The young Tyrdren ceased his petty torment and snickered when I finally focused on his face. When he was apparently satisfied that he had my attention, he continued.
“He told me that the staff would feed on the life energy of such creatures until they had been reduced to an empty husk,” he said in wonderment as he looked down at the stone staff, “making it the perfect weapon. Once activated, there is no way for its target to escape…save through death.”
Pryzius’ expression hardened. “Then my father said the most interesting thing,” he said quietly as his eyes locked with mine. “He instructed quite clearly that, after I successfully used that power on such a creature, I was to waste no time in turning it on you.”
I was shocked. Arch Magos Rekir knew I wasn’t the real Jezran?! My mind swam with the repercussions of what that meant. Who else knew my secret? Did Antolin know my real identity as well?
“I can see that surprises you as much as it did me,” continued Pryzius coldly, bringing my attention back to my immediate circumstances. “I asked myself, ‘How could my good friend and school-time rival Jezran be a creature from another realm? Would not the Librarians of the Imperial Archives have rooted out such an infiltrator, either before or during our time at the Wizard’s College?’” He shook his head. “In truth, it explained a great many questions which had crept into my mind in recent years, but still I could not believe it.”
He jerked the staff’s tip up, bringing my face to within a few inches of his own.
“Imagine my surprise when Father was proven correct,” he growled. I saw Pi’Vari deftly ascending the stairway to the landing where Pryzius was standing, coming to stand beside his new Master. “What of Gaeld?” asked Pryzius.
Pi’Vari shook his head. “I believe his life’s essence has been drained too greatly,” he said without even a trace of empathy. “I doubt he can be successfully revived.”
“Pity,” said Pryzius with a scowl. “He was the least useless servant I have ever had.” The young Tyrdren shrugged his shoulders. “But the dredges of society are always looking for greater privilege and recognition, are they not Pi’Vari?”
Pi’Vari nodded graciously. “As you say, Master,” he agreed, his voice as rich and smooth as ever.
Pryzius snickered. “I shall have to content myself with one of them, I suppose,” he continued as he turned back to face me. “Or perhaps one of the lovely ladies in the dining hall would serve as my Champion,” he mused lasciviously.
“They do appear to have their own…unique talents, my Lord,” remarked Pi’Vari.
“Your observations, while perhaps valued by your former Master, had best remain between your ears during your time in my employ,” Pryzius snapped. “After all,” he continued maliciously, “one look at poor Jezran here should clearly illustrate the consequences of heeding your advice.”
I still couldn’t speak, or move at all, but I knew it was over. Everything I had gone through since coming here had been undone by a series of bad decisions, culminating in this all-too-predictable end to my own little fairy tale. I noticed Pi’Vari silently adjust his posture beside Pryzius, but my vision had narrowed and I couldn’t tell what he was doing.
“I suppose they will even make me Magos,” continued Pryzius gleefully, “having discovered and removed such an insidious threat to Imperial Doctrine! I shall be the youngest Magos in the history of Veldyrian,” he reveled. “My name shall live on for millennia to come!”
Pi’Vari made a fluid, graceful motion from behind Pryzius and the young Tyrdren’s chest erupted in a brilliant flash of bright, red light. He dropped the staff as he looked down incredulously at the wound in his chest, and I plummeted to the deck below in unison with it.
I landed with a crash, and I knew without looking that I had broken my leg as it exploded with pain. I looked up quickly, trying desperately to summon a spell to my mind but failing utterly.
Pi’Vari was standing behind Pryzius, and Sky Splitter’s tip was sticking out of the Apprentice Wizard’s chest. The tip of the magic spear seemed to actually be drawing the red light coming from the wound in his chest into itself as Pryzius stood there paralyzed, his mouth open in a wordless scream of agony.
Pi’Vari’s lips were peeled back in a sneer of contempt, and in the span of just a few seconds Pryzius’ body began to age what seemed to be a hundred years. His cheeks sucked in and his eyes rolled back into his head, before the disappeared altogether.
