GlimmergloomIndex | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | Glimmergloom [continued from Awakenings] Hours passed. Thomas in turns grew nervous, then calm, then nervous again; meditation didn't seem to help (though, interestingly, he folded himself into a lotus position to try and relax), and, apparently, neither did pacing. Helena resettled on the couch so she could be comfortable while she watched with interest Thomas pace and twist himself into weird contortions. He sniffed at several of the versicolor roses, but then stopped and forbade Helena from following suit; "It'll dull your senses too much, and you'll need them," he explained. She shrugged, but complied. But finally, after the thousandth time of glancing at the sky, he looked over to Helena. "Well, this is embarrassing," he said. "But I think I understand." "They're not coming? Why?" Thomas pointed at the sky. "The dark of the moon came three days early, which is traditionally the start of the Hunt. Everyone knew this; the Fairy Queen may have decided to follow the letter of the law, and go by the day the new moon was supposed to start." He turned to look at Helena with a peculiar, weighing stare. Helena blinked. "It was a full moon in Amber. So they're opposite? Dark moon here, full moon there?" That would better explain some things Thomas had said earlier. "Does that mean that Amber's full moon is three days early, too? I just arrived there today, so I've no idea about the lunar schedule." "Indeed," he said, still staring. "The thing is, now there's an opportunity. Probably the best opportunity we'll have. The last place She would expect." Helena raised her eyebrows. "Go to her? To Glimmergloom?" He nodded. "Not to Her. But to the Siodhe. It seems, Helena, that I'll have to extend that trust a little, and give you an installment on my end of the deal. On your end, I'll want your protection, and that from your allies...information, on the family...and your help in finding where I fit in the family tree." She smiled. "Well, I was partly right. Or have you walked the Pattern, too? Look, you have my protection already until we've made it through the Hunt, which isn't for another three days—part of the whole life-for-a-life deal. As for the rest... Are we starting to negotiate new terms now? I don't mind, but I thought we were doing that afterwards." "I thought so, too," he said, "but this is too good to pass up. Yes. We're negotiating...ahead of schedule. So, any time you feel like adding sex to the deal, feel free. I won't mind." Helena swallowed another smile. "I'll keep that in mind." He looked in the direction that Helena had looked when doing her manipulations. "I have a Trump to Glimmergloom, but I can't use it. Too public. We'll have to ride." "Whoa...slow down. You said there was a lake nearby and that the Barrier was weak there. Why shouldn't we just go force our way back through the Barrier now that we don't have Sidhe forces to fight off?" Helena asked. "Yeah, you could, but who knows when you'd have the chance to do this again. Especially since you say the stairs to Tir are guarded. Not having seen it rise, I don't even know if this strange lunar effect is still in force. We have time, we have the opportunity." He pursed his lips. "And, if I leave without settling this, one way or the other, the Hunt might somehow manage to follow our path through the Barrier. I don't want to give them a good reason to push through to the Other Side." He turned back to Helena. "I said I'd pay you. This is your best chance to collect." "I just... All right." Thomas could see plainly that Helena was troubled about something, but she looked back up at him and continued on. "All right, new terms. You have my protection already—that's part of the former deal—so that need not be up for discussion. As for the rest... You want a number of things from me. What are giving me in return? It's time for you to start divulging, O Provocative Changeling." He nodded. "And yet, I didn't want to hit you with it all at once. Actually, I wanted to spare you completely, but..." he shook his head and snorted, "you're a persistent Seelie where honor is concerned. Very well." He waved in the direction of the city. "You asked me if I've walked a Pattern. The answer is yes...more than one. I've been sneaking across the Barrier to the Dreaming City for almost a century. It shouldn't surprise you I've walked that Pattern. There is another, a reflection, in Glimmergloom. The Tracerie." He smiled. "You haven't walked one, right? Not as yet." "No...not as yet," she confirmed, the corner of her mouth turning up wryly. "I looked at that when I was looking at Glimmergloom—it's profoundly other. Are you offering me an opportunity to walk it as part of our deal?" He nodded again. "I don't have the words to describe it—it's not as...strong...as the one in the Dreaming City. But it has power over Shadow, and I can tell you from experience that if...when...you walk the true Pattern, it will overwrite the other. I'm offering you power over Shadow...and all the time in the world to pursue it." He suddenly looked back towards the city. "Provided we get past whatever's guarding it, of course." "All right, I'm in. Are you sure I can walk it? If you've walked the Pattern in Tir then you're family somewhere along the line, but I'm looking at those pointy ears of yours and wondering if it's your other side that allows you to walk the profoundly other power here. "It would be quite the ironic end, wouldn't it?" she mused, "Me dying in the attempt to acquire a power that will make me immortal." "If you're Family, and you know that you could walk the Pattern in say, Tir," Thomas said, "then you ought to be able to walk the Tracerie. I won't push you onto it. You make the decision. But I will take you there." "Well, I'm happy to have a look at it, anyway. Wait...you mentioned something guarding it?" Thomas looked sheepish, something Helena had not seen before. "Well, yeah... I don't know She's got guards on it, but since I've snuck in a few times, and I'm something of a nuisance to Her..." "...You think She might have upped the ante." Helena stood and smiled. "You, a nuisance? I can't see it." Her tone was teasing, but gentle, and Thomas received the impression that something he had said raised himself in her esteem. "See to it that I have the opportunity to walk this Tracerie and I will continue to provide protection and also throw in general information of the Family, though helping you find your place in the family tree will require more divulging from you first. Deal?" Helena extended her hand to seal their bargain. "Deal," he said, and took her hand. He held it just a moment too long before turning back towards his horse. "We have quite a while to go, at speed," he said. "Longer, since I'm not keen on attracting attention. I hope you have some good travel songs..." Helena preferred to sit behind Thomas on Aghaidh (assuming that's how they're traveling). She had a decent voice and a sizeable repertoire of songs and sang them for Thomas on request—including a number of bawdy ones from the Sword Dancing culture, which she sang laughing. She readily answered questions about herself and Family, as long as they weren't too personal, and asked questions of Thomas in turn about his life here among the Unseelie. Thomas was...a sponge. He soaked up all the information she was willing to give, and asked for more. He was especially interested in the final conflict, with the fall of Amber and the arrival of the Chaosians. She told him what she knew, but admitted that she hadn't been present at the time. It took a while, but the shape of the forest around them looked familiar...it seemed a dark and twisted Arden, at least from what little she may have seen. Helena took the opportunity of the ride to ask Thomas questions. "You said that you were in the Queen's service. What are the terms of your service? What do you do for her?" "Mostly I stay far away and allow her to forget I exist. But I also guard the way to Glimmergloom through the lake. Imagine how often that's happened." "Who was the Man of the Oak? Why did he choose to become your guardian?" "Head of the Clan Oak, and Minstrel to the Fairy Queen...one of her three consorts. I never knew why he protected me like he did, but I am glad that he did." "How old are you? Time here seems to run the same with Amber, if the dark of the moon and the full moons all match as