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The Temple of the Mists

As for Jenever, she dropped into a martial arts combat stance, empty hands balling into fists. For the moment, her intention was to avoid any contact with the mist-person, but if it touched her, then she would determine, based on its degree of solidity, how to further attack.

The mists was rushing at her fast now, and a chill, icy fear gripped Jenever - just as Blake received as similar over-powering sense of menace behind him.

It was impossible for Jenever to feel fear without rage, and so the two grappled for control over her frame. She wanted to shrink back, to run, to cry out, but she refused to do so. Her body shook once, as if from a sudden cold. She was weaponless and the thing that assailed her had no form.

But she knew that she was strong in her mind, as well. Strong as the one she had come from. Stronger.

"I have come for the sword. I won through the maze. Whoever or whatever thou art, thou hast no command nor power over me." Her voice wavered but remained loud.

Blake heard that voice- and something beyond. Though there was the possibility of a trap... Of a doppelganger... There were some things that could not be faked. And what he heard in Jenever's voice was one of them.

"Jenever?" he asked tentatively...

Still trembling, despite her best efforts to make her body behave, Jenever drew herself to her full height and strode forward into the mist.

And the mist received her ... the figure fading ...

As the mist grew fainter, she saw Blake, aherad of her on the stairs, facing her.

And behind him stood a tall and cadaverous figure who was reaching down long fingers, seemingly made of ice ... or plantaxy ... to grasp him in its fingers.

But even as Blake came to realize that there was no threat before him, he began to also sense the looming dread coming from behind him. Spinning towards the true danger, Blake underhanded the seemingly insufficient dagger he held in his hand- redirecting the winds he had summoned to carry it true and fast towards the figure, while at the same time attempting to retreat down the stairs...

Jenever's eyes widened as she saw Blake and his situation, but she waited silently to see if he had this in hand. Her right hand suddenly caught fire, burning with white flame that did not seem to damage her.

The figure came towards him, moving more slowly as it fought the winds. The light of the fire of Jenever's hand was reflected in it and refracted, and it seemed to blench away ... perhaps unable to attack in the face of wind and fire together.

"Don't let it touch you," Jenever said. "On the off chance." She did not bother to explain what the off chance was.

Blake said nothing, but merely nodded, concentrating on maintaining the wind. He moved towards her, coming to her side. "I think it is the combination of our elements that is throwing him off balance." He looked at her hand. "How large can you make that flame?"

"I've no idea," Jenever said irritably. She looked at the crystal or ice creature at the top of the stairs as if it were someone else's dog who had just had an accident on her brand new rug. "What is that thing even doing here? I've been through the maze, now I want my bloody sword."

Absently, she attempted to make the flame in her hand grow, to see how big it could get.

It shot out, a sudden and wholly unexpected gout - the length of a broadsword, and close enough to Blake to make him need to jump back quickly.

But, she realised, it was at least as tiring as wielding a broadsword.

"Well," Jenever breathed, looking at the length of flame in her hand, and then at the ice creature. "In that case, keep those winds up and I'll see if I can get rid of our friend."

She began to slowly ascend the stairs, flame sword ahead of her, eyes on the creature. "I will have that I came for," she said again. "Do not hinder me."

The creature fell back under the joint assault of flame and wind ... then paused.

And suddenly it shattered into a thusand shards before them - but none came close to their vulnerable skin.

And now the way to the temple was clear before them, and its storehouse of weapons.

"Is it just me," Blake said in the silence that followed the shattering, "or was that too simple?"

Jenever nodded. "I thought you did something..." she murmured.

He looked to Jenever. "You mentioned a blade. Who sent you here to get it?"

Her eyes flashed for an instant at the assumption that she was out running someone else's errands, but since it was the truth, she swallowed her irritation and said, "The man who took the Neverking's Sword as hostage until I got him another one. But I may just use this one to kill the bastard for his never-ending games."

