5:5
At the top of the pit Ivan, Patti, Prairie, and Dan slowly recovered from the challenge of yanking Dan free of the pit. Prairie’s fingers wouldn’t completely unbend, though she carefully pulled and stretched them. There was a growing bruise around Dan’s wrist where Prairie had dug her fingers in, but it was one of many as he’d hit the wall of the pit pretty hard and had also smashed sticks and debris between himself and it when he did so. So his entire body was probably a tapestry made up of red and blue spots.
Tapestry. That reminded him. Rolling up he sat with his knees up and his arms draped over them. “I might have an idea for how to get them out of the pit.”
Ivan looked up from where he was studiously not looking at Prairie and her self-ministrations. “What?”
“Something Kim said got me thinking. Actually two things she said. The first was her suggestion to fill the hole with water. As you can probably see we are lacking that resource.” He swept a hand to encompass the landscape. “We’re, in fact, missing most resources. Except the grass. Or more importantly what the grass is made of.”
“Grass. The grass is made of grass. I mean, Siobhan could probably explain the cellulose structure but… its just grass.”
“I don’t think it is.” Dan reached down and tried to pull a strand of grass out of the ground. It didn’t budge. Looking up, he made a point of pulling again. “I’m pretty sure this is not grass. Or at least it isn’t yet. Look real close at it.”
Ivan gave him a skeptical look but Prairie made a point of rolling over on her belly and staring intently.
“It’s really hard to look at.” She announced. “It’s kind of…”
“Fuzzy?” Dan finished for her to which she nodded.
“Yes. Fuzzy. I can’t focus on it. It’s making my eyes cross.”
“Your brain is trying to process visual cues which actually aren’t there.”
“Come again?” Ivan stooped down to look at the grass, tugging experimentally at it and determining that it definitely didn’t come up like grass should come up. And it didn’t feel like grass should feel. He rubbed several shoots between his fingers, then lifted his fingers to his nose to sniff. Didn’t smell like grass either. It smelled like… nothing.
“The grass isn’t here. None of this is here.” Another gesture to the surrounds.
“But we can see it.” Patti gave Dan a skeptical look. “Sort of.”
“You are seeing what someone wants you to see.”
“So, its an illusion?” Prairie asked.
“That’s where we start to get into theory. I don’t think it is. We can touch it, we can interact with it. Right now we can’t smell it and probably if we tried we couldn’t taste it, but that hasn’t been the case until this specific landscape. I ate food when we encountered Koura at her tea party and it tasted like food.” Another hand sweep. “I’ve never met a Magicker that can manipulate illusion to that extent. Not saying it couldn’t happen because we all know we’ve run into at least five things, maybe more, during this whole situation that we would have previously called ‘impossible’.”
“So, what’s your theory?” Ivan asked.
“That’s where the second thing Kim said comes in. Remember she just said that the glowing threads that grabbed us when we were finding Diana seem to be weaved under the sticks that were holding me up?”
Several head nods.
“I think that those somehow make up stories. Or Story. At Diana’s I read the story of Cinderella and the strands that had attacked us wove into that tapestry that had the elements of Cinderella in it.”
“We haven’t seen anything like that before.”
“You,” Dan emphasized the word, “haven’t seen anything like that before. I have. Or, I may have. I saw something like it when we got pulled into Mal’s Story. I only caught glimpses. The strongest was when I read the story and we fell into it. I saw something like a weaving. It was loose and it engulfed each of you in its threads. Then throughout that adventure I’d swear I kept seeing a weaving through the clouds.”
“And this means what?”
“Theoretically someone is writing a Story. But its not completely finished yet. This,” hand sweep, “is the roughest draft we’ve seen. Its why the grass is all wrong. I think if we were able to see on a microscopic level the reason everything is fuzzy is because its all made up of words.”
“Huh?” This came from Patti.
