Revelation (Seeds of Humanity: The Cobalt Heresy)

by Caleb Wachter

  As soon as my fingers touched the reflective surface, there was a ripple like what a dropped pebble would cause on a placid lake. I withdrew my hand reflexively before remembering that Sherwyn’s recording said that ‘the final barrier will only open for one of us.’ That struck me as odd until I realized he must have been referring to the robes, staff and Spell Key. Somehow, this surface must have been keyed to respond to their presence but only when physically touched by their wearer.

  It didn’t seem like such a great security system, but I clenched my teeth and placed my entire hand on the wall, which caused it to vibrate, creating even larger ripples. I put my other hand on the wall and felt energy passing harmlessly through my body. The ripples radiating from each of my hands collided with each other until the wall literally began to fall apart in front of me.

  The ripples gave the illusion of a liquid surface, but the wall was actually composed of tiny, black, beads not much larger than a grain of sand. When they collided in the opposing waves caused by my hands they fell to the floor and collected in a pile, which spread from where I was standing toward both stone walls until nothing was left of the vertical, black surface.

  In the span of no more than ten seconds the wall had been reduced to a long, neat pile of black sand and the contents of the circular chamber beyond were clearly visible.

  There were two pedestals located at opposite ends of the room, along with a larger pedestal in the center of the chamber. The pedestal on the left held a huge book, while the pedestal on the right had a dark case on top of it which looked to be made of some kind of smoked glass.

  But the pedestal in the middle of the room was the one that caught my attention. It was three feet tall, like the others, but was much wider at the base. Resting atop it was a small, rectangular, iron box with six levered handles which appeared to lock the lid in place.

  We moved cautiously into the room, which was lit by a line of four inch thick, glowing sky blue stones at the joint of the walls and ceiling. Dancer appeared to take an interest in the central pedestal containing the iron box, while Pi’Vari moved toward the one holding the book.

  Baeld remained at my side, with his greatsword held in his massive hand and his armor reflecting the sky blue light emanating from the stones in a dazzling display.

  I moved toward the rectangular box and saw that Dancer was staring at it closely, but something didn’t seem right.

  “Dancer?” I asked, and when he didn’t reply I called on the magic of the Spell Key as I raised my hand.

  Baeld moved to interpose himself between Dancer and me, which was a good thing because at that very instant Dancer leapt onto the iron box and then sprung through the air with his spear pointed directly at me.

  His spear found Baeld’s armor instead and bit deeply into the black-skinned giant’s shoulder. Baeld brought his sword up too slowly to catch the little man in midair, and by the time he had reacted to Dancer’s successful strike the little man had withdrawn his spear and leapt off to the side, where Pi’Vari was just now noticing our developing problem.

  Baeld charged toward Dancer but the little man was too quick for him and he slashed at Pi’Vari’s leg with his spear, opening a huge gash across my herald’s hamstring which sent him screaming to the floor like a puppet that had lost its strings.

  I completed activating the Spell Key, and it seemed like I was watching the fight happen while I waited impatiently for the spell to assemble itself. In what could have taken no longer than four or five seconds, the spell was ready to be fueled and fired—but during that time Dancer had already put Pi’Vari on the ground and was in the air about to deliver his second strike to Baeld.

  I fueled the spell, knowing that it was entirely possible that Dancer could be killed by the magic I was about to unleash, but I had no other choice. Something inside this room had taken control of the little man and was intent on killing all of us.

  The spell erupted from my palm and once again my arm spun backward with the recoil, but this time there was no horrible popping sound. In fact, the only sound that registered was Pi’Vari’s continued screaming at sustaining such a vicious wound to his leg.

  The magical blast was aimed directly at Dancer, and it followed my conscious direction in the fraction of a second it flew through the air toward its intended target.

  The little man brought his spear up at the last instant and turned the blade sideways, which actually appeared to shield him from some of the energy. How much protection he gained wasn’t clear, but that little spear of his was just full of surprises.

  The portion of the spell which did manage to get past his surprisingly effective parry struck Dancer in the upper chest, the force of which sent him crashing into the wall. His head struck the wall immediately after his torso, and the accompanying pair of crunching sounds made me wince.

  But he didn’t appear to be fazed by the impact as he braced his feet against the wall, preparing to meet the charging Baeld, who had nearly closed the distance before the little man was able to get his feet under him.

  Baeld had dropped his sword somewhere along the way and his arms were slightly spread, as he clearly anticipated another leaping attack and meant to trap Dancer in midair.

  Dancer did leap with his spear aimed at Baeld’s torso, but he failed to react in time. While he was able to once again lodge his spear in Baeld’s chest, Baeld managed to grab the little man’s leg just before he rolled off to safety.

  Baeld’s grip was too much for a quick, desperate mule kick Dancer tried, and the black-skinned giant swung the little man’s body around in a complete circle before smashing his torso into the iron box on the central pedestal, knocking the coffin-like container from its perch and onto the floor with a dull clang.

  I wasn’t sure that Dancer would survive the devastating impact, and I cursed myself for not preparing more carefully. Baeld pried the spear from the little man’s hand before releasing his limp body from his crushing grip, apparently satisfied that Dancer was no longer a threat without it.