appears apparent, so comparing your birth year to what was happening in Amber at the time might give me some clues as to your parentage." "A couple of centuries, give or take a few decades. Time is very...variable here. Generally, though, I think it runs faster than the Other Side." "What prompted your decision to walk the Tracerie and the Pattern in Tir? To do so in Tir and not be Family means death, so how did you discover that you were Family?" "The Tracerie, I did because those of strength in the Unseelie Court walked it to gain power over Shadow. It's, ah, harder to walk now. And the one in Tir? Well, after I made it through the Barrier, I thought I'd take the chance." "What is walking the Tracerie like?" "Right. Well, It's difficult, like walking through molasses. Only molasses that gets stickier and stickier until you can't move. Except you have to, to live." "Ah. Is this one of those philosophical contradictory things?" Helena asked lightly as she gazed at the forest around them, "like seeing with the eyes of the blind, or to become the greatest you must become the least?" "Nope...I mean, there's psychological stickiness, too, don't get me wrong, 'cause the thing is going to mess with your mind. It did with mine. But physically, too...you push against resistance, and there are areas where the resistance gets almost impossible. But I have confidence in you. Go Helena." He smiled. "So, back to the Family, you say you have a sister? A twin? Is it too late to alter the deal?" He felt Helena tense behind him. "What did you have in mind?" He responded with a grin and a raised eyebrow, then chuckled. "Not being entirely serious, little Seelie." "I am not little," she replied indignantly, though she did relax again. "Troublesome Changeling. How far do we have left to go?" "Good thing I'm so cute," he responded immediately. Helena smiled. She didn't agree with him, but then again, she didn't disagree. "See that ridge? No, the next one. We can look down on the city and the main siodhe from there, and I can plan a route." She sighed. "This is turning into a lot of downtime, which is giving me too much time to think. I want to act and do, not speculate and worry about what's going on in Amber right now...or at home." When they reached the ridge that Thomas had specified they had, as he had said, an excellent view overlooking the city. It was a night-darkened landscape of tall and beautiful opalescent towers, like Rebma, like Tir...but in a way that the truest Shadows reflected Amber. A great and beautiful city, stretched out beneath them. And there seemed to be some sort of festival occurring. A procession across the great central square. Surrounded by a vast crowd, four figures were moving in a coloured diamond foundation—the colours coming from the robes they wore. At this height, Helena and Thomas could see that the figure were all men, the one at the point of the diamond dressed in white robes, over layers of blue and green and purple. His hair was white, drawn back from his face into a braid that clearly reached well below his shoulders. The hair was pulled back so severely that it accentuated the fine high cheekbones, the slightly elongated dark eyes, and did not disguise the slight angle and pointed tip to the ears. Overall the impression was of sleekness and a certain inalienable remoteness. To his right was a man dressed in robes of white, worn over blue roibes, but his hair was raven black and loose, blowing about his face in the breeze. To the left was another man in white, worn over brown robes. He was a tall, burly man with a black beard shot through with grey, and shrewd eyes in a weather-beaten face. "Do you know what's going on?" Helena asked Thomas, "Or who those men are? Oh! Wait a moment..." The fourth man, forming the rear point of the diamond, was, unlike the others, wearing outer robes of purple. And Helena recognised him at once. It was Jurt. "What the...? Bastard!" "What? Who is that? Someone from the Other Side?" Thomas looked momentarily panicked, but then relaxed. "No. The Barrier is still strong. I felt it. He must have been in the Dreaming City, somehow, when the moon faded. You see, the three Consorts of the Fairy Queen escort him to Her. The Minstrel, the Shieldbearer, and the Smith, to match her three Aspects of Maiden, Mother, and Crone. Do you know who the other is? He may well be tonight's dinner." Helena laughed unpleasantly. "He's my uncle—and my least favorite uncle as of earlier this evening. How the hell did he get here? He wasn't on the stairs with me..." She made an annoyed noise. "I met him for the first time a day ago and now I can't seem to get away from him. He's arrogant and irritating and manipulative and it doesn't bode well at all that he's here." "Ahh, just like me, then." Thomas didn't meet her eyes. Helena looked at him sideways. "Seems you have a choice, here...move closer and spy on the proceedings, find out why he's here, or go on to the Tracerie. This would be a perfect time for it." "Go on to the Tracerie," she said without hesitation. Thomas nodded just as quickly. "So be it. By the way, if you've been stroking my wings all along and really have the ability to shapeshift, now's the time to tell me. It'll be harder to sneak in without it." "It'll be harder then," she replied flatly. Thomas's eyebrows rose. "Right," he said. "Yeah. Here, hold this one." He handed her the longer sword, then walked back to his horse. He whispered in the mare's ear, then tied her to a nearby branch. When he returned, he held out a hand. "Right, now. The best way to sneak us in is to make us invisible. Or the next best thing, anyway. Take my hand." Helena handed the cursed sword back to him, then took his hand. "Do you need to shapeshift to walk the Tracerie?" she asked. "I...can shapeshift a little. But I can't control it consciously." She looked embarrassed to admit this. He smiled and handed the sword right back. "Can't carry it. Try to avoid using it, k? And relax." Helena gave him an odd look, but she paused to belt the sword around her waist and retook his hand. He seemed to flow then, running up her arm like a viscous liquid, spreading out to cover her body, then resolving into a skin-tight layer of clothing over her own clothes. She stared in fascination. She was familiar with shapeshifters and various tricks they could do, but this was something new. After a few seconds, Helena could see him change colors to match the background, just like a chameleon. Not quite invisible, but close; and her movements, only barely hampered by this trick, were almost completely silent. Behind her, Thomas's clothes and items were in a neat pile on the ground; his voice whispered in her ear. "Bring those back to my horse, would you? And don't worry. All you need is willpower. You already have the strength and the bloodline." Helena startled at the sound of his voice so close, then she chuckled. "I hope you're right. I'm placing a lot of trust in your word at this point, Thomas." She picked up his clothes, placed them back in Aghaidh's saddlebags, and then started off toward the castle. "All right. What's the best way to proceed?" "Down the hills, here, following the mist," Thomas said. "Then into one of the entrances of the siodhe—the main part of the city is below ground, you know. Probably the side of the Clan Oak would do us the best. Then inside, up through the mushroom caverns, up to the Fairy Ring." "Easiest thing in the world," Helena quipped. She smiled to herself as she slipped silently down the ridge through the mist, the adrenalin spreading pleasantly through her body. This was what it meant to be alive, she thought. Her life so far had been nothing compared to this—her parents' protection at Ishtar like a haze that dulled the senses into complacency, her training at Hendrake no more than preparation. This was living, the feel of genuine danger and risk, and she decided at that moment that she liked it. "Which side is Clan Oak?" she whispered as she neared the bottom. A finger stretched out from the suit and pointed. "There, where all the oak trees are. We're going to avoid crawling past the Clan Wormwood...wait. Down." Once she stopped, they disappeared completely; but there didn't seem to be any threat. After a minute, he signaled for them to go on. He also signaled changes in direction, silently, with pulses on the suit. Helena followed his lead quietly. "I smell things," he whispered. "Thousands of