Dark Tales From Dandelion

1

“Whadoyamean gone?!?” Quint demanded, his voice bouncing off of the high ceiling and wide hallway of the Inn, giving it a reverberating effect. Pip did a sort of pacing in the large hallway, his long body coiling with every turn.

“They are gone, Quint,” sent Pip. “I’ve looked everywhere around the Inn, checked both of their rooms and I’ve asked around outside. The man at the front desk said Fiona left early, came back and ordered breakfast while she tinkered with some new things she’d brought back, then went upstairs. He hadn’t seen her leave after that, Quint. No-one has seen Vermilion since last night. I even tried talking to Carter who was not very helpful, mind you.”

Quint stood there for a moment chewing on this information. Pip continued pacing. Carter was babbling in Quint’s room behind them, pulling on clothes that Quint had set out for him.

“So what do we do?” asked Quint in a sober tone. Pip didn’t respond. “Where do you think they’ve gone, Pip?”

“Fishing?” the sesnickie offered halfheartedly.

“I hardly think we have time for the cryptic answers that we might get with that endeavor.”

“I got nothing,” Pip sent.

“Well, Putnam is still not here and our dangerously powerful friend Fiona has disappeared with our big friend Drake after he was kept from entering the city last night. I think our only choice is to wait here. Maybe Fiona and Vermilion are just out in the city perusing, and we need to wait for Putnam anyway.”

Pip sighed loudly through their nose.

“I don’t like it, Quint,” Pip sent. “She just had another episode, and it was with Carter. What happens if she completely loses control on strangers? They might take her in, or worse she may destroy anyone who tries, maybe take the whole city with her. You felt her, Quint. You know. This isn’t good. We’ve kept her safe these past few years, but now she’s gone and who knows what will happen. What if she forgets who she is again?”

“I know, Pip. I know. I worry about all of the same things. However, I don’t think we have any other choice but to wait. I’m sure she’s just out with Vermilion buying guns or bullets or some other thing feeding her new obsession. The man at the front desk did say she was tinkering with some things when she came back this morning, correct?” Quint said.

“That is what he said,” Pip sent.

“Then all our worry is probably for nothing. She’s been trying to learn about those guns since we met the Drake. She probably bought some new toys and pestered him until he agreed to show her how to use them this morning, that’s all,” Quint said, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince as none of this made him feel any better about sitting at the Inn and doing nothing while Fiona wandered the streets possibly ripping out the hearts of any man who brushed against her shoulder. We are just being overprotective parents, nothing more, Quint thought.

2

Ali runs as fast as the other Drakes her age across the dusty dirt of the course. Being half Drake and half human, she has received a lot of shit from her peers about her smaller size. She makes up for it by applying herself to her training.

The course is closed in by a wooden fence. She runs past the others, jumping over the first hurdle, using one hand to gain height while drawing her seven-shooter with the other hand. She shoots three of the targets dead in the center, but misses the last because another Drake has caught up and pushed her. When they both land on the ground, Ali elbows the Drake in the nose then continues running. The next obstacle is a dodging-while-aiming trial, several knives being shot through the air at different heights so one could neither avoid them all by jumping nor by ducking.

She looks for a rhythm in the way the knives are thrown. Chuck chuck chaa. Chuck. Chaa. Chuck Chuck chaa …

Dodge, duck, jump, jump, duck-dodge—SHOOT!

She repeats this three times and hit all three targets in the middle. She reloads with her wax bullet loops, then prepares herself for her favorite part.

She seeks cover behind one of the paint covered targets she’d just hit in the last obstacle. She waits. The Drakes come through, some of them getting injured by the knives, but most of them getting through to the open fire section of the course. Ali screams and jumps out from behind the target. She fires three of the paint filled bullets, each one finding its target’s stomach(she does this to make fun of the common Drake belly that she does not have), then the fire is returned, and there are eight of them left. She rolls and leaps behind a large paint-covered wooden barrier put here specifically for the purpose of avoiding fire. There is a hole for shooting in the middle. She fires blindly through it, inspiring her assailants to fire back, and as they do she runs straight at them and fires like hell, hitting seven of them smack dab in the heart area.

Where is he? She thinks, looking around frantically. SPLAT!

