Ascension: Children of The Spear: Book one

by Rhett Gervais

  Grinding his teeth, he pressed on through the sea of people, not caring who he offended or upset, heading deeper into the massive complex, the stretcher forcing everyone aside. The old mine was an odd place. Rough-hewn granite walls stood in stark contrast to the polished smooth floors and high-tech surveillance equipment. The place looked utilitarian with little warmth or comfort, yet he could easily count the dollars it cost to outfit a place like this, a place that had stood mostly empty until today. Finally, he found a second security checkpoint, guarded more heavily. With his clearance, he passed through quickly, finding himself in a poorly lit corridor with only a lone acolyte dressed in red-and-black robes, tapping his foot. He stood in stark relief against the cold gray of the place, like blood dashed against the rocks. He stood almost a full head taller than Arthur with brilliant white teeth and jet-black hair slicked back over a high forehead. Gwen would have said he was handsome with his perfect features, but Arthur thought he looked like a Ken doll, a fake plastic man with no private parts. He hated him immediately.

  “What took you so long? The pilot radioed that you had arrived almost thirty minutes ago! The cardinals and Major Bishop O’Connell have been waiting,” he said, his words dancing off his tongue as he spoke with a thick Italian accent, his scowl deepening as he looked down at Gwen’s soot-covered form on the stretcher. “What’s this?”

  Arthur looked at him in confusion for a moment, taken aback. “This is Gwen, she is one of us, she’s been injured. I called ahead to have a medic meet us. What’s going on here?”

  The acolyte raised an eyebrow as he studied Gwen’s still form on the gurney, covering his nose in disgust. “This is the girl who caused the explosion, the one who killed all those people? I was told she was with God now? Morto.”

  “No, not dead. Look, I don’t know who you are, and right now I don’t care. Please take me to the medical bay, she needs immediate care,” said Arthur, stone faced.

  “Oh dio,” he said, shaking his head, “this will not do. Come with me, please.” Without another word he turned and motioned for him to follow, quietly vocalizing into a headset as they walked down the wide, empty corridors. Arthur stared daggers after the acolyte. The plastic-faced man led them down a maze of tunnels and turns. It wasn’t long before Arthur quickly became hopelessly lost. Just as he was about to lose all patience, they entered an older portion of the complex, the floors no longer polished and the lighting barely driving away the darkness. Coming around one final turn, they ground to a halt as a pair of burly soldiers stood blocking their way. With them stood an older man with hooded eyes and dressed in white, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth “I’ll take the little cunt from here,” he said with a bored tone while sizing up the gurney.

  “These men will take the girl from here. You are to come with me.”

  “What? No, I don’t think so,” said Arthur through gritted teeth. “I thought my order was clear, med bay. Do you understand me?”

  “I am Rodrigo D’Agostino, assistant to Supreme Cardinal Washington. He is the only one who can give me orders,” said the acolyte matter-of-factly, “and he has ordered the girl be made comfortable until it can be decided what is to be done with her.” He took a step closer to Arthur, poking a finger to his chest. “You—I have orders to bring to the cardinal himself. Major Bishop O’Connell is with him; perhaps he can teach you to respect your betters.”

  Arthur moved to go around him, only to have the tall acolyte block his path, the men with Gwen vanishing around the next corridor. Clenching his fists, he moved to brush the taller man aside, only to find that he wouldn’t move. He was solid, like the granite that surrounded them. He simply crossed his arms, his plastic smile making Arthur feeling small and weak.

  “Poor little man. You see, I am not so easy, eh?” said the acolyte, shaking his head. “I am like you—ascended. It’s rare that I test myself, as my duties rarely take me from Cardinal Washington’s side, but I would so enjoy teaching you who your betters are.”

  Arthur tilted his head, confused by what he was being told. “I know everyone in the corps, but I’ve never seen you before. I would have remembered meeting someone...like you.”

  The taller man’s plastic smile only grew wider. “Such ignorance, very amusing. Come, I don’t want to keep them waiting any longer than I have to...that is, unless you wish to try yourself against me?” said Rodrigo, taking a step back and spreading his arms wide.

