Dark Tales From Dandelion

1

Fiona looked at Carter and he babbled, his blonde hair bobbing up and down on his head with each syllable. He needs a haircut, she thought reflexively. No! That is not for you anymore. You are free of him. She thought of the duty he’d worn on his face in the well of the light creatures; It made her cringe, the feeling this inspired in her, but she decidedly did not react to it. I was sick and needed help. Just like he is now. No one cringes at me. That I know of, that is.

They stood before a large, translucent, filmy wall that stretched across the mountains to either side of the valley. There was no way to get around but to walk through it. Vermilion had poked it, and when he’d brought his finger back out of it, there was a slimy, buoyant residue on his finger.

Behind the see-through wall was just more grass, some squim trees, rocks here and there, and coarse, spiney bushes. Someone who didn’t pay close attention to their surroundings would probably have walked right through it.

“The purpose of this Veil is to see what kind of a person you are, if you’ll forgive the sentimentality,” Quint said. “Some won’t hesitate to rip an adversary apart, whereas a person with more honor may be more hesitant to kill if there are other options available to them. If you are the weakest fighter, that is quite alright and you will pass through this Veil rather quickly, allowing the Woman in White know where you should be placed if you are coming to the tower to train, or how much of a threat you really are if you are coming in hostility. The enemies are shadow-like creatures. They will seem to bleed, they will seem to break, and they will scream. They will seem to hurt you, and you’ll feel it until you are through with the Veil. Either get defeated by them—die, essentially—or make it to the other side successfully through whatever means you find appropriate in a battle.”

“So that means … ” Fiona trailed off.

“Carter will probably have to die in this Veil. We will just have to let him go in; maybe those that are a little out on The Strings are spared, I’m not sure. When I came through this Veil last time, many years ago, I only had myself to worry about,” Quint said, then turned to Carter. “Carter, just walk straight through to the other side unless they attack you, in which case you need to just let them kill you.” Carter just babbled in response, then walked through.

Vermilion pulled out his guns and cocked the hammers, Prudance strapped to his chest. “And Pru?” the Drake said.

“I would just keep Prudance with you and see if you can cross to the other side with her strapped to your chest,” Quint replied calmly, as if Vermilion were asking him if he enjoyed his squim fruit earlier that day. “I’ll go in now, but each of us should go in by ourselves, giving the person before us at least ten tiks to get through the veil, otherwise we will all be fighting a horde of each other’s creatures which is completely unnecessary.” Quint walked through, then after ten tiks, Pip walked through.

“See you on the other side,” Fiona said to Vermilion, smiling, then she stepped through.

2

Ten tiks after Fiona had left, Vermilion turned to the strange jelly-like screen of the third Veil, nodded to himself, then stepped through. The wall attached to his whole body as he walked through, coating him in its clear, shining gel. As he exited on the other side, it stuck to him for a moment, then peeled off and assumed its original form.

Vermilion looked around at the vast expanse of the field. He listened, hearing wind through grass and trees, water running somewhere off in the distance. A bird tweeted. He smelled the air, and there was something … different. It smelled fake here, like all of this landscape had been crafted from some material other than earth, leaves and water. Vermilion took a few steps forward, looking off in the distance, waiting for his opponent to show itself to him.

“Aint nothin’ here but this fake shit pretendin’ to be vegetation,” He said to himself in that other voice that took hold when his adrenaline was pumping.

“I know, aint nothin’ for it but to keep on,” a voice replied. The Drake swung in the direction of the voice to see a completely black, oily version of himself, guns held at the ready, a shape slung across its chest that could have been a shadow copy of Prudance. This looks like a phase-shifter before it changes its form, he thought. He jumped back from the shadow version of himself and pointed his guns up at it. “Don’t shoot!” The shadow said. “Please! I’m just trying to bring my baby across to the Woman in White. I don’t want to fight, I don’t need to prove myself.” Vermilion hesitated, but kept his guns pointed at the thing. Was that the game here? To see if Vermilion would harm someone who claimed to come in peace? The other Veils had been tailor-made for each individual and maybe this one was too.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Red, who are you?”

“Vermilion.”

“With you, Vermilion.” And he raised his oily hand, pointing the first finger toward himself, while keeping the other three fingers together, pointing at the sky. Vermilion returned the gesture hesitantly.

“With you,” Vermilion said, “Where do you come from?”

“I crossed over to this fake smelling field from the Endynas Valley,” Red said. The Endynas Valley? What the fuck man?

“The Endynas Valley? That’s where I was as well,” Vermilion said, then they both looked back at the translucent jelly wall. “Did you come with friends?” Vermilion asked, never taking his guns off of the shadow.

“No. You?”

“Yes. They already went through it looks like.”

Vermilion’s eyes flicked from where he had come in, back to Red, then back to the Veil. Quint had not prepared him for this. Red slowly put his guns into their holsters then raised his hands up above his shoulders. “I just need to get across here, but I need to do it as friends or I won’t make it across. I just want to help my baby, Vermilion. I have to walk in peace with you to do that. Will you please lower your seven-shooters?” Red said. Seven-shooters? I wonder what else is the same.

