Children of the Spear (Novella): Origin

by Gervais, Rhett

  Origin

  A Children of the Spear Novella

  By Rhett Gervais

  Origin

  A Children of The Spear Novella

  Rhett Gervais

  Editor: Paula Winter

  Cover: Jake Caleb, J Caleb Design

  Formatting: Polgarus Studio

  Published April 2019

  Copyright © 2019 Rhett Gervais

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Prologue: Homecoming

  Chapter 1: Original Sin

  Chapter 2: Winter in Beantown

  Chapter 3: Hero

  Chapter 4: Shadow and Light

  Chapter 5: Rumors and Lies

  Chapter 6: The Tomb

  Chapter 7: The Bell Tower

  Chapter 8: Fifty Thousand Feet

  Chapter 9: No One Who WIll Be Missed

  Chapter 10: A Rabid Dog

  Chapter 11: A Nation Shall Endure.

  Chapter 12: Valley of the Gods

  Chapter 13: Stronger, Better, Faster, More

  Chapter 14: A Vast Emptiness

  Chapter 15: Strange Bedfellows

  Chapter 16: The Killing Place

  Chapter 17: Senator’s Son

  Chapter 18: Lightning on the Green

  Chapter 19: The Price of Power

  Chapter 20: Maelstrom

  Chapter 21: Behind Closed Doors

  Chapter 22: Tempest

  Chapter 23: The Blackwood Incident.

  Epilogue: The Lie

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  About The Author

  Prologue: Homecoming

  2063

  The entryway was like a magical portal to his past. Standing there, he marveled at how much it had changed and yet remained the same. Blinking away memories, Bobby drew in a deep breath, his nostrils filling with the musty odor of decay and beeswax. He moved deeper into the cathedral, feeling like a time traveler, each stride over the broken stained glass sending him farther into the past, a past he had thought long buried.

  It all came flooding back, the painful memories of welts on his back and hands from the thick leather belts. Bobby could almost feel the slap of the plastic ruler on his knuckles every time he made a mistake. He’d hated this place and all its cruelty and hardship; it was like they wanted to drain all joy of life. But even back then he had happy memories: stealing church wine, getting drunk with the kids forced to work here, stolen moments of laughter with those like himself, alone in the world. With a shudder he pushed it all away; he could not afford to be soft right now.

  Striding with purpose past the altar rails he crossed himself by habit, then made his way up the low-rising stairs to the chancel, the wide stone platform that held the altar. His eyes sparkled in wonder at the beauty of sunlight cascading off the stunning, textured metal work on the walls surrounding the altar and canopy overhead. Stripped of the gold and silver that once adorned it, and despite being in ruins, Trinity church was still a work of art. Tearing his eyes away, he frowned at the rows of shattered and broken wooden pews that stretched to the back of the massive room. The very sight before him brought an ache to his hands; he could almost smell the oil he’d used to polish the old wood to smoothness.

  Finally, with a shaking hand, he caressed the sleek marble altar that had once served to proclaim the word of God, the celebration of Jesus Christ. Knowing its value, he was amazed to find it still in place, given that everything else had been scavenged or destroyed. Bobby gripped tight on the edges of the cool marble, his face flush red with anger. This place had once been a masterpiece of man’s love for God, and he had spent years slaving away to help restore it. Part of him wanted nothing more than to hunt down those responsible for the theft, for the defilement, and make them pay for their violation of this sacred place.

  The fluttering of pigeons escaping through broken stained glass pulled him back to the present, reminding him why he was here. With a sigh he stood to his full height, his whip-thin frame casting a long shadow. Reaching into one of the pockets of his long red coat, he pulled out a slim metal baton about the length of his forearm, steeling himself for what had to be done. “You can come out,” he said, his voice echoing across the vaulted ceiling. “I can feel you there in the corner.”

  He crossed his arms, waiting. Even before seeing her, Bobby felt her presence, her power. The air stilling like they were in the eye of a hurricane, the sharp clean smell of ozone filling his nostrils, a warning of what was to come. She emerged from a dark alcove near the back of the church, jet-black hair cascading past her shoulders, dressed in a long, crimson leather coat over black trousers. Her uniform, a near perfect match to his own. Cautiously, he stepped out from behind the altar, mirroring her movements, making his way to the railing that separated the chancel from row after row broken pews. As she drew closer he could see the golden cross, which had once adorned the breast of her coat, had been burned away, leaving only a charred stain in its place.

  “It looks like we’ve come full circle. This is where we met, isn’t it?” she asked softly, her almond-shaped eyes narrowing, hints of anger smoldering in their dark depths. “Are you Michael’s hound now? Is he that much of a coward that he couldn’t come after us himself?”

  “Michael didn’t give me much choice; you know that. Besides, who else could find you; who else would you even talk to?” said Bobby with a shrug, keeping his tone light. “Anyway, I was hoping I could convince you to come home, and this would be as good a place as any.”

  “Michael died that night at Blackwood, and that thing giving you orders is not him anymore. You know that!” she said through gritted teeth. “And you must be crazier than him to think we could ever come back, now that we know the truth.”

