but Armand managed to snag his back.
"Wait, it might be dangerous."
"Oh... Fiiine."
"Is the sword in there?"
Armand closed his eyes. "I think so. The pull is very strong now... And straight ahead."
"So we do get to go in there!"
Sarah looked at Quickling, slightly amused. "Yes, we do. At least we don't have to look around for the entrance." She pointed at the gaping hole in the metal structure. It was surrounded by ridged tubes that almost looked like tentacles.
Armand looked at the two of them. "I guess I'll go first." His mouth quirked with distate at the thought, but he led the way along the path. Nothing met them as they approached the shrine. No shapes jumped out of bushes to surprise them; no black cloaks fluttered at the edges of vision.
"Is it just me, or are you getting nervous since nothing's happening?"
"I'm nervous," said Sarah, chewing on her lip and trying not to think about what might happen.
"I'm not!"
"Yes, we already know you're immune to fear or something."
"Yay!"
They were at the entrance. Sarah looked anxiously up at the tubes framing the entrance. From close up, they looked even more like the tentacles of some strange, bio-mechanical monstrosity. She swallowed, hard. "I don't like this."
"But the Sword's in there."
"I wish it weren't."
"I do too. Come on." And Armand led the way in.
Sarah wasn't sure what she'd expected of the inside of the temple, but it was not what she saw. There was an insistent thrumming that came from the floor, and there were strips of glowing light along the walls. The strips were bright enough to see by, and were a sickly yellow-green. Everywhere on the walls were pipes and tubing, crammed into such labyrinthine arrangements that they seemed to be the guts of some living thing. The floor, at least, was flat, except for the occasional ridge running along the center of a corridor. Something seemed to be moving just underneath the ridge, pulsing with a dark blue light.
"This doesn't look very winter-like," said Sarah.
"No, it doesn't."
"Look at all the tubes on the wall!"
"Um, don't touch. I don't think it's a good idea." Sarah pulled Quickling away from the walls
"My pods feel funny. I'm not sure I'm supposed to be walking on floor."
"Or maybe the floor is just funny and we're not supposed to be walking on it either," said Armand wryly.
Sarah stopped suddenly and knelt down to look at Quickling. "Armand?"
"What is it?" He stopped and turned back to them.
"Quickling doesn't look right."
"I feel like everything's moving... It's kind of like after spinning except not." The child Mound was quivering slightly in a very un-rock-like way, and his mouth was opening and closing like a fish.
"What's happening to him?"
Sarah shook her head. "I don't know. He looks kind of greenish..."
"I'm not supposed to be green!"
"Hush, I know. Do you think I can uproot and carry you or something?"
"Maybe... But I don't think I'm supposed to be uprooted, either."
"Hmm... I don't know what to do. Armand, how far is it to the Sword?"
"The Sword? Uhh..." He concentrated for a moment. "I think it's pretty close, but I don't have an exact fix on distance."
"Quickling, do you think you can hold out for a bit longer?"
"I - uh - I think? If you need me to."
"I'm not sure I want to leave you alone outside."
"Oh. I think I'll be okay then."
"That's a brave boy." She petted him affectionately. "Stay close to me. Maybe if you stay away from the walls it will help."
They continued on, Armand increasing his pace as the Sword's pull grew stronger. Suddenly there was an odd, moist noise from the ground. Sarah looked down. Quickling had stopped and seemed to be oozing some thick, green substance.
"I don't feel so good," he said.
"You're oozing!"
"There's bad stuff here! It's bad!" Quickling's rocky features were in an array of distress.
"Hey, he's on one of those ridges on the floor! The ones that look like they're conduits of some sort."
Sarah looked at the floor. "You're right! Quickling, can you move to the side a little bit?"
"Okay. Ooohh, that is a bit better..."
"Quickling, have you had much experiencing purifying things?"
"Me? No. Big Sister is much better at it. Also she's bigger than me. I just get to make sure the water doesn't have too much dirt in it."
"Well, I think your body is trying to purify whatever's going through those ridges in the floor. And that's what's making you sick."
"Ooohh... Bad ridges!"
Sarah smiled a little at that. "Do you think you'll be okay if you make sure to avoid them?"
"I don't know... But I think I'm better now. A little. Can we get out of here yet?" Quickling did look a little better; he was no longer oozing toxins -- those had collected in an acrid green puddle on the floor.
"We're almost to the Sword," said Armand. "I think... Just beyond this next corner."
"Yay!" As they moved on, Quickling turned around to glare at the puddle of ooze. "Mean!" And then they were off.
After turning a corner, the corridor opened up into a larger chamber. At the far end were what looked like reavers, although they were not moving as quickly as before and seemed odd in some way. After a moment, Armand realized what it was. They, too, were metallic; their tattered robes were now dark meshes of woven metal and the chance-glimpsed limb was bright and shining. But that was not the biggest surprise. In the center of the chamber, in a standing transparent cylinder, was the Sword of Peace. Its blue glow flickered wanly, as if being drowned out by the sickly green light in the room. There were wires and tubes connected to the cylinder and leading off it. They were pulsing in time with the sword and seemed to glow from within.
"Um, that doesn't look good," whispered Sarah beside him.
"No, it doesn't."
"This place feels bad!"
"I know. Are you still okay?"
"I'm staying away from the ridges and the lights and it's better but I still feel not so good."
"Well, we can get out of here as soon as we figure out how to get the Sword out of there," said Armand. "Any ideas?"
"Umm... No?"
"I wish those things at the far end would leave so we could just go in and take the Sword."
"I have a feeling that it probably won't be that simple."
"Probably not. Got any tricks to pull up your sleeve?"
