A Murder of Crows - Chapter 10

Helping William onto Trent's shoulder, I step back and survey the room. Karl's dust having ceased the Glamour here at least, I think, thanking Karl silently.
I look up to the second story, and pale with a realization.
"I'm going first," I say in a voice that belays my nondescript manner. "We don't know what could be waiting for us up there, and I think it's safe to say I have the most experience dealing with illusions and tricks of the mind here."
I turn to Mr. LaFitte, my look grim.
"Watch my back, lad."
With that, I move to the spiral staircase.

Relief washed over Amelia as the spell took effect and the Beast was put to sleep-for now.
She glanced again at Karl as they prepared to follow the others. "More grateful than you know. And my thanks to you as well, sir," she added, "for subduing him as you did, when you could have attacked with blade or bullet. I can only guess at what using the spell must have cost you." She watched them lift William gently from the floor and hoped that they might find some measure of safety in the oratory.

"Watch my back, lad."
Briefcase is now far from that misterious businessman I cursed when we first met. He now slides naturally into a grandfather's role, even though he looks a decade younger than most of us. On the other hand, even though I count over a century of age, I am starting to shake of the sturpor that shckled me for almost a decade. Could it be the influence of the Manor? Is the Heart of Darkness pumping my own blood now?
"The small doors to the right should let us in. But stand clear from any statues. We're in the fourth house now. Things should be very solid from now on... Trent, hand me your gun, please."

"Something isn't right..." I begin to feel the familiar sense of dread, and I check my pocket watch. My, does time fly - it's 11:00.
"We must hurry - if we delay much longer, we'll be trying to fight a God from within - not a very good battle to be fighting. Whoever opens that door, be careful. You can't trust anything in this house - you never know what might happen."

Trent eases to one side to let Mr. Briefcase through. He steadys Weasel with his free hand. Following behind Briefcase he has a difficult time negotiating the spiral stairs with Weasel's unusual frozen position over his shoulder.
Halfway up he hears Claude.
"Well you could have thought of that at a more convenient moment! Besides, did any of you acctualy take the pepperpot I left on the kitchen table?" He lets out deep sigh.
"Look hang on until I get to the top of the stairs, she needs a quick reload anyway."
"Maybe I should have taken one of those sabres." He says to himself. He then shakes his head and carries on up.

"I can reload it... But we'd better get William to a... MATH! BEHIND YOU!"
The warning gets out a little to late, as the small eagle that ornates the wall-lamp comes suddenly to a very fiery life!
"Dagda..." Math mutters as the conflagration hits him in the arm.
I reach into my coat, pulling out a small artifact of wood and iron. The snaplock produces a small explosion, and the eagle bends inward, leaking a dark, greenish-black fluid. The hole produced by the bullet stays open, but the eagle and the lamp are no more. As I turn my attention to Math, he's mended, as if nothing had hit him.
"Nice trick." We both say in unison.
"Thanks." Once again, at the same time.
A spark of recognition among the undying, I make way for Trent to reach the top of the stairs.
"How did you..? My bullets didn't... What's that thing?"
"This pistol has been with me since 1790. It's nothing much... As for the bullets, it's a mix of gold, electrum, platinum and ... other stuff... If you believe the tales - as I do - it's the Atlantean metal known as orichalcum." - I turn to Math - "Tir Na Oge had it too, I suppose..."
Without further delay, I reach for the doorknob into the oratory.

I nod my thanks to LaFitte for the warning as he mentions the powerful metal.
"Orichalcum?" I ask. "Aye, we had that in the Splendor. It's rarer in these days, but just as potent."
I dip my head at Amelia before continuing.
"It's what the dagger I gave you, lass, is made of."
Turning, I begin walking calmly towards whatever protection the oratory can provide. I stop, hearing something. A faint tinkling of glass sounds. Suddenly, my arm snaps the briefcase up, just in time to block six dagger sized pieces of glass shooting right for my chest. Muttering in ancient Celtic, I drop to my knee, using my briefcase as a shield.
"RUN!" I shout. "I'll hold it off! This isn't a Glamour! Now RUN!"
Briefcase still up, I open it, pulling a small glass globe from it. It is filled with an inky blackness. I throw it to the ground, shattering it. The air is suddenly filled with a thick, inky darkness, more than 25' across. My voice sounds once more.
"RUN!"

Amelia trailed close behind the others as they made for the oratory doors. She risked a glance over her shoulder to where Math had stood, but the area was filling rapidly with impenetrable darkness.
Now that, she thought with a shudder, is a nice trick. I just hope it's enough.

Turning around on the stairs, I begin to walk into the darkness, feeling through the bag at my side for the piece of turtle shell I had prepared for this, the only true combat spell I had prepared. Feeling my leg brush up against Math, I begin speaking the words of the spell, hoping that my own Shield would be enough to protect me. Once again, the chill that accompanies all of my spells runs down my spine. This time, though, it doesn't leave. I begin to see, dimly, through the darkness. Ignoring the cold, I finish my spell, touching Math gently on the shoulder. Then I hurry up the stairs again, barely noticing that I can see through the darkness just a little. Reaching the others, I explain what I've done.
"Math will be safe, as long as the House doesn't get too close to him - I used a spell that should protect him from flying shards of glass, bullets, and the like." Just then, I notice my reflection on the banister as the others strain at the door. My face falls - my eyes have taken on the distinctive pupils of a cat's - what had happened to me now? Just then, the door to the Oratory crashed open under the weight of the others.