A few seconds later and his muscles had shrunk away until nothing remained, and he was merely a skeleton wearing a suit of dried, rapidly deteriorating, grey flesh. A few seconds after that and only his bare, bleach-white bones remained.
Then even those disappeared, scattered to the wind as they disintegrated. His robe slipped off of Sky Splitter’s tip and fell to the floor, serving as the only sign that he had ever stood there.
Pi’Vari stood there holding the broken weapon, the fierce look on his face seemingly frozen until he snapped out of it with a start and raced down the stairs to where I lay in a pile of agony.
He knelt at my side, closing his eyes and placing his hands on my legs. My body was surrounded by a warm, golden glow, which became hotter and hotter until I thought I couldn’t take any more before it thankfully dissipated.
Pi’Vari had somehow managed to take away all of my pain. Apparently, his affinity for healing magics was greater than I had surmised, and while the bones were still broken I could at least focus on what was happening.
“Would you consider that to be an acceptable display of my loyalty?” he asked pointedly after catching his breath from the exertion of casting the healing spell.
I nodded in spite of myself. If there was a better show of loyalty than double-crossing the most powerful family in the known world by assassinating its favored son after already being welcomed into their House with more-or-less open arms, then I couldn’t think of it.
“Where’s the Iron Butcher?!” I asked, suddenly remembering what Pryzius had said about his staff’s ability to siphon the life force of its target.
Pi’Vari shook his head. “I believe whatever you did while inside his mind succeeded in killing it,” he said with obvious relief.
“Help me to my feet!” I yelled, my chest tightening with panic.
My herald did as I instructed, and after I was standing precariously, I turned to where the Iron Butcher had been frozen by Pryzius’ spell.
My heart skipped a few beats as I tried to hop over to where the nightmarish creature lay motionless, still surrounded by the dark field energy which the staff had placed around it. “Take me to him,” I growled through gritted teeth as I re-injured my leg, feeling sharp pain spread throughout my ankle.
Pi’Vari shook his head, “Jezran—”
“Now, Pi’Vari!” I roared, and my herald was momentarily taken aback by the urgency he heard in my voice, but he obeyed. After far longer than I would have liked, I was kneeling beside the same monstrous entity that had nearly killed me twice.
“Bring the staff,” I ordered him, and he wordlessly ran back to where it had fallen when Pryzius’ had been consumed by Sky Splitter.
I knew I had to deactivate the field somehow, but Pryzius had made it sound like that would be impossible. I had an idea, but in order for it to work I would need to summon the Cloud King.
So I closed my eyes and focused on Co’Zar’I’Us’ name, and thankfully it sprang into my mind’s eye just as it had before. I was just about to power the spell in an effort to transport myself to his realm when I heard a familiar, yet strange voice behind me.
“There is no need,” it said, and I turned to see Dancer walking out the door of the stern castle’s lowest level. The glyph on his forehead was burning with a bright light with the faintest sky blue color to its edges. “I am already here.”
“Dancer?” I asked without thinking. Of course it wasn’t Dancer, but I couldn’t help myself from asking anyway.
“He is here,” said the Cloud King
, “but you have been particularly reckless with my vessel,” he warned. “Without my intervention he would have died, and you must pay the price of his…repair.”
“I don’t have time for this,” I snapped as I struggled to keep my emotions in check. “I need you to help me undo this spell,” I pointed urgently at the Iron Butcher’s motionless form, still surrounded by the dark, pulsating aura.
Co’Zar’I’Us regarded me coldly through Dancer’s eyes for a moment before shaking his head. “That spell is beyond my ability to undo: it is an ancient form of magic, first used before the time when even Ancient Guardians like I strode this world.”
Pi’Vari warily moved around Dancer’s position as he returned to me with the staff. I took it from his hands and tried desperately to decipher the runes carved up and down it surface in the same fashion I had seen the ones on Antolin’s staff, but while I could make out definite patterns, none of them made any sense!