She falls straight on her face, her teeth chewing dirt. The paint-bullet hit her right in the back of her head. The motherfucker always gets her. Every time. She stands up.

“When’re you gonna stop hiding like some sissy, Vermilion?” Ali says as she walks up to him. Her head comes up to the top of his stomach. He laughs and smiles. She sees nothing funny about any of it.

Fiona woke up bouncing up and down, and looked up at Vermilion who carried her and Prudance to Void-knows-where. Every second footfall allowed her a slightly focused image of what looked like white pine needles, but they immediately turned to a formless mist upon the next footfall. They were riding on dirfweed-back. It must have been a big sturdy one to be able to carry their heavy load. Her nose felt like it was on fire. She reached up to scratch it and Vermilion responded with another syringe full of shit that immediately put her to sleep.

3

Vance’s mind raced in confusion. This Prudance was going to open up the Mother’s head. She was the child of the shadow-Drake that had somehow managed to get to Svargaloka while running. Vance had only ever been able to mock the helmet’s instantaneous travel to Svargaloka by sitting still and using the mantrum. He’d watched the Drake’s shadow form as it had run, performing the ghost shot at least sixteen times—some of those seemingly at nothing in the air—then he’d seen the bright white skin and black wings of a Rakshasa falling toward the ground. Vermilion had then done some very fast work with the shadow things that appeared around him, and in a final leap, had landed on top of the Rakshasa and disappeared. There could be only one explanation for the disappearance—Vermilion had finally found his window into Svargaloka.

The phase-shifter Putnam ran beside Vance, taking the form of a butler, livery and all. It was dark now; they’d waited most of the night to leave the Veil, but Vermilion never showed. Vance had checked Svargaloka with no luck so they had set off for the city.

They approached the city doors. It had been so long since Vance had seen Quint and he was growing nervous at the thought of seeing him again. Then there was the matter of the contract ….

Vance had decided he would see what the Drake was talking about with this whole ‘opening up the Mother’s head’ business, then deal with the matter of his bounty. Whatever happened between Quint and himself, he needed to ensure nothing happened to the Woman in White. If I still want the bounty after we get this kid back … It’ll be that much easier to catch ‘em off guard after I just helped ‘em all outta a tight spot, thought Vance.

4

Putnam glanced at The Drifter running beside him. There’s something … dark about him, Putnam thought. The pair walked through the opening doors of the Endynas City, through the chamber beneath the wall, then out the other side into the city itself.

The city seemed to go on forever through the pink skies of morning; the treehouse business districts looked like floating balls in the sky in places where mist obscured the trunks.

“I need to stock up on bullets,” Vance said.

“You sure you don’t just need a fix?” Asked Putnam. Vance had not been shy when he’d put one of the needles into his arm in the night and Putnam had seen the scars.

“Nah I got plenty o’ those in this cape. It’s a pretty manageable habit actually. Don’t you folks harvest and supply Roxy Powder to all of the Roxy Milk bars on Dandelion?” Vance asked as he lit a Nevers cigarette. The air instantly smelled very unpleasant to Putnam and he waved at the smoke to show his displeasure. Vance smiled and tapped his helmet. “I learned the seven pillars of Ken-Phae from this helmet here. Harm-free.”

“Yes that is how the tower of Ken-Phae is able to keep its doors open to new students. And Anything you’ve learned from that helmet—I refuse to acknowledge it as the seven pillars—was probably real training paid for by revenue from the Roxy Fields,” Putnam said.

“You misunderstand me man. I’m not upset about the Roxy Milk, I’m simply commenting on your blatant judging of my habit. You ever seen someone addicted to Roxy Milk?” Vance asked. Putnam thought of the beggar outside of the brothel at the mouth of the Endynas Valley. “Ken-Phae is wonderful shit, but that’s the price for keeping it around. Maybe take a look at that shit next time you wanna make a comment about my Boostin’.” Vance pulled out a Boost and rammed the needle into his arm. He let out a sigh.

“I’m sure there will be a gunsmith near the Inn,” Putnam said as he turned to find his bearings. He started walking down a street that split off to their right. People were starting to come out and begin the grind of the day. Vance followed beside Putnam. A man in all white clothing and beads sat cross-legged on the pavement staring straight ahead of himself. He had eyes like the sun, and Putnam imagined rivers flowing from them in odd color patterns. He turned toward the man. He wanted to help the man. To listen to him. Music filled Putnam’s ears.