“What do you mean ‘walk in peace?’”

“I have to work together with you. That’s my test. My—someone I know told me that happens from time to time. Walk with yourself and make peace. Or don’t. I want peace. Just came to help my girl,” Red said.

“I wasn’t told anything like that. What do I look like to you? No … I’m sorry, that probably sounded like I was being smart with you. What I mean is, on your side, do I have color?” Vermilion asked.

“You look like black ink,” Red replied. Ok, well, there’s something similar. So he is me … or something like that, in a separate reality that runs along a similar path? What happens to me if he dies? This is so confusing.

Prudance cooed and tooted around. Vermilion looked down at her. Getting hungry, he thought.

“What is your daughter’s name, Red?”

“Sadie.”

“And just what kind of a malady is she suffering from?”

“She was a little girl, but now she looks like some kind of shriveled up—” Red’s voice cracked, which is what broke Vermilion and got him to put down his guns, “—tiny, old woman. She makes little weak noises like she’s choking,” he sniffed and was having a hard time getting the words out, “and I can’t help but think she is every time. I-I ha-have no idea what they did to her throat when they … changed her. For all I know, she is choking on her own spit, so I turn her over and p-pat her until she stops making that noise. I hardly sleep at night, Vermilion,” he stopped talking and his shadow outline began trembling with sobs. Vermilion wiped a tear from his eye and walked over to Red and set a hand on his back.

“My daughter, Prudance … is suffering from the same thing. Come on.” Vermilion took Red’s hand and the shadow walked with him like that across the field of fake trees and grass. It took about five tiks before they saw the filmy glint that Vermilion assumed was the end of this Veil. Vermilion turned his head to the right to look at Red and tell him that he thought they were almost there, but what he saw instead of Red’s form was a shadow version of a revolver staring him in the face. Red pulled back the hammer.

“Don’t. Move,” Red said.

“What the FU—”

“I said … don’t. Move. Not even an inch, if you want to live.”

“What are you—”

“Stop. Talking. Vermilion. And don’t. Move,” Red said. Vermilion couldn’t believe he’d fallen for this. So this is how they decided to get me. With a version of myself—a father, struggling. I’m not so sure I want this lady’s help, Vermilion thought. He waited for his death and hoped it wouldn’t hurt. Quint had told him that if he died he wouldn’t actually die, but it still scared him, and this wasn’t exactly the type of situation Quint had told him to expect either. Vermilion had anticipated a fight without any mind tricks, but it had turned out to be another psychological puzzle full of fucking morals. Red flexed his arm—this is it—and made the tiniest movement with his hand toward the left side of Vermilion’s face—a movement so subtle and graceful and quick that Vermilion barely caught it—BANG—The revolver went off, and as it did, Vermilion closed his eyes tight but nothing about his face had been changed, nothing had been blown off. There was a deafening roar that went past his left ear though, and he heard a scream behind him. Red lowered the gun. “There will be more. Get your guns out.”

Vermilion turned around to see a large shadow thing that looked a bit like a dirfweed with more wolfish characteristics. It bled black liquid where the bullet had hit it. Red had flicked the gun so quickly that Vermilion hadn’t seen it move to the left side of his face and fire at the shadow-wolf thing. He could hardly believe it.

“Are you Rocco first class?”

“If you’re asking if I’m a first class Rojo, then yes.”

The ghost shot … Moving so fast with subtle flicks and muscle movements that you actually couldn’t be seen when performing it. This was … Vermilion’s potential?

“Now get your guns out, they’re comin’,” Red said. More of the black wolf-shapes rose up from the ground. They rushed the two at an incredible speed, but the two were faster. Vermilion flipped to the left, and Red to the right, each of them firing one round for every shadow-wolf that came at them. The bodies piled up, and Vermilion thought they were done when three shapes appeared behind the pile of wolves. These had the same sharp claws and long snouts as the other wolves, but seemed to be wearing billowing robes. The three drew swords and rushed Vermilion and Red. The two shot their guns, but as the bullets reached the swordsmen, they vanished. Vermilion tried to scream, but all that came out was something like black smoke. He was choking on the smoke, his ears were clogged with it, his eyes were blacking out, then Red smacked him across the face with the barrel of his gun. Warm blood filled Vermilion’s mouth and the smoke spilled out of him, taking form to his right as one of the swordsmen. Vermilion put his two guns together and they clicked into place, joining at the cylinders. He waited for the swordsman to fully materialize, then pulled both triggers at exactly the same time. The bullets shot at a slight angle towards the center of the swordsman’s chest, then, as they collided, exploded. Pieces of black shadow flew in all directions. Red had taken care of the other two swordsmen while Vermilion had killed his. They ran to the exit, each one with a gun at the ready and another hand on their baby. They reached the clear, jelly-like wall that Vermilion assumed was the exit. They turned to each other.

“I—” Vermilion said.

Red shot Vermilion in the face; there was a flash of green, and everything went black as Vermilion died. It hurt—Very much.