From owner-wod-l@netcom.com Fri Jun 21 13:26:49 1996 Received: from mail6.netcom.com (root@mail6.netcom.com [192.100.81.142]) by mail.nada.kth.se (8.6.10/8.6.10) with ESMTP id NAA23245 for ; Fri, 21 Jun 1996 13:26:46 +0200 Received: (from daemon@localhost) by mail6.netcom.com (8.6.13/Netcom) id UAA20879; Sun, 16 Jun 1996 20:07:08 -0700 Received: from mail.iglou.com (relay.iglou.com [192.107.41.5]) by mail6 (8.6.13/Netcom) id UAA20862; Sun, 16 Jun 1996 20:07:03 -0700 Received: from iglou.com [root@192.107.41.3] by mail.iglou.com (8.7.3/8.6.12) with smtp id m0uVUeb-00035wC; Sun, 16 Jun 96 23:07 EDT Date: Sun, 16 Jun 1996 23:06:57 -0400 (EDT) From: Mark Kinney X-Sender: alberich@iglou To: wod-l@netcom.com Subject: FICTION: Ties That Bind Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII Sender: owner-wod-l@netcom.com Precedence: list Reply-To: wod-l@netcom.com Status: RO X-Status: Well, I'm burning out on Closing the Circle at the moment... I *will* finish it, but in the meantime for your approval is a story I wrote a year or so ago and forgot about until I found it again while cleaning out files from old disks. I'm not entirely happy with it, so any comments anyone would like to give to improve it are welcome (or even if I should bother :-). It isn't on the web site yet, but I'm sure it'll go there eventually. TIES THAT BIND by Mark Kinney Elizabeth opened the door to reveal a tall, thin, black-haired figure, dressed simply in beige slacks and a black dress shirt, with an ornate silver medallion hung from a cord around her neck. "You're Ms. Whitlock?" Elizabeth asked uncertainly. The woman before her simply nodded. Elizabeth invited her inside, and she immediately got to the point. "What is wrong with your son, Mrs. Larson?" Elizabeth sat down on a large plain brown couch, and her guest took a nearby chair. Elizabeth clasped her hands in front of her face, remembering all that had happened recently. "Well, Ms. Whitlock--" "Please, call me Barbara." Elizabeth nodded, then continued her story. "About three months ago, William became suicidal. He's tried to kill himself five times now, and I suspect he'll try again soon." Emotion nearly overcame her, and as Elizabeth struggled to regain her composure, she felt Barbara's hand on her shoulder. "Be calm, Elizabeth," Barbara said, and a peace came over Elizabeth's mind. "Continue, now." "I've taken him to therapists, they say that although he has a few problems, he doesn't seem suicidal to them. I've taken him to doctors, thinking it might be a chemical problem or something like that, but there's nothing wrong. I don't know what happened to him. He's led a good life, had a lot of good fortune, and has never done anything bad to anyone. My uncle, Leonard, was here a week ago... he mentioned some 'circle' he belonged to sometimes... he observed the situation for a few days, and said he would have help sent to us." Barbara nodded, replying, "Indeed, Leonard Correll is a respected member of our organization. He should perhaps not have spoken about us to you, but he has helped us many times in the past, and my elders decided to lend aid in his family's need." "Your elders?" "I am an apprentice, you might say, but they deemed me capable of handling the situation. Was there any indication at all of some problem beforehand?" "No, nothing. If anything, I'd say he was extraordinarily lucky." "How so?" "Things seemed to come to him. When Uncle Leonard noticed this before, he simply said something like, 'William's not doing it,' or whatever. I never understood that, and he would never explain." "That is understandable. May I see you son?" Elizabeth led Barbara upstairs to a room in one of the back corners of the house. The walls were covered in posters of rock stars and favorite actresses, remnants of a teenage existence, the only thing betraying the true age of the occupant being the relative neatness of the rest of the room. A stereo on a nearby bookshelf played light pop music, and the only light in the room came from a lamp on the desk. On a bed lying against the back wall, a young red-haired man slept, oblivious to their presence. "How old is he?" Barbara asked. "Twenty three," Elizabeth answered. Barbara walked over to the bed, pulled the chair from the desk, and sat down next to William's bed. She placed her hand on his forehead, and seemed to enter a deep concentration. This lasted for about a half- minute, then Barbara looked over at William. "No, this is not your time, is it," she said softly, then turned to Elizabeth. "In order to properly do my work, I must ask that you leave me alone with him. There