"I don't think so."
"They're doing bad things in there... They're making something pure into something not pure and it's making me feel sick."
"I guess that's what they're doing with the Sword of Peace." Armand looked annoyed.
"Armand, can you make the Sword come to you?"
"What?" He thought it over. "I don't know. I don't know even half of what the Sword can do..."
"Well, it's not something that matters much until the reavers are gone -- those are reavers, right?"
"I think you had a better glimpse of them than I did.
"They look... They're to the reavers what the metal butterflies were to the Butterfly People."
Armand grimaced. "That's not good."
"No, it's not."
"We need to distract them from the sword somehow."
"All I can think of is to make a noise so that they chase us, but that's not very helpful..."
"No, it's not. But -- hmm..."
"What?"
"How come none of them have come this way down the corridor? We haven't met a single reaver and we've been in here a while."
"Oh yeah." Worriedly, Sarah looked behind her. "Okay, there's nobody behind us. I was worried there would be."
"Hey, there's something happening up there." Someone else -- someone other than a reaver -- had entered the far end of the room, and seemed to be giving orders to the reavers that clustered there. Unfortunately, they blocked Armand's view, so he couldn't tell who the person was. Then the reavers stalked off to wherever they'd been told to go, and Armand could see a young man with black hair. At least he seemed like a young man; it was too far to really tell, but he didn't move like an old person. Something was naggingly familiar about him.
"Who's that?"
"Looks like he's in charge."
"Bad!" Quickling had huddled up against the wall, and was starting to ooze again.
Sarah looked at him, startled. "Quickling!"
"I'm not on the ridges. It's that man. He's not pure. He makes things not pure. This place is not pure. I want to get out!"
Armand was about to pat Quickling reassuringly, then remembered that the young mound was oozing toxins of some sort and drew back his hand. He looked into the chamber again. "The man's messing with some of the tubes there... Damn it, it doesn't look like he's going to budge any time soon."
"Oh, great. How about we just run in there screaming and hope we can make off with the sword before he catches us?"
Armand looked at her, a little suprised. "And I thought I was supposed to be the impetuous one."
"It's called sarcasm."
He shrugged. "At the moment, it's about as good a plan as I've come up with."
"Really?"
"Well, my idea involved you and Quickling running in there screaming while I went for the Sword and tried to free it and get its wards up in time to save you two from getting hurt."
"Okay."
"What?"
"Quickling's really sick. Anything we can do quickly is better than nothing."
He smiled a little at her concern. "Okay. Quickling?"
"I heard. But I can't run!"
"Who told us he was the fastest of the Mound Folk?"
"I did... But I feel sick. And that man will make me more sick."
"Maybe you could go up to him and throw all of that toxin in his face?"
"I don't know how."
"Can you collect it somewhere safe?"
"I... maybe?" Quickling hunkered down and flattened himself. "I think I can do it, but not for very long."
"Can you spit it back out once you've collected it?"
"Yeah. Can we do this quickly?"
"Sarah?"
"Yeah. Come on, Quickling, let's make a distraction."
Sarah raised the eating dagger she'd been given by the Mound Folk and rushed into the room, yelling in true Xena style. Quickling followed on her heels, reaching the man and circling him. Armand rushed in behind them, crawling as fast as he could until he reached the Sword. He heard the sounds of someone spitting, and someone else screaming. Quickling must have spit back the poison onto the man. Armand's knees burned from the rough floor, even through his pants. He couldn't tell what Sarah was doing, then tried to focus his attention back on getting to the Sword. He heard another sound of spitting -- Quickling must have absorbed enough venom for a second round. Finally, he reached the sword. It was encased in a cylinder of some smooth, transparent material. It didn't feel like glass. He tapped it experimentally. There was no way he could break it with his hands. He fished around for his dagger and tried scratching the surface. The dagger made no impression on the cylinder at all. Oh no! What is this stuff? He tried jabbing it into the side of the cylinder. The blade sunk in, and Armand could see the substance denting around it as if it were stretchy plastic or rubber. He spared a quick glance up at Sarah and Quickling. The man -- whose back was to Armand -- was now advancing on Sarah, who looked like she was panicking. Quickling was trying to tangle himself up in the man's feet, but seemed to be weaving unsteadily -- probably from the effects of the venom he was purifying. There must be some way to break through this stuff. He looked at the cylinder again, and all its connections. He heard Sarah shriek, and tried to ignore it. There was one tube that led straight into the cylinder, rather than into its base. There was a strange light pulsing through it. He tried nicking the tube with the dagger; it gave a little bit, but not all the way -- the material was too thick to be easily pierced. He started sawing away at the tube.
"Get away from me!" Shouted Sarah.
"I will make you pay for this dearly. You and your little Mound friend... Oh yes, I have a use for your friend."
Armand sawed more frantically. The material was starting to give way. He started worrying at the slice with the point of his dagger, twisting and turning it like a drill.
"You're not doing anything to him!"
"Oh? And you're going to stop me?"
"Yes!" Armand felt the sudden increase in tension. "Stop!"
