“Still,” continued Pi’Vari, “we should have Baeld open it, just in case.”
That was like my herald, hiding behind someone else whenever it was an option. It disgusted me, but I understood that I was probably in the minority in believing that if you wanted to ask someone else to do something, you need to first do it yourself. That’s why the Captain of a ship is the Captain: because he can do just about every job under him, and actually has done those jobs on his way up the command ladder.
I jerked on the drawer and it opened without protest. Inside was a rectangular wooden box the size of a DVD case and about twice as thick. I took it out and saw there was also a book in the drawer, and I placed both objects on the desk. The box had four, simple, interlocking circles: one sky blue, one stark white, another was red, and the final one was orange.
In fact, the specific shade of orange used to create that last circle was the same color as Antolin’s last spell. Whatever this box held was probably part, if not all, of what Master Antolin sent me here to retrieve. I decided to ignore the book and focus on the box instead.
I gently opened the box and at first nothing happened, so I continued to raise the hinged lid until it lay totally open.
Inside was a four inch long, glossy, obsidian black key resting in a form-fitted, red velvet depression. The key was of such extremely high quality that to call it a piece of art wouldn’t overstate the case, and I had very little doubt that it also held serious enchantments.
What it opened was another question which needed to be answered, and I reached out to touch its smooth surface with my fingertips. As soon as I made contact with it, I felt energy pour from it which felt like touching an electric fence for a moment before the sensation was gone. My hand recoiled at the unexpected jolt and before I had the chance to close the lid I heard a voice from nearby to my left.
“Hello, old friend,” said the unfamiliar voice, and I spun to see who it was as I raised my spell-key equipped right hand.
The voice had come from a man-sized projection similar to the one the staff had emitted, and when this new, unfamiliar projection didn’t make eye contact with any of us, I concluded that it was just another recording.
The man was youthful looking, with medium-length black hair and a matching goatee. He was short, but also clearly an impressive physical specimen with a thick torso and arms to match. I could only assume the man in the recording was Sherwyn, and that the recording was keyed to the staff or robes, meaning it had been intended for Antolin.
“I am sorry we will not have a chance to complete our work together,” said the man’s projection, and I could see that he was exhausted, or otherwise drained of energy, “but I always knew it to be a fool’s dream. We misunderstood our enemy, which was revealed to be nothing more than simple, human, nature…and one cannot change human nature any more than one can change the stars themselves.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but out of the corner of my eye I could see that my companions were looking at me with apprehension. I needed to focus on this recording though, since I probably wouldn’t get any replays.
“For all our sakes, I truly hope you can achieve that which we set out to accomplish so long ago,” Sherwyn’s image continued, “but I fear I can no longer stand with you. I have fallen victim to my own nature too late to realize the danger.” The projection’s shoulders slumped visibly before it continued. “While I have done all I can to ensure that my failure these last few years does not endanger our work, I can no longer be certain that those measures will prove to be enough…which is why I have placed all that remains of myself, my hopes, and my dreams for that better world in the same prison you once helped me build to contain our darkest nightmares.”
That was awfully cryptic but I suppose if there were sensitive things hidden in this ‘prison,’ it was better to be circumspect in the event that someone should manage to crack the message without the proper keys.
“I know I have failed,” the projection of Sherwyn said, hanging his head, “but I would still ask a kindness of an old friend.” Tears ran down the man’s cheeks as he continued, “Show mercy where I failed to, and let that mercy put an end to the fruit of my failure. I know that I will never be able to truly rest after allowing my vanity to destroy everything I ever loved, but this is no longer about me. If only I could have realized that sooner,” said the projection, his voice filled with sorrow.
The figure straightened itself and walked to in front of the desk until he was standing where the small pile of bones was, and then began manipulating what I assumed was the drawer.
“I will destroy everything in this house while I have the strength to do so,” he said with a sudden ferocity in his voice. “The final barrier will only open for one of us, so there is little chance of what is hidden there falling into the wrong hands. Our enemies have taken everything good that I ever had in this world, but they will not take our dream as well…even if it is a fool’s dream.” He shook his head sadly, and even though it was merely an image, I could tell that he was summoning a great deal of magical energy. “I suppose it is fitting that in my last moments I cling to the hope of that dream, because for the first time since last we spoke, I realize that I truly am that fool!”
With that, Sherwyn’s body erupted into a giant ball of fire which spread throughout the room and roared out into the hallway, burning for a few seconds before the image disappeared. I had flinched instinctively and dropped to one knee when he had ‘exploded,’ and when I returned to my feet my companions were looking at me as though I were insane.
I straightened myself hurriedly. “You didn’t see that?” I asked self-consciously.
Pi’Vari folded his arms across his chest and shook his head, while Dancer shrugged his shoulders and turned back to exploring the room now that the show was over. Baeld didn’t seem to care, as he looked at me impassively.
“I saw nothing, Jezran,” said my herald warily. “What did you see?”
