Fantasy The MPC Rushes Story, Cont.

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Lisbeth nodded her thanks and entered the room. As William closed the door behind her, she debated on where to sit. The only real options were the bed, the desk, or the floor. The floor wasn't terribly comfortable, and a blush threatened to creep up her neck when she considered that William might sit next to her on the bed, so she opted for the desk chair. For a moment it seemed that William would not sit down at all, and Lisbeth though that instead he might press himself into the corner of the room as far from her as possible. She couldn't help but frown again, and perhaps it was the fact that she did so that at last convinced William to take a seat, perching nervously on the edge of the bed. She was reminded of a heron.


"I wanted to speak with you about Black Iron House," she began, "and what happened in the orrery. Whatever the House did to bring us to the Nexus... affected me somehow. You already know that for whatever reason I can't Write, but the other problem is that my Book is now blank. Everything I have ever Written is gone, but I have to believe that it hasn't been Erased. Frostine is still connected to me, after all..."


Suddenly she felt silly. What was she expecting William to tell her when she had no idea what was wrong herself? She shook her head and pressed on.


"I just thought I would see what your thoughts were. You're quite knowledgeable, and you know Black Iron House better than anyone. I'm not expecting you to know how to fix what's wrong with me, or even what is wrong with me. The more information I have, though, the closer I might get to an answer."


Lisbeth looked up at him, feeling especially pathetic, and managed a sheepish half-smile. She doubted she looked very frightening at the moment, though she still couldn't be sure how William would react.

 

[UCBooties]

William felt the whole world go off-kilter. The Writer was asking him for help. That, William decided, was the trouble with Writers; they were far too human to understand the power they wielded. But then again...


Lisbeth was human. She had a problem and it involved Black Iron House. He was the Master of Black Iron House, however removed he might presently be. So that made her a client, or close enough to one. Some of the terror he had felt in her presence diminished.


To business then.


"The workings of the Orrery are quite beyond my comprehension, I am afraid. I have never been able to discern whether it is a representation of Black Iron House's," here he frowned, "well, that Black Iron House's location in space and time, or it if is in fact the mechanism by which it moves between worlds. Given its behavior earlier, I am strongly beginning to suspect that it was the latter."


As he continued, William was almost talking more to himself than to Lisbeth, the problem of her book and the Orrery enticed him, it promised insight into Black Iron House's workings that had eluded him for a long time.


"Your book and Black Iron House may have been too similar in function. Your book contains the worlds that you have created while anchoring you to your present reality. Black Iron House uses the meta-mechanics of space-time in order to slip from one possible version of itself to another. When we arrived at the Nexus I believe that it was like a gear slipping and catching again, moving in a way that the mechanism was never intended to operate. That transition affected your book and the worlds within as well. I do not think that they are gone, but they may have been unmoored from the book."


William took his spectacles off and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So the nexus doesn't contain your stories for reasons I am not entirely clear on, but I think we can surmise that your book is blank in this world because your stories have never existed in this world. But we know for a fact that you stories, or at least some version of your stories, exist within Black Iron House."


"I hypothesize that we have two options to restore the worlds' connection to your book." William replaced his glasses, "One, we can attempt to revisit a world in which you have Written, and thus in which your stories exit."


He sat for a long moment considering Lisbeth, just as she was about to prod him to continue he spoke again, more softly, "Or, if that does not work, we must endeavor to take Black Iron House into the worlds of your Book themselves."

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

She didn't quite grasp everything that William was saying about meta-mechanics, but she thought that, generally, what he was saying made sense. Black Iron House and her Book both possessed a similar function: traveling between worlds. So if making the jump to the Nexus was something that Black Iron House was not supposed to be able to do, was it really all that surprising that reality (or multiple realities) had become a little unhinged because of it?


And now William was postulating that they revisit a world in which she had Written to get her Stories back. How were they supposed to do that without the power of her Book? The other option was to take Black Iron House into the Written worlds themselves. Again, she wasn't sure how to do that without her Book... or Black Iron House itself.


She swallowed and looked up into William's grey eyes. His face was calm, businesslike. She much preferred this William to the one who twitched nervously and walked on eggshells in her presence. Her gaze dropped back down and came to rest on his long, elegant fingers. The corner of her mouth twitched into a small smile; 'long' and 'elegant' were certainly two words that fit William Blackiron well.


