05-17-2014, 01:01 PM
Jon's heart sank as he saw Nimeda recoil from him. It was what she'd said to him the first time they'd met, though in the Spirit World it'd been with curiosity. I don't know you.How was it she did not remember upon waking? Had her memory dissipated as if it'd been a normal dream?
Awake, or asleep, it seemed Jon had no idea who she was. Perhaps neither did she. Bear's words of warning came back to him then: The wolves have been watching her.It was enough to make the hair on his arms stand on end.
Nimeda was right about one thing. Her friend was sick. Jon wondered if there was something he could do with the power of the Great Spirit. But as he stepped forward he ran against an invisible barrier that pushed back against his shoulder. Slick, solid and smoother than glass, he knew what it was. Dane hadn't created it. No man had made it.
The train started moving with a violent lurch, and to Jon's horror, the young girl slid off the bench and crumpled to the floor with resounding thud. The sound, like a melon rolling from a table, haunted his ears and made him want to vomit.
Then someone screamed.
People started running. Great Spirit! Jon's concentration wavered. Afraid he'd lose it, he clamped onto the threads he'd prepared. He didn't know what else to do. Who in their right mind yells "The Sickness" on a crowded train? The woman sitting next to Nimeda, a pudgy lady in her middle years and elegantly dressed, pushed her shopping bags off her lap and bolted away in a flurry of platform heels, having obviously forgotten about the leash in her hand attached to her Pomeranian. It yipped its indignation as it fell on its back and was dragged across the floor by its collar.
Jon let his surroundings assault his senses. One had to absorb and interpret a multitude of words, mannerisms and tics in the courtroom, and be sure not to trust too much in anything he sensed because everything could be a trick from the opposing side. You had to find the opening where your action would make a difference. So he took it in, alert and lucid with the power of the Great Spirit. Everyone running away from Nimeda, her friend, and Jon. The barking dog. Oranges, rolling across the floor. A man slipped on one and as he toppled forward his jaw connected with a woman's knee. Jon could hear the crack. Dane was buried behind passengers and the surging power winked out, he must have lost control. Jon could hear Nimeda's heart beating, rapid and light. She was afraid.
There was nothing from the other girl.
Jon pushed down panic. Noah's words came back to him. He is buried behind my house. Maybe the girl was afflicted with the Sickness. Maybe it wasn't Dane's doing. All this in mere seconds from the moment the girl had collapsed. People were getting hurt in the stampede, and Dane obviously wasn't able to help himself or anyone else. The girl needed help. Right now. And the barrier must have come from Nimeda, since it hadn't disappeared. Why was she so scared of him?
The weaves threatened to slip from Jon's grasp. So he altered and flung out the mind medicine, casting a net across the trailer. If it was the sickness, there was no threat to anyone else here. Nothing heavy, just meant to calm and suggest that Jon was speaking the truth. There should be no lasting or lingering effect, aside from everyone on the train leaving this place believing something to be true that was in fact true.
While maintaining the net, he harnessed the power and sent out threads again, this time to enhance his voice just slightly.
"It's not contagious,"
he said, his voice amplified enough to carry through the train. "There's no reason to panic."
Jon reasoned he could probably use the essence of Spirit to cut through the wall of air, since he knew where the weaves maintaining the wall must be even though he couldn't see it. But he might panic Nimeda even more if he did so. And he was sure to lose control. Both of the other threads had to be maintained. He wasn't even sure how he was managing to do both at the same time, let alone hold back the third weave. As it was he feared letting go of the prepared weave, as if it'd disrupt this delicate balance. Like surfing rapids in a kyak. He started sweating.
"The Sickness can't be contagious. If it was, people of all ages would catch it and not just the youth. It must be genetic or environmental."
His head started to hurt. The power surged through him. He could see the web settling, very, very lightly, just enough to get them to calm down so they all didn't kill each other. It scared him to think he might be showing Dane a valuable tool. He mistrusted the man. But he didn't think Dane was in a position to even see what was going on, and this web was complex.
His head was pounding. Control was slipping through his very fingers. He had to get to the girl! But Jon was riding his kayak down the waterfall, now. He drew in more and struck out with the third weave in an attempt to slice through the barrier.
