The Spark

by Howell, H. G.

  ‘Now you are asking me to make a rash decision, just as Lucian. You wish me to put the college under the influence of the ESP, even when there is no direct threat to our people.” Julien paused, letting his words bring a heavy weight to the silent air. A gentle wind pricked the tendrils of his scarf as snow fell in flakes that grew fatter with every passing minute.

  “I refused Lucian. I refuted every one of his motions.” Julien turned his back on his colleagues, eyes finding the fresh copper plaque upon the fountain.

  In memory of the Madam Rosemary Sharpe, Speaker of the Commons.

  “Perhaps,” His voice was soft. “Had I listened, my dear lady would still be with us. Perhaps my instincts were wrong in the past. I will put the ESP into effect immediately.”

  “Thank-you, ser.” Gillard spoke over the soft, excited murmur of the assembled faculty.

  “I do not do it for you.” Julien did not intend for his tone to hold such an edge, yet there it was. “I do it for the future of Wynne.”

  “Understood.” The librarian replied.

  “Everyone, please, return to your dormitories. In the morning the protocols will be in full effect, so I suggest you enjoy the peace within the college’s halls while it lasts. Gillard, you will come with me.”

  “Yessir.” The terrakinetic bowed his head, seemingly in an effort to honour Julien.

  Julien did not wait for the others to disperse. He had much work to do before night fell and he did not desire to waste time conversing with his fellows. The cane in his gloved hand set a tart pace through the famous Garden D’lune. Gillard, being a much younger man, was able to keep pace. Despite the man’s efforts, Julien sensed the weighty librarian struggled with the speed simply by the way the man’s breath filled the air with sharp, ragged, sucking noises. Overall, the pair crossed to the far side of the campus grounds in decent time. Julien had to take a minute to gather his bearings, which provided Gillard a chance to catch his breath.

  “Where are we going?” The terrakinetic asked. “Should we not be heading towards to the college?”

  “A man as read as yourself should understand that if you want something to be secret,” Julien wiped his nose on the cuff of his sleeve, “you put it in the least likely of spots.”

  “I see.” Gillard said, rubbing his hands together against the cold. “What is it you are searching for?”

  “The mark.” Julien said. Through his lenses Julien squinted into a nearby outcropping of trees. He knew the mark was somewhere near that far location, but he could not find it through the cold. “Del Morte curse this damnable snow!”

  “I think its lovely.” Gillard smiled, still rubbing his hands. “Graceful almost.”

  “Aye, until you need to find something and need unobstructed vision.” Julien huffed. Sighing, he resorted to adjusting the crystalline concentration of his lenses.

  Every child in Wynne dreamed of being kinetic, or at least meeting one. Yet what they are never told, or what they would never comprehend, was the pain being a kinetic brought upon an individual. Julien was destined to an attunement within the pyrokinetic school, a fate worse than death in his mind. Of all the kinetics he had met, all seemed to pity the pyrokinetics for their attunement came with an ailment of the eyes. Without the aid of crystal lenses, every pyrokinetic would be curled on the floor, eyes clenched tight to avoid the disorientation and searing pain that filtered into their orbs; without the pyrokinetic lenses, each man and woman attuned to the pyro school would be afflicted with feeling, and seeing, all the worldly heat.

  The lenses acted as a filter, clarifying the often disorientating and obscured visions of the swirling heat waves. In the earliest iterations, the lenses were made of glasses made of wire frames with several overlapping lenses which could be flipped up or down to enhance or detract the clarification. Now, however, the lenses were made from the wonderfully light and clear crystals found in the Ynouxian mines in the north. To enhance, or detract, the clarity of the lenses, all one had to do was swivel one or two dials on the side of the lenses. This would cause the crystals to rotate within the frame, allowing a gradual change of clarity as opposed to the sudden changes brought on in the antique lenses.

  The mark, which Julien searched for, would be impossible to find in the falling snow. But, being an object that housed an everflame lantern, he would be able to find its heat source.