Armand jabbed the point of the dagger into the tube as hard as he could, and was gratified by the sensation of the dagger sinking in. Belatedly he realized that cutting into a tube carrying a probably noxious substance might not have been a good idea, but the pressure in the tube had already caused it to break free. It sprayed a foul-smelling gas over Armand, and he started coughing violently. The smell made him gag, and he would have emptied the contents of his stomach if his last meal hadn't been several hours ago. Tears streamed from his eyes, making it impossible to see. He tried to reach out to the hole where the tube had entered the cylinder and force it open, but he couldn't tell what he was touching. He heard Sarah shriek and realized she must have lost her hold over the man. Somehow he managed to grab the hole, and he pulled. The material stretched thickly, and he groped around blindly inside for the sword. He felt its sharp blade cut into his hand. He grabbed it and tried to draw it out through the hole. The gas was making him shiver uncontrollably. He nearly lost his grasp on the sword. Please. Help me do this, he begged the sword. I have to do this... I can't leave them at the mercy of that man. He tried to awaken the Sword again, felt it thrum in his hands disturbingly. Instead of its usual steady hum was a series of sharp, irregular vibrations. He spread his blood on the sword, hoping it would calm it down. His head was spinning, and it felt heavy... He wanted just to lie down and rest for a while. The nausea and coughing were gone, replaced by a spreading icy numbness. It was hard to feel his toes anymore, and the only reason his fingers were still warm was because of the Sword. He couldn't hear anything going on anymore. It seemed like the only thing in his universe was the Sword of Peace, which was not responding. It seemed to throb reluctantly in his hands -- or maybe it was just confused from what it had been through. He thought he heard a soft, small cracking sound. Warmth rippled through the room, washing him in the scent of flowers. There was a moment's comfort, and then he fell unconscious.
Sarah held her breath as she walked over to where Armand lay, clutching the Sword of Peace. She'd noticed the noxious gas surrounding him, and seen the blood he so liberally applied to the blade. Quickling dashed ahead of her, burbling happily that most of the "not pure-ness" was gone. He stopped by Armand. "Why's he lying on the floor?"
"I think there was poison gas..."
"Poison! Mean! I think... I think there's still some. I can clean it for you!"
She smiled. "Thanks, Quickling. But are you sure you're up to it?"
"Yeah! Big Sister never cleaned this much up by herself! Granddaddy will be so proud of me!"
Sarah laughed, and let Quickling do his work. Soon enough, the air lost its nauseating quality and Quickling spit out a small stream of vile liquid into the corner where he'd dumping the rest of the toxins. She knelt by Armand, and shook him gently. "Armand?"
"Nnngh?"
"It's safe now, I think."
He opened his eyes blearily. "My throat hurts."
"You were breathing in something poisonous. Quickling's taken care of the last of it."
He coughed a little. It sounded painful. "Do you have water?"
"Yeah." She handed him her waterskin, which he took and drank from eagerly.
"Ahhh... I'd ask for cough drops, but I think I'd be pushing my luck. He smiled weakly."
"If you feel good enough to joke, you must be in pretty good shape."
"I think the Sword's helping, now that it's free." He looked over at the room. The floor was now covered in various kinds of plants and flowers, some of them quite large. "What did you do?"
"Seraiel gave me a nut before we left. He told me to open it when I was in big trouble."
"Ahh."
"The man's unconscious. I think the poison Quickling spat at him ate at his face. Some of the plants are holding him down for now."
"Okay." Armand sat up gingerly. He reached out with a hand to steady himself. "Ow!" He snatched his hand back from the floor and looked at it. "Oh yeah. I grabbed the Sword blade first." He examined it carefully. The Sword was glowing a more healthy shade of blue than it had been when it had been in the cylinder, and it seemed to be thrumming contentedly. "I think the plant life is good for it."
"Probably. Can you stand up?"
"Hmm... Not yet, I think. I'm still kind of woozy from whatever that gas was."
"I'll check on the guy."
"Okay."
Sarah moved back to where the strange man was lying on the floor. Several plants had grown tendrils over him. Some of them had even flowered afterwards, so he looked like a flowery mound. He still seemed to be unconscious. Curious, Sarah looked around at the corridors to see how far the plant life reached. It didn't go very much beyond the chamber. But in the chamber itself... She stared at one of the walls. Previously, it had been covered with pipes and tubing and wires in a rather sinister way. Now, though, some of the vines had creeped up onto it from the bottom, and where they touched, the mechanical elements gave way to natural ones. At the base the wall was made of an intricate weaving of branches that looked quite pretty. The cylinder where Armand had rescued the sword seemed to be going through some sort of metamorphosis. As she watched, it shrank and grew wider, until it formed a relatively normal-looking altar made out of stone and dried tree boughs. The altar had six sides and a snowflake design on the top. The transformation was spreading throughout the chamber, but it reached an impasse in the corridors. She heard a noise, and looked at Armand. He was slowly getting to his feet, helping himself up with the altar beside him. She rushed over to help him.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah." He tapped the altar. "Pretty."
Sarah grinned. "Yeah, it is."
"How's your head?"
"My head? Oh!" She looked surprised. "It doesn't hurt at all."
"Maybe you gave your headache to me." Armand groaned.
"Should you be sitting on the altar?"
"I don't know." He stood up, a little shakily. "Quickling?"
"I'm here! I'm fine now! Mostly fine. It's still bad out that way." Quickling gestured towards the side of the chamber where the man had entered. "But the other way is happy."
Sarah looked back the way they'd come. She realized that whatever was in the tubing had been flowing away from the cylinder with the Sword on that side. So now that the corrupting influence was gone, it was reverting to its natural state. "That's good."
"I wonder where everybody else is. That guy sent the reavers away... I wonder what they're up to?"
"Dunno." Sarah looked over at the guy. "Hey, I think he's waking up. Want to talk to him?"
"Okay!!" Quickling spun excitedly. "I can tell him what a bad Mound he is! Doing the kinds of things that would make Mama all sick..."
"Well, I wouldn't miss that demonstration for the world," said Armand, grinning.
Sarah was already by the man's side. He still seemed to be sufering from the pain. Mindful of the dangers of touching any of the poisonous substance directly, Sarah poked him with her dagger. "Hello in there."
