Crawling Chaos 14

On the way up, the woman who Orison was carrying was just too weak to hold her breath and took in water, drowning. Once he reached the surface he laid her out and gave her CPR laced with a touch of healing the mage gave grudgingly with less than two days worth of reserve left. With a weak cough that was more a rattly spit, the woman started breathing again but her pulse was thready.

By the time that Orison had the two loaded into the boat, Neil popped up to the surface with a dead man. Since the boat was big enough, if barely, the young mage didn't object to Neil bringing the person's body aboard. AS Orison rowed the paddles for all he was worth, Neil looked down at the dead man silently.

As they neared the shore, Neil said, "Was it for nothing? Did anything I tried mean anything?"

Between labored breathes, Orison said, "It matters. Most importantly, you can sleep knowing that even though you didn't bring anyone back alive, you did bring one back and you did everything that you could without dying yourself. Maybe you don't believe that right now but it's true."

Pulling the boat into the recreational shed dock, Orison said, "Neil, go start yelling for help. I've got to get these two stabilized as best I can."

Laying them out, Orison said, "Here in a moment there's going to be people asking you questions. I need you to either tell them you were held by crazy people or say nothing at all. If you start spilling the truth, they aren't going to believe a word you say and you might find yourself being taken off somewhere that will be the same, if not worse, than where I got you."

A few seconds later, a couple of people were coming down the hill to check on the situation. In Orison's spirit sight, he could tell that one of them had a dark and filthy aura. He didn't waste a second. Orison lashed out with as fast and concentrated a spike of devouring intent he could and destroyed the man's seat of consciousness, watching as half his space filled up with inert essence again.

There was a small amount of strengthening to his formation but the amazing thing was, a little of the waste in his latticework disappeared. Half expecting to see it clogged up, he was taken by surprise. Whatever mysterious principle that made it possible was beyond Orison's understanding.

He shouted as he pushed with his glamour, "The sight must have been too much for him! I think he just had a stroke or something!"

As the remaining person slapped the man's face a couple of times and tried to bring the man back around, more people came down the hill along with a gaggle of rubberneckers. Sparing not a single second, Orison twisted, connived and abused people's free will with his glamour until they saw themselves in the back of a wood panel station wagon on their way to the 'big city' hospital. With so much flagrant disregard for morality, it didn't surprise him to see the small amount of waste that had disappeared just as mysteriously return to the latticework.

Anticipating the upcoming border and its incompatibility with his equipment, Orison let out a pained whimper as he pushed a telekinetic wedge in front of the general store lady's car. As they passed through, there was a sluggish feeling that passed through all of them and even busted a few surface capillaries in the store owner's legs but they made it through. With little more than dregs left of his reserve, Orison felt himself slipping into trance as a trickle of wetness much more prolific than the first time ran down the drying red trail under his nose. With a last fighting burst of will, Orison told Neil to call Mr. Carter first and tell the man everything in person, not over the phone.

The young mage was jostled from his recovery by a booming baritone voice in his aching head. "Call the hunt or all will die. Once done, I shall have purpose and I may not serve as I have, my lord, but I shall tithe to thee."

Disoriented and insensate, Orison let his sub-mind decide and drifted back off. In what only felt like seconds (nearly a quarter of an hour according to his sub-mind), Orison was knocked out of trance by the sound and violent swerving caused by a blown tire. The lady driving claimed that she had a spare but was afraid that it had been some time since she'd checked it.

Being near it, the young mage checked to discover that it was indeed flat as well. With an inward groan, Orison whipped up the last wisps of free reserve he had and mended it while giving rise to a little air inside. Right before lapsing into unconsciousness again, Orison reported that the tire was decent enough to get them to Port Haven. The last fully conscious thought the young mage would have for quite some time was of rolling out the back of the 'Willy' wagon because the back door/tailgate hadn't been latched properly and crossing the ragged boundary still exerted some pressure against him.

Suspended inside the ragged boundary instead of passing through it as a car would allow caused a strange sense of slowness to envelope Orison. Not truly conscious, the young mage's sub-mind worked to raise him and make their way through. Shy of the other side, the slowness intensified and a sense of falling sideways even as he stood was the last input of any kind before the sub-mind sensed nothing.

The occasional muted sense of someone or something passing in and out of his space was the only thing that gave the 'feeling' of time passing within the motionless still frame he had 'fallen' into. For the briefest of moments, Orison moved from a hard tug around his physical body before it felt like something passed through him. Though time was measureless in whatever crack of reality he'd fallen in, there was an intuition of a substantial amount passing before there was another tug on something close to his chest.

A feeling of passing through a resilient soap bubble preceded the return off all sensation. Even though it was dark, it felt too bright. Every minute flicker of input that danced over his skin felt so intense for the first few seconds, it almost caused him to lose consciousness again but he fought to stay awake. The very notion of giving up all the overwhelming number of tiny little proofs he existed terrified him.