  “Julien, what is the mark?” Gillard asked, impatience hidden in his words.

  “Hm? Oh, yes.” Julien said absently as he fiddled with the dials on his lenses. “A tree. A single, white tree.”

  “Then why do we stand here and not search for this, white tree?” the librarian asked.

  “The snow is too thick here.” Julien said. “We would spend too much time drudging amongst the brambles. Thankfully, the men in the past were of great forethought and embedded a hollow within this tree – a hollow where they placed a small everflame beacon.”

  “Ah, I understand.” Gillard nodded his head. “But you forget I can raise us a path from the earth.” He stepped forward, reaching his hand out.

  Julien stopped his search for a moment to watch the younger man. A smile played across his withered lips as the librarian’s hand trembled as he worked the very fabric of reality to cause a path to rise from the frozen ground.

  “That is enough Gillard,” Julien smiles as the first few steps broke through the crust of snow, mere inches from where it began. “Save your strength.”

  “I don’t understand.” The confused look on Gillards face as he turned to Julien was priceless.

  “You have spent your whole life here on Driftwood Isle. You have only known its soft soils.” Julien stepped forward and placed a hand on the winded terrakinetic’s shoulder. “You are not used to working the frozen earth like one from the north. Come, I have found the way.”

  Julien headed to the southerly corner of the small wood, letting Gillard take a moment to regain his composure. The old headmaster struggled his way through the knee-deep snows, often resorting to his cane as a makeshift plow as he trudged across the wide campus grounds. In his younger days, Julien would have attempted to use his control of fire to melt a path through the snow, but in his aged wisdom he knew it would be a moot attempt.

  That was another thing many did not know of the kinetic people. Many of the schools, such as terrakinetic and pyrokinetic, relied on worldly situations for their control. For instance Gillard, being a man born in the south, had never worked or trained with frozen earth. The deep-rooted frosts were a beast the librarian was not able to slay, for he had never learnt how to manipulate such conditions.

  Some schools, like pyrokinetics, were even worse off. In the south, where heat was always abundant, a pyrokinetic could create the most spectacular displays of dancing flame. Yet, in the north, heat was scarce. This forced pyrokinetics to expel great amounts of energy to draw enough heat to manipulate into active flames. Typically, the heat sources in the north came from people or animals, but here, in the deepest recesses of the Garden D’lune on the snow laden campus grounds, not enough heat could be gathered into any real use.

  After what seemed an eternity of breaking snowdrifts and stumbling along, Julien and Gillard finally came upon the white tree. It was tall, proud almost, and certainly was difficult to see amidst the backdrop of grey clouds and falling snow. There were no branches, save for one that pointed into the wood.

  “More walking?” Gillard asked, kicking the snow off his boots against a nearby tree.

  “Aye,” Julien said, adjusting his lenses to their normal setting. “But nothing like that. We head a few yards into the copse and we will find that which we seek.”

  “If you say so.” Gillard cupped his hands and brought them to his mouth, blowing air into them for warmth.

  “Come.” Again, Julien’s cane led the way.

  True to his word, the pair truly did not need travel far. Merely a yard or so in they came upon a large boulder, which had been angled in such a way to seem n
on-existent from the entrance of the copse.

  “Well I’ll be.” Gillard said starring at the seven-foot tall rock.

  “Yes, quite a feat of illusory technique.” Julien smiled. “The kinetics of the time hired Vander Klee the Great – perhaps the most notable illusionist of the time. As you see he was able to place this large structure in a way that one would not be able to find it, despite it being so open. Remarkable.”

  “I agree. What now?” Gillard asked, touching the frozen surface of the boulder.

  “We enter.” Julien walked to the far side of the structure.

  “How?” Gillard walked over to see what the old headmaster was about. “There is no door.”

  “For wanting the ESP so badly, you are certainly very under educated about it.” Julien stated as he examined the side of the rock. “Which is perhaps more surprising since you are the librarian of the college.”