"Grrr."
"That's not very nice."
"Let me go."
"I don't think that's a good idea.
Armand came up behind her. "And besides, you're so much more decorative as a flowerbed."
The man uttered a curse of some sort, which failed to affect either of them. He glared at them behind a ruined, half-melted face. "There will be a reckoning for what you have done here this night," he said quietly, his voice dripping with menace. "Oh, yes, there will be a reckoning."
"Reckoning with who?"
"Hah! You expect me to fall for such a simple techqniue of interrogation. Let me tell you this: I will not be tricked so easily."
Sarah backed away a little, surprised at the vehemence of the doctor's reaction. "Well, I guess I'll leave it to my friend to get information out of you." She turned to Armand. "How about you?" She asked sweetly.
"Of course you can request mine aid at any time," Armand said sarcastically. He knelt down beside the flower mound. "So. Are you the guy responsible for putting the Sword in the cylinder and manipulating situations so that you'd get a chance to use it?
The man refused to answer.
["Oh, great, we've got a guy here who either has no clue what's going on or has every clue and no intention of letting us know what's going on."
The man still refused to answer. Armand was getting tempted to kick him. Instead, he just said "I don't like this guy. You try." And backed out so that Sarah could try her own methods.
"What? Me?"
"Shh, no displays of weakness in front of the interrogatees."
"I guess." She did her best to conform herself to the standard, and faced the man in the flower mound again.
"So what exactly were you doing here?"
"Raising a garden, what else?"
"Sarcasm?"
"It's better than idiocy. You should try it sometime. Oh wait, you can't -- you're an idiot!" The man seemed to find this insanely funny.]
Eventually, they managed to convince, cajole, and trick the man into telling them what was going on. He wasn't the mastermind of the plan, just one of the higher-ups. He didn't know who exactly his boss was, he'd just get visions telling him what to do. His boss was the one who put the Sword in the Shrine; he was just taking care of it. After finding out nothing more useful, they left him under the flower mound.
"Quickling?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think you can do any more purification?"
"I don't think so." He looked ashamed, his rocks drooping with disappointment. "Sorry!"
"It's okay." Sarah petted him. "You've done plenty for today." She looked back at the Shrine. "I just don't want to leave it like this... It feels like unfinished business."
"It is unfinished business. But I don't know what we can do. I guess the Sword might be able to do something, but it's still recovering from the corrupting influences."
Sarah sighed. "Okay, then. Shall we head for a safer part of the Forest?"
"I'm not sure there is such a thing anymore."
"What? Why do you say that?"
"Well, if whoever this guy is who got the Sword -- probably Abenath -- managed to corrupt the Winter Shrine, he probably had his eye on the other three shrines as well."
"Oh yeah."
"So are we going to visit the other shrines? Yay!"
"Quickling, they might be as bad as this one."
"Oh." His face caved in. "Not so yay." Then he brightened up. "But we have the Sword now! It can fix things!"
Armand's mouth quirked at the edges as he tried not to laugh. "Yeah, but we need to save it for the big things that need fixing."
"Armand..."
"What?"
"If the reavers have already been corrupted, do you think the Butterfly People are okay?"
"Yikes! I forgot about that... I don't know."
"Well, I guess we'd better try to get to the Eyes of the Whirlwind again, since that's what we were initially sent to do."
"Yeah."
"Which way do you want to go?"
Quickling bounced excitedly. "That way!" He was indicating the livelier area of the Forest of Seasons, away from the Forest of Winter.
Armand shrugged. "Okay then." And they walked off.
Also, I was trying to go for an H.R. Geiger-esque setting with the Shrine of Winter. Jut because.
Armand felt a very slight tug leading off to the west, so there they went. Richsoil had explained to them that the geography of Farelle changed based on the need and desire of those travelling. Two travellers might head for the same place at the same time, and they might end up in entirely different locations once they reached the border of the current region. That said, there were some rules about what regions could border what, and so the directional pull of the Sword of Peace was meant to lead them along the shortest route to retrieve it. Nothing had been said about whether or not it was also the safest route.
"Armand?" Sarah sounded a little worried.
"Hmm?"
"It looks like we're back in the Forest of Winter again..."
"Yikes."
"The Forest of Winter? I've heard of that! It's cold all the time!" Quickling spun excitedly.
"Um, Quickling, it's not a very nice place..."
"That's okay. Who would want to harm meeeee?"
"Well..." started Sarah.
"There might be people who don't want to hurt you but are happy to hurt us," said Armand.
"Ohhhh. That's not nice."
"No, it's not." Sarah turned to Armand. "Is the Sword this way?"
He nodded. "Well, it kind of makes sense, since this is where we were when we lost it."
"I wish it didn't."
"Yeah, me too. Do you see any of those reaver things?"
"So far, not yet."
"Good." He stopped for a moment, then re-oriented himself. "That way."
They trudged on in silence for a while. Finally Sarah spoke up. "Does this place look familiar to you?"
Armand looked up and through the trees. "The Shrine of Winter is pretty close, I think."
"Oh, is this where we got ambushed?"
"Maybe. Or somewhere nearby, at least."
"And let me guess. The Sword seems to be in the Shrine?" Sarah sounded hesitant, as if she hoped that her guess was inaccurate.
"Yeah, it's that way."
"Great."
"I want to see the Shrine!"
"You'll get your chance, Quickling." Sarah turned to Armand. "Why is he with us again?"
Armand shrugged. "Richsoil thought he might be useful. Although personally I think he just wanted us to keep Quickling out of trouble."