could be serious repercussions otherwise." Elizabeth assented, adding, "If you need anything, I'll be downstairs." She left, pulling the door closed behind her. Barbara couldn't help thinking that her businesslike handling of the situation had put Elizabeth off somewhat, but she could not be concerned with sparkling impressions at a time like this. Barbara turned her attention back to William, and began looking around the room, seeking out the presence that Leonard had believed was the source of their trouble. Before long, she found it -- an emanation from near William's bed, strongly linked to him. Barbara probed at the connection -- it was strong indeed, spanning not only space and time, Barbara knew, but also the line between life and death. She was going to have to go into the spirit world, she decided, and face whatever this was on its ground. She always found entering the Shadowlands distasteful; although her mentors seemed to relish the experience, she did not like the decay that everything there presented. She had watched her father waste away from cancer years before this, just before Justin found her and adopted her into the Circle, before her Awakening. She couldn't stand the slow death everpresent in the shadow world, but she would have to go nonetheless, to insure that such a thing did not happen to William as well. She stood, holding out her arms, her eyes closed, feeling the quintessence flow through her, the power growing in her like the ocean coming in at high tide. She pierced the barrier easily enough, far easier than she ever had before; probably because of the link, she thought. Barbara opened her eyes. She saw the room still around her, but now the walls were crumbling, shreds of poster still hanging from some. William could be seen as well, still sleeping in his now collapsed bed, and beside him was the shocked image of a young blond woman, markings covering her face, the rest of her form hidden in shrouds. "You're not supposed to be here," she said. "Who are you?" Barbara asked. The shrouded figure looked over at William, then back at Barbara with black-irised eyes. "You're not going to take him," she said. "You don't frighten me, death mage. I'll protect him." "I'm not after him. I want to know what's going on. Who are you?" The spirit considered this, then relented, allowing its eyes to resume their original blue tint. "My name in the living world was Jennifer Keegan. I went to school with William." "What happened to you?" Jennifer looked down at the floor. "I thought no one cared. I... I..." Barbara closed her eyes, shaking her head. "It's okay, Jennifer," she said, looking back to the spirit form. "Go on." "William and I were sort of friends, at least as much as the crowd would let me. Everyone put him down, and I went along with it sometimes. I even helped play a big joke on him once. Eventually I stopped hearing from him. Everyone else left too, eventually." Barbara noticed a tear rolling down Jennifer's cheek. "I'd never been that alone before. It hurt so much..." The tears could no longer be checked, and Barbara found herself holding Jennifer's ghostly form, comforting her. "What happened next? Why are you staying here with him?" "When I came over, I found I couldn't go any further. I found out that what feelings I did have for him bound me to him. That's how I found out..." "What?" "He still cared. No matter how badly I treated him, even if it did hurt him, he cared. I figured that I was supposed to watch over him to atone for whatever I had done." "How long ago was this?" "About a year and a half I think... I'm not even sure anymore." Barbara nodded. "Go on." "And now he must join us." Jennifer's tone of voice changed, and the sobbing form now sat straight up, as solid as the earth and colder than the Alaskan tundra Barbara would wander around as a child. Barbara backed away from the figure, whose form was changing. Its hair gained a red tinge, the eyes turned a solid black; its head hung at an unnatural angle, with a noose around its broken neck. The figure moved toward Barbara. "You will not take him from us," it said. "He is ours." Barbara gestured, and a force held the specter back as it advanced, claws outstretched, reaching for Barbara's neck-- Suddenly, it was once again the form that Barbara originally encountered. Jennifer collapsed to the ground, a look of terror on her face, she held her head in her hands, screaming "Not again, please!" "Jennifer, what's wrong?" Barbara asked. "I can't... fight it much longer." "What?" "Trying to... kill... protect..." Jennifer strained to get every word out against