She moved forward into the temple, looking around at the weapons available.

Then she added. "Bleys."

The temple was deserted - but there were a fantastic array of weapons of all sizes, shapes and qualities.

The weapons spanned all manner of ancient time periods, and were arranged according to that criteria first. Though armour was not a part of the spectacle, one could imagine what was worn during an epoch merely by the weapons which were a part of it. As he looked Blake also realized that there were no ranged weapons- these were all meant to be used in personal combat, but in that arena, they would have no peer. Though adorned and decorated with engravings and precious stones, none of these affectations would reduce the deadly efficiency of them.

This being her quest, Blake waited for Jenever to decide upon which implement of war would best suit her purposes- any of these would be well matched against Benedict's blade- it only depended upon the approach of the wielder. Studying her, he wondered how she'd fare against Bleys. Though it was a fight he'd rather not have to wager on, it was one he wouldn't miss...

Jenever walked through the room, looking at everything. Finally, she selected a sword - it was long and slender, and the steel had a faintly crimson cast. Runes ran down its length and sparkled slightly as she lifted the weapon. A ruby the size of a dove's egg made the pommel, and there were also diamonds in the cross-guard, but the hilt was wrapped in leather. She cast around for a sheath, and found a magnificent baldric.

Slowly and with a little ceremony, she buckled on the sword.

"All right," she said finally, "Was there anything you wanted before we go on?"

In fact, Blake had already seen what he wanted, and once he knew that Jenever was not going for it, had moved to take possession of it. A masterfully made weapon, the Schiavona gleamed in the bare light when he took it from its scabbard, the light reflecting from the silver runes inlaid into the whorled black steel of the blade. The basket hilt fit Blake's hand perfectly, and the matching long dagger was a perfect replacement for the one he had lost fighting the thing on the steps. He held it out parallel to the floor, studying its line, before sheathing it in satisfaction.

"Where to?" he asked Jenever as he walked over to her.

"Sanctuary," she replied. Then suddenly she cocked her head a little to the side and regarded Blake through narrowed eyes. "Say, what are you doing here, anyway? Where is Tobias?"

Blake made a moue of distaste. "Careful... You might yet prove yourself to be an Amberite with that attitude." He shook his head and sighed. "It appears that our dear Tobias decided that he'd rather associate with a more rarefied crowd."

Jenever's eyebrows rose sharply, her face turning cloudy.

Then seeing Jenever's expression, he continued, "We ran across the Lady. She was having problems. They left me in the lurch in the middle of a shadow storm adrift near a glacier of plantaxy." His expression darkened. "I'll have to discuss that with him one day."

"If he's gone back to them," Jenever said roughly, "I'll kill him..." Then she seemed to think of something and added, "Unless it's all a trick... I suppose I'd best give him the benefit of the doubt..."

He shrugged. "But I guess I paid attention in class and passed the test, for I was able to make my way here... Whereever here is. I noticed you, and some old man told me you were after your heart's desire." He then looked at Jenever askew, continuing, "Which I would not think would be a blade for Bleys."

"Where were you coming from? What is down the stairs?" he asked.

"My heart's desire?" Jenever laughed. "I'm afraid not. I came here for the sword - to get mine back from the Carouser, or at least to face him on terms closer to equal. There's a little spring down there, and a priestess, and past that is the maze I traversed to get here."

Blake raised one eyebrow, but beyond that, said nothing. "Let's go back up the stairs, then. I find myself not in the mood for mazes or obfuscations," he said finally. "Since you're more familiar with Sanctuary, I hope you don't mind if I follow your lead," he said, starting up the stairs.

"Not at all," said Jenever gaily. "It will be good to have your company again."

As they climbed, it began to get noisier. The sound of traffic, of busy streets and bustling lives began to be heard. Suddenly they found there was a press of press around them, moving with them.

They were climbing the steps out of a subway and into a thriving metropolis.