Trent only pauses for a moment before turning and entering the oratory, Weasel safely over his shoulder. He puts the reporter down to one side of the doors before pulling his revolver free from its holster. Not bothering to replace to two spent rounds, he stands guard at the doors, making sure that everyone gets in.
He cranes his neck to look at Mr. Briefcase and the darkness.
"Good luck." He says the words softly, but with a new found conviction that is almost tangible.

"Through the Splendor, through the Darkness, through the years and years spent running," I began murmuring quietly. "I won't let this House destroy any hope left for the Sidhe."
My voice picks into a harsh chant, emerging from the darkness, over the tinkling of the flying glass. The strictness of it binds. As Trent pulls back into the Oratory, he feels the air stop. The doors, once broken open, swing shut sealing in place.
I remain in the Library.

Amelia bit back a cry of surprise as she felt and heard the magic Math unleashed in the library. It crawled along her spine-electric-as the doors to the oratory slammed shut, cutting them off from Math and the library.
"Oh god," she said softly, her eyes wide, "What was he thinking?"

"The same I am... An individual may fall, but another take his place in the Battle. Be strong, Ms. Amelia. If all I heard about Math is true, we'll meet again. Now, Trent, put these on your gun."
I throw four small sparkling things to Trent, which he catches in mid-air. He'd make a good sailor.
"What are--?", he asks.
"Bullets. Orichalchum. They can be fired from any handgun. Use them wisely."
Trent nods a grim understanding and pops out the chamber of his gun, filling it again with the mystical bullets I took 2 years to make. Only then I take to my surroundings: three rows of benches, enough to sit 10 people. On the far wall, a small altar, where the cross I brought last time still stands, imaculate. On the walls, small mosaics represent the Via Dolorosa. The only thing that stands out is the holy water basin...
"Dammit..."

"Lafitte, what is it about the basin? You seem to think that the water in it is tainted somehow - perhaps it is part of the key to this place.
"As I pointed out earlier, this isn't exactly the Vatican." Weasel starts moving slightly, and I pray that he maintains his control - my spell should be wearing off in moments.

I gaze at the basin, it's content still clear.
"Here. Take a look."
I stretch my finger and bring it closer to the "holy" water. At first it's almost unnoticeable. But in seconds, it can't be missed. Karl let's out a short cry.
"It moved! It tried to reach your finger! The holy wat..."
"ANYTHING but holy, mate. This is the blood of the Heart of Darkness, animating the only thing here it can touch since I reconsecrated the altar ten years ago..."
I take my hand back, without touching the water.

"Heart of Darkness," Amelia repeated. "Are you referring to the house itself? Or something within it?"
Her gaze strayed anxiously to William as he began to stir.

William's form suddenly sags, as the spell looses it's hold.
His eyes flutter, staring up to the ceiling.
A puzzled look crosses his face.
Then he suddenly bolts up, his eyes widening as he points at Karl.
"He... He... He tried to KILL me!!"

Having reloaded with the four new bullits, leaving two of his own in the remaining holes, he gently tries the doors.
"They seem secure for now."
He turns to the now moving Weasel.
"It's ok, nobody tried to kill you. Take it easy for a while."
He reaches for a pocket and brings out a hip flask. He opens it and snifs.
"I don't think the House has got to this, besides its known to kill off all infections."
He hands it to Weasel.
"You look as though you could do with a shot, but take it easy." He warns

Weasel takes the flask, eyeing Karl with suspicion.
"Yeah...? I saw him waving his arms with that book of his. He was going to blast me, I tell ya."
He takes as swig from the flask, coughs as the liquid burns his troat.
"Ugh... that's better."
Climbing back on his feet, he hands the flask back to Trent.
He swaggers a bit. "Strong stuff, eh?"

Trent pockets the flask with a grin.
"Genuine winter warmer that! But as far as Karl is concerned, he was trying to help you, not hurt you."
He pauses and rubs his scar.
"Perhaps, there is more to our experiences than just the evil of this place. Perhaps we are to be faced by our own inner demons, so to speak. I have, and I would guess that you have too, William. Could the house be trying to bring us down by our own worst fears and troubles?"
He ponders for a moment.
"If so, it could have made a great error. For that which we survive will give us inner strength, at least if I use my experience here as a basis. If you can deal with your own fears, you may aid others face theirs. Well, at least we seem to have caught a break, we had best make use of it."

Weasel eyes glew up for a moment. Then he turned away.
"I know what you're thinking." He muttered.
He walked over to a bench and slumped down.
"I'm a monster. A beast."
He covered his head in his hands.
"You're be afraid of me now, aren't you?"

