Revelation (Seeds of Humanity: The Cobalt Heresy) (22 page)

I nodded after a moment’s consideration. “Then we have a deal,” I said finally.

The broad smile returned to Rekir’s face. “Excellent,” he said, rising to his feet and I followed suit. “You can keep the Spell Key in good faith, but the Gladiatorial draft is in one month. So you have until then to present me with Gaeld’s Contract of Service, at which time you will receive the rest of your compensation package,” he reminded me. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Journeyman.”

“Arch Magos,” I said, inclining my head stiffly.

With that, the Master of House Tyrdren turned and strode purposefully out of the room.

The recollection didn’t seem to clear things up very much, but Rekir did mention that he had been in possession of the Spell Key for many years. For a man of his age, that could mean a few decades or over a century, it was hard to tell.

He had mentioned that he knew it could kill an adult dragon, so if I could discover the date he had slain his last dragon, I would have a minimum timetable from which to work. I still wasn’t sure how any of it fit together, but it seemed too odd of a coincidence to have two powerful magic items used by these two men, which were obviously connected in some fashion to not investigate.

But out here in the wild, I didn’t have much chance of discovering that connection that didn’t revolve around activating the staff.

So I strapped the disc to my right hand, as I distinctly remembered that Antolin always wielded the staff in his left, and after fixing it properly I closed my eyes and steeled myself as I gripped the staff.

Nothing happened.

I opened my eyes and looked for any sign that the staff had activated and found none. I tried to send a small amount of magical energy into the staff, but it seemed to reject my meager offering. I touched the disc to the staff and repeated the effort, but still I had no effect.

I sighed heavily. I really had wanted to avoid involving the robe, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen. I reluctantly removed my own robe and replaced it with Antolin’s after a close examination of the inside and outside of the robe revealed nothing noteworthy.

The robe was warm; far warmer than it should have been and I found that the cold wind whipping across my body no longer made me shiver. In fact, my breaths came easier and after a few moments I was sure that my heart was much more relaxed.

I growled at the obvious temptation of continuing to wear the robe even after I had concluded my experiment. I was determined to remove it as soon as I was finished, so I took a deep breath and gripped the staff tightly.

At first nothing happened, but something seemingly felt different within the staff. I tried to pour a trickle of energy into it, which was really all I had, and I was greeted with a flash of light from the head of the staff. The light seemed to spin until it focused on the ground in front of me, until it focused into the foot tall form of my master, Magos Antolin Wiegraf.

“If you found this message,” his projection began in a distinctly bitter tone, “then you have been less than forthcoming regarding certain details pertaining to Arch Magos Rekir’s purchase of Gaeld’s contract. The only way to find this message is by combining three artifacts which should have never come together—two of which were in my possession while the third was held by Arch Magos Rekir.”

It stung that he had indirectly discovered my wayward dealings with the Master of House Tyrdren, but he really hadn’t left me any choice in the matter from my perspective.

“The Arch Magos is not your friend,” Antolin’s image said, shaking its head in disappointment, “and he does not desire your well-being any more than he desires to hand his entire house over to you. He deals in secrets and ancient knowledge thought to be long-forgotten…but he is not the only one with such secrets.”

That’s the understatement of the century
, I thought to myself wryly.

The image flickered and dimmed, and I immediately fed more precious energy into it. I had almost nothing in the tank, but thankfully this projection didn’t require a lot of resources to maintain. I just hoped it wasn’t a long recording, as I could already feel my heartbeat accelerating under the stress.

“It is one such secret which I now entrust to you, as I am obviously gone,” he said, folding his arms. “My enemy watches me like a vulture, waiting for a moment of weakness in which to strike and pick the bones of our House clean—bones which are more substantial than you likely suspect. You must consider me to be dead, even though I will not make such an eventuality a certainty.”

The image reached into its robes and produced the long, ornate scroll tube which I had inside my own pack. “You have probably already found this in the Coldetz Archives,” he said with self-satisfaction, and once again I was faced with the reality that I was caught up in something that went far beyond my own ability to understand, “and perhaps you have even traveled to the mountain itself. But that is not your true destination and going there will merely alert your enemies to your progress, serving to multiply our troubles. On the final page of these writings you will have no doubt found an encryption which you cannot break,” he said smugly. “That is because it is keyed to both the staff and robe of Sbeegl—the same staff and robe you now possess.”

