Orphan At The Edge Of The World 113 Crawling Chaos 11

Neil's eyes shot back to the road. Seeing the huge antlered animal in front of them, the detective slammed on the brakes and went to swerve around it. Orison brute force yanked the car right back towards the animal causing them to smack it with a fifteen MPH speed. A half second later, an old pickup truck coming the opposite way, swerved around the back half of the moose that got knocked over and came to a slow stop a bit further up.

Jumping out, Orison slapped a heal on the moose and burned a little of the stored essence in his body to drag it off the road. Further back behind them, the man shouted for them to get off the pa.s.s they were on as soon as they could. On either side of them was a nearly thirty foot drop to flood ravines and less than five feet of s.p.a.ce past road side to them.

Jumping back in, Orison told Neil to drive only to find out that their love tap had jarred something loose. Behind them, they heard the older man yell. Without wasting a moment to see why, Orison grabbed Neil and yanked him out the pa.s.senger side. Barely clear, they turned just in time to watch an early model box truck try and fail to stop before slamming into their car, sending it into the ravine.

As if rising from the dead on fire, the moose scrambled to a stand and took off towards safety, back hooves momentarily dancing inches from them. Once it had cleared to the northern side of the pa.s.s, it turned around and brayed at them in complaint. The brief spot of levity allowed for Orison to reign in rising temper long enough to check on the box truck driver.

Too shook up from thinking he'd just killed someone, Orison had to push the man over and bring the box truck to the other side of the pa.s.s and use parking downshift to stop it since the brakes were gone. The middle age man in the pickup and Neil both made their way to the southern side of the pa.s.s as well. Despite what had just happened, everyone involved was showing goodwill to each other until the box truck driver opened his glove box for a beer and Orison realized there were two empty cans in the floorboard of the pa.s.senger side.

Biting his tongue, Orison just thanked the old man for a lift to the nearest town. He didn't feel so grateful when he saw the old man turn the pickup north but by then he was already in the bed of the truck with Neil. Stopping at the sheriff's office, it was a quarter til eight by the time all of their statements were recorded. Since it was factual that the breaks of the box truck had failed and there wasn't such a thing as open container laws or breathalyzers, insisting that the box truck driver's accident was due to being drunk was a stretch and insisting on that stance would only buy grief.

With little option, Orison hurried over to their general store with Neil before it closed and bought some odds and ends. As soon as Neil suggested getting something from the diner, Orison hard vetoed. Both in a bad mood, they trudged over to the mislabeled 'motel'.

As soon as Neil paid the sleepy desk clerk and they were in their two twin bed room, Orison said, "Help me push the beds to the center."

Neil gave him a funny look and the young mage could taste blood in his mouth from where he bit his tongue to keep from raging out. "Once I'm done laying a simple ward, there will be plenty of room to separate them. The fact I have to say that to you makes me want to flatten your nose."

Once he had helped rearrange a few pieces of furniture, Neil opened the can of mixed nuts that Orison had picked up from the store while the young mage went around the room using various hidden warding methods from the book.

As he crunched through another handful in what Orison a.s.sumed to be an intentionally obnoxious manner, Neil said, "How much of what happened do you think was planned?"

Flipping a wall picture to find a lopsided five point star with an eye in the center, Orison wiped it off with a presto and replaced it with a more orthodox seal. "All or none. It would be pointless to guess but since we're here with nightfall just around the corner and the few people who have working vehicles not willing to take us back to town for even a hundred bucks, I'd say most."

Neil scratched his head. "It doesn't make sense. How? Those two men were straight as an arrow. No way it was staged."

Orison said, "Suggestion more than likely. Not to be nit picky but how is a drunk driver 'straight as an arrow'? If he'd been sober there's a decent chance he'd have stopped earlier instead of having to push his foot through the floorboard at the last second, popping his break line off or whatever happened."

While Neil went on to almost completely offend Orison by defending the harmlessness of 'one or two', the young mage finished sealing the door and window with an arcane lock. Asking for a moment of silence, Orison completely banished his rising hostility to 'air cast' a circle, sticking a little magnetic chalk dust to the ceiling where it blended in with the yellowing white paint. After walking clockwise around the room three times to seal it, there was a faint sense of depressurization and a large amount of the irrational buildup of emotions disappeared as if it never had been there.

Neil nearly dropped the can of nuts in his hand as he realized he'd been antagonizing Orison for no good reason while feeling a good deal angry himself. "I, I don't know where that wild hair up my a** came from but I'm sorry."

Orison pointed at the ceiling. "The worst part of suggestion is it's ability to amplify or dampen down what's already there. Most people never have to know how close we are to the nearly mindless animals we evolved from but people who've fallen prey to it become painfully aware. Don't beat yourself up about it.