"Thank you, William," she told him, "I truly appreciate your insight. If your hypothesis is correct, then... Well, actually, there's another reason that I wanted to speak with you. I have something that I wanted to give you. Something that I think you ought to have."


She reached into her pouch and rummaged around a bit before withdrawing her hand, closed around some small item that William could not see at first. She held out her hand, palm up, and slowly unfurled her fingers, revealing a small splinter of wood. It was painted black along one side.


"I pulled this off of the door as we were coming here from the Nexus. It may not be from the one you came from, but it should be a piece of Black Iron House."

 

[Arkadious]

Blott's Room: "I am familiar with this Mr Nope, having dealt with his kind before. He mistakenly assumes to be familiar with...a mutual friend but it is of no matter..." The girl walked over to the desk where the Crow sat and gently stroked her fingers through it's puffy feathers. After a moment , she turned an walked towards the door, catching Blott in her gaze once again, something strikingly familiar about the glowing orbs within the shadows of her hood. "I'll be around, Blott, but after this lull, you all need to step it up and Find the Lance. Worlds are falling and there is not much I can do to stave off what's happening..." With a turn and a flourish, her flowery dress fluttering up behind her, the girl opened the door and disappeared though it...


Algiers: Tristan scowled when Genevieve uttered his name but then he smiled a vicious smile. "Oh, you mean your new lover? He jumped shortly after The Door closed, but no matter, my Knights are after him and will capture him." Tristan walked towards Genevieve and circled around her, like a shark circling a wounded seal. His hand reached out and traced along the nape of her neck as he walked behind her then shifted to her chin, tilting it up as he stopped in front of her, staring at her with cold dark eyes. "You still have no idea the importance of your power and what I've been trying to do to get you to control it...."





Shanghai, 1930: The city was finally coming to life, shop owners hawking their wares to passing travelers. Down a series of winding alleyways, tucked in the heart of Shanghai, was a hidden little building, absolutely nondescript in it's appearance and easily overlooked. Earlier that morning, four travelers entered an took up rooms in this Sanctuary of Worlds, the kindly owner promising peace and privacy. Two of the travelers gathered in one of their rooms, talking. Outside their window, a pair of glowing embers watched...

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

The feeling of Tristan's hand on her neck and her face made Genevieve sick to her stomach, the anger for all she'd been though welling up inside. She raised a hand and slapped him hard, hard enough to turn his head and leave an angry, red imprint of her open hand across his cheek.


"Don't touch me," she snarled. "You lost that privilege a long time ago."


Then his words sunk in and her heart leapt.


"He's alive," she whispered. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes again. Fitz knew where they were going, so if he jumped he had to be in Shanghai 1930. If she could just get back there, they could find each other. She would search the whole of Shanghai if she had to. One City in one Time was not insurmountable.


Her expression hardened. She would get back to Shanghai. She would find Fitz. But first she would have answers from her husband.


"What do you mean the importance of my power?" She searched his eyes for some spark of the man she thought she knew but found only coldness. "What do you want with me, Tristan?"

 

[Arkadious]

Tristan slowly turned his head and looked at Genevieve, his eyes briefly flashing with dark intentions, sending chills down her spine. He clenched his fist slowly then smiled, an ugly smile that contoured Tristan's face into a facsimile of the husband Genevieve once loved. It frightened her almost as much as the dark intentions that she could see lurking just below the surface of his cold eyes.


"Your power is something that the Knights and I have been trying to harness ever since I first met you in passing when you were just a child. I sensed the potential that lied dormant within you and have been grooming you ever since. The Knights have been sending you on those random jaunts..." Tristan said, as he eyed her, not like a person but like a thing, a possession that he had misplaced and was now in the process of reclaiming. "They were all meant to hone your ability so that the Knights may harness it..."

 

[UCBooties]

William's eyes went wide. So that was why something about Lisbeth had been bothering him since they arrived in Shanghai. He reached out to gingerly pluck the splinter from her hand.


The moment he touched it the shard vanished. A slow smile crept across his face. It was not gone, he could feel it somewhere, waiting. He didn't know how exactly, but he knew that when he had need of it he would be able to call it forth.