Even with the help of his sub-mind, reassertion over long unused motor skills proved too much of a challenge as he tumbled into a sturdy frame wearing a leather jacket. While he struggled to gain his footing almost as awkwardly as a newborn colt, his mind reeled from the nausea inducing cologne to the millions of ions passing between himself and the person keeping him from eating dirt.

Each passing millisecond, Orison's sub-mind steadily lowered the intensity of sensation input to tolerable levels. He couldn't feel the passing of ions. The cologne mellowed out to something 'almost' pleasant. A million other overwhelming things came into a crystal clear focus he could handle.

Cold, logical information started filling in the gaps as his mind freed up resources for higher brain functions. Tactile sensation felt welcomed, pleasurable after having felt nothing for so long. His mind explored, identified and labeled. All that he was seeing and hearing, all the smells and physical sensations began to have meaning. Those meanings served functions.

This was a person. That person was a male. He was wearing different types of clothes and Orison was wearing an over robe with nothing else. The male was slightly warmer. He was having an involuntary response to Orison's naked touch. It wasn't a conscious choice. Orison knew that because he felt a small increase in blood flow as well. It was embarrassment. Both of them were embarrassed.

At first Orison didn't care because touching felt good but then he did as emotional and logical intelligence fed him information. The combination of emotional and physical sensation he was seeking was affection. Affection was something one primarily sought from the object of one's desire after puberty. Males did not fit that predisposed pattern for Orison. That didn't HAVE to matter but instinct mixed with knowledge revealed other purposes for affection and filled in why it mattered to other people and should matter to him.

Able to stand, Orison released his grip and backed away. The early twenties male kept steadying hands on Orison's shoulders, just in case, but appeared to be relieved for the distance between them. The sounds that the young man was making became patterns that transformed into information in the form of words.

At first the words were coming too fast for Orison's mind to assign meaning and then they started making sense. While the young man spoke, Orison's mind finished establishing previous order with slightly more efficient usage. Curiosity awakened along with other needs and wants.

The man in front of him was Jimmy, James's younger brother and one of the three J's. Through what Jimmy could share, the young mage realized he had been stuck in a sub-dimensional crack for nine years. From Jimmy's point of view, things were a great deal more simple.

He had come up with Neil and a few other folks he didn't know at the year anniversary of Orison's disappearance there. They hadn't been alone. There was news people too.

Out of everyone, Jimmy was the only one who came the third year and only because he'd caught his older brother kissing his girlfriend and had stolen his father's car at the tender age of fifteen. Realizing the day and having nothing better to do, he came. With Neil having moved to the 'Big Apple' and the pretty Asian lady being married with a baby to look after, he was the only one who showed up.

Probably having more to do with feeling sorry for himself after catching his brother putting moves on his girlfriend, Jimmy admitted to feeling broken up about Orison seemingly having been forgotten. That's when an 'angel' with a 'halo' made of flowers appeared and told him that Orison wasn't gone, he was trapped. She gave Jimmy the bronze sun medallion and told the boy that if he returned with that medallion in two years at sun down, he could save Orison.

The boy returned home in a daze and got the beating of his life from his father but he never forgot. Two years later, he came back but never told anyone. He said it was because he was afraid of what people would think but Orison wondered if it was partly because of the 'angel' he hoped to meet again. After all, it could have just been a crazy but beautiful woman yanking his chain but at his age then, crazy just made beautiful more approachable. Orison would have liked to introduce him to Rose.

The 'angel' didn't appear but for a few seconds, Orison did. Reaching out, Jimmy grabbed Orison by his shirt and pulled. It was working but less than two seconds later, the whole suit from turtleneck to boots, came through the young mage's fading body. The woman's voice said that he'd almost succeeded and that if he could still find the heart to care three years later, he could try again.

Year six, his girlfriend at the time followed him secretly. She was convinced he was riding out to hook up with a 'fast' girl somewhere else. The argument they got into caused Jimmy to miss his moment to save Orison and the explosion afterwards ended their relationship. He probably wouldn't have came back for year nine had it not been for the sound of a woman's weeping he had heard before he rode away. That sound haunted him. Jimmy's story that had Orison reading between the lines to really understand, finally ended.

The young man looked around and shouted, "Well, I finally got it done. I, uh, hope you're happy now and don't gotta cry no more."

Orison could tell that Jimmy was 'hoping' for a lot of things but there wasn't so much as a peep uttered for him. Orison, on the other hand, got a message from both the flower maid and Herne. Apparently, by fey standards, Orison was the maid's father in spirit and for them to have a 'fulfilling' union, Orison had to release her from his barrow to join her intended's. It was as simple as cutting her loose from his plane in a way that Herne could intercept. It took more time to blink than finish.

