Revelation (Seeds of Humanity: The Cobalt Heresy) (12 page)

After a few minutes of preparation, we climbed through the incredibly tight hole and came out the other side. The wall itself was just a little over a meter thick, and the crack was no more than half that large at its widest point. What we saw when we had assembled on the other side was enough to assure me that we were on the right track.

This chamber was massive, larger than any underground chamber I had ever been in, and I had toured a few large caves in my life. There was a faint, greenish glow permeating the cavern and its contents well enough that we probably could have gone without the light sticks and kept our footing, but we kept the sticks firmly in hand anyway.

The cavern was at least five hundred yards across, perfectly dome-shaped without any stalactites or stalagmites that I could see. But there were plenty of formations on the floor of the cavern, and they were definitely not natural.

The room was filled with hemispherical, perfectly smooth and featureless stone domes which were arranged in rows and columns. They were about fifteen feet tall and twice as wide at the base, and their domed shape almost perfectly matched the dimensions of the mountain itself, as well as the chamber in which they were located.

My herald moved to the nearest one, and with his glow stick he illuminated a red pattern on the cream-colored surface of the stone. It hadn’t been carved; it simply appeared to be a natural pattern of the stone, which was impossible given its complexity and perfect geometry. Pi’Vari raised an eyebrow and moved to the next one wordlessly.

When he found another complex design on the next dome, this one sky blue in color, he took a step back and lowered his light stick to his side. “I believe I know what this is,” Pi’Vari said quietly as he cast an almost fearful look around the chamber.

I cocked an eyebrow and turned to him. “What do you think it is?”

Pi’Vari exhaled slowly before replying, “I believe this is a burial site.”

I furrowed my brow suspiciously. “Humans couldn’t craft such perfect structures without the assistance of magic,” I began, “and even with it, the amount of power needed to do something like this even over hundreds of years is beyond the ability of free wizards.”

My herald nodded. “I agree; humans could not craft this. But humans are not what is buried here, Jezran,” he replied, “so I doubt humans are responsible for the creation of these structures.”

I felt my jaw slacken as I realized what he meant, and I quickly estimated that there were nearly three hundred of the stone mounds. “Has the Empire ever discovered anything like this?” I asked, hoping the answer was ‘yes.’”

“The Empire has never even
heard
of anything like this, Jezran,” he replied quietly, “at least, not to my knowledge.”

That was good enough for me, as Pi’Vari was by far the most learned person I had ever met, either here or back home. “So…each of these contains the body of a god?”

Pi’Vari nodded slowly. “If I am correct, Jezran, then it is without question the most significant archeological find in the history of Veldyrian…and perhaps the entire Empire.”

I looked out over the vast tomb and wracked my brain, trying to conceive of a way he could be wrong. Everywhere I turned, it seemed like I was digging myself deeper and deeper into the path of the Empire when all I wanted was to escape their clutches.

“I thought gods essentially dispersed when they died unless they were killed by another god, in which case their essence could be partially or completely absorbed by the god who killed them?” I challenged him meekly. I wasn’t hoping to disprove him, but I was curious why he would think this place could be something which had never been recorded in over six thousand years of Imperial history.

Pi’Vari nodded. “That is my understanding as well,” he admitted, “but each of these mounds bears the sigil of a god. And this location, combined with the obvious geometric similarity to the mountain we are essentially beneath, suggests a religious design and purpose. Whether the physical remains of their respective gods are here or not is less important than the fact that someone organized and executed such a remarkable feat.”

“You may be right,” I said, “but even if this is just a symbolic resting place of so many gods, why are there no guardians?”

I heard Aemir draw his scimitar behind me upon hearing my query, and Dancer looked more than a little nervous as well as he gripped his spear tightly.

Pi’Vari shrugged. “It is possible that the steward of this site is no more,” he suggested as he walked slowly between the domes. “Imperial wizards have slain literally thousands of gods in the last six thousand years, the most recent of which was at the hand of Arch Magos Euripides to close the Twelfth Gods War a decade ago. Perhaps one of those gods was charged with tending this place?”