  I ran to Dancer’s side and knelt beside him. He was still breathing, but the damage was severe including a broken femur and at least a few broken ribs from impacting the iron box. I wasn’t certain that whoever had controlled the little man no longer did so, but I closed my eyes and began to cast my simple healing spell anyway.

  Pi’Vari’s screams ceased, which was the only reason I broke my concentration long enough to see him reach into the small pouch containing the single use, explosive spell tokens. I didn’t have time to cast another spell before he could activate the enchanted grenade so I reacted out of pure instinct, shielding Dancer’s body from the blast.

  If I had been able to think about it for a few moments I would have dived behind the small iron box, or even tried to get clear of the room entirely, but it was one of those thoughtless reactions which didn’t make a whole lot of sense in retrospect.

  Fortunately, Baeld was alert to the situation and just as Pi’Vari squeezed the grenade and hurled it directly at me, the black-skinned statue of a man interdicted and the grenade bounced off his armor and clattered back toward my herald.

  We had only a second or two before the blast would envelop the entire room, potentially killing everyone in it. And while I doubted that Baeld actually knew this, he did the only thing he could do when he literally fell on top of the grenade. I had no idea if smothering such a potent device would actually succeed in saving anyone in the room, but for Baeld to survive seemed to be impossible.

  Not an instant after he landed on the grenade the spell went off, and Baeld was launched at least six feet into the air by the concussive force of it. The shockwave was far less than I had feared, but it was still enough to knock me into the far wall where my head struck the stone surface and I lost consciousness.

  I was sitting in the passenger seat of my brother’s pickup, gingerly holding the back of my head where a lump had already formed.

  Adam was driving me home, and we hadn’t spoken a
single word since getting into his truck almost twenty minutes earlier. We were more than halfway home and the silence was getting to me.

  “What are you going to tell Dad?” I asked suddenly without forethought.

  Adam looked over at me and clenched his jaw tightly. I had seen that expression, and it usually indicated that I was about to get my nose bloodied. But he just looked back and forth between me and the road a few times before replying.

  “What do you want me to tell him?” he asked bitterly. “Do you want me to tell him the truth: that you took the ’65 Mustang out of the garage in the middle of the night and flipped it on Dead Man’s Corner? You’re barely fifteen, Aaron; you don’t even have a learner’s permit yet, let alone your license or permission to drive that car!” he yelled, punching the steering wheel in anger.

  “I know,” I replied sheepishly. It was all I could come up with, and it was pretty pathetic.

  “You’re lucky to be alive!” my brother screamed. “Do you know what will happen to you when he finds out about this? You won’t get your first car until he’s ready to kick you out of the house, and even then it’ll probably just be some five hundred dollar beater he saved from the scrap heap that’s just good enough to get you across state lines before it dies!” Adam was really fuming now, and I knew that this wasn’t going to end well for me no matter what I said so I kept my mouth shut.

  “That was mom’s car,” my brother continued in a rage, “you’ll be lucky if you can get out of bed the next day with the beating he puts on you for this! That car hadn’t moved out of the garage more than once a year since she died three years ago; he only drives it for their anniversary, you idiot!” Adam’s cheeks were lined with tears now, and I actually thought that I should suggest we pull over so I could avoid two wrecks in one night.

  Adam screamed wordlessly as he pulled back so hard on the steering wheel that I was afraid it would come off, but somehow he managed to keep us on the road. Apparently, he agreed with my silent assessment that driving like this was a bad idea, so he pulled over into a wide patch of dirt alongside the road and slammed on the brakes, giving me a dose of whiplash to add to my already bruised and battered body.

  We sat there in silence as the engine idled, and Adam’s fuming breaths were actually fogging up the window beside him. When I could no longer see out of it for all the condensation my brother pulled the emergency brake and turned to me, having apparently regained control of his temper.

  “When Dad gets back tomorrow, we are going to tell him that I was driving the car when it rolled, and that you were in the passenger seat without your seatbelt on,” he seethed. “I’ll blame you for the idea, but we both know who’ll catch the worst of it.”

  I was speechless. I hadn’t even considered that Adam would offer to protect me from Dad’s anger. I had just been grateful for the ride home in the middle of the night after texting him what had happened. No police had shown up, since apparently nobody had noticed the damage to the guardrail at one o’clock in the morning.

  I was numb from head to toe with what he had said, and after collecting my wits I began to protest, “Adam—”

  “No, Aaron!” he roared. “I’m not talking about this ever again! I,” he reiterated, jabbing his finger into his chest repeatedly for emphasis, “was driving the car, and you were in the passenger seat without your seatbelt on! Do you understand me!?” he screamed, spittle flying from his lips.

  I realized that I had cringed back against the door, and all I did was nod in agreement. It was one of the moments in my life that I truly regretted allowing to happen the way it did…if only I’d shown a little more backbone…

  Adam fixed me with a cold stare for what seemed like an eternity before putting the car back in drive and proceeding the last few miles to our house.

  “I won’t forget this, Adam,” I said quietly.