“Never mind,” I muttered, hoping that Pi’Vari was telling the truth and that he hadn’t seen anything. The less he knew the better, as far as I was concerned. I picked up the book and checked the binding, which was without markings.
It wasn’t made of the fine materials needed for holding enchantment, so it was likely a mundane book. I opened it and found my suspicions confirmed as the inside cover indicated that it was a personal journal of some kind, the eighth such volume in a series.
I flipped from page to page until I came to an entry dated eight years before which caught my attention due to its vague title, A Visit With An Old Friend, which read:
I received an unexpected guest today while walking in the garden. There, beside the short wall, was my oldest friend and ally. It has been six years since we last met, but we were glad for each other’s company. We spoke of many things, including the dreams we shared in our youths. He spoke with the same passion I remembered from so many years before, and I realized that I had lacked that measure of commitment to our vision for quite some time.
He stayed for dinner and met my wife, Isabella, for the first time. I believe he was at the same time impressed and dismayed that I had managed to find a small corner of the world where I might share a measure of happiness with such a kind person, but as always it was difficult to read his true feelings. Jealousy almost certainly played a part in his reaction, however…but how could I begrudge him, of all things?
After dinner we went to my study and spoke on the usual matters. He believed he was nearing some kind of major breakthrough, the kind which would allow us to finally achieve our lifelong goal, but I had heard him make similar claims all too often which had yielded nothing. I tried to encourage him to seek happiness in this life as I had, for it is increasingly obvious that it is all we will ever have, but my friend took great offense at my suggestion.
I fear I will never again see my dearest friend in this world and while I harbor no regrets as to the turbulent nature of our parting, I do hope that he
can achieve that for which he has striven ever since I met him. Myself, I have found contentment where I am, and I find that to be all I desire.
That was the end of the passage, and there were several months’ worth of meaningless, blissful entries regarding his wife, whose name was Isabella, until he began to note a longing in his life.
It seemed Sherwyn had become dissatisfied with not having a child, and had brought the subject to his wife on more than a few occasions. Apparently Isabella had been pregnant once before, but had suffered some kind of tragedy which she believed would make childbirth unusually difficult.
This friction continued for the better part of a year until he wrote one day in joyous terms that his wife had announced her pregnancy to him. Sherwyn was overcome with happiness, and they were again content for many months.
Some more passages indicated that his wife had become somewhat distant in the months leading up to the birth of their first child, and when Sherwyn had attempted to discuss the subject his wife had become distant. Eventually, Sherwyn notes that he decided to uncover the reason behind her unusual mood.
He discovered nothing before the baby was born, which was understandably another joyous period for him. Isabella even seemed to have warmed, and Sherwyn attributed her previously distant mood to have been a kind of normal pregnancy-related apprehension.
One day, when the child was nearing its first birthday, his entire mood changed and it began with the following passage:
My wife; my dearest, loving, and loyal wife has done the unthinkable but she is not to blame. I spoke for so long about wanting a child that she took it upon herself to enter into compact with an entity who promised her the outcome she—no, that I—desired.
Isabella could not know the price of such a bargain and though I have vowed to undo this misguided arrangement, I find that my powers are no longer equal to the task. I have considered asking my only real friend for help, but we parted on bad terms and I do not desire for him to learn of my great mistake before I have a chance to correct it.
There were a few more entries before this one, dated five years ago:
I have undone it! The being which held compact with Isabella and my son has been vanquished, at no small personal cost, but it is a price I pay gladly to be rid of such a curse. I am weary with exertion, but I believe I shall recover well enough that I can live out the rest of my many years with my family.
The journal continued, but the entries became shorter and less detailed, as if Sherwyn had lost something I couldn’t put my finger on. The last entry read as follows, and it was as follows:
What a fool I am. I thought myself to be rid of the curse which I brought upon myself, but I have only strengthened it. My wife is dead, and I have buried her in the garden she so dearly loved. I know that the child is responsible, and that it was never truly mine or even Isabella’s, but I cannot bring myself to do that which must be done.
In shame and cowardice, I have locked it away in the vault far beneath the house. I once thought myself capable of undoing great wrongs in the world, but I find that I lack the will to do that which I know must be done. This tragedy, which I have brought entirely on myself, is not what I envisioned as the end of my life…yet I suppose it is a fitting legacy which I will leave behind.
The third parent of the monster trapped in my vault is coming, and it wishes to take the child. I will not allow this. I have prepared my home with a series of traps which will ensnare my ‘partner’ in this crime against innocence as soon as it enters the house. I will then trigger the spell which will purge my house of those responsible for my failure before it can regain its freedom.
“Well,” I said looking up after I closed the journal, “there’s a monster in the vault.”
Pi’Vari, who was leaning against the doorjamb, rolled his eyes. “There is always a monster in the vault.”
