Revelation (Seeds of Humanity: The Cobalt Heresy)

by Caleb Wachter

  “I do, Jezran,” my herald replied. “The creature was clearly still in its larval form and had only just begun its first sequence of physical transformation, which requires the sacrifice and partial consumption of both parents. If I remember correctly,” he said with a hint of pride in his memory even through what must have been severe pain, “their vulnerabilities to physical destruction are similar to our own until they successfully complete at least their second transformation, which requires the presence of its true parent creature to initiate.”

  “So,” I mused, “if we assume that this thing actually did manage to get its birth mother to sacrifice herself for it, and we also assume that the physical father destroyed himself rather than allow this monster to complete the first transformation, then this creature was definitely still somewhere in its first stage?”

  Pi’Vari considered what I had said, then nodded affirmatively. “Yes; if events occurred as you describe them, then this creature is completely dead. Even if events were not precisely as you describe,” he continued, “the supernatural father of that monster would need to have been present here in its child’s presence for a considerable amount of time to initiate and complete the second stage of transformation, the signs of which would have been easy to see.”

  I was satisfied that the thing was dead, and I really didn’t want to go rooting around in its gore for further confirmation, so I left the box alone and went to examine the pedestal with the book.

  The tome was smaller than I had thought it was at first glance, and it had remarkably remained in the middle of the pedestal’s circular top in spite of the blast from the magical grenade. That suggested to me that it was magically secured somehow, and since most everything else in this house appeared to respond to the magical items I possessed, I touched the surface of the book with my hand gently.

  Once again, I felt a rush of energy as a low-pitched droning sound at the very edge of my hearing emitted momentarily from the book before dissipating into silence. I gingerly opened the brown, leather-bound tome and read the opening passages.

  After a few moments of reading, it became obvious that the book contained a spell, and an incredibly complicated one at that. The tome itself was very old, at least a few hundred years, and the spell detailed within might not even be considered a spell in the traditional sense.

  The preparation and involvement necessary to execute this complicated ritual were beyond the ability of any single person, since several parts of the process required at least two wizards working in tandem for multiple hours. I recognized many different types of magic present, as there were what amounted to chapters devoted to the fragmentation and binding of the target’s consciousness within specific receptacles.

  But the most disturbing section I found was devoted to a school of magic which shouldn’t have even existed when the book had been penned: Somnomancy! The field was Master Antolin’s most significant achievement, which had only been patented a year before Jezran was drafted into House Wiegraf. Antolin’s handwriting was unmistakably present in that section, as was Sherwyn’s, the deceased master of this house. But there were two other hands present which I did not recognize, even after studying them intently for a few minutes.

  The pieces were starting to fall into place, but the full picture wasn’t clear to me just yet. There was no way I could execute the ritual detailed in the book by myself, but clearly this work was directly connected to Antolin, and was more than likely what I had been sent here to retrieve.

  I closed the book and carefully placed it inside my pack before proceeding across the room to investigate the opaque case resting on the opposite pedestal.

  The box was actually a featureless, perfect cube two feet on a side. It appeared to be composed of a single piece of mirror-polished dark, grey, stone resembling hematite, or ‘Alaskan Diamond.’

  Since everything else here had been keyed to my touch, I gave it a try and was rewarded with a rather dazzling display as the cube shimmered and took on the appearance of liquid as it flowed down into the pedestal itself before vanishing entirely, revealing a curious pair of items.

  The first object was an ornate circlet made of a glossy, jet black material which could have been either stone or metal. Set within this black material were dozens of green gemstones, and I quickly recognized it as being similar to the one which Mistress Tyreva had worn when I had killed her.

  Except the one she had worn was perfectly smooth, and looked like it had been manufactured with machine-like precision. This one was clearly hand-made, with absurdly intricate patterns carved into every square millimeter of its surface. It also bore quite a few imperfections, like a handful of small chips and even a few missing gemstones including the large central one, which had apparently been the size of a deck of playing cards.

  “That looks to be quite old,” mused Pi’Vari, his curiosity allowing him to overcome the pain and shock of his recent trauma.

  “It does,” I agreed. “The main question in my mind is whether this was being kept here in the hope that it would one day be used, or in the hope that it would never be used.”

  “You sound more like Master Antolin every day,” snickered Pi’Vari.

  I took out a cloth from my pack and carefully wrapped the black circlet, mindful not to touch its surface. After I had wrapped it in a few layers, I placed it inside my pack and turned back to the pedestal.

  The second object I recognized immediately, but seeing it served to mostly confuse me even further. It was a white, stone tablet about six inches wide by twelve inches long, and it was almost exactly one inch thick. At the top, written in an ancient alphabet which I actually recognized was a single word—or, to be more accurate, a name: Baeld.

  This was Baeld’s Tablet; his Binding Contract, or Contract of Service as they were commonly known. I had seen a few examples of such contracts, including Gaeld’s when I had possessed it, and this one looked to be identical in every detail except for a single letter to begin their respective names.