He gave Lisbeth a solemn nod. "Thank you, Lisbeth."

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Lisbeth felt a smile of her own, a genuine one, steal across her features when he used her name.


"You're welcome... and I'm sorry. We swept you up in this whole mess, in my mess, and tore you away from everything you knew. I know what it's like to feel lost, and I know how precious a little piece of home can be."


She stood and nodded to William, noting that she wasn't much taller standing than he was sitting down.


"Well, I won't intrude on your time any further. I know that my presence isn't, ah, pleasant for you. Thank you again for your help. I think you've really hit on something. I don't know how this will affect our plans for the time being, but perhaps we'll be able to figure things out further once we hear from that Mr. Nope fellow again. Good afternoon."


She moved to the door and placed her hand on the knob, but she hesitated. She knew that William was likely looking at her, but she couldn't shake the feeling that someone else was watching her. She glanced over her shoulder...

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

"Met...met me as a child?" Genevieve stammered. This couldn't be. She remembered everything about their first meeting--what she thought was their first meeting--at a ball in Paris, back when couture silk gowns were de rigueur rather than the eclectic scarves and skirts she adopted on the run. They'd been introduced early in the evening, and he placed his name on every line of her dance card with a sly smile--a cheeky breech of etiquette that had endeared him to her immediately. They'd waltzed and laughed and ducked the eyes of chaperones, Tristan leading her by the hand through dark staircases and corridors until they found their way to the roof to look out over the lights of the city.


This monster standing in front of her couldn't be the same person. But her Tristan was there in that face contorted into a terrifying smile full of ill intent.


"You've done all of this to me? You singled me out as a child then married me? You've tortured me for my entire adult existence?" Genevieve tried to keep her voice calm, but a note of desperation crept in despite her best efforts. "I loved you, Tristan. I loved you genuinely, with my whole heart. And you cared about me once, too. I know you did. You must have."


Her voice cracked but she held his gaze.

 

[ArtBlott]

Blott watched the strange girl go. Stopping her wouldn't get her more answers, the Artist figured, and she didn't figure trying to shake the answers out of the enigmatic girl would do much good. Blott looked at the door for a very long time, then turned back to the window, pressing her palms against her eyes until it hurt as she sorted out the very confusing visit.


Perhaps the Architect was the one who lead them into World War Werewolf. Perhaps she really was just trying to help. And perhaps Blott was drug out of the Sitting Room and along on this adventure for a reason. Or perhaps this was a trick. But then, what about Worlds falling? Could she really help stop it? She wasn't even a proper Artist, even the strange visitor could tell. Without her Pen, she wasn't much of anything other than an unwilling host for a parasite. She wasn't a fighter. At best, a coward.


The sun crept along her floor and the sounds of a city waking up eventually stirred Blott into movement. Her left arm hurt, the usual soreness that came with existing now. Yeah, she should tell someone about that eventually. Especially since the more they adventured on, the more likely it looked like they were going to get hurt, or killed.


She watched the people outside, more and more tourists venturing out, the locals long since up and going on with their business. Blott chewed at the inside of her own cheek as she considered. Two more days to go. Two more days to plan. But first, breakfast.

 

[Arkadious]

Shanghai: Lisbeth turned to look back before leaving William's room and glanced towards the window. There, floating just outside the glass and wrought iron grating, was a small hooded figure, what appeared to be a young girl, judging from her height. Her features were obscured by the hood of her flowery dress but within the depths, two bright blue embers peered out at her and William. Before Lisbeth could say anything to William, the girl turned and hopped away, bouncing from one rooftop to the next before suddenly vanishing from view...


Algiers: For a brief moment, Genevieve thought she saw a spark of emotion stir behind Tristan's cold eyes, but as soon as it had appeared, it was gone. "The Knights have been around for EONS, in one form or another, always looking and collecting assets like yourself. I chanced upon you on one of my jaunts, sensed the potential and then made arrangements to have someone observe you until such a time that I could claim you. There have been bumps along the way, but now that you're here, the Knights shall collect from you what we've been waiting for..." In a flash, Tristan pulled an ornate dagger from behind his back and advanced on Genevieve, pure malice writ across his face...