You should have lifted me.

Putnam wanted to do that. He wanted to lift the man up—be with him in his madness.

Instead you put me down.

No, not that. Putnam didn’t want to be dragging the man down. He wanted to join the man. Anything to make this man happy with him. The sky turned purple and orange. Faces danced in the strange light of the non-morning. Putnam swayed, looking into the sun rivers of the man’s eyes. The faces in the sky stuck out their tongues; their eyes pulsed in pools of black and white. The man was coming in for a kiss, or was it a bite? Putnam didn’t know, nor did he care. This man was his god. This man ….

“Putnam!” A voice boomed, and as it did, a wave of terror filled him and shook him free of the man in white. Just when Putnam was about to shift his form to one wearing white to be with the man forevermore. The man played a sensoff that Putnam had not noticed before, the strings vibrating so close to each other that notes blended—not unpleasantly—into each other. The trick with a sensoff was knowing which notes you needed to stop vibrating. “Putnam, what the fuck?” It was Vance. “I thought you was smart. This is just a mad trancer, man. Probably a flunky from the tower.”

“I feel … dirty,” said Putnam, his skin itching a bit as he looked back down at the man who still stared straight ahead at nothing.

“Come on, man. Les go,” Vance said. Putnam still stared at the man. Vance walked between the man and Putnam, grabbing Putnam’s shoulders with his hands. Vance bent down to get under Putnam’s downward gaze to look into his eyes. “Look, there aint nothing can be done for him. The Mother can’t fix everyone. They choose this. There are … things you can get with the vibrations by stepping into madness.”

“It was so beautiful … I don’t know if I’ve ever lost my composure like that,” Putnam said, avoiding Vance’s eyes.

“It wasn’t there. I know it’s intoxicating, but you can’t stay there and you can’t bring them out with you. They choose to stay there, lost in the fantasy. They put the vibration on their minds, making a loop which feeds on itself—as loops do—creating a psychic feedback that distorts the imagery in their brain by affecting their central nervous system. It’s very powerful, and you can get people to come with you by spreadin’ to ‘em like this motherfucker was jus’ tryin’ to do with you,” Vance said. Putnam looked up at him then. It had scared him and captivated him all at once. He wanted to go back to the place, he wanted to be ignorant again and enter into the man’s little kingdom and live there forever.

As if in response to his thoughts, Vance said: “I saw two men—on The Street. You ever been there? Jubilee Street? Well listen man, I saw these two sitting on the pavement one morning just like this sorry fuck. Completely out on The Strings. I ate breakfast at a café, then went about gettin’ a dirfweed to get outta town on this job I had. When I got back to the Street about, oh, I don’t know, a month later, they were both still there, lookin’ at each other like that, in that crazy world. I don’t know who the fuck was feeding them, but someone was; maybe they keep someone tranced on the outside who can feed ‘em, I don’t know. I’m all about gettin’ high, man, as you know and judge, but there is somethin’ insidious about it, the guy choosin’ to be in that place, then the other people thinkin’ they found God on the street and they lookin’ into His eyes and glimpsing His world. They was both cryin’ lookin’ at each other like that. Now listen to this. I went out on another job, the two fellas still there—they’d pretty much become part of the scenery by then—and when I came back, they was lyin’ dead on the fuckin’ cobblestones, still looking into each other’s eyes. I’ve seen others since, but those first two haunt me.

“Maybe iss my own shit, and that’s why it gives me the fuckin’ creeps so bad, like thass me starin’ into the other dude’s eyes. That seems true enough, but I never really come down enough to process that. But that’s not even what scares me the most. I saw the same look in the eyes of the religiously overzealous, whether it was an Empty One of the Hate meditating on Leere, or a Drake looking over the long barrels of their seven-shooters. It made me think we all jus’ starin’ at some wall of fake shit tryin’ to pretend it’s real and then we die lookin’ at it.”

Putnam looked at him then. “That—is a very silly idea,” Putnam said, then started walking away from the mad trancer, Vance walking behind.