  I had learned that Sundered beings like Gaeld and Baeld had their true names completely erased as part of the process by which they were ‘created.’ Their new names were then bestowed upon them according to a complicated formula which included their location at the time of Sundering, their specific form of punishment, and the type of magic which would transform them into their new forms.

  The most significant aspect of Sundering was that the Sundered individual was permanently erased, supposedly from history itself but I didn’t know whether I believed that or not. Apparently, a Sundered person could never be brought back from death or have their essence contacted by Augury magics, since that person no longer existed by any available measure.

  “Now that is a curiosity,” commented Pi’Vari appreciatively. He had studied enough at the College to be able to read the ancient language, so there was no use trying to hide it.

  “I agree,” I said absently as I picked up the tablet and flipped it over in my hands. It was incredibly cold; almost cold enough to burn my skin if I held it long enough. “This little web is more tangled than I would have thought possible,” I remarked as I placed the tablet in my pack.

  Pi’Vari eyed the tablet as I stuffed it into my pack, then turned his gaze to Baeld’s massive form as the armored giant tended to Dancer. My herald then leaned closer and whispered, “Do you think he knows it was here?”

  “I do, and at least that part makes sense,” I answered with a nod, relieved to have solved at least one mystery. When Pi’Vari’s look of confusion persisted, I explained, “The master of this house was an acquaintance of Antolin’s, and the objects in this vault are central to some plan they had hoped to enact together. So it makes sense that Baeld would be charged with protecting Coldetz—or something within Coldetz.”

  “And what might that have been?” asked Pi’Vari.

  “I have no idea,” I admitted with a shake of my head, “but it’s possible that he was just there to safeguard the mythicite. The spell w
ritten in this book,” I patted my pack, “is incredibly complex. It might require a large quantity of the material to complete.”

  “That is quite a lot of supposition,” quipped my herald.

  I shrugged my shoulders indifferently. “What do you think?”

  “Perhaps Baeld was meant to serve as an alert,” offered Pi’Vari. “Whoever possesses Baeld’s Tablet can use it to contact him at great distances, correct?”

  I nodded my head affirmatively.

  Pi’Vari continued, “Then it might stand to reason that Baeld was meant to relay intelligence of some kind from Coldetz in the event something untoward should occur?”

  I shook my head. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Sundered aren’t exactly great at relaying information verbally,” I argued. “Complex ideas are probably beyond his ability to convey during the limited period of time the Tablet allows for two-way communication.”

  Pi’Vari nodded reluctantly before continuing, “What about a simple ‘yes or no’ question?”

  I thought about it for a moment before agreeing that the Tablet would allow such interaction. The tablet essentially allows the person who possesses it to see and hear through the eyes and ears of the Sundered, while also allowing verbal communication which only the Sundered can hear.

  “Ok,” I relented, “let’s say that Baeld was sent there to answer a specific ‘yes or no’ question. What kind of question would that have been?”

  Pi’Vari looked around the room before responding. “The master of this estate was clearly a powerful Wizard, almost certainly Imperially trained,” he said matter-of-factly. I nodded stiffly, at that moment hating my herald’s ability to deduce so efficiently. Pi’Vari held a deliberate pause before continuing, “In little more than the last month we have discovered startling evidence which suggests that Imperial Wizards might have, in fact, successfully fled the Empire. First we found scrolls which may have been written by Sbeegl himself, indicating that he could very well have been an Imperial Wizard who somehow escaped Imperial Judgment at least a century before Veldyrian was founded.”

  I nodded, actually thankful for the brief recap. My own thoughts had become so jumbled that it was nice to hear someone else arrange the pieces on the table for a change.

  “And now,” Pi’Vari continued, “we find a manor house which is clearly hundreds of years old, yet the stones are hewn to impossibly exact dimensions; there is what appears to be a permanent snowstorm hanging over what should be a temperate countryside surrounding it; and there also happens to be, at minimum, a class six vault sealed away a hundred feet beneath its floor. None of those phenomena are likely to occur without truly powerful magic the likes of which only the Empire has thus far harnessed.”

  I had no idea what a ‘class six vault’ was, but apparently Pi’Vari felt like he was familiar enough to designate what we were standing inside as one.

  “So what are you saying, Pi’Vari?” I asked pointedly.

  Pi’Vari’s eyes moved from me to Baeld, and back to me before replying. “I believe Baeld was there to report when a certain party arrived at Coldetz.”

  I folded my arms unconsciously and asked, “Do you have a theory who that party was?”

  Pi’Vari nodded deliberately and answered, “Us.”

  Chapter XVIII: Honoring Bargains

  Dancer was still seriously wounded, and I didn’t want to risk moving him in that state. There was no way my own healing magic would do much more than prolong his life, as his internal injuries were too grave. I didn’t know much about medicine but it was pretty clear that one of his lungs was likely compromised, if not collapsed, since most of the ribs on his right side were broken.

  If I’d had a good working knowledge of human anatomy, I actually thought I could use my own limited healing magics to stabilize him enough for travel by opening him up and repairing the specific wounds, but my medical expertise was limited to late-night TV reruns of hospital dramas.