“It is better this way,” continued the Cloud King. “You can still undo your failure in the dream world by letting this creature die here and now, and in doing so restore the natural balance of your world.”
If I had known how to activate the staff at that moment, I would have done so and watched with savage glee as the Cloud King was slowly annihilated by the parasitic weapon.
It felt like my heart was on fire, and my breaths were becoming harder and harder to complete. I fixed the Cloud King with tear-filled eyes which I was certain spoke more of rage than sorrow.
“I would burn this entire world—and everyone in it—until nothing but ash remained if it would save him,” I bit out, meaning every single word. “And either you will help me now, or you will be the first to feel the flames!” I could feel my skin tingling, but I dismissed it as yet another symptom of my body’s frail nature.
Co’Zar’I’Us slumped in resignation. “As you wish,” he replied, and I would have been surprised by his agreement if circumstances were even a little bit different. The Cloud King moved toward me and reached out with Dancer’s hands. “Give me the staff.”
I quickly did as he instructed, feeling like I was about to explode from the tension of the situation.
“I cannot undo the spell,” began Co’Zar’I’Us, “but I can perhaps destroy the lens through which it is projected. The cost will be high, however,” he said pointedly. “And as I said: you shall be responsible for whatever repairs or…replacement may be necessary.”
I knew what he meant, and I would later be horrified that I hadn’t hesitated for even a second. “Do it!” I yelled, feeling every hair on my skin stand up in unison.
Co’Zar’I’Us nodded gravely, saying, “It is as it should be.” Then Dancer’s body was surrounded by a brilliant, blinding light and the Cloud King flew straight up into the air, taking the staff with him.
In just a few seconds he had disappeared into a far-too-quickly-forming thundercloud miles above us, which rumbled as lightning exploded within it at impossibly short intervals.
I saw a pinpoint of white light burning in the center of that cloud, and the bolts of lightning began striking it again, and again, and again, causing it to glow brighter and brighter until it looked as though there were two moons hanging in the night sky.
Hundreds of lightning reports issued from within the thundercloud in the span of no more than a few minutes, and each massive bolt of electrical energy coursed inward, completing its arc in the center of the massive cloud.
I kept my eyes fixed on the Cloud King’s display as he clearly struggled to fulfill his agreement to break the spell holding the Iron Butcher captive. I began to fear that he lacked the energy required to complete the task but as suddenly as the incredible spectacle had begun, it ended. What came next resembled nothing so much as a supernova, which sprung silently into existence in the night sky.
I shielded my eyes as the disc of energy exploded outward from the now-burning thundercloud, which disappeared almost instantly as though it were fueling the chain reaction spreading across the night sky. The flash was so bright that I could see the airship as clearly as if in daylight, but after just a few seconds it lost its energy and then it was gone. The explosion left a massive, ring-shaped cloudless patch in the sky that must have measured a hundred miles in diameter.
I removed my hand from my eyes and turned to look at the Iron Butcher. I can’t describe the feeling of relief I had when I saw that the field surrounding the Iron Butcher’s armored form had disappeared.
I leaned over its motionless form and tried to shake it, for all the good it would do. I had no idea what to do so I closed my eyes and tried to summon up a healing spell.
But again, nothing came to my mind; absolutely nothing. I opened my eyes and looked to Pi’Vari. “Heal him!” I ordered, knowing I sounded crazed, but I didn’t care.
My herald took a step back. “Jezran—”
“My name isn’t Jezran,” I snapped, feeling a rush of relief to actually say it, “it’s Aaron, and I need you to help me!”
My secret was already out, so there was no point hiding it from my closest ally. I didn’t care about the risks, anyway; all I wanted was for Pi’Vari to help me!
Pi’Vari’s eyes narrowed slightly, and to my amazement he nodded his head and knelt down beside me. My herald closed his eyes and concentrated, preparing the spell. His hands glowed with that same golden light as all healing magics I had seen, which ran into the Iron Butcher’s body before dissipating with no apparent effect.