  “Like I said, I don’t have a choice,” he said, bowing his head.

  “We always have a choice, Bobby. You just have to be willing to deal with the consequences.”

  Before he could answer, Bobby felt that familiar itch on his brain, like an afterimage of staring at the sun too long. Without looking, he could sense someone skulking behind him. He knew an ambush was coming, but he held out hope they could be talked down. All of them being friends once should count for something. With a sigh, he spoke over his shoulder, his voice echoing in the vast space. “C’mon, Liam, I can feel you back there puttering around. You'd think that after all this time you’d know it's impossible to sneak up on me, even with your abilities,” he said, returning his attention to Elizabeth a moment later, his lips pressing into a thin line. “I don’t sense Andrew anywhere around here. Did he go off on his own way already? He was never one for loyalty,” he said, looking around for the third man.

  “Don’t worry, Andrew is where he needs to be,” said Elizabeth, stopping at the midpoint between the altar and the back of the church like there was some sort of invisible line, her eyes locking on his. “You need to just let us go in peace, Bobby, like you promised. After all we’ve been
through, you owe us that much”

  Bobby strolled forward to meet her, his baton tapping against his leg. From this close he could see small arcs of static electricity dancing around her fingers, making his hair stand on end. Behind him he could sense Liam more clearly now, his anxiety, his doubt, making him quite visible despite his efforts. “We’re Ascended and have abilities beyond anything the world has ever seen,” said Bobby, shaking his head. “Since Blackwood people know about us, they’ve seen how powerful we are. They’re fine with what we can do as long as they think they're in control. Once they find out you’re off the leash, they’ll panic and want all of us dead. The public is afraid of what it can’t control, and the military won’t just let you go, knowing what you can do.”

  “They don’t have a choice!” Elizabeth shouted over him, the echoes of her voice sending more pigeons fleeing through broken stained glass. “I’m not going back! I’m going to do some good in this world with the little time I have left. If you want to keep serving assholes, you’re welcome to it”

  Squaring his shoulders, Bobby widened his stance. Knowing her temper he prepared for the worst. “Then why did you agree to meet me here?” he asked, wanting to keep her talking, to keep her calm.

  Her face dropped, her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears. “This was a special place for us. When you asked to meet here, of all places, I thought you wanted to join us.”

  Bobby felt a pang in his heart, his lips twisting into an odd smile. Without a word he raised a hand, hesitant about touching her cheek, and surprised when she let him. “I wish I could. I wish things were different, and we could go back to just being you and me,” he whispered. “But we don’t have that luxury anymore. God has a plan for me: for you. Please come home. We can work this out.”

  She put a hand over his, brushing his palm with her lips for a heartbeat before pushing it away. “No, Bobby. I know what's coming now. Michael’s plans for the future are insane, and I’ll do everything in my power to stop him,” she said, her dark eyes darting over his shoulder.

  “I understand; I really do,” he said, following her gaze. Not far behind him he could see the solid stone chancel moving as if it were a living thing. “You know Liam was always predictable, right? An idiot at the best of times.”

  Elizabeth gave him a pained smile, rolling her eyes. “I know. Some things you can’t change,” she said, staring hard at him. She sighed, slowly backing away from him, her eyes never leaving his. “Ready?”

  Bobby pursed his lips, giving her a small salute before nodding, his heart full of regret.

  From behind him, Liam attacked, chunks of stone tearing away from the chancel and hurtling toward him like a scythe. Knowing the attacks were coming, Bobby vaulted high into the air, flipping backward and avoiding the hailstorm of razor-sharp stone that shattered against the wood and concrete where he had been standing moments before. Landing farther back he crouched down, quickly twisting open his baton, releasing the monofilament whip coiled within. The weapon was deadly due to the fact that the line was near invisible, and it was one of the few things that could cut through the toughened skin of an Ascended like Elizabeth or himself. He had to move fast to keep them both off-balance; he couldn’t let them get the initiative. He flicked his wrist, lashing out in rapid succession at Elizabeth, slicing open the flesh under her eye and another gash on her shoulder, forcing her back. She wailed, her angry shriek nearly bursting his eardrum.

  Crouching behind one of the pews he closed his eyes for a beat, focusing. Using the strange ability he had developed since his Ascension, he sensed Liam hiding behind a door that led to a small antechamber behind the altar. “There you are,” he whispered, bursting into a sprint, leaping over the altar railing and landing beside the massive stone slab.

  Behind him, Elizabeth clutched the cut under her eye. Raising a clawed hand, she projected a torrent of blue-white electricity at him, her face a mask of anger. A wild arc of energy danced along the width of the chancel, shattering stone and forcing him to duck low behind the altar to avoid recurring blasts as she vented her rage: lightning scattering in all directions off her small form as she walked toward him.

  Not missing a beat Bobby dashed out from cover, aiming his entire body at a concealed door at the back of the altar. Without slowing he crashed through it, splintering the aged wood and knocking the remaining portion off its rusted hinges. Liam's eyes went wide with shock as Bobby's shoulder slammed into him, sending him careening through the air and landing hard on his back a few feet away.