"I heard that! And I don't get into trouble!"
"Are you sure? What about that story your grandfather told us about the time you sneaked off --"
"He was exaggerating!"
"Or the time you nearly caused an avalanche on your brothers and sisters?"
"It wasn't an avalanche..."
Sarah shook her head, smiling amusedly. "Anyway. Be careful. If you see any black shapes flitting through the trees, warn us immediately."
"Okay! You mean like that one over there?" Quickling bounced towards the direction.
"Where?"
"Hah hah, made you look!"
"Quickling!"
"Aww, you're no fun anymore."
Armand sighed and shook his head. "Sorry, I'm just nervous about this place. It's giving me the creeps."
They were much closer to the Shrine of Winter now, and could see its spires clearly. They were sharp and jagged, reaching towards the sky like a large, taloned claw. They also seemed to be shining in the winter sunlight -- a bright harsh gleam running over their surfaces. "Damn it, still that way."
"I don't like the looks of that place."
"No, I don't either."
"It looks fun!"
"Quickling!" They both said at the same time.
"But it does!"
"Never mind," said Sarah as Armand was about to tell Quickling off. "I don't think he'll learn."
He looked at the little mound travelling with them. "No, probably not. Come on. I think the entrance is that way."
The trees around them were as bare as the others, but these ones seemed to have lost their leaves to something more than the winter chill. The branches were blackened and twisted, and most of them looked quite dead. Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah thought she could see one of the trees reaching out with its branches, and she shuddered. There were fallen branches by the wayside, and skeletal bushes that looked about as cheerful as the trees did. The growths eventually gave way to a clear path that led straight up to the shrine. The tree branches stretched over the path, hiding the sky even when the path below was clear. Slowly, the shrine came into view. It gleamed in the wan winter light, the light caught in the intricate traceries that patterned its entire surface. It was made entirely out of metal.
"Um... Is the shrine supposedly to look like that?" Sarah sounded worried.
"I don't know. There's not much metal used in Farelle..."
"It's so shiny!" Quickling darted forward towards it, but Armand managed to snag his back.
"Wait, it might be dangerous."
"Oh... Fiiine."
"Is the sword in there?"
Armand closed his eyes. "I think so. The pull is very strong now... And straight ahead."
"So we do get to go in there!"
Sarah looked at Quickling, slightly amused. "Yes, we do. At least we don't have to look around for the entrance." She pointed at the gaping hole in the metal structure. It was surrounded by ridged tubes that almost looked like tentacles.
Armand looked at the two of them. "I guess I'll go first." His mouth quirked with distate at the thought, but he led the way along the path. Nothing met them as they approached the shrine. No shapes jumped out of bushes to surprise them; no black cloaks fluttered at the edges of vision.
"Is it just me, or are you getting nervous since nothing's happening?"
"I'm nervous," said Sarah, chewing on her lip and trying not to think about what might happen.
"I'm not!"
"Yes, we already know you're immune to fear or something."
"Yay!"
They were at the entrance. Sarah looked anxiously up at the tubes framing the entrance. From close up, they looked even more like the tentacles of some strange, bio-mechanical monstrosity. She swallowed, hard. "I don't like this."
"But the Sword's in there."
"I wish it weren't."
"I do too. Come on." And Armand led the way in.
Sarah wasn't sure what she'd expected of the inside of the temple, but it was not what she saw. There was an insistent thrumming that came from the floor, and there were strips of glowing light along the walls. The strips were bright enough to see by, and were a sickly yellow-green. Everywhere on the walls were pipes and tubing, crammed into such labyrinthine arrangements that they seemed to be the guts of some living thing. The floor, at least, was flat, except for the occasional ridge running along the center of a corridor. Something seemed to be moving just underneath the ridge, pulsing with a dark blue light.
"This doesn't look very winter-like," said Sarah.
"No, it doesn't."
"Look at all the tubes on the wall!"
"Um, don't touch. I don't think it's a good idea." Sarah pulled Quickling away from the walls
"My pods feel funny. I'm not sure I'm supposed to be walking on floor."
"Or maybe the floor is just funny and we're not supposed to be walking on it either," said Armand wryly.
Sarah stopped suddenly and knelt down to look at Quickling. "Armand?"
"What is it?" He stopped and turned back to them.
"Quickling doesn't look right."
"I feel like everything's moving... It's kind of like after spinning except not." The child Mound was quivering slightly in a very un-rock-like way, and his mouth was opening and closing like a fish.
"What's happening to him?"
Sarah shook her head. "I don't know. He looks kind of greenish..."
"I'm not supposed to be green!"
"Hush, I know. Do you think I can uproot and carry you or something?"
"Maybe... But I don't think I'm supposed to be uprooted, either."
"Hmm... I don't know what to do. Armand, how far is it to the Sword?"
"The Sword? Uhh..." He concentrated for a moment. "I think it's pretty close, but I don't have an exact fix on distance."
"Quickling, do you think you can hold out for a bit longer?"
"I - uh - I think? If you need me to."
"I'm not sure I want to leave you alone outside."
"Oh. I think I'll be okay then."
"That's a brave boy." She petted him affectionately. "Stay close to me. Maybe if you stay away from the walls it will help."
They continued on, Armand increasing his pace as the Sword's pull grew stronger. Suddenly there was an odd, moist noise from the ground. Sarah looked down. Quickling had stopped and seemed to be oozing some thick, green substance.
"I don't feel so good," he said.
"You're oozing!"
"There's bad stuff here! It's bad!" Quickling's rocky features were in an array of distress.
"Hey, he's on one of those ridges on the floor! The ones that look like they're conduits of some sort."