Trent sits down next to Weasel.
"Earlier, yes, probably I would have. But not now. The first challenge was facing and overcoming our experiences, the second is to find strength from them. I have now come to terms with a dark chapter from my past, you must do the same. Though the details are certainly very different, if we are to survive this night, the results must be the same. Strength through adversity. Regardless of everything, this house is NOT going to win. Besides, who else but you is going to write about this?"

"Well said." Amelia walked over to where the two sat and sank down on one of the hard benches. "I'm not sure who would believe this story, though."
She looked at William. "Trent's right, you know. We're not about to give up now, William. You're stuck with us. This place, whatever it is, is just waiting to exploit our fears and sorrows. All the more reason why we should fight, I say."

"Weasel, believe me, my spell is likely the only reason we didn't have to do worse to you in order to protect ourselves. As for your being a monster - of all the people here to be afraid of you, I am the least likely. We can only hope that this damnable house doesn't get too much closer to actually killing us than it already has."

"Which it surely will. That is precisely why I must say what I'm about to say..."
I sit down on a bench, tired and drained. At times, my age seems to catch up with me...
"All of us here have suffered a blow from the Adversary. William... isn't quite himself, at times. Amelia lost her father. Trent... has terrible recollections of a past deed. I... lost everything, including my own humanity."
Their looks are sad and shameful, as I bet is mine.
"But we're not the only ones to suffer this. Others live out there, with no knowledge of their curses' nature. Others that could have a fighting chance if they only knew... what we now know. That is why we were all drawn here!
Not by a force of evil, but by a chance of Good! If we stay together, we can survive this - most of us, anyway - and keep on fighting. We can keep in thouch with each other, and seek out those afflicted by this terrible taint upon our world. Those that lost a loved one, those that were changed, those that need... guidance. We can assess their potential for good and evil, and take steps to ensure they don't hurt others, or themselves.
We can make a difference in this world."
I look at them, seeking a spark of recognition and acknowledgement. I extend my hand.
"Will you set sail with me? Will you be the Afflicted?"

"Maybe, but I think that we had best leave such things for later. First we must live to see the sun rise. In any event, the 'afflicted' is not a choice title, but still..."
He looks around the room.
"So, what now, sleep would be real nice, but unwise, anyone got any suggestions, or something they think they should share?"

"I think you can count me in, Mr. Lafitte," Amelia said with a smile. "Who are we to refuse the King of Barataria, after all?"
"Trent has a good point-again-we should rest, even if it's only for a short while. Whatever we decide to do, there's something I'd like to try that may help us." She turned to Karl and her gaze strayed to the bag at his belt. "Do you carry herbs of any sort in that bag, Mr. Wolfemann? I have an idea."

King of Barataria... heh.
"Amelia, Sarah, William and Karl can take a nap. Trent, Frank and I can stand watch. We'll wake you up before the next house tolls. As for seeing the sun rise..."
I load another pair of orichalchum bullets onto my snaplock and add gunpowder to it.
"... no matter what happens, at least one of us must leave this Manor alive. Or else the Adversary's victory will be complete."
I dread this thought, but I was never known to be unrealistic.
"Sleep now. We'll wake you up in an hour."

"Here. However, be careful with the small black vial - that's my insurance policy, in case something should happen to go wrong." I hand her the bag, and lean back against the wall. So tired - I could sleep for a week, if it weren't for the situation...
"I'll stay awake for now, Lafitte - I probably wouldn't be able to sleep at any rate - another little problem I have is insomnia."

"Huh. If you think I can sleep NOW, you're more crazy than I first thought", Weasel mutters.
"As to your proposition... I don't like being called 'afflicted', thank you very much.
And I don't think I actually want to get involved in any bussiness with your adversary, whoever he may be.
But you can count on me as long as we are here."
Weasel stood up again and walked over to Amelia as she was rummaging through Karl's bag.
"So what are you planning, Amy? Anything I can help with?"

"An hour, that should be long enough," Amelia nodded her thanks as she selected the vial she was looking for from Karl's bag-avoiding the black one as he'd warned her.
She glanced at William and smiled weakly. "I'm going to try to get some information. I want to know what we might be facing next in this place, and I've learned a few tricks to understanding my dreams in the past few years. Certain things trigger them, make them more clear. Being in this place surely will, as will deep sleep." She held up the vial of herbs. "One hour. Then wake me. The herbs are harmless and very mild, but they worked when I tried this before."
She took the vial and moved to sit down on the floor. It was cold, but could have been worse.

"That's is fine, William... You are entitled to your choices. As for the Adversary, it isn't mine alone. It lives in you too. The question is, will you outlive it?"
This lad is sailing troubled waters, but even if he denies it, he won't sail them alone.
"I wonder how's Briefcase doing..."

"There is nothing 'inside' me, okay? I'm not... I am just... Oh whatever!"
Weasel angrily turned away, but his face got a worried look as he saw Amelia sit down to prepare herself.
"Look... you don't have to do this. This house... It augments your fantasies, makes them real.
I don't know... is it smart to sleep in here? I don't want you get hurt..."