“So,” Dan turned fully to Patti, “you weren’t there in Mal’s story so you didn’t see what happened to Kim and apparently to Ivan when they got removed. The giant called out “Delete Character” and then hit Kim and she turned into a swirl of words. Words that I’d use to describe her if I was writing her as a character. Then when the giant was beheaded by Mal his blood changed to words and drifted away.”
“Which means?”
“None of this is real. We aren’t real. Only we kind of are. That’s where it gets sketchy. I’m not sure how this works. Why we’re able to interact. What Magick is at play. What the House is.” He firmed his mouth to keep back the flow of frustration. “Basically all I have is a theory with nothing to back it and sure as Magick no understanding of how to affect it.”
Ivan tented his fingers. “You mentioned using the threads.”
“I mentioned the threads as something we could use.”
Patti plunked down beside Dan and pulled Sass from its palanquin to gently pet the mouse with a single finger. “How?”
“Uncertain.”
Silence settled between them as they each puzzled over the problem until eventually Ivan broke it with a question. “You took the strings or strands or whatever and made them into a tapestry at Diana’s. Can’t you do something like that now?”
“I had a book. Specifically I had the equivalent of the original book, or as close as I could get. I just provided the threads with a roadmap, basically, by reading the original words while applying my Magick.”
“So do that again.”
“Can’t. I don’t have the book. The original was published in 1711 as a chapbook.”
At Patti and Prairie’s confused looks – Ivan was far too focused to let confusion into his expression – Dan expanded. “Chapbooks were street literature. They were printed on cheap paper which didn’t stand the test of time. Finding a chapbook from 1711 in a condition, usually bound, that can be used for Magick is difficult. I don’t know a single Bibliomancer who can claim to own such a thing. There’s a few that have chapbooks under glass, but if you touch them you risk damaging them. They aren’t a resource you can use in the practice of Magick.”
“Besides,” he sighed, “From what I’ve read about this tale,” at Patti’s head cock he added, “Jack the Giant Killer. From what I’ve read about the original 1711 chapbook it wasn’t the original story. Likely it was a bunch of stories about giants the publisher gathered together. Which makes sense when you think about the structure of the tale.”
Another look from Patti. “It’s a story of a guy named Jack. Jack was a name commonly used in folk tales for a witty guy who got by on charm and intelligence and often defeated their foes using cunning and subterfuge. Think Ben but in Ye Olden times. In it Jack went all over the place killing giants. He killed eight in total in the story. And he did a lot of impossible feats to make that happen. Like this,” he swept a hand back at the pit. “What guy takes a shovel and digs a twenty-two foot deep pit in a night? Honestly between the lack of grounding in anything resembling reality and the grinding pace of a story that follows adventures to find and kill eight giants I’ve always kind of hated the story. I think other people do too, which would explain why it isn’t one of the popular fairy tales.”
“I’d never heard of it,” Patti said.
“There are certain culture that have hero tales of similar length and complexity. Most of those relied upon oral tradition to record their histories, which frequently morphed into myths and folk tales. Its really fairly fascinating but not relevant to this situation. Anyhow, long story short, the original chapbook wouldn’t be usable for Magick because it would be damaged by frequent use and also because it wouldn’t be the original story. The Cinderella story I read wasn’t the original either but it was one of the first versions that most readers were introduced to, so that lends Magick to it. Bibliomancy taps into the energy that people have invested in it. The more popular a story the more likely it is it can be manipulated by a Bibliomancer. Maybe if we were living in the time when epic hero stories were popular there’d be more Magick in a copy of Jack the Giant Killer.”
He rolled his eyes. “I went way into lecture land there.”
“It’s okay. Sometimes we don’t know what we need to solve a problem until we’re provided with the information that we can use.” Prairie wrinkled her nose. “That sounded better in my head.”
Dan tipped his imaginary hat to her. “And welcome to trying to explain Bibliomancy.”