  Bobby pulled his arm back poised to strike when Liam’s arm shot out, fingers splayed. Jagged spears of stone, razor sharp, exploded from the floor to form a protective barrier between the two of them. Without thinking, Bobby spun his monowhip faster than the eye could see, easily ripping the makeshift barricade to dust. Going on the offense, Bobby flicked the near invisible filament at Liam’s face in rapid succession, the first blow neatly slicing into his forehead, the second just below his cheek. The smaller man wailed, clutching at the bloody gashes, madly scrambling back to avoid the vicious weapon.

  “The next one takes your eye, Little Liam,” said Bobby with a sneer. Never having liked the smaller man very much. His commanders had told him that Ascension brought out the best and worst in you, that the abilities you developed were in part based on who you were as a person. With Liam it was pure truth. He was hard, stubborn, inflexible.

  With a defiant grunt Liam raised his hands and slammed them together, causing the floor on either side of him to rise and snap like a steel trap, large chunks of granite moving as if alive and holding him in place.

  “You didn’t think I could do this, did you?” said Liam as he climbed to his feet, all the while his shaking arm outstretched, his eyes wide. “My abilities have only become stronger since I’ve gotten away from assholes like you and Michael.”

  As if to make his point Liam closed his hand into a fist and the stone holding Bobby tightened, his bones creaking from the pressure. For not the first time he was grateful for his hardened skin and increased strength, it was the only reason he was not a pulped mess of flesh. Struggling to get escape he heard Elizabeth closing in, her hard-soled boots echoing like peals of thunder from behind him.

  He hung there, wincing in pain, his breathing short from the weight of the stone pressed against him. “You don’t want to do this, Liam. You weren’t at Blackwood. You don’t know what happened, so you should let me go before I hurt you.”

  Liam shook his head, a glimmer of hysteria in his eyes. “No way. I know you’re just full of shit, and there is nothing you can do to stop me, so save your breath.” Liam closed his fist and his prison of stone grew tighter, grinding his bones closer together with each passing moment.

  “No, no, no… You don’t understand,” said Bobby, his breath coming in short gasps. “Please stop. I—I can’t control it.”

  “That’s enough, Liam,” shouted Elizabeth, coming up behind him. “We said no killing; we’d just trap him long enough to move on.”

  “No! He always thought he was better than me, calling me Little Liam, Liam the Leprechaun. I’m gonna bury you under this church, and make sure they never find you.”

  Bobby began to see stars, his vision fading to black, from somewhere far away, he could hear Elizabeth threatening, cajoling. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to stop it or at least slow it down. He didn’t want it to be like last time, like Blackwood; he knew what his rage could do. Then without warning it began. He was adrift in nothingness, lost somewhere between life and death, clinging to life by the tiny spark of anger that was buried deep within him. All of his life his anger gave him the strength to survive. From losing his mother, to being forced to live on the street eating garbage, to the beatings in the church, it was the one thing that sustained him; it made him who he was. He held it tight, letting it wash over him, feeding it with all he had.

  When he opened his eyes a few seconds later, Liam was face-to-face with him, a gleeful smile
on his face.

  “I warned you,” rasped Bobby as a tendril of black-and-red energy snaked out from his caged form, moving like a striking viper quick into Liam’s chest. The stubborn man’s eyes went wide with shock as the tendril grew; coiling around his arms and legs, swirling around his neck and forcing his jaw open as it crept its way down his throat. Bobby gasped as a burning torrent of power flooded his body, healing the cuts and scrapes he had endured, infusing him with more vitality than he could endure. Then beyond his field of vision another tendril shot out like a hungry serpent, drawing more power to him. Behind him, Elizabeth screamed until her voice was hoarse. In a panic he squeezed his eyes shut, fumbling for control like a man trying to grasp a flame, desperate to smother his rage. The prison holding him vanished, and he fell hard onto the floor, momentarily seeing stars.

  He opened his eyes to find his face was pressed against the cool floor, pieces of rock digging into his skin, Elizabeth’s thundering heels fading in the distance as she fled. He rolled over, looking at Liam. Even knowing what to expect, he shuddered at the sight of it. What was left of him was like a corpse years dead, little more than emaciated gray skin clinging to bleached bone, his skeletal face locked in a grimace of pain.

  “I warned you Little Liam,” he whispered as he lumbered to his feet, his mind clear, feeling better than he had in months. Gripping the stone slab that had held him only a few moments ago, pushing aside the massive piece of rock like it were made of Styrofoam. He marveled at how he could still feel Elizabeth, even as she fled. It was a new sensation to him, but somehow, he understood that she hadn’t escaped unscathed. Just as he had drained Liam, he had touched her in some way as well, taking some of her strength and making it his own. He could almost taste her, like a shark who had smelled blood in the water. No matter how far she got, he could find her. Looking around the old church, his mind fled back to the times they spent together here. He didn’t know if he had the courage to murder the last person in the world who cared about him.