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

William was looking at her curiously, but Lisbeth simply shook her head.


"It's nothing. Never mind. Good afternoon," she said quickly, and she saw herself out.


Back in her own room she sat down on the bed and ran her hand over one of the swords that still lay upon it. Why hadn't she said anything to William about the girl she saw outside? Who was the girl, and why did she bear such a strange resemblance to the enigmatic stranger that Lisbeth thought was the shade of Arkadious Grimoire? She glanced out the window, but no answers presented themselves there. Lisbeth kicked her feet up off the floor and flopped back fully onto the bed. A little eddy of dust particles rose up to shimmer in the sun. She'd conducted her business with William; now what? Perhaps it was time for that bit of soul-searching...


She watched the dust motes swirl in the sunbeam, and lost herself in thoughts of the sins of her past and the mysteries of her present.

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

"You're never taking anything from me again, you bastard."


Genevieve closed her eyes and heard Fitz's words whispered in her ear. Picture it. A time, a place. Stay grounded.


She imagined the tiny room in Shanghai 1930. The porcelain basin. The coverlet, rumpled where she had lain. The ornate grate. The sounds of the city waking outside.


And she was there, collapsing onto the bed, panting.


She covered her face with her hands. She felt dirty, violated, knowing that the terrible things she had endured weren't simply a circumstance of her birth but had been orchestrated by her own husband. That Tristan had chosen her as a child and simply waited until she was old enough to belong to him.


And yet she had seen--for the briefest moment--a flicker of emotion, of the Tristan she once knew, when she told him she had loved him. The facade had a crack, and they might be able to use that to stop whatever the Knights were planning.


And Fitz. Fitz! He was alive, and Genevieve was certain he was here in Shanghai. I promise I will find you, darling.


But first, there was someone else she needed to see.


Exhausted as she was, she jumped from the bed and hurried down the hall. She gave three loud raps on Lisbeth's door.

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Lisbeth bolted upright and wiped at her face with a sleeve. When had she started crying?


"Just a moment," she mumbled as she swung her legs over the side of the bed.


Had William thought of something else to tell her? For a moment she entertained the fantasy of him standing outside her door, concerned for her, apologizing for ever having been afraid of her, and she managed to squash a cynical laugh before it bubbled up to escape her lips. She composed her face into a neutral mask and opened the door, but that facade broke neatly in two when she saw Genevieve standing outside. The woman was panting, panicked, and wild-eyed, and Lisbeth's gut clenched at the thought that they were in danger again already.


"Genevieve? What is it? What's happened?" she asked, all feeling set aside.


Whatever fresh hell awaited them this time, she would be ready for it.

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

Genevieve threw her arms around Lisbeth's neck and pulled her into a tight hug. She felt her friend stiffen for just a moment then relax.


"I have so much to tell you," Genevieve said, her voice muffled in Lisbeth's shoulder. "But I don't want to be angry with you any more. You were right; we don't know much about each other."


She took a step back and met Lisbeth's eye, noting that she, too, had been crying at some point.


"But I'd like us to."

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

Lisbeth thought her jaw might hit the floor. She didn't know what in the world (or outside it) had happened to Genevieve, but suddenly they were friends again. A warm feeling spread throughout Lisbeth's chest, and she nodded, smiling.


"And we will, in time. Important things, too, not just silly things like favorite colors and foods. We just met, but you're all my friends, and I want that to deepen with time."


Her expression turned serious.


"So let's get the others and talk about what's happened to you. If we're going to enjoy our friendship to a ripe old age, we'd best get to work."

 

[Arkadious]

Shanghai, 1930: Lisbeth and Genevieve went and collected Blott and William then all gathered back in Lisbeth's room, where, after the door was closed, Genevieve recounted what she had just been through. She told them of Tristan and the Knights, of Fitz still being alive and what Tristan had said about her powers. Afterwards, Blott chimed in about her visitor, which drew a look of curiosity from Lisbeth, though she made no comment, her hand reaching inside her pouch and clasping the pocket watch, with pulsed gently under her touch...


Across the street, standing under the awning of a curio shop, a tall slender figure stood, looking at the nondescript building intently...