  Still, I decided it was prudent to at least try to stabilize him before deciding on my next course of action, so I concentrated and tried to funnel the healing spell’s energies into the battered right side of his torso. I had no idea if I succeeded, but I did know that his survival likely hinged on forces outside of my control.

  I ground my teeth in anger as I realized that wasn’t entirely true. If I could awaken him long enough to get him to agree to Co’Zar’I’Us’ proposal, then it was almost certain that the Cloud King could use his own powers to restore the little man’s body.

  I thought for a few minutes about my potential alternatives, and when I came up blank I gave the little man a shake. He didn’t stir at all, even when I repeated the gesture. I had no idea how to wake an unconscious person other than to give them a good hard slap and hope for the best.

  So I brought my hand up and brought it across his face as quickly as I could. I wasn’t trying to hurt him, obviously, but I did need to create enough pain to bring him out of his current state.

  A strong, stinging pain exploded throughout my fingers as they made contact with his hairy face. Almost immediately, his eyelids snapped open and his eyes rolled around groggily for a few moments before focusing on my face.

  “Dancer,” I began hastily, “we don’t have much time. You were badly injured when the creature trapped in this room took control of your body.” I really didn’t want to get into who actually did the injuring, as I needed Dancer’s full attention on the choice I was about to present to him. “Your wounds are too bad for me to repair,” I continued solemnly, “but I might know a way to heal you that requires you to pay a large price.”

  Dancer’s eyes remained locked onto mine until I stopped speaking, when they began to roll around and his eyelids threatened to close.

  I shook him vigorously. “Dancer!” I snapped, which got his attention. I knew I needed to hurry. “When Aemir fought the Iron Butcher, he was possessed by a powerful creature. That same creature wants you to serve it for a time, and you have to agree to its terms before I can ask it to help you.”

  Dancer looked blankly at me as he considered what I had said. Eventually, he replied hoarsely, “If I die, I die. Better die young, not old,” he said with an unfamiliar hint of fear in his voice.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think that would happen to you. The creature had to…” I hesitated as I sought the right word, “violate Aemir’s body because they didn’t have time to join together more slowly. There is a price to be paid for your own union, but I’ve negotiated with it and the creature agrees not to cause permanent damage to you during your joining.”

  Dancer was clearly torn as he struggled for breath, which was only made worse by his speech. “Not old?” he asked, and for the first time I realized that he was more afraid of growing old than death itself.

  “Not old,” I assured him. “It will join with your body, but the part of you which will be drained is your soul. That drain won’t be permanent, and you’ll get even more powerful in battle when the creature is with you. It promised that we will be able to undo any damage caused by your joining,” I said before adding, “and this creature can’t break its promises with a wizard.”

  “Power like Aemir?” he asked, his eyes lighting up instantly as he lifted his head from the floor to lock gazes with me. I winced at his reaction, which I had actually expected as soon as I’d struck my bargain with the Cloud King. I hated that this was so easy, but I owed him the opportunity to make the choice. Dancer was incredibly clever and clear-minded; his broken speech was more a display of his defiance and lack of desire to integrate into Imperial society than any mental deficiency, and I actually admired him for making that particular stand. I just needed to make sure he understood the risks associated with his choice.

  “Probably, but I’m not sure exactly how it will work,” I admitted. “You need to understand that this creature feeds on the souls of the living, and while I have forced it to agree not to cause permanent damage to you, creatures like this one are deceitful and t
reacherous and will often say one thing and intend another.”

  Dancer shook his head as his eyelids fluttered closed. “You good negotiate; me not. I agree,” he said before laying his head down and slowly losing consciousness.

  I shook my head incredulously. It was utterly absurd that I was talking about souls being consumed like it was a very real thing, but I had been living for over a year in a world where the absurd seemed commonplace. The worst part was the amount of trust Dancer had put in my ability to negotiate on his behalf. This responsibility was ridiculous; it was one thing to be responsible for someone’s life, but their immortal soul was quite another.

  Dancer’s body was wracked with a series of spasms like he was having some kind of seizure, and I decided it was time to contact the self-labeled Cloud King.

  Closing my mind to outside stimuli, I grabbed hold of Dancer’s wrist as I called Co’Zar’I’Us’ name into the center of my consciousness. This time, a spell appeared unbidden in my mind’s eye, and that spell had a great hole at its center. I envisioned the name appearing at the center of the spell and felt immediately like I was falling and spinning as the spell collapsed in on itself, forming a hole through which I could see the Cloud King’s realm.

  I willed myself through the portal and found myself immediately standing on the same cloud where I had previously met the Cloud King.

  I knew I wasn’t physically there but this time I was wearing my clothing, unlike last time when I had been naked. It made me feel somewhat more composed—for which I was thankful.

  Dancer was also standing at my side, and he merely glanced around at the clouds before focusing on the form of the Cloud King, who had adopted a fluffy, white nimbus shape.

  “You bring me a gift,” Co’Zar’I’Us purred, “and it is exactly what I wanted.”

  “Our bargain is recorded,” I said stiffly. “You will abide by its terms, Co’Zar’I’Us,” I warned.