Sarah looked at the floor. "You're right! Quickling, can you move to the side a little bit?"
"Okay. Ooohh, that is a bit better..."
"Quickling, have you had much experiencing purifying things?"
"Me? No. Big Sister is much better at it. Also she's bigger than me. I just get to make sure the water doesn't have too much dirt in it."
"Well, I think your body is trying to purify whatever's going through those ridges in the floor. And that's what's making you sick."
"Ooohh... Bad ridges!"
Sarah smiled a little at that. "Do you think you'll be okay if you make sure to avoid them?"
"I don't know... But I think I'm better now. A little. Can we get out of here yet?" Quickling did look a little better; he was no longer oozing toxins -- those had collected in an acrid green puddle on the floor.
"We're almost to the Sword," said Armand. "I think... Just beyond this next corner."
"Yay!" As they moved on, Quickling turned around to glare at the puddle of ooze. "Mean!" And then they were off.
After turning a corner, the corridor opened up into a larger chamber. At the far end were what looked like reavers, although they were not moving as quickly as before and seemed odd in some way. After a moment, Armand realized what it was. They, too, were metallic; their tattered robes were now dark meshes of woven metal and the chance-glimpsed limb was bright and shining. But that was not the biggest surprise. In the center of the chamber, in a standing transparent cylinder, was the Sword of Peace. Its blue glow flickered wanly, as if being drowned out by the sickly green light in the room. There were wires and tubes connected to the cylinder and leading off it. They were pulsing in time with the sword and seemed to glow from within.
"Um, that doesn't look good," whispered Sarah beside him.
"No, it doesn't."
"This place feels bad!"
"I know. Are you still okay?"
"I'm staying away from the ridges and the lights and it's better but I still feel not so good."
"Well, we can get out of here as soon as we figure out how to get the Sword out of there," said Armand. "Any ideas?"
"Umm... No?"
"I wish those things at the far end would leave so we could just go in and take the Sword."
"I have a feeling that it probably won't be that simple."
"Probably not. Got any tricks to pull up your sleeve?"
"I don't think so."
"They're doing bad things in there... They're making something pure into something not pure and it's making me feel sick."
"I guess that's what they're doing with the Sword of Peace." Armand looked annoyed.
"Armand, can you make the Sword come to you?"
"What?" He thought it over. "I don't know. I don't know even half of what the Sword can do..."
"Well, it's not something that matters much until the reavers are gone -- those are reavers, right?"
"I think you had a better glimpse of them than I did.
"They look... They're to the reavers what the metal butterflies were to the Butterfly People."
Armand grimaced. "That's not good."
"No, it's not."
"We need to distract them from the sword somehow."
"All I can think of is to make a noise so that they chase us, but that's not very helpful..."
"No, it's not. But -- hmm..."
"What?"
"How come none of them have come this way down the corridor? We haven't met a single reaver and we've been in here a while."
"Oh yeah." Worriedly, Sarah looked behind her. "Okay, there's nobody behind us. I was worried there would be."
"Hey, there's something happening up there." Someone else -- someone other than a reaver -- had entered the far end of the room, and seemed to be giving orders to the reavers that clustered there. Unfortunately, they blocked Armand's view, so he couldn't tell who the person was. Then the reavers stalked off to wherever they'd been told to go, and Armand could see a young man with black hair. At least he seemed like a young man; it was too far to really tell, but he didn't move like an old person. Something was naggingly familiar about him.
"Who's that?"
"Looks like he's in charge."
"Bad!" Quickling had huddled up against the wall, and was starting to ooze again.
Sarah looked at him, startled. "Quickling!"
"I'm not on the ridges. It's that man. He's not pure. He makes things not pure. This place is not pure. I want to get out!"
Armand was about to pat Quickling reassuringly, then remembered that the young mound was oozing toxins of some sort and drew back his hand. He looked into the chamber again. "The man's messing with some of the tubes there... Damn it, it doesn't look like he's going to budge any time soon."
"Oh, great. How about we just run in there screaming and hope we can make off with the sword before he catches us?"
Armand looked at her, a little suprised. "And I thought I was supposed to be the impetuous one."
"It's called sarcasm."
He shrugged. "At the moment, it's about as good a plan as I've come up with."
"Really?"
"Well, my idea involved you and Quickling running in there screaming while I went for the Sword and tried to free it and get its wards up in time to save you two from getting hurt."
"Okay."
"What?"
"Quickling's really sick. Anything we can do quickly is better than nothing."
He smiled a little at her concern. "Okay. Quickling?"
"I heard. But I can't run!"
"Who told us he was the fastest of the Mound Folk?"
"I did... But I feel sick. And that man will make me more sick."
"Maybe you could go up to him and throw all of that toxin in his face?"
"I don't know how."
"Can you collect it somewhere safe?"
"I... maybe?" Quickling hunkered down and flattened himself. "I think I can do it, but not for very long."
"Can you spit it back out once you've collected it?"
"Yeah. Can we do this quickly?"
"Sarah?"
"Yeah. Come on, Quickling, let's make a distraction."