animals in the expanses of the Dark Forest. Hundreds of shadows past Glimmergloom. I've shaped them all. The trick is learning to use the senses you copy." He paused. "This must be Her doing. Many, many sentries, all over. Everything's on high alert. Maybe it's your bastard uncle." "Maybe. I've no idea," Helena intoned, watching all around her. "Can your cursed sword be detected from afar while it's still sheathed?" "I'm doing my best to hide it," he said, "though I never assume we won't meet someone with senses sharper than mine. Once the sword is drawn, though, you'll be saying 'Tamlin is here' in words that can be seen by all the Sithi." He squeezed her slightly, from her stomach to just under the level of her breasts. "By the way, you need to think up a rhyme that's applicable and personal to you and the Tracerie. We'll be dancing widdershins three times around the ring of mushrooms while you sing it. Then we can jump in the middle and pass through to the chamber." "You're kidding, right?" A pause. "Oh Great Serpent... All right, I'll work on it in my copious spare time while we're avoiding the many, many sentries." Helena continued on into the oak trees. Thomas did exactly as before, keeping them both invisible against their background, guiding them around until they came within sight of his Clan's entrance. The great opalescent walls of Glimmergloom rose up before them, cool and remotely beautiful. They were on a lower level here—this was definitely not the romance of the lofty pinnacles. Distantly they could hear the sound of horns and music—a celebration, perhaps of Jurt's arrival. But down here things were quiet and cool. Only a long, whorled stair led upwards to the traditional gate where those of the woods might enter the city with due honour. "Ascend?" Helena whispered, her eyes trailing upwards. "Up," Thomas agreed. "I can't fly us both. If we are challenged, I will sing the Clan invocation. Those of the Oak will be guarding the door." Helena placed a foot on the bottom stair and began to climb. Northing seemed aware of them, nothing attacked them, but as they climbed higher, the sounds of the forest seemed suddenly more distant, as though they were prepared to enter another world. This was a common phenomena to Helena, like passing into a Way. She didn't think twice about it, but continued to climb. Thomas was even more paranoid here. "Up. Stop. Quiet...okay," was an almost constant mantra as they ascended. But when they reached the door, he formed a hand out of the suit form and pressed it against the center of the bound, oaken door barring their way. He sang a creaking, ponderous song, his voice a little diminished from the first time she had heard it, until the door responded with a click and swung open. "The Clan Oak," he said. "My kin. If there is safety in Glimmergloom, it will be here." Helena advanced inside cautiously, eyes darting all around. "Should I announce myself?" she whispered. "Unicorn, no. Not unless we're challenged. The less wagging tongues, the better. If we're forced to, I'll start talking fast." The siodhe of the Oak was just that—a huge hill, hollowed out on the inside, with luminous buildings that started at ground level and disappeared at the roof, where Helena already knew they continued and stretched upward to compete with similar towers all over the city. But within the hill, the buildings were dominated by something else—a huge oak tree, whose branches and roots stretched and melded and criss-crossed all over the walls and floor. Despite the lack of sunlight the great tree pulsed with life and vigor, as if drawing from some great source of power below the floor. Thin spiral walkways wound about the tree and branches and buildings, interconnecting everything, and Helena could see hundreds, no thousands, of the Sithi moving about on their own business. Along with the feeling of power, there was a song just below the level of hearing, a tune that was at once both soporific and ecstatic, lulling and yet exciting to all the senses. Helena paused to stare and to listen, cocking her head. "Where is that melody coming from?" she breathed. Thomas directed her still with a squeeze here and there, pointing at one of the buildings that stretched through the roof of the chamber. She followed his signals, all stealthiness and secrecy, a thin blur that slid along the shadows. Thomas merely pointed at the Tree. "It sings to all of us," he said. "Some of us hear its song easier than others." They took a deft path through the building, up and up and up, until Thomas laid a hand on the inside ceiling of the siodhe and began to hum another strange tune. It was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat, behind them. Helena whipped around and backed away a few steps as she drew forth the short sword. Standing there was a tall man, with long dark hair drawn back in a long braid and flowing robes of moss green worn with breeches of a darker hue and supple black riding boots. His cheekbones were strongly defined, his eyes dark and watchful. (OOC - we're talking Keanu Reeves) Thomas felt Helena's pulse jump. "Know him?" she whispered very lightly. Thomas squeezed her hard, then the feeling faded as he detached himself from her. It took a few moments, but he eventually stood (with the shape of clothes) between the newcomer and Helena. "Late is the hour," he said, "and Her attention is distracted by Her new toy. A good time, brother, to visit the dark splendor of Glimmergloom." Helena shifted her position so she could see the newcomer clearly past Thomas. She didn't relax her stance. "And a good time, brother, to bring your own pretty plaything to our Clan," responded the other, with a smile that looked more than a little feral. "Tell me, brother, is she an offering to the Oak to try and avert your own Doom? Speaking for myself, I might be tempted...but my mother...I think she will look at her and see only our father's foolish dalliance with the Amberite woman all over again." Thomas's answering smile was a little too wide, the teeth too pointed. "My doom is set," he said. "This little one has nothing to do with it. No, not an offering, Sean. But she is mine. Hands off." Helena spared a glance at Thomas over "little one," then flicked her eyes back to Sean. She raised the sword in her grasp to a position more offensive, the sharp tip in line with Sean's heart. Sean regarded her with lazy amusement. "And one with spirit, too. Are you intending her to fight for you, Tam? I can't see Mother being much amused. She thought she'd be rid of you, once and for all—and all father's little...ah...mistakes...safely hidden." "That's very interesting," Helena remarked, not lowering her sword. "Tam said that he was a Changeling and didn't know who his parents were, didn't you, Tam?" Thomas was regarding Sean with narrowed eyes. "I did," he said aside to Helena. "The Man of the Oak adopted me. What are you playing at, brother?" Sean laughed. "Or so he told you, eh? Do you really think Mother would have accepted you into our family if she had not been sure your were father's get with that Amberite slut?" "And which Amberite slut would that be, out of curiosity?" Helena asked. Thomas seemed to ignore the last. Bristling, fingernails definitely longer and sharper, teeth pointed, he seemed ready to attack the other Sithi, whether armed or not. Or being on an important mission, or not. "You lie," he hissed through clenched teeth. Sean laughed again. "Why don't you ask Mother?" he said tauntingly. "I'm sure she'd be delighted to meet your little friend." "We're on a mission here, Thomas," Helena reminded him in a low tone, not taking her eyes off of Sean. "There's no time to embroil ourselves in domestic squabbling. Later you can come back and kick butt all you want. I'll even help." "Yeah, yeah," Thomas said. "But not here. I almost forgot myself. We don't spill each other's blood here. Not within the clan." He straightened. "But it would be too bad if my brother let his tongue wag. Especially if he were stupid enough to leave the Siodhe. He might have an accident and die a really foul death." "As opposed to being sacrificed at the Seal?" said Sean. "Somehow I don't think you're going to be around to worry what I say much longer." His eyes sparkled with dark malice. "But this pretty little creature, all fire and music...oh yes, it would be a shame to lose her. At least before she has borne a few halflings of her own." Helena chuckled wickedly. "Must not get embroiled....must not get embroiled...." "Like I said, brother. Hands off. Or you might lose one." [Thomas] moved to the side, giving Helena more swinging room. "Don't matter what happens to me later. Worry about what I can do to you now." "In here?" said Sean. He gave a short laugh. Mother would make of your fate a pretty thing to scare children with for generations. And leave enough of you alive to be worth sacrificing to the Seal when she hands you over to the Lady. But enough of that. Where are you both off to this fine and pleasant day? Have you come to see the Lady's new favourite?" That probably didn't bode well for the Lady, like trying to make a deal with a tricksy demon and come out of it with your skin intact. And if Jurt started looking at that Barrier and seeing opportunities... "We're wasting time here," Helena said urgently to Thomas. "I've made no vows not to spill blood in this place. Either take care of him your way, or I will take care of him mine." ~Gently now, Tamlin,~ he thought to himself. ~Let him draw his own conclusions, especially now that he's distracted by the Seelie.