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

"We have three days, then, to act before we go after the Lance," Lisbeth said, "which means that we need to decide what course of action to pursue. Or, perhaps I should say what we want to pursue first. One option is to go looking for Altamonte. I admit that I don't know how we would go about that. Not that I don't want to try," she added quickly, sensing a protest from Genevieve, "I'm just saying that I don't know. I've never been to this Where and When, so I wouldn't even know where to start. The other concern that I have is that I hope Altamonte was able to jump to the same version of 1930 Shanghai as us, if that is truly where he was going. From what you told us, Genevieve, it sounds like he jumped as a sort of emergency escape route, so we can't be certain if he decided to jump here, or if he went to one of his safe houses, or if he went somewhere else entirely to draw the Knights away from us. I'm just trying to consider all of the angles."


Her gaze moved to Blott.


"The other option is to go after whatever this strange Architect girl was talking about. She said that Blott and I would need to work together and combine our abilities, to Write and Draw together," she paused and shook her head, "Such a thing hasn't been done in... well, ages. I don't think there's a Writer left alive who's collaborated with an Artist, and we're quite long-lived.


More to the point, I cannot Write at the moment, so we would need to get that ability back. William has some theories on how we could do that, but it would require travel to at least one other world. I don't know how to accomplish that either without the power of my Book or Black Iron House."


She looked around at her companions.


"I'd like to know your thoughts," she told them, "We're all in this together, after all."


She smiled at them, her dear friends who she would do anything to protect, and didn't notice the shock of her hair that had turned icy blue.

 

[Genevieve Moulin]

Genevieve drew a sharp breath to argue but bit her tongue instead. She had just made peace with her friend, and besides, Lisbeth did have a point. Talking pandas? This was not the Shanghai 1930 in which Genevieve had expected to find herself, and drawing the Knights away from them was exactly the sort of thing Fitz would do. Her heart ached at the prospect of leaving without him, just when her hope had been restored that she would see him again. But he was alive, and she could hold on to that fact until she was able to find him.


"I--we--need to find Altamonte," she began slowly. "But you're right. I don't think this Shanghai is the one any of us pictured." Her voice quavered slightly as she went on. "As much as it pains me, it seems there are other matters we need to attend to first."


She paused and looked down at her lap, steadying herself.


"We can't address the issue of Blott's Architect without your abilities, Lisbeth, so it would seem that should be our next step. I've never jumped to another world, only different times in my own world. But the Knights are the ones who have controlled that until now. I can't promise it will work, but I could try."


She looked to William, then Blott, then Lisbeth...and her eyes went wide.


"Lisbeth, your hair!"

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

"My... hair?" Lisbeth asked, nonplussed.


It was true that she hadn't really done anything with it lately, and its curls did tend to get a bit disheveled, but that hardly warranted such a reaction. She crossed to the mirror that hung over the basin and saw the bright blue streak in her hair, just in front on her right side.


"What the stars..." she murmured, then added louder, "Frostine, what's going on?"


"This is what I've been trying to tell you: we're becoming fused."


"What do you mean 'becoming fused?' We're already fused."


"I mean that we're merging together into one being, and if we don't get separated soon we won't be able to. Stars and snows, we probably won't even understand that we used to be two people anymore."


"Good gods," Lisbeth breathed.


She swallowed and turned back to her companions. No doubt only hearing half of the exchange was confusing. She swallowed and cleared her throat.


"Frostine has informed me that our fusion is getting worse, and if we aren't separated soon... it's going to be permanent."

 

[ArtBlott]

Blott pursed her lips, "Soon? How soon is soon?" She felt silly asking, but it was an important distinction. Soon might be tomorrow, might be next week. She could feel a stress headache coming on. "Can't you just...do whatever made you merge, but do it backwards? But then," she continued, answering her own question, "you've lost your power, and we don't actually know where Frostine would go."


Great, she talked herself into a circle. She sat in silence for a while, mulling over the problem. "It would help if we knew exactly what threw you together and into our midst, but you mentioned a few days ago you weren't sure?" She posed it as a question. To be honest, she didn't remember, 100%, everything that had happened. Sure, it was only a few days ago, but there had been a lot of crazy in those few days. Multi-dimensional travel, looming threat of life and limb...oh yeah.