  “I know well enough of the ESP and its chartered mandate.” Gillard puffed his chest with hurt pride. “I merely did not anticipate such clever deception.”

  “If every kinetic knew the whereabouts of this entrance,” Julien said, running his hand over the rough surface of the boulder. “Then the risks of rogue kinetics causing trouble would only heighten, for they could enter Wynne with steel and iron under their direct control.”

  “But the regiments are programmed.” Gillard said. “Much the same as the modern constructs.”

  “No, they aren’t.” Julien’s voice was flat, almost disinterested in the conversation. “These constructs are old. They have a rudimentary, steam infused cortex that does not allow for the same level of conscience as our modern versions. Upon activation they will take one command, and one command only for that is all their antique processing will allow. If a rogue kinetic found this location, all he would have to do is command the legion to destroy everything, and so it would be. Aha! Here we are.”

  Julien DiMarco inserted a lanky finger into a deep hole on the inside of a small fissure in the rock. At the base of the hole as a spring loaded button. Upon pressing it, a deep, terrible grinding filled the air as the rock gave in on itself, revealing a swirling stair into the bowels of the earth.

  Gillard stood at the top of a flight of stone stairs, mouth agape. Julien was pleased just to see the damned thing still worked.

  “Come, we must not lose any more time.” Julien stepped onto the steep stair, letting his eyes adjust the dim light of the everflame lanterns within.

  It was a deep stair, with nothing but stone and soft light to pass the time. To Julien and his aching legs, it seemed as though they descended forever. His temper was shortening the longer the pair traversed with no sign of respite. Even the familiar, and often comforting tap-tap-tapping of his cane upon hard stone started to irk him. The sweat running down Julien’s drawn out cheeks and pointed chin proved to be another annoyance, causing his lenses to slide down his narrow nose on a more frequent basis.

  Just when he thought he would scream out in frustration, Julien’s cane found solid floor.

  “Thank Del Morte.” He puffed, tucking the ever-faithful cane under his arm to wipe the sweat from his face.

  “Finally.” Gillard said as he rounded the final bend in the stair.

  Julien smiled as the other man removed his spectacles to wipe the sweat from his own brow.

  “That was torturous, Julien. Simply torturous.” Gillard said between breaths.

  “Aye, but come, we are nearly there.” Julien agreed, heading into the corridor that lay before them.

  “Do we need to take those stairs again?” Gillard asked, clearly despairing an ascending trip.

  “No.” Julien turned to face the red-faced librarian.

  “Then how do we get out of here?” Gillard’s voice betrayed a sense of dread and worry as it rebounded off the moss-covered walls.

  “Patience, Gillard.” Julien turned away from the portly gentleman and continued down the corridor, relishing in the familiarity of the tap-tap-tapping of his cane again.

  Julien led the way down the long stone hall. Tapestries of the kinetic people’s history hung damp and limp along the walls. Each piece chronicled an important part of their long, bloody story. Julien had read about these relics, but had never seen them for himself.

  He was most intrigued in seeing the ones detailing events of the Great War. The first showed the first fires of war as kinetic people were hunted down and tried as witches and warlocks by the people of Wynne. Then there was the bonding of kinetics and the great rebellion, which ultimately led to the first true battle of the war.

  “The Battle of Fiery Dawn.” Julien said, stopping to admire the artistry.

  “The start of it all.” Gillard echoed, coming to a stop beside Julien. “Many lives were lost, but it showed the world our people were strong and mighty when unified.”

  “Yes, and it brought us, as a people, closer together.” Julien added. “It is a shame it took such tragic events to do so.”

  A silence fell over the kinetics as each lost his thoughts to the history before them, and the history behind them.

  “You know Gillard,” Julien kept his voice quiet, so as not to disturb the tranquility of the moment. “I do not fear war. I do not fear death. I am old, near the end of my time. Many have wondered why I have spoken so greatly against Lucian Margoux, and why I stick so strictly to the mandate signed over two hundred years ago. Let me tell you, Gillard, this is why.” Julien pointed to the tapestry.