~ He held up a hand to forestall Helena, looked back to Sean through half-lidded eyes. "Not many days left for me, are there, brother?" he asked. "Just enjoying what time I have left. And have a good think on how I could extend that time. Now, why don't you run along. Don't you have a procession to watch?" Injuring or killing one of the Three would certainly delay things, he knew. They both also knew full well that such a Procession would bring everyone close to the Clan Oak, eventually...and that there were several fine spots to snipe leading out of this door. A small blessing that most of those spots were well away from the Tracerie chamber itself... Sean's dark eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare ... " He turned and walked rapidly away. Thomas leaned over to Helena. "Okay, now we need to hurry." He pressed his hand against the ceiling door to open it. Helena eyed Sean's retreating form, then sheathed the short sword. She turned to watch Thomas open the door. "What does he think you did?" "Not what I did, but what I'm going to do," Thomas said, then grunted in satisfaction as a circular door spiralled open under his hand. "He thinks we're going to go up and then over, where we would find a little window that would just be the perfect perch for assassinating the Fairy Queen. Taking a shot at it, anyway. But no, we're going up and then up and then up... and then over. To the Tracerie." He looked back at Helena and smiled. "It bought us a little time. I hope it will be enough." Helena smiled back, balancing on the balls of her feet and ready to move once the door was open. Once the door was open, she could see a tunnel beyond, leading up; Thomas didn't hesitate, but took her hand and led her along it. There were a dizzying number of turns and switchbacks, and the illumination changed from occasional glowing balls of light to phosphorescent moss to, finally, a purplish glow from the walls themselves. The air grew warm and wet. Finally, upward to a huge series of cave-like chambers. Almost all the rock was covered by various species and sizes of mushrooms. "They go different places," Thomas said. "The fairy rings. Thought of a rhyme yet?" "Sort of," Helena replied distractedly as she looked around in wonder. "Are we almost there?" "Very close now," Thomas said, rubbing his chin and watching out for people in the rock chambers. He pointed. "Around that way...and don't panic when we travel through the fairy ring." "Panic?" she repeated disdainfully. "Really." Helena started walking in the direction Thomas indicated. "Well, you know," Thomas said, "some people don't like the feeling of being buried alive. Just saying." She faltered ever so slightly, then continued walking. It was a slow process, walking around the chamber to the correct spot; not only was it difficult not to crush hundreds of mushrooms on their way to their destination, but he also had to lead them past clouds of poisonous spores, or over pools of dead and rotten fungus that stuck like glue, or slick patches that threatened to let them slide back to the entrance... After a time, he stopped. Thomas bent down, began to sniff, and cursed fluently. "They're not here. I don't get i... Oh, wait. Yeah, yeah. The moon." "What?" Helena asked. "This place is living, breathing, dynamic," Thomas said. "The 'shrooms grow, they die, they move around. The Fairy Rings move around, too. Some of them, like the one to the Tracerie, they're linked to the moon. This is where it's supposed to be, but your old and ugly friend, he's messed with the system." He waved in a direction off to their left. "We need to spread out and look that way. Maybe twenty, thirty feet. They're purple-and-grey varicolor—" he stopped, then cursed again. "What?" Helena repeated, more urgently this time. "Arrrrrrrrgh. The lights. They're purple now. Get it? You can't see a purple mushroom in a purple light. Clever little bitch. This is the Lady's work. This two-minute search has turned into a needle-and-haystack scenario." "She really doesn't like you, does she?" Helena commented needlessly. He looked around, then ripped a small mushroom off of the floor. It wailed, a keening, heartbreaking note, then pulsed as it bled reddish-black blood onto his hand. Helena made a face. "It screamed," she said in a small voice. "The cap looks like this. See? Just a little bigger, and more rounded at the top. The stem is wider, half again as much as this. There's no polka-dots, either, it's kind of stripey, like if you melted a bunch of crayons together. And the stripes, they're gonna look all white and grey in this light. The circle's gonna be about ten feet across, and you can bet these mushrooms are gonna have other mushrooms all spread out around them and over them and under them. Look sharp." Thomas looked like he was about to cry. "Hurry." He made as if to fling the little mushroom away, then shrugged and bit into it as he headed left, bent over and searching. The mushroom wailed again, then went limp. Helena nodded. She closed her eyes, concentrating, her fingers twitching as Thomas saw them move before back in the glade... A couple of minutes later Thomas found the ring right in front of him, plain as day. He stopped, bent over as he was, then chuckled. "That was just absurdly easy," he said, and turned back to Helena. "Come on... You want to make three turns along the inside of the circle, singing your chant, then stand in the middle. I'll be standing there already. Did I mention the charm works better if you're having sex, right after the three turns?" "You're lying," Helena replied matter-of-factly, though the corner of her mouth twitched in amusement. "Do I go sunwise or widdershins around the ring?" For some reason, Thomas found that absurdly amusing. "Widdershins," he said. "We're big on widdershins." Helena gave Thomas a sharp look before stepping into the fairy ring. She started walking widdershins around the inside perimeter, feeling rather self-conscious, and recited her impromptu rhyme: Walking on the Tracerie Walking on the Tracerie Walking on the Tracerie Thomas stepped in and stood in the center as Helena finished, taking her hand. He smiled as they began to sink. "Widdershins on the Tracerie, too," he said. "You'll see..." Helena was prepared for the sinking, so she didn't flinch. "So why didn't you have to say a rhyme too?" she asked accusingly. "There is a reason," Thomas said as their feet, then legs, became insubstantial. "I'll explain when you see it. For now, let's just say I'm familiar enough with it that I don't have to." "I look forward to all these explanations..." she said. Helena continued to hold onto his hand. There was a very uncomfortable feeling of choking, as they became totally insubstantial and sank into the ground... There was a gritty blackness, and for a moment, Helena became rock and loam and the smell of wet earth and the slow, crawling movement of eyeless things...sinking...beginning to feel herself fray into the earth... ...then the pressure lifted, and the world was there, but completely out- of-focus...but Thomas's hand was there, and he was gripping her hand tightly, an anchor for reality... ...and slowly, focus returned, as if layers of translucence were ripped away one by one until clarity resumed...a huge bright spot before