“This one is the spawn of a supernatural being of significant power,” I continued, ignoring Pi’Vari’s attempt at humor. “I don’t know anything about it except that the reason this house appears to have been so badly damaged is that its former occupant and master sacrificed his own life to destroy the parent when it came to collect its offspring. I have to assume that the parent was destroyed, but the offspring is trapped in a vault somewhere beneath the house.”
“And that key opens what, exactly?” asked Pi’Vari with a look that said he didn’t anticipate liking the answer.
I shrugged my shoulders, “The vault, as far as I can tell.”
“Ah,” my herald said, as though that explained all of life’s great mysteries, “of course it does.”
There was nothing else of note in the ruined study, so we returned to the hall and tried the remaining doors, which were all locked and even Baeld failed to open them.
“These must have been magically sealed when he trapped the creature,” I concluded aloud. “Even in the house’s state of disrepair, they won’t open without magical coercion.”
Pi’Vari shook his head. “It would not be advisable, in any case,” he explained, “as the integrity of the house is possibly maintained by whatever residual magics are at work here. If we are meant to go to the vault, then the previous occupant should have left the way open to us.”
I had to agree with him, despite my desire to explore the home of an obviously powerful wizard. I wasn’t treasure-hunting, but I didn’t think I would get such an opportunity again—at least not in the near future—and I had no idea what I could learn from the bones of this Sherwyn’s collection.
We pushed on and explored the house, finding no open doors anywhere on the ground floor which was puzzling. The occasional stone block came crashing down near our position, reinforcing a sense of urgency which I had no doubt my companions shared.
“You did say this vault was beneath the house?” asked Pi’Vari with a hint of sarcasm.
I nodded. “The access must be located on the outside of the house, like an old storm cellar,” I suggested, then realized they might not know what a storm cellar looked like. “We should check alongside the house for any large doors leading below ground level,” I added.
We returned to the main door and I admit that I was pleasantly surprised to find that it opened without much encouragement. I didn’t believe for a second that it was a random gust of wind which had caused it to slam shut, but it was possible that it had closed as part of the trap Sherwyn had sprung on his unwanted guest, and that particular part of the trap might still function after these five years.
The snowstorm was as I remembered it, and within moments my fingers were tingling and numb. We wound around the house, following the left wall and finding nothing along the front of the building, which truly was massive. It had to have been twenty thousand square feet per floor, and there appeared to be at least three full floors plus the peak, which would have made it four floors to my mind.
We followed the left side of the building and still saw no doors leading below the house. The windows were all boarded up, and the wood used to board them was blackened, presumably from the fire.
About a quarter of the way around the back of the house we found a waist-high, rock wall which appeared to have contained a garden. Close to the gap where a gate most likely had hung was a tombstone, and even through the snow I could make out the name ‘Isabella,’ which made me want to be done with this place as quickly as possible.
There was a rear door to the house, and next to it was what we had been looking for: a cellar door. There was no apparent lock, so Baeld opened it and we proceeded down the steps and once again into the darkness.
The cellar was filled with barrels and kegs arranged neatly along the walls, and there were even various root vegetables hanging from the low rafters. Finally, at the back of the room, I found what could only have been the door to the house vault.
It was made of what appeared to be plates of iron which had been riveted together like a nineteenth century ship, which struck me as odd since I had not seen that style of metalwor
king during my time in this world. There were no handles or apparent hinges, but in the center of the door was a keyhole, and I opened the box containing the obsidian key to see if it was a match.
It looked to be the right size, and when I inserted it and gave it a turn I was rewarded with a click followed by a low-pitched thrum which persisted for a few moments before dissipating.
The door popped forward with a hiss and then swung slowly outward until it had opened just enough for Baeld to squeeze through, which was apparently all the further it would go.
There were more stairs on the other side of the door, and these ones wound down like they were inside a giant, cylindrical tower buried beneath the house. We made our way to the bottom of the steps, of which I counted over a hundred, and found a door which was identical to the one above.
The key fit this one as well, and when this door opened it revealed a long hallway with a curved ceiling. We moved down the hallway which was easily a hundred feet long and came to a smooth, black surface which did not match any of the other materials in the house, except for the key which I held in my hand.
I didn’t need my Third Eye spell to tell me that this wall was magical, and I didn’t need a rocket scientist to tell me that the key was probably involved in getting at whatever was inside.
“Before I start messing with this thing trying to get it opened,” I began but stopped when I was greeted with an unexpected metallic echo of my words. After the echo had stopped, I lowered my voice and continued, “I need to make sure everyone’s ready for a fight when I finally do.”
Dancer twirled his spear in his hands before striking the butt against the stone floor, while Pi’Vari shrugged and revealed that he had already untied the pouch containing the magically explosive grenades. Baeld looked like he was always ready for a fight, so I turned back to the wall and tried inserting the key into the wall.
At first nothing happened. I tried a few more locations with similar results, and literally scratched my head for a second before realizing what I was doing. I decided to try feeling the glossy surface for irregularities which might give me a clue as to where the key might go.
Revelation (Seeds of Humanity: The Cobalt Heresy) Page 20