  Arthur stared for a moment, narrowing his eyes. The major bishop had always told him to only attack when victory was certain. Attacking blindly out of anger, no matter how appealing, would be stupid. Right now he wanted answers more than he wanted to soothe his ego. Nothing made sense, but he would learn what was going on here and then, he promised himself, he would put Rodrigo in his place. “No, that’s fine. Lead on.”

  “Bravo, excellent,” said Rodrigo with a tilt of his head, turning on his heel, his loose robes flowing behind him. Arthur pursed his lips, taking a long look at the corridor down which the men had taken Gwen, his thoughts grim as he began to follow.

  ***

  A chill ran down Arthur’s spine as he entered the overcrowded room. Looking around, he could feel a sense of despair. The day’s events weighed heavily on everyone in the room. Iron Mountain was a major data hub for the entire country, a deep ocean of information that every tributary flowed into, and this room served as the heart of that hub. The rough granite walls were covered with computer servers and screens displaying a torrent of information pouring in from the entire nation. The people working in this room received the unvarnished truth of what really happened in the world. They filtered, processed, and tried to make sense of it all.

  The overfilled room smelled of stale sweat, the rancid odor of too many nervous bodies crammed together for too long. Along with the folks processing data, there were staffers from Capitol Hill, regular folks who hurried around the room with desperate efficiency, trying to do the work of serving the men who languished around a massive redwood table hastily thrust to the heart of the room. Arthur could tell by the tilt of their noses and their bored gazes that these men had a disdain for the common folk surrounding them, and in some cases wiping down the data tablets that were passed to them. Watching them argue among themselves, Arthur felt his stomach rumble. The table was laden with an untouched feast, and the smell wafting across the room was intoxicating, meats of every kind, warm bread, gravies, and pastries cooked to perfection. His mouth began to water as he stared. He could almost taste the steaks, red and bloody, grilled red snapper, and green vegetables swimming in more real butter than he had ever seen in his short life, all sitting forgotten. The men, their hands smooth and soft and decorated with gold and silver, all wore some version of Cardinal red, expensive, smooth, silken robes with dark sashes encircling their waists, in some cases serving as fashion but in many to contain their bulk. Arthur imagined none of these men had ever eaten rats or found roaches in their food. They sat in comfort and safety while the country burned, its people scraping by day to day. The Council of Cardinals, originally intended to serve as cabinet secretaries to the president...now, with his death and the loss of Congress, they were who the country would look to for leadership, for hope. Nine men, angry and enraged by the events of the day beyond their control, gulping glasses of dark red wine while trying to decide the fate of a nation they seemed not to care for.

  The too-handsome acolyte with the plastic features, Rodrigo, vanished immediately into the crowd when they entered, only to reappear suddenly beside one of the nine, whispering fiercely into the ear of a square-jawed man with oversized, square glasses and dark skin. Arthur felt his heart stop as the cardinal looked directly at him, his smoldering eyes full of contempt. The cardinal stood, his anger palpable from across the room, his eyes never leaving him. Smoothing his robes, he spoke quickly to Rodrigo, his age-spotted hand grabbing a fistful of the acolyte’s black robe and shaking the younger man before stalking away.

  “Always maki
ng trouble, aren’t you, Arty,” said a thin voice beside him. Arthur, so engrossed in what was happening at the table that he hadn’t noticed the taller boy standing beside him, jumped in his skin. A faint glow of light cascaded around the other boy like fireflies against the night.

  “Oh my god, Uriel, you’re ok!” said Arthur with excitement, voice trailing off when he looked at his friend. He couldn’t help but stare. Uriel, once handsome with a hero’s square jaw and piercing eyes, looked uncanny, to say the least. His face was strange looking, almost plastic, his handsome features encompassed by thin lines of gold and silver segmenting his eyes, nose, and mouth, trailing down his square jaw, making his face look as if it were a puzzle made of steel and flesh. Only his eyes looked human, dark and wounded. Arthur hesitated for a moment and then hastily looked away, unable to meet his gaze, a surge of guilt welling up in his gut as he remembered how he’d wished for something horrible to happen to him for being too handsome, for Gwen liking him just a little too much. Now that it had happened, he couldn’t help but wonder if God had answered his prayers.