her, an amorphous bright mass that eventually resolved itself into a Pattern. But this one was darkly luminous, a purplish-white thing that probably shed light far into the ultraviolet...both hers and Thomas's clothes glowed in response...and it was different, in that it was flipped and twisted around somehow, so that it would have to be walked counter-clockwise. And the light, now that she could focus better, was dimmer than what she would expect. It barely illuminated the chamber around them, a rock cavern inset with rough amethyst and quartz. "The Tracerie," Thomas breathed. "The source of the power of the Unseelie. Reflection of the Pattern of Tir-na Nog'th, the Dreaming City." His face twisted into something more bitter than a smile. "Our prison." Helena stared, sizing the thing up. "What will you do while I'm walking this? And can I teleport from the middle like from the original Pattern?" "I'm counting on it," he said, pulling out a thin case from the bottom of the sword scabbard. "I'll watch you walk, and when you hit the Final Veil, I'll Trump back to the Dark Forest. When you hit the center, you meet me there. The Pattern isn't strong enough to get you past the Barrier." Opening the case, he pushed aside a Trump of a dark-haired woman and showed her one of the rose-filled grove. "You do know about the Veils, right? Or do you? This isn't quite as strong as Tir...or as difficult. But it still can kill you." "Or," said a voice, "you can be killed as you traverse it. A simple arrow shot should take care of that." A woman was standing behind them in the cavern. Not young, she was possessed of a beauty that knew no date. And she had not only authority in her stance, but also a steely determination. There was also the fact that she was holding a bow, its arrow already nocked and aimed at Helena. "Sean thought you wanted to kill the Lady," she continued. "Sean is gullible. I, on the other hand, am not. Whoever is Lady, the ritual goes on... I thought to find you elsewhere and, you see, I was right. "So perhaps, husband's son, you should introduce me to this woman." (OOC - casting: Glenn Close. With violet eyes, and pointed ears) Helena whirled when the woman started to speak. She noted the bow, raised up on the balls of her feet ready to spring away should the arrow go flying, and waited for Thomas to reply. "Stepmother," Thomas said, "Always wanting to play the game, but this time you don't even know the players. Loose that arrow, and we'll all end up dead. What profit would you have in that?" "Well," said the woman, "there would be the undeniable pleasure of seeing you dead at my feet. But you are right—so much more satisfying to see you as the sacrifice. "Well, Lady of Amber. Why walk you in the Lands of the Sidhe?" "The stairs to Tir disappeared and Thomas grabbed me before I fell. He's under my protection, by the way. And if you shoot me I swear I'll bleed all over this pretty squiggle. I really think the safest thing for you to do is to leave." Helena smiled pleasantly. "And why would I want to kill you, Lady of Amber," said the woman, "when you could be so much more valuable to me alive?" "Oh, I don't know what gave me that idea. Maybe because you're pointing a bow at me?" Thomas shook his head. "The Barrier is weaker than it was. Mom." He didn't bother to keep the hint of sarcasm out of his voice. "There's a way through, for a lucky few. But this Seelie doesn't know the way. I do. I'm the one who knows Oberon's big secret, and I may be dead soon." He tilted his head. "Get it? You shoot this one, you die on my blade. I won't give you a second shot. And then I'll be dead, and the rest of you can go hang for all I care. "Or, you let her Walk, and you let me do what I need to in order to survive. This Lady of Amber gets the power of the Unseelie, and suddenly she has a reason to come back, to ally with you; suddenly, you have a friend on the Other Side. When I come back, I'll tell you how to get across, and suddenly Oak has the power of control. Our House could be ascendant, as long as you keep the secret." ~Like hell I'm coming back and allying with any of these people~ Helena thought to herself, though she kept that sentiment from showing on her face. His hand dropped to the hilt of the Sword of Nightmares; if Helena moved, or fell, it would be drawn. "You know I can do it. You know how I affected the Tracerie, last time I was here. It's your choice." "Come back?" the woman gave a scornful laugh. "Do you think I believe that? Did your mother ever come back? Or her brother, after he stole..." She broke off, as though biting back words. Helena bristled. Fiona was the only "she" that had a full brother...though half-brother could easy apply here instead. This was the second person to imply that Thomas was lying to her about not knowing the identity of his parents. Thomas and she were definitely going to have a little discussion about that... Then [Mom] went on again. "And do you think I should believe that you and she intend anything more than mischief and destruction in walking the Tracerie? As your kind have every brought to the Sidhe." "Would you believe that I don't give a damn about you or this place and my only intent is to go home?" Helena countered. Thomas was frowning. "Are you the one who gave Sean all that tripe? Are you still in denial, or something, after all these years? Were you that mad over Dad adopting me? What are you playing at, 'Mom'? If you've got proof, then prove it. Prove who my mother was. Prove to me that I've got an uncle who stole...something. Whatever." She smiled. "Certainly. The time has doubtless come for you to learn the truth. Otherwise you could be...vulnerable." Her smile reached up very nearly to her eyes. "All you have to do is...step away from the Tracerie." "Thomas..." Helena said warningly. Thomas's smile did reach his eyes, but it wasn't a very nice smile at all. "As if you care whether I'm vulnerable. Nice try. And besides," he gestured to himself and Helena with his free hand, "we're oathbound." "And so am I," said the woman. "But I would have broken mine to protect the Tracerie. But you, like your mother's kind, are wantonly destructive. You do not understand what you trample on, tearing down the gossamer within which is woven all the secrets you would know." She smiled then, a cruel smile. "Indeed, I can think of no better fate for you than to let you have you own way." She lowered her bow. Helena said nothing, and did not relax her guard. "Maybe there's something in what you say," Thomas said at length. "Maybe there was a time that I would break another oath for the good of Clan Oak. Or for the Sithi. When Dad was alive, I would have thought long and hard about it." He moved, a little. "But not for you. When you review the list of your life's mistakes, 'Mom', make sure to put a checkmark by the item, 'should have treated Tam-lin just a little better'. Why give my loyalty to someone who won't return it? For a secret that hasn't affected me for over two centuries? You're selling a pig in a poke." He shook his head. "Let me out. Keep your secrets. I'll be out of yours, and the Queen's hair. Forever." She laughed then. "Almost I think they deserve you, those lost lovers on the other side. But you are to serve another purpose, Tam-lin. I will let your sweeting walk unhindered...if you lay down your blade and come with me. For your Doom is to save the Sithi." "No," Helena said angrily, accustomed to her rank and social standing in Chaos as the daughter of a House Lord and not accustomed to being so readily dismissed. "Did you not hear me when I said he was under my protection?" She drew Thomas's short sword as she spoke. "Leave now. Or deal with the consequences." Thomas leaned over, his eye still on the Lady of the Oak, and whispered into Helena's ear. "There's some other agenda she has," he said. "Looks like killing me isn't on it. But I don't know what. Do you really want to be in her confidence? Or take the opportunity to walk the Tracerie now?" "So 'your Doom is to save the Sithi' is not a reference to your upcoming sacrifice?" Helena whispered back. "And it's not all about what I want—I have an oath to follow first. Seeing you safe and on the other side is a higher priority than me walking, even though it wastes the rhyme I came up with and gods, I'd have to create another one." Thomas snorted. A few seconds later he said, "Maybe that's what she meant. I just have the feeling that