“I knew that’d fuckin’ get you. You’re a conservative guy. All I had to do was take it deeper than it needed to be. You probably addicted to some religion too,” Vance said, laughing as he did, his beautiful smile breaking through the monotony of the morning. Vance wouldn’t be able to tell, Putnam knew, but Vance had made Putnam smile and almost laugh himself, both very rare occurrences when it came to Phildrious Putnam. The truth was, Vance had taken him out of his trance by getting too philosophical. Putnam thought such things were good if not taken too seriously, and if speculated upon in moderation, while also maintaining one’s own concrete beliefs, because how else was one to know how to act in a given situation if they didn’t have a higher purpose or code that wasn’t constantly being soiled by the questions and doubt of philosophy?

“Maybe you’re just another mad trancer, Vance. ‘Vance the mad trancer’ has a nice ring to it. Though in my part of Dandelion, you’d be called a thrummer,” Putnam said.

“Vance the mad thrummer has no style,” said Vance. “I’ll jus’ have to be so good they call me trancer everywhere. ‘Vance the mad trance Drifter and his enslaved phase-shifter’ preaching their dope to the masses, gettin’ to all yo women while you away—”

“Alright that’s quite enough,” Putnam said, tucking his smile away as he turned around to give Vance a look. That beautiful smile. It was disarming. Was Vance actually a mad trancer?

“I think I got your religion figured out, phase-boy. Y’all keep giant staves of oak in your asses to remind you of the spirit of God thass within you.”

Putnam couldn’t help the smile that crawled across his face, a big wide thing. They laughed together.

“You better watch out, or you might jus’ get used to doin’ that. You need to keep that straight faced butler thing goin’!” Vance said.

They walked on.

Putnam led them to a street with a blacksmith and gunsmith. They went into the gunsmith’s shop together and Vance stocked up on bullets of all kinds. He bought powder and wax. The gunsmith looked pretty distracted and moved around for Vance’s bullets, oil and other supplies as if it could all explode in his hands. Really should get a hold on yourself if you’re running a business, Putnam thought.

5

Quint sat in one of the big red chairs up against the wall in the common room sipping squim juice. Pip was up at the front desk speaking with Daisy, the owner of this fine establishment. Ah, Daisy …

Daisy wore a black and grey form fitting dress today, her yellow-auburn hair tied in a tail that hung down her back. There was always something that woman seemed to know that no-one else was allowed in on which made Quint unsettled and intrigued at the same time.

She was quite skilled at deflecting any male attention, though she was a wonderful conversationalist when she knew you weren’t after what lay beneath her skirts. Quint had existed in both parties. When he was younger, he had tried twice to persuade Daisy to have dinner with him; she had left him disappointed, probed psychologically to an embarrassment that would rival that of sudden public nudity, and kicked out of the Inn. He now had a pleasant relationship with the woman—who it seemed had not aged a bit since he’d first come to the valley—and was able to enjoy the good conversation now that he wasn’t trying to get her into bed with him. She had interesting perspectives on the universe, the vibrations, pretty much everything really.

“—Have you tried looking in a mirror?” He heard Daisy say from across the room. Whatever Pip had said had been kept between Daisy and the sesnickie. Pip walked from the front desk toward Pip, then sat down on the large sesnickie-sized pillow beside him.

“I was just speaking with Daisy about the Fishing I tried giving Fiona,” Pip sent.

The sesnickie paused expectantly so Quint said, “yes, and?”

“I asked if she’d ever heard of a failed Fishing before. And she said ‘have you tried looking in a mirror?’ As if it were my fault! The nerve!”

“Hm,” Quint said, then got up out of his cozy chair, his knees popping as he did so, and made his way across the room toward Daisy—whiling away the time waiting for Fiona or Putnam would be better spent under the sweet spell of that woman’s mind, rather than worrying in a comfortable chair.

He was halfway across the room when the front door of the Inn opened and he saw two figures walk in. Quint froze. Here was Putnam in his typical butler form, and beside him was …

“Valucias,” Quint said, the high ceilings and wooden floors carrying his voice across the common room to the front door. The Drifter turned his helmeted head toward Quint. Something flew past Quint and it took him a moment to realize it was Pip. The sesnickie jumped on Valucias, knocking him down onto the marble of the front walkway. Pip embraced The Drifter in a big hug with their clawed front hands.