“I guess the more important questions,” I said as it dawned on me, “concern the broken barrier to this chamber: what caused it to crack, and who may have been behind it?” I stopped and saw another clearly visible sigil on the surface of the dome nearest me, this one silver and vaguely serpentine in shape. “What uses are there for a dead god’s body?” I asked as we continued down the row of mounds.

Pi’Vari examined the dome opposite the one I was next to for several minutes before answering. “That is impossible to say,” he finally replied, “since we really do not even know exactly how they form, or of what they are composed besides massive amounts of raw, magical, energy.”

Something caught my eye in a row to my right and I moved to examine it. I had barely taken a step before I knew what it was. “Pi’Vari,” I yelled a little louder than I had intended, but thankfully there was almost no echo, “come look at this.”

Dancer and Aemir rushed to my side, with Aemir placing himself between me and what I had spotted. Pi’Vari took his time, as usual, but when we were all assembled we looked silently at the dome standing before us.

The dome was unremarkable compared to the others—except for the fact that it had a hole large enough for even Baeld to fit through without stooping. The hole was oval-shaped, and our light sticks clearly illuminated the interior of the dome.

Not wanting to take any risks, I cast my Third Eye spell and scanned the interior of the dome. There were the echoes of powerful magics still resonating within it, and they were unlike anything I had ever seen. They weren’t confusing or dangerous to my sanity like the encrypted scroll I had failed to crack on the journey here, but they were utterly foreign. The colors weren’t segregated like I was used to and unlike Imperial magic, there was no discernable geometry to their slowly fading structures.

Still not satisfied that it was safe, I expended the energy to erect my cobalt blue defense field and stepped in, motioning for my entourage to remain outside. Defense fields are a simple matter for an Imperial High Wizard to call upon; they’re one of the only forms of magic which don’t require licenses to use, and even the most powerful versions are simple to summon—if more than a little difficult to maintain under duress.

Once inside, I could more clearly see the interior. The cascading energy patterns ran this way and that but they hadn’t responded to my entry at all. The inner surface of the dome was dark but reflective like a mirror, making the room appear far larger than it actually was which would have been disorienting if not for my Third Eye spell.

In the center of the room was a human-shaped slab, and only when I saw it was I overcome with a sense of déjà vu, like I had been here before. During my dream attack on the perpetrators of the assault on Coldetz, I had been in such a room although it had appeared much, much larger in the dreamer’s mind. There were also no star patterns on the ceiling which I recalled from the dream, but the human-shaped altar was unmistakably the same. There was also a seemingly endless amount of faintly glowing writing on the altar, but I couldn’t read any of it.

Even though I was fully aware that there were at least three hundred chambers similar to this one in the cavern, it seemed like I knew with absolute certainty that this was the one where I had tried to kill the dreamer, who had been called ‘Mistress Tyreva’ by her companion.

“Can we come in?” asked Pi’Vari hesitantly. Apparently the excitement of the moment was enough to crack even his well-maintained veneer of indifference.

“I think so,” I replied. “There isn’t anything active in here; just imprints and echoes.”

My companions entered the room slowly, led by Pi’Vari. It was unusual seeing him lead at all, but the chance to discover something of this magnitude was apparently more than he could bear.

As soon as he stepped inside, my herald’s expression turned to confusion, while both Aemir and Dancer were merely wary of the whole affair. Dancer began to circle the room slowly, while Aemir moved to my side.

“Expecting something else?” I asked, uncertain what to make of Pi’Vari’s confusion.

“I honestly did not know what to expect,” he replied simply and, for perhaps the first time since I had met him, I completely believed him.

I turned back to the altar. “Can you read any of this?” I asked hopefully.

Pi’Vari knelt down next to the man-shaped slab of stone and scrutinized a few sections of the odd glyphs. He slowly moved around the altar, never breaking eye contact with the glyphs and symbols.