the onslaught of the dark force making itself apparent as parts of the darker image came and went. She writhed under its influence, struggling to keep it from emerging. Barbara realized what has happening. Justin had told her little of wraiths, but she was aware of the Shadow, a corrupting force born of their weaknesses in life. In this case, it drove Jennifer's affection into possessiveness, her desire to watch over him and protect him mutated into its ultimate extreme, the wish to bring him over. This was the cause of it all, She realized. Barbara drew what quintessence she could from her surroundings in this plane, and Jennifer calmed down, her dark side subsiding. Jennifer stayed on the ground, crying as Barbara knelt down beside her. "Can you fight it?" Barbara asked. "It started about three months ago... I've tried to fight but it's so hard... Can you help me?" "Even this spell is merely a temporary measure. My ways do not rule here. There is only one way I can truly help." "How?" "You must move on to your final destiny. I can free you from him, and you must then leave him." "No... I can't just leave..." "If you don't, your own darkness will overwhelm him, and you will not only have killed yourself, you will have killed him too. Is that what you want?" Jennifer composed herself, and sat up, leaning against the nearby wall. "No," she said. "Breaking the bond... it won't make me forget, will it?" "What do you mean?" "Will I remember I loved him?" Barbara saw the worry in her eyes, but couldn't give her the honest answer. "I don't know." Jennifer nodded. "Do it." Barbara closed her eyes and called the power back to her. She saw the bond tying Jennifer to the living world; it was the only thing that kept the wraith here. She tried to cut it, but the power of the bond was strong. Still, Barbara struggled with it, using her power to cut at the connection like a knife, but the effect was like using a butter knife on a frozen sausage; it could be cut, but it was long, hard work. Finally, the connection severed. Barbara was jarred out of her trance and into consciousness by the explosive effect. As she watched Jennifer, again struggling with the darkness and fading from view, she realized that the efforts had not had the effect she had hoped for. The Shadow would not take Jennifer, but she would not celebrate any liberation; she would not exist long enough for that. Jennifer realized this too, as in her moments of dominance she at first looked horrified, but as her disintegration progressed, she became calm, and in her final moment in control, before fading from view, mouthed two words to Barbara and then vanished into the void. "Thank you." Barbara sat back against the bed, her mind reeling from the experience. She tried to calm herself, but could not help wondering if she really deserved Jennifer's thanks. Maybe it was better than letting Jennifer devolve into a twisted specter from the loving being she used to be, but Barbara couldn't help but think it was all a waste. Barbara awoke in the living world, not knowing how long she had been out. The room was as she had left it, except that William, instead of sleeping calmly as he had before, had tossed and turned, his body embraced by the mass of twisted linens. She stood up and looked over William, thinking about what Jennifer had said. "I'm sorry," she whispered, allowing herself a few tears. She wiped them away, regained her composure and proceeded back downstairs. Elizabeth met her at the bottom of the stairs. "Well?" she asked. "It should be okay now. I have... removed the problem." "Thank you," Elizabeth said gratefully. "I, uh, don't have much money--" "We ask no payment; don't concern yourself with it." "Thank you." Barbara walked down the path to the street, and as she opened her car door, she turned back toward the house. She quickly weighed the options in her mind, and decided she owed Jennifer at least that much. Barbara turned back toward the house and yelled back, "Mrs. Larson?" Elizabeth had nearly shut the door when she heard Barbara calling out to her. She opened the door again and looked out. "What is it?" she asked. "There is one personal favor I would ask of you." "What's that?" "When William wakes up, tell him to remember that Jennifer loved him." "Jennifer? But she--" "I know. Will you tell him?" Elizabeth nodded, understanding. "I will." Mark Kinney | alberich@iglou.com | http://www.iglou.com/nations/ Publisher/Editor, League of Nations postal Diplomacy zine (league.html) "You're all nekkid!" "I still have an armor jacket" -- from a recent Shadowrun session I participated in