  “It’s ok to stare, Arty, I spend a lot of time doing it myself,” said Uriel, giving him a robotic smile.

  “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t help. It just doesn’t seem right,” said Arthur, doing his best to look apologetic. He couldn’t help but be fascinated by the flawless skin. “It looks too perfect.”

  “Yeah, I know. They did their best. Our girl, Gwen, hits really hard. I guess I’m lucky to be alive, but...they had to rebuild my skull entirely, and large parts of my skin were too far gone, necrotized, so they used synthetics to replace everything. It still freaks me out every time I look in the mirror.”

  “I can’t begin to imagine... How does it feel?” asked Arthur, curious, fighting the urge to reach up and touch his face, pulling his hand back suddenly when Uriel’s glow intensified, comets of gold and silver whirling around him.

  “Sorry, since the operation it does that a lot, and I feel like a lightbulb. As far as my face, it feels like I got something stuck to my head all the time, like I’m wearing a crappy Halloween mask that doesn’t breathe well. It felt really claustrophobic at first, but I’ve gotten used to it a bit. I still want to rip the skin off most days, just so I can breathe.”

  Arthur’s attention was suddenly drawn back to the room as the din of the room vanished for a moment, the remaining cardinals standing suddenly, slowly shuffling from the table to leave the chamber.

  “The shitty part of it all, is that if I was conscious for even a second, I wouldn’t need any of this,” he said waving at his face, looking sad. If a robot could look sad, his eyes certainly did.

  “What do you mean?” asked Arthur, raising an eyebrow.

  Uriel raised his palm and closed his eyes for a moment, tiny sparks of gold and silver began to intensify around his hand, darting back and forth across a dark expanse, glowing like fireflies on a moonless night. With a flick of his wrist the tiny comets raced toward Arthur, dancing across his skin for a moment before sublimating into his chest. He gasped suddenly as if he were drenched in the warmth of a hot summer’s day and breathed deeply as a rush of pure adrenaline coursed through his body, every inch of his flesh feeling as though it were pulsating. Without meaning to, Arthur fell into himself, his vision snapping into place faster than it ever had. He could sense every spark of energy in the room, see every particle of matter vibrating. It felt effortless. Suddenly inspired, he looked at the servers. He could see the flow of data, all that information, just waiting for him. The major bishop had taught him to use every scrap of information to his advantage; knowledge was the greatest weapon.

  “That’s just amazing, it’s like my powers are on overdrive. Please don’t stop; I have an idea,” said Arthur, gasping with ecstasy while the tiny comets circled him, darting in and out of his body. With a surge of power, he reached out to the servers that encircled the room, his mind diving into the digital ocean of data that was hidden just below the surface in this place, trying to understand and absorb every scrap of data. On his own, this would have taken forever, but with Uriel’s help it was simple. It only took a few moments before the entire database was laid out before him. He was able to find everything, plans for dealing with today’s crisis, council meetings, press releases. He was shocked at the cruel nature, the callousness. Taking a deep breath, he dug deeper, looking…

  “What are you doing, Arty? You’re going to get us in trouble, little man,” said Uriel in a tense whisper while looking around to see if anyone had noticed them.

  “They’re too busy to pay attention to us,” said Arthur in a low voice. “Besides, don’t you want to know what’s going on? I’m sick and tired of being in the dark.”

  “Ok, just make it quick; I can’t keep this up forever!”

  Arthur nodded. His mind raced along trails of data, delving deeper. Uriel’s energy coursing through him allowed him to search faster than he would ever be able to on his own. He found information about the attacks, the enemy, Divinity Corps. There were files on existing members, and even a file on the ascended, like Rodrigo, who were not part of the corps. Taking a moment, he delved into the plastic acolyte’s file, absorbing everything he could about the cocky Italian. He found more, files on all the children, including himself, sadly, no mention of his parents. He found more servers, deeper in the mountain, top secret stuff. He couldn’t access them from here. He would have to go down and...Gwen… “Oh my god,” he said, looking up at the taller boy as he digested her file, his vision snapping back to normal as his heart began to race. “We’ve got to get to her now! C’mon!”