“Huh.” Patti leaned forward a little. “The thing about people investing in a story and giving it power is similar to a theory I have about Bardic Magick. The more popular a song and the more people who know it to join in the stronger the Magick is that is wrought by it. I guess I never considered the parallels but if you think about it Bibliomancy and Bardic Magick share similar threads. I could use a really obscure song and call Magick with it, but its thinner. Diluted.”
“Faded!” Ivan exclaimed. “You think that’s why the grass is wrong?”
Dan tugged his earlobe. “It’s a theory.”
“But how does that get Ben, Kim, and Gwen out of the hole?” Patti asked.
“It doesn’t.” Dan scratched his temple and flashed a sheepish grin. “I went off on a tangent. What I think is those threads are holding the elements of the story up. Or together. Or both. Or…” He trailed off. “Maybe the words pull energy from the…” He rolled his eyes. “I digress. Again. I think we might be able to get the threads to fill the pit. Or raise the floor of it. Or make there be no pit.”
“How?” Ivan was a very concrete guy. He liked concrete things. Things he could touch and manipulate and modify. There was little concrete in what Dan was dancing around.
“Magick?”
Ivan forced his fingers to uncurl. Cannot choke Dan. Amend, must not choke Dan. Could choke Dan but won’t.
“The threads responded to our singing last time,” Patti blurted out on a revelation.
“Huh?”
“They… danced?” The last word lifted on a question.
“They danced? As in a question. Or they danced, as in a statement?”
“Seriously, asshole,” Patti snapped. “Not appreciating the ‘tude.”
Ivan scrubbed a hand over his head. “Damn it, Patti. Sorry. My bad. I’m just frustrated. My best friend is down a hole. My Magick is useless for on-the-fly solutions. And it *feels* like Dan may be on to something but I don’t understand it.”
Patti acknowledged the apology with a nod but didn’t unfold her arms from across her chest. Sass squawked in her fist, whether because she was squishing the mouse or in outrage at Ivan too. It was probably in outrage. He mostly deserved it.
Rather than answering Ivan, Patti turned and looked to Dan. “When we sang the string things danced.”
“So they responded to your Magick?”
“Pretty sure, yeah, unless they were just feeling a jive coming on.”
Dan nodded and chewed over the implications.
Prairie, who had been quiet up to then, suddenly said, “The threads or strings or parts of Story have a presence in Spiritis.”
Dan jerked his head in her direction to see Prairie tracing her hands over the air with her gaze unfocused. He rolled to his knees and very gently closed a hand around her wrist. The restriction must have brought her back to what she called “The Real” because her eyes focused and her hands stopped moving.
“Oh, hi, Dan.”
“Hi, Prairie. Were you saying something?”
Voice like the ghosts she saw with her Magick, she said, “I was. Probably.”
“What was it?”
She screwed up her face, then her expression smoothed. “The thread things glow in Spiritis.”
“Does that mean they are Spirit?”
A shrug. “Not sure. They don’t seem right. But they are there. Only I don’t think they should be?” She paused, bit her lip, looked down as if in thought, then added, “They are like the footprints I’ve been seeing of the missing people, only in reverse. The footprints are black, like they are the absence of Spirit but in the Spiritis. These strings are white, really white. And they are everywhere. Just like a grid laid over the world, breaking it into tiny pixels.”
“Which means?”
“I’m not sure. I just mentioned it in case it was relevant.”
“Still not getting Ben, Gwen, and Kim out of the hole.” Ivan pressed, a tin soldier marching in a set pattern and unable to divert.
The memory of Gwen having him grab something he couldn’t see and lend his Magick to ripping it from the air teased across Dan’s mind. And an idea started forming.
“Prairie? I need you to look at the Spiritis at the bottom of the pit. Can you direct it that specifically?”
Prairie nodded.
“Okay, then I need you to put my hands under the part of the grid at the bottom of the pit. Then squeeze my hands to let me know they are in the right place and I’m going to focus my will and Magick on the strings to change where they are located. I can’t see the strings but you can with your Magick. And you can’t change them but I believe I can with my Magick. I think you and I, together, might be able to bring the bottom up to the same level we are and remove the pit. Ben, Gwen, and Kim should, theoretically, bob to the top like corks.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Patti asked.