there's something else. This ritual's gone on almost as long as there's been a Barrier—it's widely believed that's why Oberon relented enough to let a few through. I know better, and obviously once the news about being dead a century gets out, they will too. Nah...I just can't see her getting all that excited over a sacrifice. Even me. She can't take the chance I actually know something, and they all already know I've affected the Tracerie." "So what is it you want to do here?" Helena asked him. "Find out," Thomas said, then raised his voice. "Show us both what you want to show. I'll hang onto my sword, thank you very much." "Then," said the woman, "what do you offer for my information? A kiss, Tam-Lin? Your usual payment? My secrets warrant a higher price that that. Thomas puckered up and made kissing noises. [Mom] "Walk the Tracerie. And be mindful of what you lose, as well as what you gain." Helena glanced at Thomas and gestured to the Thing. Apparently she wanted him to proceed her. The kissing noises abruptly stopped. Thomas stared at Helena, an eyebrow raised, then finally nodded. "Those who are about to give their all," he said, and placed his foot on the start of the Tracerie. The woman was watching closely—but her bow was held at her side. Helena glared at the woman, daring her to do anything offensive, while she watched Thomas's progress out of the corner of her eye. Sparks rose immediately with that first step; a few steps forward, a cut, a switchback, perhaps ten more paces, and the resistance of the First Veil was already upon him. Not nearly as bad as the Veil he remembered from Tir, but challenging nonetheless... He hardly noticed that he had taken his moon-dog form in order to push past the resistance and the sparks that had already risen to his knees... "Can you do that?" Although the woman was still standing at some distance, Helena heard the voice as though it had whispered into her ear. "Can you shift and change and glow to assimilate the Tracerie, alien to your bloodline?" Helena gave her an unfriendly look in reply. She turned back to the Tracerie, a cold knot tightening in the pit of her belly. Shifting... Why did the major things in her life always come down to whether or not she could shift? A sudden wave of inferiority washed over her. Helena angrily squelched it, like she always did, and replied by recklessly doing that thing which caused it—like she always did. With a muffled curse, she stepped onto the Tracerie behind Thomas. This was not how Helena thought things would proceed. In her mind, she first had the opportunity to question Thomas about particulars once she'd seen the Thing in person and then additional time to ponder his responses. But there had been no discussion, no advice, and only a sense of urgency that bordered on recklessness. Bordered? By the Serpent, she was recklessness incarnate here. What was this Thing, this Tracerie? She suspected it was a reflected pattern of some sort based on things Thomas had said and the taste of its power here in this shadow, but she'd never seen Amber's Pattern in order to make an informed comparison. Gods, she hadn't even managed to see Tir's! She did know shifting was not a prerequisite to walking the Pattern in Amber, and yet here Thomas was, shifting fluidly from one form to another while he traversed it. Was shifting required? Or was this Thomas' reaction to stress? She hadn't found out before she recklessly put her right foot squarely on the Thing in response to that Woman taunting her. Stupid, stupid... When her boot touched the Tracerie, Helena felt a tingling start in her foot and run up the length of her leg. She balked at continuing—not knowing whether the sensation was normal or not—and immediately felt disoriented, as if she was falling backwards off the edge into someplace very dark and deep. In truth, Helena knew little about the details of a patternwalk. For whatever reason Mother had always been rather enigmatic on this topic, though if Helena stirred her morass of snatches of conversation gathered over the years, one basic caution did rise to the surface: once you start you have to finish, or you die. Fear of this brought her back to the brink, where she knew fundamentally she had a decision to make: continue and take what comes, or fall into oblivion. In answer Helena put her left foot in front of her right, the sparks flared, and the visions started. Thomas was past the First Veil now, navigating the switchbacks that led to the Second Veil and the Grand Curve, when he saw Helena. He slowed, a little, always a bad thing, trying to look past the sparks and see where his step-mother had gone. Her face flickered in the flames. She seemed very close, somehow—although her physical body was, he could just about see, on the far side of the room. He couldn't let himself dwell on the implications, not here; Thomas shifted form again at the Second Veil, fighting off the doubts and the fears that had always assailed him at this point. He was a tree now, limbs creaking as his roots forced their way forward on the glowing line...forward...inching... and then he was through, and back to his own form, and straight into the difficult turns of the Grand Curve. The sparks were a wave, first to his waist, then his shoulders, and he spared a few seconds to see if the Lady of the Oak was present on this part, too... He heard her low laughter in his ear as he hesitated... Memories swam in front of Helena's eyes as vivid as day—some were recent, others were ones she'd long forgotten, all of them were painful. She lost Ness all over again, heard children shouting half-blood in their sing-song voices, saw Crygst calling her gyvie. Helena caught her breath, unprepared for the emotional assault. She gulped air and staggered forward, almost misstepping. This was very real, she acknowledged, and death was a very distinct possibility. Recovering, she shook as fear washed over her. Focus and walk, focus and walk... Then, with the unexpectedness of an arch opponent in the Dances suddenly dropping in front of her and challenging her to a match, she hit the First Veil. And in the shadows that it cast before her, as though across a vast, empty plain, she saw the Knight. Helena continued struggling to walk, not knowing why suddenly the resistance was so much greater. She squelched a small wave of panic and spared the knight a glance before turning her attention back to the path in front of her. Walk...progress...so...slow.... Perhaps he would stay there on the other side of the plain and leave her alone. Perhaps if wishes were horses... He was walking towards her now...each step seeming to mirror hers. But while she advanced by inches, pressing against the Veil, each step he took seemed to draw him closer to her by yards... "What do you want here?" she called out to the knight in a decidedly unfriendly tone. "A challenge," said the Knight. "A challenge to prove that you are worthy." And distantly, she should hear the sparks rising to crash like waves against Thomas as he navigated the Grand Curve. He was sobbing, his voice unnaturally loud, as if his lungs were larger than they had a right to be. "Dad! Nooo!" he cried out in that godlike voice. The Knight hesitated...and turned to look towards Thomas. "But what will you pay me?" he asked. "You may have her for an acre of land-between the bright water and the sea strand." A moment passed, one that seemed like forever. Then Thomas replied in a sing-song voice: Afore I complete this task I see, The Knight paused. Then he spoke in a low voice... Love imposes impossible tasks And then he moved forward, towards Helena, his sword swinging wide and then whipping in...'The Wind that shakes the Barley'. Helena was fairly sure this was all in her mind. Regardless, the knight in front of her looked very substantial, and Thomas' plea for the knight to stop implied to her that there was potential danger from this vision that they both apparently shared. Could she hurt Thomas' father in turn? But then again, wasn't he already dead? No more time for speculation. Within the vision, Thomas saw Helena draw his short sword which still hung around her waist as the knight swung his sword wide. The knight came in sharply then with a level backhanded swing and Helena blocked with the flat of her sword, the tip pointing downwards. As the knight's sword reverberated off her blade, Helena replied with a return cut to his sword arm, swinging her sword