Ideworld Chronicles: Act 3, Chapter 31: Running errands for myself

Day in the story: 13th January (Tuesday), eveningGertrude Monkey

This old-ass tree stood exactly where it had been left so many times already. Its canopy spread high above me, blocking most of the moonlight of the Moon that were spread across the sky. Only sparse rays of silvery illumination touched the root system that sprawled like some cancerous growth, suffocating any plant life that might otherwise have dared to peek through. There was no sign of the men Alexandra had left here to die, but something moved through the canopy, rustling the leaves.

I stood unmoving while sp-eye-ders, fed by my Authority, crawled up my body from their resting point around the Domain tattoo on my lower back. They nestled themselves around my neck, spreading my vision properly—as it was meant to be and not as humans were used to seeing the world.

Whatever was up there crawled too. Patiently it made a circle above me to position itself somewhere behind my back. I let it. At the same time, I reached back to the Domain and summoned my spellbook along with the rest of my equipment—everything except the Usagear. I deemed the latter unsafe for itself. I was sturdier and bigger in a few places than Alexandra was. Better not to destroy that useful piece in an embarrassing wardrobe’s catastrophe.

The thing stalking me lowered itself as it deemed me oblivious to its presence. Lowered was the right word, because it unspooled on a line made of something that looked like a feathered tentacle, connected to a small orb equally covered in brown, grey, and black feathers. As it came closer to the ground, additional tentacles unwove from the main mass and reached for the earth, giving the body support.

The whole thing could not have been bigger than a small dog, but those appendages were certainly long. The ball at the center had a nasty-looking hooked beak, already plastered with dried blood. It also had owl-like ears and eyes.

An octowl, by all standards and purposes.

I reached through the aura, focusing on the image of the Sword of Roses within the spellbook painted there by Alexandra days prior. I let it materialize right next to me with a clear command: kill whatever is not me.

It shone briefly with brown and turquoise Shadowlight and launched itself at the predator, which was now obviously aware that I had noticed its stalking attempt.

It launched itself like a rock from a slingshot, straight at me, succeeding in dodging the sword that flew in a wide arc meant to cut through the tentacles that were now mostly behind the creature. Only three remained in front, reaching to catch me with what appeared to be long razor sharp talons.

No chance in hell for that.

I was already in sword’s position, landing briefly at its hilt, breaking its flight pattern but using the disruption to launch myself upward and above the octowl. It turned quickly when it realized I had disappeared, but when its large eyes found me—only a fraction of a second later—newly summoned Ghostflame was already buried in the middle of its forehead.

It felt easy driving that blade into it. Its bones were light and soft. Muscles made for quickness, not power, gave up as soon as the ghostly metal broke through the threshold of feathered skin.

Alexandra was wasting too many resources after her kills. Penrose would condone such wastefulness in the face of an unknown. I reached for the lifeless body and with a flick of my will send the carcass into the empty hall of one of the buildings inside the Domain. It will have to be remade to be a proper storage, but it will serve as one. Who knew what could be made or retrieved from all those strange creatures.

Maybe Victor would find it interesting or Lebens, or even Joan for fuck’s sake. It was nothing, but could end up being everything. Shame on you Alexandra. You will have to learn something from me if we are going to be working together.

*More like remember it.* She responded and of course she was right with the context, but wrong in taking credit for it in any form.

Roots of the Old Oak undulated where the creature lay for a brief moment, as if trying to drink some of that spilled blood for themselves. I moved around that subtle wave, getting closer to the trunk, the green knife bare in my hand and the Sword of Roses hovering above my shoulder blade, pointed down. There was an Authority of insatiable hunger all around here—as if no matter how much the tree consumed, it would always need more.

“Strange that you provide endless rejuvenation of whatever is put into you, and yet you strive to consume everything,” I whispered, trying to soothe whatever soul stirred within that wood.

The knife shone faintly when I pushed it gently through the bark and slid it underneath, levering a strip free. It popped off with a crunch, revealing a glossy resin beneath. It dripped slowly, forming a thin line like blood. I reached for one of the cards and gathered some of it, then another and another, until the flow ceased completely. Each saturated card vanished into the Domain.