"Look out!" shouted someone. "They've got weapons!"

At once they became aware of the crowd fighting to push away from them and - more distantly - a strange kind of horn wailing.

"What in the nine worlds is all this?" Jenever snapped, obviously not really expecting an answer. "I'm surprisingly not in the mood for a fight, so let's move."

Blake was thankful for Jenever's unlikely mood- he didn't look forward to fighting a crowd such as was about him. He followed her, travelling in her wake and watching her back.

With that, she began running down the street, pushing anyone aside who would move of their own volition. As she ran, she twisted at the shadows, first to eliminate the element of pursuit, and then to begin to get back to Sanctuary...

It was hard to twist, really hard. This seemed to be a place of considerable reality ...

The element of pursuit faded. But the city street was still filled with people who turned and stared at them, appalled.

And as they ran forward, it seemed to be getting harder and harder to shift.

Ahead of them, a great silver pencil of a building stabbed the sky. A laser beam from its roof wrote the company name in great red letters across the sky: AUBURNI HOLDINGS.

Blake pulled up short. "Somehow, I think we make a wrong turn." He said, raising an eyebrow. "This is about as far from Sanctuary as we can get, isn't it?"

"Even if it's right next door, it's not where we want to be," Jenever growled, "and I am sick of playing someone else's game. If shifting won't work, there are other ways to get back to Sanctuary..."

She bit her lip. "But why are they herding us here? I'd think this would be the last place on earth they'd want me... And Fiona's not exactly your favorite person, either, from what I remember... I'm curious... Shall we go inside?"

Blake thought for a moment. "It seems as if we are being herded here- is it wise to go along with their wishes?" he mused.

Finally he threw his hands up in surrender. "Why not. Better the trap that you see..."

It seemed to be a rather grand office complex - at least from the Reception - which leaned heavily towards highly polished glass, highly polished marble, and highly polished steel. One suspected that the receptionists (whose smiles also appeared highly polished) we never permitted to place anything as personal as a fluffy animal on their marble desks ...

As they entered, an impeccably manicured and coiffed creature (of anadrogynous aspect) rushed up to them, carrying a clipboard.

"Are you here for the presentation?" it demanded.

After a quick look at Jenever, Blake said, "Yes."

Jenever nodded sharply. If it seemed incongruous to her to attempt to fit in such a pristine, technological building in her leather armor with the greatsword belted around her, she did not show it. "Quite so," she said.

They were led into a vast auditorium, already so packed with people that iot was with difficulty that they found seats together on one of the upper tiers. Soon it was filled even more to flowing, with people standing at the back, and sitting on the highly polished marble steps. Fortunately, although the construction was like that of an ancient ampitheatre, the seats Blake and Jenever had found were comfortable padded leather supported by warm wood. Jenever's clothing did not appear so out of place, either - there were a wide variety of styles and modes. There also seemed to be a sizeable number of the audience who were Chosen - or possibly Unchosen. There were, for example, at the very least a good sprinklings of Dot and Robert clones throughout the room.

At the front, looking tiny, was a lectern - and behind it were huge white screens. It seemed they were to have a multimedia presentation.

Behind them, someone was tapping a pencil on the desk, perhaps a little impatient.

And then Jenever realised it was her songline.

Jenever made a face, glancing at Blake. "That's mine," she whispered. "But I want to know what this is... do you agree?"

Blake nodded silently. Then after a moment, he added, "But it might not be such a good idea to take it considering where we are, and what it has to go through."

"Noted," Jenever nodded. She let the songline play on, ignoring it, focusing her attention to the front.

There was a sudden ripple of applause running around the auditorium and the lights darkened. For a second everything was held in breathless blackness - and then the screens exploded into life and colour and sound, extolling the virtues of Auburni Holdings in the slickest and most awesome of presentation. It had all those words with mutiples z's, like razzle-dazzle and razzamatazz ... It kicked ass.