Sarah raised the eating dagger she'd been given by the Mound Folk and rushed into the room, yelling in true Xena style. Quickling followed on her heels, reaching the man and circling him. Armand rushed in behind them, crawling as fast as he could until he reached the Sword. He heard the sounds of someone spitting, and someone else screaming. Quickling must have spit back the poison onto the man. Armand's knees burned from the rough floor, even through his pants. He couldn't tell what Sarah was doing, then tried to focus his attention back on getting to the Sword. He heard another sound of spitting -- Quickling must have absorbed enough venom for a second round. Finally, he reached the sword. It was encased in a cylinder of some smooth, transparent material. It didn't feel like glass. He tapped it experimentally. There was no way he could break it with his hands. He fished around for his dagger and tried scratching the surface. The dagger made no impression on the cylinder at all. Oh no! What is this stuff? He tried jabbing it into the side of the cylinder. The blade sunk in, and Armand could see the substance denting around it as if it were stretchy plastic or rubber. He spared a quick glance up at Sarah and Quickling. The man -- whose back was to Armand -- was now advancing on Sarah, who looked like she was panicking. Quickling was trying to tangle himself up in the man's feet, but seemed to be weaving unsteadily -- probably from the effects of the venom he was purifying. There must be some way to break through this stuff. He looked at the cylinder again, and all its connections. He heard Sarah shriek, and tried to ignore it. There was one tube that led straight into the cylinder, rather than into its base. There was a strange light pulsing through it. He tried nicking the tube with the dagger; it gave a little bit, but not all the way -- the material was too thick to be easily pierced. He started sawing away at the tube.
"Get away from me!" Shouted Sarah.
"I will make you pay for this dearly. You and your little Mound friend... Oh yes, I have a use for your friend."
Armand sawed more frantically. The material was starting to give way. He started worrying at the slice with the point of his dagger, twisting and turning it like a drill.
"You're not doing anything to him!"
"Oh? And you're going to stop me?"
"Yes!" Armand felt the sudden increase in tension. "Stop!"
Armand jabbed the point of the dagger into the tube as hard as he could, and was gratified by the sensation of the dagger sinking in. Belatedly he realized that cutting into a tube carrying a probably noxious substance might not have been a good idea, but the pressure in the tube had already caused it to break free. It sprayed a foul-smelling gas over Armand, and he started coughing violently. The smell made him gag, and he would have emptied the contents of his stomach if his last meal hadn't been several hours ago. Tears streamed from his eyes, making it impossible to see. He tried to reach out to the hole where the tube had entered the cylinder and force it open, but he couldn't tell what he was touching. He heard Sarah shriek and realized she must have lost her hold over the man. Somehow he managed to grab the hole, and he pulled. The material stretched thickly, and he groped around blindly inside for the sword. He felt its sharp blade cut into his hand. He grabbed it and tried to draw it out through the hole. The gas was making him shiver uncontrollably. He nearly lost his grasp on the sword. Please. Help me do this, he begged the sword. I have to do this... I can't leave them at the mercy of that man. He tried to awaken the Sword again, felt it thrum in his hands disturbingly. Instead of its usual steady hum was a series of sharp, irregular vibrations. He spread his blood on the sword, hoping it would calm it down. His head was spinning, and it felt heavy... He wanted just to lie down and rest for a while. The nausea and coughing were gone, replaced by a spreading icy numbness. It was hard to feel his toes anymore, and the only reason his fingers were still warm was because of the Sword. He couldn't hear anything going on anymore. It seemed like the only thing in his universe was the Sword of Peace, which was not responding. It seemed to throb reluctantly in his hands -- or maybe it was just confused from what it had been through. He thought he heard a soft, small cracking sound. Warmth rippled through the room, washing him in the scent of flowers. There was a moment's comfort, and then he fell unconscious.
Sarah held her breath as she walked over to where Armand lay, clutching the Sword of Peace. She'd noticed the noxious gas surrounding him, and seen the blood he so liberally applied to the blade. Quickling dashed ahead of her, burbling happily that most of the "not pure-ness" was gone. He stopped by Armand. "Why's he lying on the floor?"
"I think there was poison gas..."
"Poison! Mean! I think... I think there's still some. I can clean it for you!"
She smiled. "Thanks, Quickling. But are you sure you're up to it?"
"Yeah! Big Sister never cleaned this much up by herself! Granddaddy will be so proud of me!"
Sarah laughed, and let Quickling do his work. Soon enough, the air lost its nauseating quality and Quickling spit out a small stream of vile liquid into the corner where he'd dumping the rest of the toxins. She knelt by Armand, and shook him gently. "Armand?"
"Nnngh?"
"It's safe now, I think."
He opened his eyes blearily. "My throat hurts."
"You were breathing in something poisonous. Quickling's taken care of the last of it."
He coughed a little. It sounded painful. "Do you have water?"
"Yeah." She handed him her waterskin, which he took and drank from eagerly.
"Ahhh... I'd ask for cough drops, but I think I'd be pushing my luck. He smiled weakly."
"If you feel good enough to joke, you must be in pretty good shape."
"I think the Sword's helping, now that it's free." He looked over at the room. The floor was now covered in various kinds of plants and flowers, some of them quite large. "What did you do?"
"Seraiel gave me a nut before we left. He told me to open it when I was in big trouble."
"Ahh."
"The man's unconscious. I think the poison Quickling spat at him ate at his face. Some of the plants are holding him down for now."
"Okay." Armand sat up gingerly. He reached out with a hand to steady himself. "Ow!" He snatched his hand back from the floor and looked at it. "Oh yeah. I grabbed the Sword blade first." He examined it carefully. The Sword was glowing a more healthy shade of blue than it had been when it had been in the cylinder, and it seemed to be thrumming contentedly. "I think the plant life is good for it."
"Probably. Can you stand up?"
"Hmm... Not yet, I think. I'm still kind of woozy from whatever that gas was."
"I'll check on the guy."
"Okay."