With a silent well wishing, Orison prompted the disappointed Jimmy with a quick question. "Do you have my clothes by any chance?"

Spluttering for a second, the young man reached into the saddlebag on his motorcycle and handed Orison a set of slightly moldy smelling swim trunks and a shirt. Orison hit them with a presto before putting them on.

Looking down in the dumps, Jimmy said, "Nine years and two main squeezes later, no angel, huh?"

Orison chuckled. "If you're good at keeping secrets, my gratitude isn't too shabby of a consolation prize."

The young man looked at Orison with an appraising eye and said, "You grant wishes or something?"

At the absurdity of it all, Orison laughed until a tear came rolling out. "I'm no Jinn but if you have some realistic wishes, I can give it a shot. Believe me. Between the two, I'm probably the safer bet."

Jimmy shrugged, trying to act cool while thrumming with anticipation inside. "Let me think on it. Speaking of which, you got a place to crash?"

Orison said, "Until I can get a hold of some people, I could do with a place to be instead of roaming around til morning."

The ride back was an hour of heart stopping hell. There was no supernatural events, just a young man who liked to show off. Once Jimmy realized that Orison actually didn't like the thrill of speeding around other vehicles and popping wheelies, he actually mixed it up with other fate tempting maneuvers until the arms gripped around his chest felt like they were going to break his ribs... literally.

The torture was over for both of them as they pulled up in front of a familiar, if a little more dingy and run down, apartment building. "I got Rhoda's old place for real cheap. No one wanted it cause it smelled like cat p*ss and old lady but I fixed it up good in the last couple of years... Don't tell the landlord. He'll raise the rent on me... I keep a bucket of used cat litter and some tarped dirty rugs in the coat closet I open up and lay down when he comes around. So yeah, don't open the coat closet. I keep jack else in there."

Over the next couple of hours, Jimmy chatted with Orison. They talked about where people were and what they were up to. Jimmy touched on important world events and after a a beer or two, about his crushed hopes and dreams. While the young mage half listened, he began combing through internal changes and piecing together what happened to him over the nine years spent as an amber trapped fly.

At a casual glance, Orison had to exercise his meditative training to keep from losing control. The tiny remaining mote of condensed eternium and the thimble full of inner plane weren't nearly what they appeared. It was because the stable part of space around his eternium formation had grown exponentially larger.

The young mage had no idea how or what it would take to accomplish the growth of his space in such a way that it wouldn't have overwhelmed and destroyed him but it had. At it's center, a basketball sized orb of condensed eternium blazed fiercely and even produced enough residual heat that it couldn't be touched by him physically anymore without being severely burned. A thin, hazy ring of motes circled the orbit of his inner plane as several more were scattered sparsely across it like twinkling stars.

His inner plane, the shape of a sheered off inverted mountain top, was easily over half a football field wide in diameter on the surface. There was a hole around the size of his plane before the incident that was half filled with 'heavy' water, that for all it appeared was more like clear, pure vital essence in liquid form. The rest of the surface was a partially spiritual herb and flower garden. Despite their acquired spiritual nature, the actual use of the plants wasn't much removed from their mundane cousins but would lend themselves to magical application much better.

Gone was the original spiritual grass and aside from a small patch of ginseng and a couple of other mildly supernatural use plants, it was practically a semi ghost garden. All the five colored soil was gone too but the dark, loamy earth and nearly diamond hard shell that cupped it all felt more intimately his, an extension of him rather than something he possessed. For all that it seemed impressive and even nice to look at, he'd have to carefully consider value vs. cost of letting more inert essence into his space or it's equilibrium could easily be destroyed and there wasn't anything helping to protect that equilibrium on his behalf anymore.

While rubbing the mustard seed bracelet on his wrist, Orison contemplated its claiming of the original plane material and spirit grass. He balanced it on the scale of what the bracelet had done for him and how, with Herne and Flora's help, it had ended up being for the best. Without the bracelet, that plane wouldn't have survived Osomo's claiming and his sub-mind had plenty of time to study what it was the spirit grass did anyway. He let it go without a fuss and felt a slight sense of acceptance form between him and the bracelet.

The young mage released a handful of preying mantis sized orbs of 'proto' fairies that he'd let determine their own identities and appearance as they matured, to somewhat fill the function of overseeing plane growth and garden tending. He realized that his new limit on evolving summoned creatures had more to do with his soul's ability to nurture them than his plane's ability to support them. After summoning a horse and a two foot tall 'proto' elemental of each classical element, he felt like it wasn't a good idea to create any more for the time being.

With nothing else of importance to note, Orison turned back to focusing a little more politely on what Jimmy was rambling about. A few seconds later, the young mage's sub-mind brought to his attention a very import ant fact. His crystal capsule was missing as well.