I repeated the process on the other side of the trunk. And then again.

When I was finally satisfied, I chose The Hoppers’ headquarters as my next destination and asked my body to move there, while sending both weapons to the Domain instead.

The sensation of being yanked away from one place and violently placed into another subsided after a moment, and I immediately concluded it had been a mistake. Alexandra’s method of forcing the world to shift around her was much preferable. It had still been worth testing, so I did not feel entirely bad about it—even when my head spun for a good few seconds.

“Gertrude?” Sophie’s voice reached me just as I dropped onto the couch. Max noticed my presence first, however. He froze, his mind clearly unable to process how I had moved past him unnoticed.

“What time is it?” I asked. “How come both of you are still here?”

She peeked at the watch on her wrist. “Half past eight, give or take.”

“Ma’am?” Max turned to both of us. “This magic business. It’s not a marketing phrase?”

“Soph, I will not take part in that conversation.”

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

“You will… not?” She stuttered. “What’s going on? Why are you here?” She asked me, then turned to Max. “I will explain everything shortly.”

I stood up, having regained my inner balance after the universe had put me through a spatial blender. “I came for the bike.”

“Oh. Oh… key?”

“You are asking me?” I replied, unsure. She looked at me with wide eyes and her mouth slightly open.

“Is that really you? Or is that, you know—?”

“I am Gertrude Monkey, for the first time ever. Our mutual friend is resting now,” I said, straightening up.

“You do look different,” Max noted from the side. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Like I said, I don’t have the patience for that talk, so he is all yours. Which garage is ours?”

Alexandra May

I regained my brain’s own consciousness when Gertrude was moving down the staircase. Much to my own satisfaction—and with enough sensibility to earn my gratitude—she chose it over the elevator, reminding me of simpler times when that metal box could mean the difference between life and death. Luckily, that line lay so far behind me now that I could reminisce about such worries with a smile on my face.

My body ached. My soul was wrenched almost completely dry of Authority, but fortunately for me, I was a madwoman who ruled the physics of this place, so with just a wink I forced the fabric of this universe to be a little more forgiving in how it applied gravitation around me.

Moving with one leg and no crutches on Earth’s one point zero gee was not something I wanted to participate in in my current state.

I hopped out from under the sheets as soon as the change took place and, with a few additional small jumps, reached the painting station’s chair. I pushed it back with one clean sweep when a jolt of some unfamiliar sensation ran through my entire left side, forcing me to contort in a sudden freeze.

“What the…” I said, standing there unable to move for a brief few seconds. When my muscles finally regained their functionality, I completed the movement and sat on the chair, covering my face with both hands.

“Side effect of giving too much out of myself? Or maybe the loss of the leg?” I mumbled, but the most likely explanation was that both factors had influenced me somehow. However, whatever was wrong would have to wait until the healers came home—whoever arrived first, Lebens or Peter. In the meantime, I was going to finish at least part of my sculptures, starting with two of the smallest ones, since they would be easier to manage in my current legless condition.

I hoped that I, in the skin of Gertrude, would have more physical fun in the process of getting my leg back.

Gertrude Monkey

I opened the garage with the code given by Sophie, and the bike stood there in its artistic glory. I wasn’t one to be easily swayed by the beauty of art but it looked fantastic and I had to admit it. In this body, pragmatism and cold calculation were the rulers I listened to, but given the fact that I was still, in part, Alexandra, I could use her skills to the fullest too.

I dropped down, leaning against the wall, opened the spellbook, and began capturing the machine before me in an artistic anchor.

Where Alexa loved her watercolor pens, I preferred something far simpler and less colorful. I drew the first lines with a simple pencil, leaving behind a black-and-grey representation of the physical shape. A few of them were not to my personal liking, but I could care less. Art would be messy when done by my hand—let the universe work a little more in adjusting to my needs for once. I smudged the pencil residue, applying volume to shadows and light across the entire picture. When that was done, I reached for another simple tool—a blue ballpen—and made each important line bolder in presentation, more physical and sure of itself.