  My brother snorted and we continued the rest of the way home in silence.

  I awoke from my daze, remembering that scene from years before since the pain in my head felt almost exactly like it had that night.

  Baeld was kneeling over me, which gave me the brief thought that maybe I had died and we were going to enter the afterlife together. But then I saw the ragged mess his armor had become around his abdomen and I realized that somehow his mythicite-impregnated armor had shielded his body from the worst of it.

  I snapped to attention and saw Dancer lying a few feet away, apparently having been sent there by the same blast which had knocked me out. He was still breathing, so I looked across the room at Pi’Vari.

  My herald’s bluish hair was singed black at the tips, and his skin was even more pale than usual. There was a puddle of blood beneath his leg, but he was applying pressure to the wound and appeared to have controlled the worst of the bleeding.

  With Baeld’s silent assistance, I slowly got to my feet. When I was standing, I made my way to Dancer and decided to try a healing spell on him. I cast the spell properly but it didn’t seem to have that much of an effect, and since he was already breathing evenly I decided to go check on Pi’Vari.

  The gash Dancer’s spear had opened was deep, and I was almost certain that I could see bone at one point during my inspection. There wasn’t much I could do about the muscle but I could at least staunch the bleeding some, so I also cast a spell of healing into his leg. The bleeding seemed to stop, and when he released the pressure the wound appeared to keep together.

  After I took the pouch containing the last grenade from Pi’Vari’s hands, we bandaged the wound tightly and Baeld helped my herald to his feet before we turned back to the center of the room, where the iron box lay a few feet from the center pedestal.

  The box was on its side, and only on this inspection did I see the multitude of sigils and glyphs inscribed on its surface. I closed my eyes and cast my Third Eye spell. When I opened them again, I could see literally dozens of spells at work on the surface of the box. Most of them I recognized as containment spells, but there were a few I didn’t recognize at first glance.

  I really didn’t want to open the thing, but there was a chance that whatever it was had been rendered unconscious or otherwise unable to function by the same blast which had taken the rest of us out, and I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to rid myself of such a dangerous creature.

  Tracing the connections between the various glyphs and runes, it appeared that opening the levers in the proper sequence would deactivate the various enchantments sequentially. Failure to follow the right order would result in a chain reaction which, based on the total amount of energy imbued in the various spells I was looking at, would probably be enough to collapse the entire room, crushing us all instantly, but that would only be a problem if we somehow survived the initial explosion.

  I studied the glyphs intently for a while, and before I realized it I was down to less than half of my total magic reserves. I tried not to panic but while the drain of my Third Eye spell was insignificant in short bursts, maintaining it for twenty minutes was enough to drain my completely—and I had already spent a significant amount of my power on the healing spells and Spell Key.

  I studied for a few more minutes until I was certain I had found the proper sequence, at which time I had Baeld pick up the box and place it on its stone pedestal. Once it was there I began opening the levers and I knew I had chosen the correct order when only one lever remained.

  Without pause, I twisted the lever and was rewarded with a hiss and a high-pitched squeal as the various spells imbued on the surface of the box dissipated harmlessly. I could feel the hairs on my arms stand up, like they were momentarily charged with static electricity, but the sensation quickly passed and I was left with a heavy, iron lid to remove.

  I motioned for Baeld to do the honors, and he complied by lifting it one-handed by one of the levers and sliding it to the side.

  Inside was a small, desiccated corpse which at first glance looked to have belonged to a child no more than three years old. But its inhuman
characteristics became quickly apparent when I examined its sharp, angular facial features and long, bony fingers which ended in pointed, black talons instead of fingernails.

  I really didn’t know how to dispose of the body but I figured that brute force might work, especially since a concussion appeared capable of rendering the creature unable to work its magics.

  I motioned to the heavy iron lid. “We need to fasten this lid as quickly as possible,” I explained after making eye contact with Baeld as I peeled the outer layer of wrapping from one of the remaining grenades.

  Baeld nodded and he placed the lid halfway over the box, ready to slide it into position at my instruction.

  I finished peeling the outer layer of the grenade and again made eye contact with Baeld as I gently pressed a fingernail into the second layer of the grenade’s wrapping. “Now,” I said as I pressed my nail hard enough to break the surface, causing the device to emit a faint hiss before I threw it into the box.

  The body inside the box convulsed and its eyes turned toward me in the instant before the door slammed shut, and I knew with certainty that what I had seen behind those eyes was far from human.

  We quickly locked the levers in place and stood back when all six were secured. There was a furious series of thumps inside the coffin, which continued for about ten seconds after I had activated the slow-burning ‘fuse’ of the grenade. After those ten seconds were up, we were rewarded with a muffled bang from inside the iron coffin which actually blew one of the corner handles completely off the box, sending it crashing into the ceiling before a small, steady stream of smoke escaped through the tiny crack in the coffin’s previously sealed lid.

  Pi’Vari nodded and smiled thinly. “I should hope that would suffice,” he joked.

  “Do you really think it’s dead, Pi’Vari?” I asked hesitantly, going back and forth on the idea of opening the box for further inspection.