Sarah moved back to where the strange man was lying on the floor. Several plants had grown tendrils over him. Some of them had even flowered afterwards, so he looked like a flowery mound. He still seemed to be unconscious. Curious, Sarah looked around at the corridors to see how far the plant life reached. It didn't go very much beyond the chamber. But in the chamber itself... She stared at one of the walls. Previously, it had been covered with pipes and tubing and wires in a rather sinister way. Now, though, some of the vines had creeped up onto it from the bottom, and where they touched, the mechanical elements gave way to natural ones. At the base the wall was made of an intricate weaving of branches that looked quite pretty. The cylinder where Armand had rescued the sword seemed to be going through some sort of metamorphosis. As she watched, it shrank and grew wider, until it formed a relatively normal-looking altar made out of stone and dried tree boughs. The altar had six sides and a snowflake design on the top. The transformation was spreading throughout the chamber, but it reached an impasse in the corridors. She heard a noise, and looked at Armand. He was slowly getting to his feet, helping himself up with the altar beside him. She rushed over to help him.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah." He tapped the altar. "Pretty."
Sarah grinned. "Yeah, it is."
"How's your head?"
"My head? Oh!" She looked surprised. "It doesn't hurt at all."
"Maybe you gave your headache to me." Armand groaned.
"Should you be sitting on the altar?"
"I don't know." He stood up, a little shakily. "Quickling?"
"I'm here! I'm fine now! Mostly fine. It's still bad out that way." Quickling gestured towards the side of the chamber where the man had entered. "But the other way is happy."
Sarah looked back the way they'd come. She realized that whatever was in the tubing had been flowing away from the cylinder with the Sword on that side. So now that the corrupting influence was gone, it was reverting to its natural state. "That's good."
"I wonder where everybody else is. That guy sent the reavers away... I wonder what they're up to?"
"Dunno." Sarah looked over at the guy. "Hey, I think he's waking up. Want to talk to him?"
"Okay!!" Quickling spun excitedly. "I can tell him what a bad Mound he is! Doing the kinds of things that would make Mama all sick..."
"Well, I wouldn't miss that demonstration for the world," said Armand, grinning.
Sarah was already by the man's side. He still seemed to be sufering from the pain. Mindful of the dangers of touching any of the poisonous substance directly, Sarah poked him with her dagger. "Hello in there."
"Grrr."
"That's not very nice."
"Let me go."
"I don't think that's a good idea.
Armand came up behind her. "And besides, you're so much more decorative as a flowerbed."
The man uttered a curse of some sort, which failed to affect either of them. He glared at them behind a ruined, half-melted face. "There will be a reckoning for what you have done here this night," he said quietly, his voice dripping with menace. "Oh, yes, there will be a reckoning."
"Reckoning with who?"
"Hah! You expect me to fall for such a simple techqniue of interrogation. Let me tell you this: I will not be tricked so easily."
Sarah backed away a little, surprised at the vehemence of the doctor's reaction. "Well, I guess I'll leave it to my friend to get information out of you." She turned to Armand. "How about you?" She asked sweetly.
"Of course you can request mine aid at any time," Armand said sarcastically. He knelt down beside the flower mound. "So. Are you the guy responsible for putting the Sword in the cylinder and manipulating situations so that you'd get a chance to use it?
The man refused to answer.
["Oh, great, we've got a guy here who either has no clue what's going on or has every clue and no intention of letting us know what's going on."
The man still refused to answer. Armand was getting tempted to kick him. Instead, he just said "I don't like this guy. You try." And backed out so that Sarah could try her own methods.
"What? Me?"
"Shh, no displays of weakness in front of the interrogatees."
"I guess." She did her best to conform herself to the standard, and faced the man in the flower mound again.
"So what exactly were you doing here?"
"Raising a garden, what else?"
"Sarcasm?"
"It's better than idiocy. You should try it sometime. Oh wait, you can't -- you're an idiot!" The man seemed to find this insanely funny.]
Eventually, they managed to convince, cajole, and trick the man into telling them what was going on. He wasn't the mastermind of the plan, just one of the higher-ups. He didn't know who exactly his boss was, he'd just get visions telling him what to do. His boss was the one who put the Sword in the Shrine; he was just taking care of it. After finding out nothing more useful, they left him under the flower mound.
"Quickling?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think you can do any more purification?"
"I don't think so." He looked ashamed, his rocks drooping with disappointment. "Sorry!"
"It's okay." Sarah petted him. "You've done plenty for today." She looked back at the Shrine. "I just don't want to leave it like this... It feels like unfinished business."
"It is unfinished business. But I don't know what we can do. I guess the Sword might be able to do something, but it's still recovering from the corrupting influences."
Sarah sighed. "Okay, then. Shall we head for a safer part of the Forest?"
"I'm not sure there is such a thing anymore."
"What? Why do you say that?"
"Well, if whoever this guy is who got the Sword -- probably Abenath -- managed to corrupt the Winter Shrine, he probably had his eye on the other three shrines as well."
"Oh yeah."
"So are we going to visit the other shrines? Yay!"
"Quickling, they might be as bad as this one."
"Oh." His face caved in. "Not so yay." Then he brightened up. "But we have the Sword now! It can fix things!"
Armand's mouth quirked at the edges as he tried not to laugh. "Yeah, but we need to save it for the big things that need fixing."
"Armand..."
"What?"
"If the reavers have already been corrupted, do you think the Butterfly People are okay?"
"Yikes! I forgot about that... I don't know."
"Well, I guess we'd better try to get to the Eyes of the Whirlwind again, since that's what we were initially sent to do."
"Yeah."
"Which way do you want to go?"
Quickling bounced excitedly. "That way!" He was indicating the livelier area of the Forest of Seasons, away from the Forest of Winter.
Armand shrugged. "Okay then." And they walked off.
posted by Selene at 10:01 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home