“Funny enough, yes. I think you can. I need you to focus your Magick on Prairie and I. I think it will bind us together, kind of like we were bound by the Magick in Mal’s story. Do you know a song that might work for that?”
Patti considered a second then offered, “Do you know ‘Ain’t no mountain high enough’ by Marvin Gaye?”
“Even I know that song.” Ivan said.
Patti turned and looked at Ivan. “Then I’ll need you to sing along. Like I said, the more people I can get to invest the stronger my Magick feels.”
With a plan in hand, the four of them took up position about five feet from the edge of the pit. Just in case there was any disturbance along the edge, Dan suggested this distance.
“Ready?” Dan asked Prairie.
Prairie nodded then turned to Patti. “Ready?”
Patti lifted her chin. Sass peeped. Then Patti turned to Ivan. “Ready?”
His “Ready” was a little more tentative but still a ‘Ready’.
“Dan,” Prairie said, putting words to deeds, “I’m going to take your wrists in my hands so I can direct you. You should put your palms up, I think.”
Dan nodded. “Makes sense. Like this?”
He rotated his wrists in her loose hold and she smiled. “Exactly. When your hands are in position I’ll try to squeeze your wrists. Hopefully it will go from Spiritis to the Real.” Drawing a breath in through her nostrils, she turned to Patti. “Patti? I think it would help if you were actively in contact with me when we do this. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes. Where do you want me to touch?”
“Maybe my shoulder or my upper arm? I need to be able to move my hands but I don’t think that would restrict my movement much.”
Patti slanted a glance over her shoulder to Ivan. “Would you like to touch me?”
Ivan jerked a nod in denial. “I think I’ll keep it loose just in case anything approaches.”
“Okay. But I will need you to sing.”
“Can do.”
With that Dan, Prairie, and Patti fell into the agreed formation and Prairie took the step to the side in her head, moving into the Spiritis. To her surprise when she fully opened her Magick to see the surrounds there was a vague Dan-shape standing in front of her with her hands around his wrists. A look to her side and she found a Patti-shape hovering around her shoulder.
Wow, she thought. She’d never had anyone share in her Magick before. She wondered if they were actually there or she was just seeing them because they were touching her and her mind was transferring an image of them to the Spiritis. This question was answered when the Dan-shape made a wondering ‘oh’ of their mouth as they craned their neck to look around. The Patti-shape was doing something similar.
Prairie looked around the Spiritis, taking in the soap-bubble and sunshine sheen of the layers that made it up. Even here in the Mystery House with all its… mystery Spiritis appeared the same. Layer upon shimmering layer of whisper thin Energy making a warped pastel landscape that wrapped around her like the air during a heatwave without the oppressive heat, heavy like a weight blanket with its promise of security. Considering their awestruck expressions she liked to imagine Patti and Dan were witnessing it as she did.
Over and under and through, on a plane that somehow cut diagonally through the levels of Spiritis like a ray of light cutting through clouds, a song played. “… there ain’t no mountain high enough. Ain’t no valley low enough. Ain’t no river wide enough. To keep me from getting to you babe. Remember the day I set you free? I told you you could always count on me, darling.”
Arrowing her senses towards the direction of the pit, Prairie stretched out her spectral hands through her senses, without moving her body at all, drawing Dan’s hands along with her ghostly ones. The landscape she directed them over looked like three-dimensional topography with depression contours that mapped the dip of the pit, the isolines made up of glowing strands. She squeezed Dan’s phantasmal wrists as she scooped his hands under the lines that defined the bottom of the pit.
“From that day on, I made a vow. I’ll be there when you want me. Some way, some how.”
“Now,” she whispered halfway between the Real and Spiritis.