When he had made his way around to where he had begun, he stood and motioned for me to look closely where he was pointing. “You see this symbol?” he asked as he pointed to a roughly man-shaped glyph. It was unremarkable except for the fact that while all of the other symbols on the altar were green, the bulk of this one was black.

I nodded, once again glad to have his encyclopedic knowledge at my disposal.

“It repeats itself at least twenty times, and is quite obviously central to the rest of the passages,” he explained. “If I had to guess,” he mused, “then I would say this is the symbol of the god who was interred here.”

“Blood here,” said Dancer, who was kneeling near the wall almost directly opposite the entryway. “Not fresh, not old,” he remarked casually as he sniffed it before continuing his survey of the room.

Returning my attention to the altar, I reached out and rubbed the man-shaped glyph with my thumb, trying to clear away the dust. After I moved my hand I saw a fleck of green in the center of the figure’s head.

I stood and wiped the dust from my thumb before saying, “This is what attacked Coldetz.”

Pi’Vari nodded. “It is a reasonable assumption,” he agreed.

I pointed to the slab’s surface. “I saw the altar, and this entire room, in the mind of the person who was controlling whatever the symbol represents.”

Aemir leaned warily toward the altar and examined the symbols. “Can you translate any of this, Pi’Vari?”

Pi’Vari shrugged. “Some of the symbols are familiar, but most of them are not. It would take a team of archeo-linguists and hieroglyphic experts weeks of dedicated study to decipher the entire thing,” he said with a hint of pride.

“We don’t have weeks
or
teams of experts,” I said sharply. “What can you read?”

Pi’Vari pointed to the human-shaped glyph with the green spot on its head. “The main one means ‘great man,’ ‘giant,’ or something of the like.”

“It says ‘Colossus’,” I said with finality.

Pi’Vari shot me a look and arched an eyebrow. “Yes, Jezran,” he replied in surprise as he turned back to face the altar, “I believe it does.”

Chapter IX: Reflections and Foreboding

I decided it was time for another spell, this time in the hopes of finding some information about our enemies. I sent my companions out of the room and relaxed my mind. This spell was a bit more complicated than the Third Eye spell I had used minutes earlier, but the rewards were almost certainly worth it.

I closed my eyes and emptied my mind before calling the various forms and structures into my mind’s eye which would allow me to peek into the past of this room. To view a specific event or time, I needed to have something from that event. Usually a physical object, aligned with a period of time designated by the caster was the ideal method to bring about a seeing into the past, but I had no such objects other than those in the room.

What I did have was a memory. It wasn’t a perfect representation of what had actually happened here, but memories never are. Still, if I could accurately recall the conversation between Mistress Tyreva and her dark-skinned companion, then that would probably be enough to replay the moments immediately after my attempted assassination.

When the spell was assembled in my mind, I reached carefully through my memory and found what I was looking for. This spell would allow me to essentially view the scene from a third person perspective, unlike the dream spell which had skewed perceptions towards those of the dreamer.

I funneled the necessary power from deep within myself and I was acutely aware of the heat the effort generated. My hands felt like they were being held near a lit candle, and my thighs burned like I had just sat down on a blistering motorcycle seat left out in the afternoon sun.

The spell went off and I opened my eyes at once. Time seemed to accelerate backwards, and for a brief instant I saw my companions enter the room in reverse. I needed to consciously anchor the spell once the scene I wanted to see appeared or the magic would be wasted.

As time inside the dome seemed to rewind in front of my eyes, it was only due to a sort of sixth sense that I was able to be certain that anything was happening at all, which I suppose is part of why I (or, more accurately, Jezran) was so highly regarded as a specialist in the field of divination and augury. I felt the moment approach, and I willed the flow of time to slow until two shapes seemed to coalesce in the room and the event I had sought replayed before me.

“Who could do this, Mistress?” asked the dark-skinned man standing next to the slab. “The castle has no remaining mages and their walls were certain to fall, if not tonight then the next.” Whatever familiarity I had felt for the man in the dream world was gone, further bolstering my assessment that it was merely the result of this Mistress Tyreva’s own familiarity with the man.