around in a small arc that would give her more speed than power. If she connected, the cut would disable the arm without removing it. She was being cautiously offensive, holding back, reluctant to engage in combat with someone who was apparently Thomas' father. Thomas was pushing ahead now, harder, all his concentration on his task, clearly trying to get around the Pattern to a spot closer to the First Veil... And suddenly found himself very close, just as his father moved to riposte Helena's stroke with a low sweep rising wickedly across Helena's guard... And from here, Thomas could see...his father was bleeding from Helena's slash across his arm—although his movements suggested that the arm was not disabled. The knight's sword slid up the length of Helena's blade with an unpleasant metallic screech. She quickly switched the grip on her hilt and managed to flick the knight's blade away before it reached her neck. Helena followed up on the sudden opening with a downward strike, meant to cleave into the knight's shoulder. Thomas was shifting again, into something bestial and large and clawed, but for the moment he did nothing; it occurred to him that vision or not, he may very well be the first person to actually grab someone across a Pattern, and he didn't want that distinction unless all other options were gone. "Dad—stop!" he repeated. The knight sprang back [from Helena's strike] with a speed and dexterity Helena had rarely seen before, even among shape-changing Chaosians. And he landed almost on top of Thomas. Helena brought herself back to en garde. "Thomas! What do I do?" she cried. ~He- it- left the Pattern!~ Thomas thought. But what he said was, "Don't stop! Whatever you do, keep going forward!" Helena gritted her teeth. "If you haven't noticed, there is an armed man in the way!" "He's.... it's.... not..." Thomas, being on the man's flank anyway, struck at its back, right through the heart. "...Real!" The man screamed, blood bubbling from his mouth. Then he fell face forward onto the Tracerie, Thomas's sword still quivering in his back and glinting with a wicked black light. "Kraka," Helena said, using an expletive she'd learned in the Dances. She pushed forward again, sword still in her hand, sorry to have lost her previous momentum. Thomas made a sound, something between a curse and a sob. He took another step forward, and reached over and down to wrench the sword out of the corpse's back. "Throw it off," he said, and turned his head in the general direction of his stepmother. "What have you done here?" he cried. "Kraka," Helena repeated. She reached down with the hand not holding a sword, grabbed a handful of hair, and tossed the dead knight to the outside. As she lifted him through the air, he seemed to explode in a rainbow light, bright sparks that pricked and burned her hands. Making a grim face, Helena shook out her hand and wiped it against her shirt. What else was there to do but go on? She'd hardly completed a fourth of this Thing so far and a niggling thought entered the back of her mind—why don't you just give up? She squashed the thought and pressed onward. For his part, Thomas hung his head and continued forward, his head bowed as if fighting a hurricane wind. And it felt like that...a storm raging all around them, descending with a wind that whistled and howled in their ears till they could barely see each other...barely see the Tracerie... Thomas didn't mention any of this, Helena thought to herself. Is the Tracerie rejecting her? It accepted Thomas, and he was part Amberite, just like her. Maybe it was rejecting her because she couldn't shift. Or because she wasn't part Sidhe. Or because she was already imprinted with a very different power. But if it was going to reject her, wouldn't she already be dead? Or was this normal? Somehow she didn't think this was normal—Thomas' cry out to his stepmother implied it was not. What was going on? Helena concentrated on just putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring as best she could the declarations by her more cynical self that she wasn't going to survive this and trying to keep a tight control on her fear. Having walked one before, Thomas knew a little of what to expect; but this...this was interference, and his step-mother was involved. How had she affected his Walk? And what did she mean about his father? It was a terrible place for self-reflection and questions, especially with the Final Veil approaching. He grit his teeth and with syrupy slowness, kept going. Now the winds and storms that raged against them seemed to grow colder, and there were stinging shots of hail on their faces. The hail softened—and they were tramping through a blizzard. The quality of the air seemed to shift...their breath, their steps sounded as though they were...outdoors. Helena concentrated on breathing in through her nose, trying to warm the cold air somewhat before it reached her lungs. Her exposed skin prickled in the cold—cheeks, ears, hands... She started to shiver as she walked, wishing fervently for the umpteeth time that she could shift like Amba or Torren, and strained to catch a glimpse of Thomas through the falling snow. Thomas kept his head down, making sure that his feet were still outlined by the glow of the Tracerie. "Can you still hear me, Seelie?" he called out. There was no answer save the crunching of their feet in the snow—even the wind seemed to have fallen. And so they came to the ice wall. "Never... never before..." Thomas said as he touched the ice wall. His form changed again, the tree-form like earlier. There was no recourse but to keep going. He was assailed with doubt—had his step-mother done what he himself had done? Was there something he could do to stop it? His arm/branches reached out, boring into the ice, then withdrawing to let that part crack and splinter and fall to his feet. I can't stop, he thought. I'll die if I stop... A shape loomed on the Tracerie behind Thomas, eventually resolving itself in the dim purple light as it approached, step by step, to be Helena. Wide eyes in a pale face darted at these new obstacles in her path—tree and wall. She raised the sword in her hand. But strangely enough, the animate tree wasn't actively blocking her, but looked to be moving along the path in the same direction she was...and looked to be trying to break the ice... "Thomas?" she managed hoarsely. Questing branches withdrew from the ice wall again, letting more ice shower down to the pile at the tree's roots. A back branch twisted in Helena's direction—and waved. She smiled weakly, happy to see a familiar...um...branch. "How...the hell...are we...supposed...to get through that?" Helena asked as she gulped breaths of air. It did seem to be shattering under Thomas's diligent (if somewhat unconventional) attack. But as Helena approached, there was a sudden heart-stopping blast of icy air...and suddenly icicles hung delicately from all Thomas's branches. Helena tensed and shut her eyes as the gust blew past her. The tree made a moan, and slowly began to shift back into Thomas's form. "I just don't get it," he said. "This has never happened before. 'Course, you're on here with me...or maybe it's dear old step-mom. I dunno. I guess I know what to do, but you're going to have to stay behind me." "Thomas...but you said don't stop..." "We won't." He took a deep breath. "I hate this." And the tree, still shifting into Thomas's form, caught fire. It was white and bright and beautiful and blinding, a fiery angel with wings, a concerto for magnesium and acetylene, a roaring pillar of light and heat. It turned and pushed onward, against the ice... Helena cried out and shut her eyes. She brought her hands to her face, shielding as best she could against the light and heat. Afraid to stop, she continued forward blindly, hoping her foot was still squarely on the Tracerie she could barely see through the glare. The ice melted before the blast—and the clear green daylight of a meadow could be seen beyond. The veil had been rent and they could, for a while at least, travel onwards in a pleasant green meadow. But there was no sign of the cave—or the Sidhe woman. "Either the Tracerie is playing with our minds," Thomas said, "or else it's put us out somewhere. That was the Final Veil, ma cherie. I think we made it. Oh..." Realizing that his words sounded like reverberations from a blast furnace, he began the shift towards his normal form. Helena didn't quite