But that was all he had. In the moment before he crashed into the rocks, Jon summoned one last act of will and deliberately released it all. The weaves winked out of existence along with the power, and the world got fuzzy. The floor rushed up to meet his face.
Awake, or asleep, it seemed Jon had no idea who she was. Perhaps neither did she. Bear's words of warning came back to him then: The wolves have been watching her.It was enough to make the hair on his arms stand on end.
Nimeda was right about one thing. Her friend was sick. Jon wondered if there was something he could do with the power of the Great Spirit. But as he stepped forward he ran against an invisible barrier that pushed back against his shoulder. Slick, solid and smoother than glass, he knew what it was. Dane hadn't created it. No man had made it.
The train started moving with a violent lurch, and to Jon's horror, the young girl slid off the bench and crumpled to the floor with resounding thud. The sound, like a melon rolling from a table, haunted his ears and made him want to vomit.
Then someone screamed.
People started running. Great Spirit! Jon's concentration wavered. Afraid he'd lose it, he clamped onto the threads he'd prepared. He didn't know what else to do. Who in their right mind yells "The Sickness" on a crowded train? The woman sitting next to Nimeda, a pudgy lady in her middle years and elegantly dressed, pushed her shopping bags off her lap and bolted away in a flurry of platform heels, having obviously forgotten about the leash in her hand attached to her Pomeranian. It yipped its indignation as it fell on its back and was dragged across the floor by its collar.
Jon let his surroundings assault his senses. One had to absorb and interpret a multitude of words, mannerisms and tics in the courtroom, and be sure not to trust too much in anything he sensed because everything could be a trick from the opposing side. You had to find the opening where your action would make a difference. So he took it in, alert and lucid with the power of the Great Spirit. Everyone running away from Nimeda, her friend, and Jon. The barking dog. Oranges, rolling across the floor. A man slipped on one and as he toppled forward his jaw connected with a woman's knee. Jon could hear the crack. Dane was buried behind passengers and the surging power winked out, he must have lost control. Jon could hear Nimeda's heart beating, rapid and light. She was afraid.
There was nothing from the other girl.
Jon pushed down panic. Noah's words came back to him. He is buried behind my house. Maybe the girl was afflicted with the Sickness. Maybe it wasn't Dane's doing. All this in mere seconds from the moment the girl had collapsed. People were getting hurt in the stampede, and Dane obviously wasn't able to help himself or anyone else. The girl needed help. Right now. And the barrier must have come from Nimeda, since it hadn't disappeared. Why was she so scared of him?
The weaves threatened to slip from Jon's grasp. So he altered and flung out the mind medicine, casting a net across the trailer. If it was the sickness, there was no threat to anyone else here. Nothing heavy, just meant to calm and suggest that Jon was speaking the truth. There should be no lasting or lingering effect, aside from everyone on the train leaving this place believing something to be true that was in fact true.
While maintaining the net, he harnessed the power and sent out threads again, this time to enhance his voice just slightly.
"It's not contagious,"
he said, his voice amplified enough to carry through the train. "There's no reason to panic."
Jon reasoned he could probably use the essence of Spirit to cut through the wall of air, since he knew where the weaves maintaining the wall must be even though he couldn't see it. But he might panic Nimeda even more if he did so. And he was sure to lose control. Both of the other threads had to be maintained. He wasn't even sure how he was managing to do both at the same time, let alone hold back the third weave. As it was he feared letting go of the prepared weave, as if it'd disrupt this delicate balance. Like surfing rapids in a kyak. He started sweating.
"The Sickness can't be contagious. If it was, people of all ages would catch it and not just the youth. It must be genetic or environmental."
His head started to hurt. The power surged through him. He could see the web settling, very, very lightly, just enough to get them to calm down so they all didn't kill each other. It scared him to think he might be showing Dane a valuable tool. He mistrusted the man. But he didn't think Dane was in a position to even see what was going on, and this web was complex.
His head was pounding. Control was slipping through his very fingers. He had to get to the girl! But Jon was riding his kayak down the waterfall, now. He drew in more and struck out with the third weave in an attempt to slice through the barrier.
But that was all he had. In the moment before he crashed into the rocks, Jon summoned one last act of will and deliberately released it all. The weaves winked out of existence along with the power, and the world got fuzzy. The floor rushed up to meet his face.