"I'm taking a four hour power nap to try and juice up some. If you feel even the slightest bit uneasy, don't hesitate to wake me up. At midnight, I'll take over on the watch. If someone comes knocking on the door, ask them to come back in the morning. If it's a person or situation that can't be avoided, you can open the door but don't, in any way, officially invite them in."

Neil muttered his consent and another confused apology before taking out his notepad. Returning the room's small table and chair back to its position under the window, the detective brewed a pot of coffee on the room's provided hotplate and poured over his discoveries. Swallowing down the laundry list of other facts and cautions he could have shared, orison left the man to his detective process and got to his own business.

After pulling the furniture back into a respectable degree of separation, Orison laid down and forced himself into trance. While his sub-mind ran a meditation cycle, it reserved a small portion of its attention to feeding small trickles of shaped spiritual intent into the circle, slowly empowering it. His last conscious thoughts were of pondering the difference between mystically will shaped intents and the powerful, nearly alive intent he naturally possessed.

Coming to in a adrenaline rush of alarm, Orison had no idea how long or short a period of time he'd been unconscious. All he knew was that his life was being threatened. A faint, sickly sweet scent of decay a.s.saulted his nose before it was replaced by stronger, only slightly less unpleasant smells he'd a.s.sociate with a dirty brothel rather than a cheap but clean motel room.

The young mage felt paralyzed. The heavy, football sized dark ma.s.s perched on his chest, revealed itself to be a monstrous fetus under spirit sight. The wrinkled and distorted features of its face were half hidden in a twisted parody of breast feeding as its lamprey mouth drew blood and trace amounts of Orison's aura in with breath like regularity. Spindly spider legs that grew from the lower portion of the abomination's body wrapped around the young mage, holding him in place.

Instinctual fear and revulsion threatened to drown out rationality before Orison's sub-mind stepped in to dilute terror with a cold splash of logical directive. Since the creature had created a single directional flow of essence, Orison took advantage to shove as much crystallized inert essence through as would fit. The monster fetus tried to back off but as soon as Orison's arms were free of it vice grip legs, he latched onto the revolting thing's head and kept it buried into his chest, pushing more inert essence through.

Changing tactics, the creature tried to push the tips of it's spider legs through the young mage like skewers. Unable to avoid, Orison alligator rolled with the creature onto the floor, disrupting thrusts of stiletto like appendages and rupturing its maggot soft midsection when he landed on it. Exposed to the air, the inert crystal's rapid digestion and shunting halted before instantly decompressing into nothingness.

The monster fetus wasn't dead. Orison didn't even believe such a thing was even truly alive to begin with, having more in common with a grudge. As whatever much larger thing was predating on Neil paused in its feeding to respond to the disorienting shriek of the young mage's predator turned prey, Orison shoved himself back with as much force as he could muster. His augmented but partially paralyzed body mixed with a surge of telekinetic force to produce a hurling effect, slammed the young mage into a dresser.

A mandible faced cadaver of a woman turned to look at Orison with promises of slow and painful death dancing in its multifaceted eyes. Ignoring a psychic a.s.sault meant to throw his conscious thought into disarray with the help of his sub-mind, Orison drew a dagger and 'sliced' a five point star in the air. Feeling a building of ominous pressure aimed at it, the unknown creature scooped up its 'baby' and went to bound out of the room.

Orison wiped away the impulse to sneer at it as he tried to fill his head and heart with a sense of balance and judicious fairness. "Law of Three."

The psychic connection between himself and the monster fetus severed. In spirit sight, Orison could see that the 'woman's connection to Neil had also severed and become tied with his circle. Initially, Orison hadn't considered the circle trap that had been inspired by the circle of Rose Cliff to be capable of much but he shuddered in fearful realization.

The nightmarish mother and child before him almost instantly vaporized. They were merely projections of the far more powerful and dangerous source that sent them. Though the rebound pull of the circle didn't even come close to destroying the source, it had taken a significant blow. That was far from the most urgent problem on Orison's mind.

A mult.i.tude of threads connecting the two projections to their still living victims spread out far beyond the young mage's ability to see. The threads themselves were only visible due to the surge of vile, contaminated essence running through them. Neil and Orison would be protected from the majority of that by the circle but all those others who would 'benefit' from the retributive threefold return of what had been stolen from them, were not.

The Law that had been invoked was alien and pitiless. It only served it's archetype and the directive of that archetype couldn't be clearer. His circle was merely the catalyst for a force so far beyond him that Orison's sub-mind simply aborted the very curiosity to try. He could only hope that the person they were sent to find had enough will and, for lack of a better label, good karma to survive their 'enrichment' and still be human.