feel comfortable enough to put her sword away. Her eyes darted around, expecting....something. "Does that mean I can stop walking?" she asked, sparing a quick glance toward the ground to see if her feet still followed a glowing path. "Three steps," Thomas said. "Just in case this is in our heads. Three steps past the Veil." Helena immediately took the three steps. At least she took one, firm, poised, controlled. And then a second...her foot sliding... And then a third, wildly off balance, sliding down a slope that no longer seemed made of grass but of greased glass, pitching her forwards into the unknown. "Thomas...!" Helena cried out as she lost her balance. She dropped the sword—afraid of accidentally skewering herself—and rolled as she hit the ground. "Helena!" Thomas yelled after her, and took his own three steps. In this together, he thought, as he slid along after the Seelie and tried to make it a controlled slide. His feet stayed level—as though he was only on solid ground. But he could see the abyss she was sliding into and—if he dived forward—he could probably reach her...as long as she reached out towards him. Thomas did so on his part, diving forward and arm outstretched to grab Helena if he could. Sliding downward, Helena frantically reached back toward Thomas, straining to grab hold of his outstretched hand... They connected...and for one agonising minute, her body swung out helplessly over the void.... Straining, using his other hand against the ground as purchase, Thomas pulled upward.... Helena gripped Thomas with all her might, digging her fingers into his hand and arm (and likely leaving bruises). Thomas winced as he hauled Helena up, ending with them both standing and his arm around her waist. "Someone doesn't like you, troublesome Seelie," he said, smiling through the pain, his cheekbone nearly touching hers. "Thank you," she whispered, releasing her death grip on Thomas' arm only long enough to face him and firmly grab hold of both his shoulders. She looked into his eyes. "Is it over? Please tell me it's over." "For the Tracerie," he said, his hands on her hips. He wouldn't let all her weight fall on her feet, not yet. He did look down at the ground (with, apparently, a split second to ogle Helena's breasts), then up at the air. "She's claimed me," he called out, "and I her. Understand? If this is your doing, Lady of the Oak, or whomever you are, it's over. If she goes, we go... and I know there's still work to be done. If it's a glamour, lift it and tell me what you want. If not, we're going to the Grove of Roses to end this farce, for good or ill." There was a sudden rending sound... And they were standing in a bleak empty cavern, deep in the mountains it seemed, staring across the open unmarked floor at the Lady of the Oak, who was watching them with a livid face and and expression of great horror. "You've destroyed it." Her words came to them as a sibilant whisper. "What?" Helena replied, looking around in confusion. She didn't quite let go of Thomas. "Wh..." Thomas said, and his hands suddenly clamped down on Helena's shoulders. He stared at her intently, searching her eyes, her expression. "Think of what you just walked," he said. "Think of its Pattern. Try to bring it up in your mind." Helena looked back at him blankly for the space of a few heartbeats, then comprehension unclouded her expression. "Oh. Like I do with the Tail. All right. Let me try..." She looked away and focused her attention inward, retracing in her mind the pattern she'd just walked, her thoughts grasping to encompass its entirety and essence. Something came to her mind, but it was not the delicate lines of the Tracerie. Nor was it the ordered lines of the Pattern that she had learned about. No, this was the Logrus, shifting and slithering in her mind, ready to drag her into its madness to protect her, one of its own, against the feared Order. The hooded head reared, the Tail lifted, ready to smite her enemies... Helena inhaled sharply and quickly dropped the image from her mind, cutting the connection. "That wasn't the Tracerie," she whispered, looking Thomas back in the eye. "I can't find it. I just...well, I got the impression that the Tail thinks I need protecting from the Tracerie. Perhaps It's hiding it. Or perhaps it's simply not there." Her gaze moved once again beyond Thomas to survey the empty cavern. Thomas hesitated, then sang: "Within the Council Chamber All was silent as the grave, Whilst the tempest of their sorrow Shook the bosoms of the brave. Well indeed might they be shaken With the weight of such a blow: It was gone—their prince, their idol, Whom they loved and worshiped so! Like a knell of death and judgment Rung from heaven by angel hand, Fell the words of desolation On the elders of the land." He ended, eyes downcast, but lifted them to watch the Lady of the Oak across the chamber."It was never strong, the Tracerie," he said to Helena. "A backwards reflection of the true Power. We'll have to wait and see what this does to the Barrier. What this does to Glimmergloom." Helena turned and faced the Lady, chin raised. The Lady was smiling faintly. "Perhaps I should thank you," she said, "for lifting the ancient curse. For now my path lies clear...to vengeance." And suddenly she appeared to flicker, and was gone. "I should have fried her with the Tail while I had the chance," Helena muttered. "Right," Thomas agreed. "That could have gone better. Wish I knew whom Dear Old Mom might be wanting to vent upon, but I'm thinking she may still be disappointed." "Your real mother?" Helen ventured. Thomas's smile vanished. "Fardles. Didn't think about that." He fished out his few Trumps, thumbing out the one with a field of roses. "This makes things simpler. Originally I was going to get you to use the Tracerie to take you to the Grove of Roses and follow you there with this, but now we can just both go there. Afterward, we'll still be close to the Barrier. Sound good to you?" "Just as long as I'm away from here," Helena replied, heartfelt. She passed a hand over her face. "I hope I haven't fucked things up too much, Thomas. I'm sorry." The smile, irrepressible, returned. "See what happens when you don't have sex with me before taking the Pattern? Important safety tip; remember that for next time." "There is not going to be a next time. I am never doing that again!" He fumbled with his Trumps again. "Speaking of safety, things will get a little dangerous where we're going, of course. Before we do, I wonder if you would soothe one of the great burning questions I've had the last few centuries. Just in case we don't make it, you understand. Let's see..." He held up a Trump of a dark-haired woman. "Who's this?" "Deirdre," Helena replied without hesitation. Her eyes flicked from the trump to Thomas. "Is that your mother?" "Maybe." Thomas shrugged and put the Trump back, keeping the other one out. "No one ever said. The Man of the Oak certainly didn't. Likely the only one who knows for sure just left to go after her." "She won't find her. Deirdre died in the Patternfall War, pulled into the Abyss by her insane brother Brand." Helena rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. "Do you think vengeance could extend itself to joining forces with a certain Chaosian House that wanted to destroy the Pattern in Tir tonight and together obliterating Amber? Not just for that woman who was just here, but the Sidhe in general? Your Lady?" "I'm not going to be so conceited as to think I'm the only one who could make it past the Barrier," Thomas said. "Not any more. It does sound kind of convenient, doesn't it? I suppose if we see any of the Sidhe with any of your Chaosians, we'll know. And you'll know who to target." "Like my Uncle Jurt? He's ostensibly pro-Amber, at least as far as his brothers are concerned." Helena exhaled. "I do wonder what he's doing here—and I would prefer we get back to Amber before he finds out I'm on this side of the Barrier. Ready to go?" "Yah," Thomas said, and handed Helena his sword. "Don't lose this one," he said with a smile. "And remember...whatever happens...I won't hurt you." With that, he put his arm around her and concentrated on the Trump of the Grove of Roses. Helena belted the sword around her waist before placing her arm around Thomas in return. She looked at him speculatively for a brief moment before lowering her gaze to the trump in his hand. [continued in Cast Your Green Kirtle Owr Me] |