“Hi, Pip,” the man grunted through an obvious effort to breathe while being squeezed by the strong arms of a sesnickie. Quint got over his shock-induced paralysis and started toward Putnam and Valucias. He reached out to take Putnam’s hand and shake it, clasping the phase-shifter’s arm with his other hand.

“Hello, Phildrious,” Quint said, smiling. “How very odd that I was somewhere before you for once.”

“Master Quint,” Putnam said in greeting. “There are several legitimate reasons why I was not here on time. I would understand if you wanted to dock my pay, I—”

“Calm yourself, Putnam. I will do nothing of the sort. I was a bit happy I’d beaten you as a matter of fact. Pip, will you allow Valucias to get up so I can see him properly?” Quint said. Pip moved off of The Drifter and the man stood up, rolling his neck and stretching it out.

“Hello, Quint,” Valucias said, reaching out a hand to shake with Quint. “It’s Vance now, I go by Vance.” Quint pulled the man by his offered hand into a hug. “Y’all are real huggy huh?” Vance said, again in the tight voice of someone being squeezed.

“Quint … we have some news,” Putnam said.

“Yeah, we do,” Vance said.

“Were you two traveling together?,” Said Quint.

“For a time,” Said Putnam.

“Listen, man. Did you have someone with you that went by the name Vermilion?” asked Vance.

“How do—”

“Just please answer Quint. If so, what happened at the third Veil?” Putnam said.

Quint looked from the phase-shifter to The Drifter, then back again. Quint cleared his throat. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Daisy was paying attention to the conversation.

“He was shot and killed in the third Veil. He was tricked. It was part of his test,” said Quint.

“Did you have any trouble at the wall?” Vance asked.

Quint looked bewildered. He said: “We did have a … ” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “difficulty.”

“What d’you mean diff—” Vance asked.

“Not here,” Quint whispered. He gestured with his head for them to follow him back to his room. They walked through the cavernous hallway. “So it’s … Vance now? Why the change?”

“Oh, you know motherfucker. This profession don’t allow you to keep the same name for long,” Vance said.

“Uh-huh,” said Quint. “And I’m lickin’ Daisy’s sweet tits for Worth. You were just in one of your moods probably: ‘I’m not the same person anymore so I need to change my name because I don’t deserve that name anymore’ or some shit like that. Please. Correct me if I’m wrong.” Quint smiled and turned around to look at Vance’s tightened lips beneath the visor. Shit. “I’m just fucking with you, Vance. If you’re Vance, you’re Vance. I have no problem with that. You’re still my brother regardless of your name. Void, but it’s good to see you.” Quint stopped and turned around, put both hands on either side of Vance’s helmet and kissed the man on what was exposed of his left and right cheeks.

Vance began to shake visibly. A tear rolled down the spot Quint had just kissed.

“Vance? What’s wrong?” Quint asked. Vance didn’t respond, instead turning around in the direction they had come from. The pale light of the hallway haunted the scene. Vance’s sobs were the score.

6

You don’t deserve it. None of it, Vince said.

Vance shook his head in protest. Stop, please Vince. Not now.

You’re still planning to kill him. Or at least turn him in to people that probably will, Vince said.

You’re not real. You’re a sword sheath, Vance pleaded.

I’m as real as you let me be. It looks like you’re letting me be.

Please stop. Please. Please.

You might as well kill him now. Why are you gonna put yourself through more of this? the sword sheath asked.

Just stop. I have to get to the Mother, The Drifter replied.

Just kill him, turn him in and go get your money. That’s all you’re good for. Get your money so you can keep Boosting, and when people say you have a problem, you can keep showing them how you never run out because you’re so well-to-do. You couldn’t do anything else ever but kill, destroy, lie and cheat. Genna wouldn’t want you, Vance. You’re a freak. You have holes … in your fucking head.

Vance collapsed to the floor, sobbing and clutching himself. Warm liquid filled his pants. He rolled back and forth.

“Mama?” he cried. “MAMA!” His voice echoed through the hall. A few things fell out of Vance’s cape onto the red area carpet that spanned the length of the hallway. There were a few Boosts, a package of smushed cigarettes, matches, and a folded up sheet of paper that unfolded itself somewhat as it fell to the ground.