Pi’Vari opened his eyes and looked at me. “I do not know if the spell will work on a…creature such as this,” he said reservedly.
“Again,” I ordered, placing my hand on his bare shoulder. I had no idea if I could help supply energy for the spell—or even if the healing spell would have any effect—but I had to try!
Pi’Vari nodded and closed his eyes before saying. “I only have enough power to cast the spell one more time,” he warned before his features schooled into a mask of focus.
But before my herald had completed the spell, the Iron Butcher’s body shuddered causing us to scramble backward reflexively.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the Iron Butcher’s body convulsed violently before smashing through the deck violently in a shower of wood splinters, as though a massive force had jerked it downward.
We scrambled to the newly-made hole in the deck of the Black Ranger and looked down on all fours just in time to see the same six-legged horse which had carried the Iron Butcher onto the airship—and I now realized that the horse was somehow the dreamer’s idea of a nightmare Mustang—fly underneath the Iron Butcher, catching his seven foot tall body in the iron saddle built into the steed’s back before screaming its hideous, demonic whinny.
The two figures quickly disappeared into the moonlit sky, and I sat back in shock. Too much had happened…too many secrets had been laid bare in too short a time, and too many questions had been too quickly answered only to be replaced by even more questions.
But I knew what I had to do. For the first time since arriving in this strange new world, I knew my purpose.
Pi’Vari stood and brushed himself off dramatically. “I believe you know the identity of the man controlling the Iron Butcher,” he said in a tone I had never heard come from his lips. He sounded commanding—imperious even—in a strangely familiar way…
I nodded absently. “I do,” I said as my mind raced through the possible ways I might accomplish my new objective. I turned to Pi’Vari, whose features were different somehow in a way I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“I would hear his name,” he said in that same, strangely familiar voice that didn’t belong to him. Then I noticed that his eyes were glowing with a faint, orange light. It was only then that I recognized who the tone of voice and speech pattern belonged to…and my own eyes narrowed in silent calculation.
I turned to him after a long silence. “He’s my brother,” I said through gritted teeth, having considered the meaning of this latest revelation. “And
you’re going to help me find him, Antolin Wiegraf.”
The End
A Sneak Peek of The Harbinger
The following is an excerpt from The Harbinger, a Cobalt Heresy novella currently available for free at the Seeds of Humanity Facebook Group page
Binding Ties
The cathedral had once been the grandest example of architecture in the lands of Sarpits. The walls climbed nearly a hundred feet into the air, towering over even the grandest buildings to have ever been erected by the ancestors of the people who had inhabited those sacred plains.
Its walls were built of stones which had been quarried over a week’s travel away, at the only known vein of material strong enough to support such an ambitious structure. The color of the stone was a creamy yellow, with white veins which had been painstakingly fitted together so that every, single, line of white marbling connected with another on one of the adjacent stones.
It was this feat of craftsmanship—which many insisted was far too precise and complex to have been wrought by mortal hands—which brought the hundreds of daily pilgrims to the cathedral’s gates. The structure was said to have been blessed by the priests of each and every god to have ever graced the lands within a thousand miles of Sarpits during the previous ten centuries, and through this blessing it was widely believed that gazing upon the intricate patterns formed by the white lines of marbling would give the viewer insight as to the gods’ will.
The pilgrims would complete their journey, which was usually across a distance of hundreds of miles, the majority of which must be made on foot, and seat themselves on one of the many benches surrounding the cathedral. Once seated, they would gaze up to the walls for a sign from their favored god, often remaining in place for days at a time. After the pilgrims had received the guidance they sought, they would make their way inside the cathedral to pray in front of their particular god’s unique altar. Those altars had also been provided by the many loyal and faithful priests representing those great and powerful entities, whose benevolence had guided humanity through times of great darkness. With their prayers complete, the pilgrims would return to their homelands, secure in the knowledge that they had been granted a glimpse of the Divine Plan.
Revelation (Seeds of Humanity: The Cobalt Heresy) Page 40