It brought ooohs and aahhhs from the audience, and then rapturous screams.

As far as Blake and Jenever could make out - Auburni Holdings played a significant role in every significant trade that had been made here - or anywhere - in the last five hundred years.

Then then lights dimmed again ... and they were left in the breathless dark.

A single spotlight of whiote light ... illuminated a small figure with almost unnaturally pale skin, dressed in white - the only colour her long red hair.

The Sorceress herself. Fiona.

"Well," Blake whispered. "She does know how to make an entrance." He never took his eyes off the figure, nor moved his hand far from the blade as his hip. "Do you think she's really here?"

The woman started to speak. If it was a holo, or some form of magical projection, it was very good, because her interaction with the audience was flawless.

The audience clearly adored her as she spoke of the next great advance in knowledge, in endeavour.

"A triumph," she continued, "to which each and everyone one of you has contributed, is contributing .... and will continue to contribute!"

Thunderous applause!

"Soon, my dear colleagues and comrades," she continued, "the moment of uniuon, of joining will be complete - when each and everyone of us will be united ... will join our minds together and be one - one supremely powerful, immortal, living mind!"

Rapturous applause.

"Behold," cried Fiona, "the future!"

The screen dropped away - spotlights raced all around the auditorium before focusing on a single object.

Behind Fiona on the stage, twisted and carved into the most extravagant and beautiful shapes so that it resembled the Greek temple where Blake and Jenever had so lately been, was an immense block of plantaxy, a temple of plantaxy ... with innumerable columns, vast beyound measure and yet somehow contained, throbbing with life, within the confines of the auditorium.

And the crowd went wild.

"Well, at least we know who was behind the temple." Blake's voice began with a sardonic tone, but slowed as he looked towards Jenever. "So. Is this as bad as I think it is?"

"I would have to read your mind to know it isn't worse," Jenever said quietly. Her eyes were wide. "What is that little bitch playing at, I wonder? One life?"

Now people were standing up, walking forward, passing into the temple. Those behind were applauding those in front who were moving deeper among the crystalline columns. Some were turning aside, moving to particular pillar and kneeling in front of them, pressing their heads against them and becoming very, very still. Those still in the auditorium began to fill down the stairs, pressing forward, eager for their turn.

"What do you think?" Blake said. "Make ourselves obvious by staying here... And getting her attention? Or leave now? Because I'm certainly not doing ..." He gestured towards the thronging mass, "that..."

Jenever pulled her gaze from the cult-like movement toward the temple with some difficulty. Her expression was half fascination and half horror. "Yes, I think it is time to leave," she said slowly. Her mind was racing... Would Fiona have wanted her to see that? Or was it someone else who had pushed them here...

No matter. It was time to get out before these insane sycophants realized that they were in no hurry to join the hive mind.

The hive... Jenever started to laugh. Some things never changed.

"I can only think of one quick way out of here. But we must be very careful." She began to sing the songline that the Carouser had given her, very quietly, under her breath.

It was answered almost immediately. The Carouser was reflected against the dark background of Ultima ... and beyond it there seemed to be a sort of laboratory.

The Carouser was smiling. "Do you have my sword?" he began - and then stiffened.

"Wait!" he said sharply - he seemed to be distracted by something that was happening close by.

All around them in the auditorium, the crowd were pushing forward towards the temple, which was rapidly filling - the new people to enter, short of space, were actually kneeling on top of the first people, so that they too had a chance to push their heads against the pillars.

It was becoming harder for Blake and Jenever to keep their feet, to withstand the tide of Chosen.

Not privy to the contents of the songline, Blake merely tried to pull Jenever along, and part the crowd in front of her, as they made their way towards the back of the auditorium. "Now would be good," he said, his voice tense from the situation. "In fact, now would be superb."

It was hard to tell if Jenever was listening to him or not. "No waiting," she growled at the Carouser. "Now!"

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