7

Putnam watched as Quint tried to console Vance unsuccessfully. After Quint gave up and thrummed into The Drifter, making him light enough for the old man to carry, Putnam bent down to pick up what had dropped onto the carpet. Putnam was not a nosy man. He was content to allow others to keep their secrets if they wished, he’d just rather you left him out of it if you had them. But with this sheet of paper, he’d noticed a familiar name printed on the corner of a piece that had come unfolded: Quint. What’s this? Putnam thought. His skepticism of Vance’s intentions along with the familiar name got the better of him and he unfolded the paper completely. It read:

The following person(s) are currently traveling through the seven Veils of the Endynas Valley. By the time you read this, they will most likely be approaching Endynas City. We need them to be apprehended and brought into our custody in Endynas City(location provided at bottom of page) before they can cross the Veil at the end of the Forever Forest.

*Quint Costello- Vibrationalist ^140,000^ dandys

-Grey-white mangy hair. Beard and mustache. Circular shaped glasses, black traveling cloak.

*Pip- Sesnickie ^140,000^ dandys

-White sesnickie. Scars on side.

Please bring these two to 363 Sugar Hollow Rd. In Endynas City upon interception, payment will be given at time of delivery. Must be brought alive before they cross into the Forever Forest.

Putnam read over the document three times, then folded it up and put it in his inside breast pocket. The man is a mad trancer, Putnam thought. And he has a bounty on two of us.

The man clearly didn’t have a complete hold on reality. So much for the ‘pretty manageable habit’ Vance claimed his Boosting was. Vance was falling apart. Putnam didn’t have very many options. He quickly went forward into Quint’s room.

“Quint, I will be back. The Drake and Prudance are probably at the Forever Forest by now,” Putnam said.

“Putnam, this is hardly the time … wait, what did you just say?” Quint asked, lowering Vance onto the bed.

“There isn’t any time,” Putnam said, exasperated. “The Drake is a shape-shifter. Prudance has been stolen by the shape-shifter and they are headed to the Tower of Tones now; If Prudance is allowed to come into contact with the Woman in White, something terrible is going to befall the both of them, and then the rest of us.” The key travels to its Mother to open her head, Putnam thought. The Necrolore, and now this Drifter …. “I have to go check on something and there’s not much else I can say on the matter. They are probably at the Forever Forest. You may be able to catch them up. I will follow with Vance as soon as I’ve taken care of my business.”

“Fiona disappeared this morning. We can’t just leave without her,” Quint said.

“Is it possible she was taken by the shape-shifter?” asked Putnam.

“I mean I suppose, but what if she wasn’t?” Said Quint.

“Then leave a note with Daisy. And if she was taken, we may be able to save her.”

“But—” Quint said.

“Do I often invent stories?” Putnam asked. “You just have to believe me.”

“We can’t just leave him like this. For Void’s sake he’s just pissed himself,” Quint said.

Putnam walked over to Vance’s shaking form and opened up the cape.

“Putnam? What are you doing?” Quint asked, his eyes shifting between Vance and Putnam. Pip sat on a cushion in the corner.

“Maybe you should trust Phildrious right now, Quint. He isn’t usually like this,” the sesnickie sent.

Putnam pulled out a pill bottle filled with dark green tablets labeled ‘Triendria. 30mg enema tablets. For mild to severe anxiety. Take as needed.’ He pulled out four of the tablets, turning Vance over and pulling down his pants all in one motion. The man still cried and tried to wobble back and forth on the bed, but Putnam kept him still with one hand. At this point, Quint started to lend aid by thrumming into the man, making him a bit more still. Putnam put the four tablets into Vance’s rectum one after the other. The effects were almost instantaneous and Vance went slack. Putnam flipped him over on his side and walked back toward the door.

“You and Pip head for the Forever Forest. Leave Vance here. I’ll come back for him and meet you. Watch out for the Drake that looks like Vermilion, he’s a shape-shifter, and he’s dangerous from what I’ve heard.”

Putnam walked out the door, hesitated outside in the hallway for a moment, then came back in and undid the strap that held Vance’s strange black substance and his sesnickie blade. Putnam strapped it to himself. He might need a fang blade where he was going. A Necrolore. This all stinks if the Hate. And we took the Eraser.