She kneaded her crows' head roughly, though it didn't seem to mind, "We certainly have a lot to deal with. Um..." ok, here we go, "before we go anything further, and not to detract from the urgency of your situation, Lisbeth, which I hope we can solve with all due haste, but I have a rather pressing request I'd like to get out of the way so we can move along."

 

[Lisbeth Walpurgis]

"To answer your questions, I don't know how soon. It's barely been a full day, albeit an extremely full and somewhat time-wonky day, and I'm already exhibiting physical symptoms. As for how I got thrown in with you all, it was a letter. I received an invitation to the Sitting Room from the Curator, and I immediately jumped there without warning. I was in the middle of Writing, so I think that something went wrong since I was interrupted."


She waved a hand, her brow furrowed.


"But what is this pressing request of yours?"

 

[ArtBlott]

"It sounds like it's very soon then. Please tell us if you feel it progressing more, we'll do our best to help fix it, or at least slow it down." She smiled in what she hoped as a reassuring way. Not as reassuring as her pats, she felt. Maybe she should go back to doing that. She'd been doing a lot of those.


"As for me...my request is simple. Clearly, things are getting more and more dangerous as time passes," Blott unbuttoned her left sleeve, rolling it up past her elbow to reveal the beginnings of stained skin, a crawling black pinned in by equally black nordic runes that seemed to drift from the black mass. It seemed to shift along the Artist's skin, like a pond with movement deep below the surface, "This is the source of my Ink. It's sealed right now, burrowing inward instead of out." She paused to let them look, avoiding the sight herself, "If I get killed, or hurt to the point of death, or if the skin those seals are on get damaged," she leveled her gaze at each of her companions, trying to press the importance of her words, " I'll need you to set me on fire. Use my crow. He'll know what to do, but if he can't, if he's gone or lost, a lighter will work. Burn me until there's nothing left but bone and ash. Even if I'm alive when you start."

 

[UCBooties]

William had said nothing as they discussed their plans. Indeed it seemed that he was only half paying attention. For the most part he was keeping one ear on his companions while he turned over the continuing problem of Black Iron House in his mind.


Genevieve was recovering some of her ability. That was useful, and could only prove more so if his theories about how to regain Lisbeth's gifts was correct. Lisbeth's condition was degenerative, that much was clear, but the workings of Writers was largely outside the purvue of Black Iron House. Most Writers did not stick around long enough to take on more that superficial trappings of the worlds and people they created. So far as he was aware, Lisbeth and Frostine's situation was unique. Regaining her ability to write and his own access to Black Iron House could only help to resolve that problem, not to mention their larger goal of defeating whatever metaphysical monstrosity Lisbeth had cooked up with her careless pen.


His attention was pulled entirely back into the conversation as the Artist spoke up and rolled up her sleeve.


His eyes were immediately transfixed on her arm.


"...Burn me until there's nothing left but bone and ash. Even if I'm alive when you start."


No sooner had she finished speaking than William sprang forward to snatch her bare arm. His left had closed tight about her wrist while his right grabbed her at the elbow, his thumb driving hard into cleft of the joint.


He ignored the indignant squawk of pained surprise that Blott's crow gave and leaned in close to consider the runes, his mouth moving quickly as he muttered words even he did not understand. His grip was surprisingly strong and his fingers were like iron bands around Blott's flesh.


"Fire, stone, raven's eye, the cold roots... A lock of hair tied round an iron ring... frost beard and wolfsbane..."


He wrenched Blott's arm out straight and chewed his lip as he considered.


"We'll need a clean, heavy blade, a bone saw if we can find one. Then alcohol for sterilization, fire for cauterization, clean bandages, forceps to prevent contamination and a cypruswood box."

 

[ArtBlott]

"Hey HEY HEY!" She pulled back on instinct, but couldn't budge, "You can't CUT IT OFF! Sweet Faen, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!" She twisted hard, her skin pulling and threatening to rip under the torsion. The pain burned along where the black was tattooed on her skin. She was rather glad she hadn't shown where it was spread up to her shoulder. She had a feeling this level of resistance would have shattered her scapula. "It's all I am on the inside, you idiot!" She looked wildly at her companions, "A little help?!"