A surge of Magick, foreign to her own and yet somehow kin, flowed out in the Spiritis. It resembled the beam of light effect of what Prairie thought to be Patti’s Magick filtering through the layers of Spiritis, but more like an aurora because it contained dancing lights within it, pulsing plasma swirling on a solar wind.
Wow.
The aurora floated under the glowing isolines, pulsing like a heartbeat, like a breath beneath them. And with ever pulse of the aurora the isolines rose slightly. Beat, beat, beat. Rise, rise, rise.
And under and around the beat wove a sound like layered voices singing, the melody warped through the layers of Spiritis. What Prairie was calling the isolines of the typography pulsed in time to the rhythm. “’Cause, baby, there ain’t no mountain high enough.”
Beat. Beat.
“Ain’t no valley low enough.”
Beat.
“Ain’t no river wide enough to keep me from getting to you, babe.”
The topography flattened out with a pop like suction.
Prairie jerked her eyes open and slowly withdrew her hands from Dan’s wrists. His hands were shaking. His breath was ragged. And there was expression of wonder, like it was his birthday and he was five and he was approaching the kitchen table loaded with presents all with his name on them, that transformed his face into something resembling divinity.
Next to her Patti stopped singing but left her hand very lightly on Prairie’s shoulder. Prairie turned and saw tears glazing Patti’s cheeks and the look Patti bestowed on Prairie was like benediction.
“Oh, Ivan,” she breathed. “What you missed.” Sass, in her hand, hugged her finger with a blissed out expression on its face.
Ivan didn’t hear Patti as he was already moving forward with a shout to where Kim and Gwen sat with stunned expressions beside a supine Ben.
“What just happened?” Kim whispered. “We were in the pit and the wall was to our backs and then everything was slipping away and we were floating?”
She looked to Gwen who had an equally dazed expression in her too-wide eyes. “Did we just fly? Was that flying?”
Ivan stooped next to Ben and pressed his finger to Ben’s neck. At least one of them had to remain sensible.
Damn. So that had been some freaky stuff and he was actually the only one who had gotten to witness it. There’d been singing and then a sound like chanting with words that were too blurred to actually separate one from the other and then the earth just burped and the pit flattened out and Gwen, Kim, and Ben drifted up like they were on rising bread dough. Yeah, that was a stupid image but literally the only one that came to Ivan’s mind.
What a mind fuck.
“How did that happen?” Kim rose and approached Dan, Prairie, and Patti where they were all sitting looking a little dazed.
“It was…” Prairie cocked her head and smiled, that kind of dazzled smile of someone high on something. Which she kind of was. “Magick.”
“Wow,” Patti breathed. “Is that how Magick is supposed to work? I feel completely amped and yet also unbelievably relaxed.”
“My arms are like jello.” Dan lifted his arm, emphasizing how it flopped back to his side.
“My brain is like jello!” Patti smiled slow and turned to Prairie with drifty, lyrical motions. “Is that what Spiritis feels like?”
Prairie cocked her head, real slow. “Sort of. But… no?”
“Here,” Kim offered Patti her arm. “Time to get up and moving.”
“Oh. Okay.” Patti’s response had an echo of the sweet, gentle tones Prairie often employed.
“Prairie?” Kim turned and offered Prairie a hand up which the smaller woman accepted with a grin. “You look…”
“Happy?” Prairie offered.
“I was going with high, but sure. Happy.”
“It sort of feels like when you jolted me after I communicated with Karen at Bisman’s house, only better.”
Kim raised her brows. Better than consuming her fire Magick? Hollowing her out? The ramifications were not lost on Kim but it didn’t feel like the time or the place so she shoved the thought into her thought vault, then turned and crouched next to Dan. “You ready to go?”
Dan nodded slowly, wiping the dazed expression away with a brush of his hand and rising to his feet. “Yep.”
“So, what’s next?”
Dan rolled his eyes and sighed. “Giants. Probably a lot of giants.”
“Super!”
Enter The Woods 