  Without waiting to see if Uriel would follow, he tore out from the chambers, pushing through startled staffers as he rushed out into the crowded halls. He ran faster than he ever had in his life, desperate to reach her in time, his calf-high leather boots thundering on the polished floor as he charged deeper into the restricted areas, doing his best to dodge the mess of humanity standing idly by. The entire complex was a warren of old mining tunnels that branched off in all directions. It would be easy to be lost for a lifetime in the maze, but luckily fear was a great motivator and the layout of the place burned brightly in his mind. After what seemed forever, he entered the area where Gwen was being held. It was brightly light with finished white walls, almost like the infirmary back on base. There were few people here, mostly medical personnel startled as he ran by, his curly hair streaming behind him.

  “Arty, wait, slow down. Damn, you’re fast for a little guy,” said Uriel, breathless behind him. Slowing, Arthur skidded around the corner to the corridor where they had spirited Gwen off to. He could see her room up ahead at the end of the corridor, an opaque glass door guarded by the same pair of burly soldiers who had taken her from him. With a grunt, Arthur resumed his mad pace, charging headlong into the two men who were startled by his sudden appearance. Without missing a beat, Arthur leapt high, catching the first guard by surprise in the temple with his knee. The man’s head bounced painfully against the wall behind him, and he collapsed in an instant, his eyes rolled back into his head. Landing nimbly on his feet, Arthur pivoted and ducked low as the other guard immediately leveled his rifle at him, the black, steel barrel just inches from his head. Faster than the other man could pull the trigger, he sprang up from his crouch, slamming the rifle upward with his open palm, catching the second man off guard as the unyielding steel of his own weapon slammed into his bulbous nose, shattering it with a satisfying crunch. Before his body had even fallen, Arthur struck two quick blows, one to the gut, forcing the larger man to fold in half, and the second a blow to the head, the impact knocking the soldier senseless.

  “Holy crap, that was really cool,” said Uriel, looking over the fallen men, shaking his head in wonder.

  Arthur did not bother to answer. He prayed he had been quick enough, that he wasn’t too late. Throwing open the glass door, he entered the room breathlessly, panicked at what he would find.

  He entered the sterile, whi
te room to find Rodrigo standing over Gwen’s ash-covered form, holding a laser torch to her temple, the ruby-red light cascading in waves over her pale skin.

  Arthur stalked hurriedly toward the acolyte, his eyes dark pools of liquid rage.

  “Ah, you do wish to test yourself, eccellente,” said Rodrigo with a plastic smile, stepping away from the bed and pulling a long thin blade from the inside of his black-and-red robes. The weapon was translucent crystal with strange engravings running along its length, its handle wrapped in blood-red leather. “You like? Monomolecular crystal, it can cut through almost anything. It should do fine to remove your head from your corpse.”

  “I will ask you once,” said Arthur, clenching his fists as he locked eyes with the taller man. “Get away from my friend. Go back to your Cardinal Washington and tell him you couldn’t do it. If you don’t, you die here—a simple choice.”

  The sound of cruel laughter echoed throughout the brightly lit room as Rodrigo doubled over, his face a twisted mask of amusement. “You must be mad, screws loose in your brain, as you Americans say. If you think I would allow some filthy ghetto rat to touch me, much less do me harm, you are sadly mistaken,” he said, catching his breath. “But if you are ready to learn who your betters are, come, I will show you.”

  Before Arthur could move, Rodrigo’s entire body shimmered like a pool of deep water on a moonless night, turning into a darkened reflection of himself before vanishing. Without thinking, Arthur instinctively dove away just as the tall Italian appeared from nothingness behind him, slashing wildly with the thin, crystal blade, opening a deep gash on his leg as he rolled away, causing him to stumble and land painfully on the cool, white tile.