Those precious few seconds of uncomfortably clear regret were the end of Orison's ability to spare thought to other's issues. His clever little trick of potentially trading large amounts of inert essence for something more useful ended up making him feel like an idiot. The young mage watched as the pressure inside the circle built and tar-like filth coated the extremities of the room. Under the immense empowering of the circle, inert essence pressure had temporarily abated, even reversed.

In a desperate bid to receive what was coming with a relative degree of safety, Orison called out Herne and asked, "Is this something you can use? Is there a way to make it helpful for us?"

In a specter state of almost real, Herne a.s.sessed the situation and said, "For yon hunter of truth, he is not in need of aid lest the circle fail. If you will your compensation to mine self, I can make use of it. Know that what I may t.i.the of use back to you, my lord, will be but a pittance."

Taking it as his just desserts for greediness and thoughtless use of power, Orison said bitterly, "Then take it as my sincerity to you and return it in whatever best form oath and honor dictate."

The ghostly figure of Herne looked towards Orison with an angry expression that turned into a weak smile of grudging respect. "Even in such a situation as this, my lord is unwilling to gracefully bear a loss. So be it. This va.s.sal will remember my lord's generosity."

As Orison oversaw Neil's recovery from an arthritic sack of ancient skin and brittle bone, he made vague guesses with his sub-mind's help at how much dangerous and unusable 'resources' he had 'lost' to Herne. From the portions that were measurable in any way, he got the idea that three more of himself couldn't have safely channeled it. The 'pittance' that Herne had originally referred to had grown his condensed eternium formation by a third and nearly tripled his five colored soil volume from large bath tub to nearly economy car size. There was even a barely noticeable amount of existence strengthening mixed in with other, less tangible gains.

The fey lord was an expert of efficient resource usage as well. While a great deal of the active power went to strengthen himself and his animal companions, a portion went into creating a demesne within Orison's s.p.a.ce nearly ten times larger than Orison's own plane. Every bit of it was tied to Herne, however, and would leave with him when his service to Orison was over. While it was within Orison's s.p.a.ce, it would help support the growth of the young mage's plane, allowing him to delve a little deeper into the concepts of life and death as well.

Even the 'tar' wasn't spared a use. With a bit of the power influx, Herne crafted it into a small pack of 'sluagh' hounds which the hunter merged into his deepening shadow. Through such an act, Orison could see the definite benefits of tying one's self to a greater archetype but the cost was so immense, he'd never consider doing it. The path was linear and only had three endlessly repeating outcomes. One either became a part of, overcame or submitted to any ent.i.ty of the same archetype they encountered.

Once the pressure within the circle had reduced to a point that the surrounding inert essence began seeping back into the mage's s.p.a.ce again, Herne ceased his claiming and returned the circle's control back to Orison. The hunter was no longer spectral but slightly more 'real' feeling than Orison himself. As the fey lord turned to Orison, the young mage felt the pressure of Herne's existence push against him.

With confidence and strength somewhat restored, the hunter's natural arrogance began shining through as well. "Here is what your sincerity earns you. I will serve as oath necessitates. If you sanction my allowance to woo your garden's maiden, then she will be the only thing of yours I shall steal away with me when mine term of service is done. Do we have a bargain?"

Orison thought to himself, "I can feel it. He wants to anger me, trick me into saying or doing something he can twist or use to free himself, gain power over me or make a lie out of my 'sincerity' so he doesn't owe me anything."

Projecting a serenity it was impossible to feel being confronted by an ent.i.ty that was significantly stronger, even if it was borrowed might, Orison said, "She is of me and another but she is her own being. If it is her will to accept you once she is fully grown into completeness then that is her choice, not mine. Just as it was my choice to offer mercy and aid to a defeated foe.

"No matter how strong you become, Herne, it does not change was has already pa.s.sed. Do as your oath and honor dictate and I'll let the greater powers judge... You pledged yourself to my service but despite being a fallen enemy and sworn to serve, I have treated you like an ally and friend. What do you now try to treat me as? Where is YOUR sincerity?"

Bursting into rage, Herne said, " Ally and friend!? You hand me a poisoner's banquet prepared for yourself and expect me to treat it as though it were a king's feast prepared for me. Where is the sincerity in that!?"

Orison sighed. "Man this is tiring. How many f***ing times will people show their a**es as soon as they see a little advantage?... Then tell me, shadow of a shadow? If I was willing to sacrifice Neil and didn't give a sh*t about the lives in this town, did I really have no way of keeping the whole d.a.m.n thing for myself? Did I really have no way of turning the 'poisoner's banquet' into a king's feast just for me?...

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You know I did... The reason you even exist, much less have the ability to parade your arrogance before me is because I had mercy on you. I have given you little reason to distrust MY sincerity, now think about yourself!?"