When I was finished, in just a few minutes an acceptable doodle of the motorcycle rested in the spellbook, ready to be summoned at a moment’s notice.

I believe Alexa had described how it looked once, so you will have to be content with that. I am not going to repeat myself.

Instead, I put on a red wig, applied ruby lipstick to my lips, and slid green lenses onto my eyes. He knew me as Jess Hare, and as such I would present myself to him. I hopped onto the beast, turned the ignition with the key provided by my friend, and listened to the roar it gave.

“So good,” I whispered to myself and focused on Victor Bohr’s workshop, forcing this stupid double world to move me and the bike there. With a small adjustment of the throttle, I made enough noise upon arrival to wake the dead.

Victor dropped onto all fours on his elongated limbs as soon as he heard me, turning toward my position as I killed the engine.

“Victor!” I said with a cheer in my tone that Jess would have used. “I am so glad to see you!”

He eased his stance, clearly connecting the teleportation to the redheaded beauty I so obviously appeared to be.

“The glove is not ready yet,” he replied dryly, a clicking noise accompanying his words as his mandibles moved alongside his tongue and throat.

“I would not have assumed otherwise, my dear engineer. I came concerned with another issue.”

“What is it? I am busy.”

“Would you be interested in a material that refills whatever is put into a container made out of it?”

His eyes opened wider and moved out of their sockets on snail-like stalks to observe me, while his muscles released their pent-up tension.

“You should have started with that. I would. What do you want for it?”

I retrieved the bark from my bag and handed it to him. He moved his magically mechanical glove over it, releasing a thin mist of purplish Shadowlight. “Interesting. Hunger Authority with a hint of Reversal’s soulmark. Should work like you described, given the combination.”

“Good to know you trust what I’m telling you without any need to check,” I replied. He cocked his head to the side, unimpressed. “I want two things. First, I want you to use some of that to make the tank of this motorcycle run forever without needing refueling.”

“Should be easy enough,” he said, coming closer and caressing the frame with his long, clawed fingers. “And the second?”

I reached into my bag, retrieved Alexa’s artificial leg, and threw it onto one of the nearest desks, knocking a few items aside.

“Careful!” he shouted, his face ending up inches from mine. His breath smelled surprisingly pleasant. “That’s a white leg.”

“Yes, Victor, it’s a leg. What can you do to make it better?”

“Better at what? It’s not connected to a body.”

“No one can ever say you’re not perceptive, my friend,” I said in exactly the way Jess would. “You’re a specialist dealing with magical items. This is a prosthetic my friend wears. I want it to do something cool besides being a walking stick.”

“Oh. Cool as in freezing the surface it steps on? I can do that. I could probably do that on the spot.”

“Nah. Doesn’t sound very useful. Use your brain. What else?”

“If you could fill one of my crystals with some of that connection Authority, I could mix it with the lines’.”

“What good would that do?”

“The leg would be able to anchor itself with a line to something.”

“Like a bungee?”

“Yes.”

“A leg that can detach itself from a stump? Victor, that doesn’t seem very useful. I am disappointed.”

“Going down is bad, so maybe going up would work?” he asked and moved to a chest by the wall. He opened it and spilled a lot of differently colored Shadowlight into the air. He sifted through whatever was inside until he produced a small crystal that looked like a sapphire, and another jagged fragment resembling a jade-colored half-orb. “Projection and ground,” he declared, as if that was supposed to mean anything to me.

He exhaled in disappointment and continued.

“I could place them connected inside this thing. Direct them toward the foot, so whenever fed Authority they would project a short-lived platform beneath it.”

“And that’s what I’m talking about. That sounds useful.”

“Maybe. But the fragments I have are not very big, and the effect is demanding, so the user would probably be able to do it every two to five minutes before they replenish themselves with their Authority—if they are a mage, that is. If not, they would need some external—”

“They are a mage,” I interrupted. “Do it.”

“Now?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I’d need to cut the thing open to make space and install everything, then screw it back together or something. It wouldn’t look nearly as good afterward,” he said, weighing the leg in his hands.

“That won’t be necessary,” I replied, reaching for a black spray can. “Show me where you want a hole, and let’s get to work.”