  It was the largest piece on display, bordered with gold trim and an array of colours. In the center was the image of a dozen weeping women, mourning on the field of battle over kinetic and non-kinetic alike. In the distance a sun was rising and inlaid within its glowing orb was the outline of Wynne. The realm was not divided by territorial lines, but was displayed as one nation, whole and at peace.

  “I can see why,” the librarian nodded his head. “It is deeply moving. Tragic, sad, yet hopeful for a peaceful, united future.”

  “And that is what I hope for.” Julien smiled, a small, sad smile. “I, too, hoped for a unified Wynne. My whole youth I grew up desiring the imagery to one day hold true for us. Yet when I came to the council…I learnt the world would never grow into the future our ancestors hoped for at the end of the Great War.”

  “So you took it on yourself to fight for that future?” Gillard asked.

  Julien admired the woven cloth before him, ignoring Gillard’s question. His ancient lips parted in a sad smile as he turned away from the antiquated art, cane leading the way.

  The pair didn’t say another word as they traversed the remainder of the long path. Each step of the way their footfalls rebounded off of the walls, making their approach sound as if they, themselves, led an army into the bowels of the college. Before long the stone corridor began to transition into copper piping and steel girders. The dank dungeon feel of their approach soon gave way to an invasive, claustrophobic, greasy world of pipes, chains and machinery.

  Julien suspected they were now under the college proper, and mentally prepared for the final leg of the journey.

  “We are nearing the end.” He said as a burst of steam shot from an overhead vent. “I pray to Del Morte the constructs still work.”

  “Do they have coal for their boilers?” Gillard asked.

  “They do not need it.” Julien ducked under a low hanging chain. “That was misinformation they put into the ESP papers in the case rogue kinetics found this place.”

  “How would that deter a possible threat?” Gillard asked ducking under the same chain as Julien.

  “Simple.” Julien stated, cool and calm as his cane tap-tap-tapped against steel catwalks. “If you knew of a hidden lair full of constructs that could devastate the world, but also knew they all needed coal to function, how likely would you want to find a means of lugging that much coal into this deep place?” Julien asked, coming to a stop near an iron door.

  “I suppose not very likely.” The librarian admitted. “How a
re they powered then?”

  “Everflame.” Julien smiled proudly. “They found a way to harness the everflame to create a power source equivalent to the coal boilers of the time. Unfortunately, it was far to expensive to produce at the time.”

  “Everflame eh? Who knew?” Gillard sounded impressed. Whether it was genuine or not, Julien couldn’t tell, but he let it go for the situation at hand. “This the final door?”

  “It is.” Julien said.

  “You would have expected something more grand?” Gillard looked at the door, curious. “You sure this is it?”

  “Aye.” Julien said. “If you got this far, you would expect something grand yes? The hall of tapestries is a means of creating of a false sense of grandiose, making any intruder expect the next stage to be even more grand.”

  Gillard laughed; “I see our ancestors meant this to be an extreme solution.”

  “They did.” Julien agreed. “Now you understand why I wished to never have to see the ESP go into motion.”

  “I do. Thank-you, ser.” Gillard gave a small smile. “Shall we?”

  “Yes. Let’s get this over with.” Julien leaned on the door, pushing it inwards on its hinges.

  Greeting them was a wide, circular room. The distance looked to be of a size with the great hall of the college. The walls were of tarnished silver and dirty gold frescos of ships and canons, horses and soldiers. Standing upon a floor of a white marble were dozens of tightly ranked golems, all of iron and copper. The design of the constructs was familiar yet antique at the same time. Each stood at least three heads taller than most men. Unlike the constructs of recent times, these beings wore plates of no design, no warrior masks or twisted grotesques, just simple, flat white enamel.

  “They’re…”

  “Terrifying.” Julien finished. Looking around the room, Julien noticed a large, steel crank. He couldn’t make out what it did, but if his suspicions were right, he expected quite the show.