That got my attention, and I sat bolt upright from my previously relaxed position. Sbeegl was a figure I had researched extensively, and his legendary status in the lands which Veldyrian had claimed was inspirational to me. He had worked to ensure that the people of the lands were protected from threats both natural and supernatural. His methods were more than a little mysterious, but freedom from tyranny had always been chief among his goals according to legend—and that had resonated with me.

“I am the one who placed the encryption there, and behind its wards is a map with a clue which will help us to put an end to this war once and for all, before further, needless, bloodshed,” he said hastily. “I cannot go into greater detail than to say that everything you will need is in the possession of the man living at the location indicated by the map. His name is Sherwyn; he is an old friend and although we have not spoken in many years, he will help you however he can once you show him the staff, robes and Spell Key.”

My energy was depleting rapidly, and I found I was struggling to keep the projection going. I focused and tried to squeeze additional power from my core and succeeded as the image continued.

“Finally, you must rely upon your companions—especially Aemir,” advised the image of Magos Antolin. “You have bound him more completely to yourself than either of the others, and you will need his loyalty in the days to come. Use Pi’Vari’s knowledge where you can, but be wary of him,” he warned. “Do not let him out of your sight, for I fear he has been compromised. I was attempting to determine the extent of his treachery when you informed me of your discovery at Coldetz. I had hoped that discovery would take you longer than it did, but you have proven ever resourceful in any enterprise which creates distance between us,” he shook his head, as a strange mixture of sorrow and anger came over him.

Now my eyebrows went straight to the roof. Antolin had known about the mythicite at Coldetz?! The image flickered again, and I poured every last drop of my energy into it, feeling my vision narrow and my limbs go numb. I strained to keep the message playing, but I didn’t have enough energy to do so for much longer.

For at least fifteen seconds there was nothing but static noise accompanying his image and I thought it would fail before playing itself out, but then suddenly the projection’s voice became clearer and had a hard edge to it. “Make no mistake, my young apprentice,” Antolin’s projection narrowed his eyes, “should I survive my own trials there shall be a reckoning between us.”

At that, the projection cut out as the last drop of my meager reserves were sucked into the staff, causing my chest pain to return and my breath to come in labored gasps.

I collapsed back to the ground, clutching my chest tightly as I sucked in short, rapid breaths. I fought to maintain consciousness but like so many times before, I failed and darkness enveloped me.

Chapter XV: Bitter Memories and Guarded Secrets

“Hurry up, Aaron,” came my brother Adam’s voice from ahead, “last one to the pond has to kiss Sally Gable on the lips!”

I was obviously dreaming, but more than that I was remembering a scene from my childhood. It was almost like watching a train wreck since I couldn’t look away or force myself awake. I had to relive the event as often as my subconscious demanded, and it looked like it was that time again.

I was ten and my brother was twelve. It was a beautiful summer day, but a little too hot for our liking so we had abandoned our household chores in favor of taking a dip in the local pond.

It wasn’t much of a pond, barely five feet deep at the center and would have been a young microbiologist’s dream to study. But it was
our
pond, and Dad had assured us that there was no sewer water in it, which was good enough for us.

As usual, being nearly a foot taller and two years older, my brother was making better time running through the woods than I was, but I tried my hardest to keep up. I knew a shortcut that went across the train tracks rather than going under them at the underpass a few hundred feet to the left, and I also knew that Adam would never look back to check how far back I had fallen.

So I ran as fast as I could, leaping over small logs and deftly jumping from slippery rock to slippery rock, oblivious of the danger if I should lose my footing.

I hurtled up the embankment which led to the iron train tracks, and I scampered up the loose gravel covering the inclined surface. I came up to the top and quickly looked both ways before jumping across the first rail. There were two sets of tracks, so I had to clear four rails total, and I nimbly jumped over the second.

I ran down the little ditch between the tracks and scrambled up the other side, causing a miniature avalanche of gravel as I did so. I needed to hurry to beat Adam!

When I had reached the other side, I picked my lead foot up over the near rail and stepped between the tracks. When my rear foot came up, it caught somehow on a spike which fastened the rail to the timber beneath. I fell forward, and for a terrifying instant I was sure I’d fail to get my hands up in time to stop my face from smashing into the far rail.

I managed to get one hand up in time to save my face from the inevitable impact on the railroad ties, but the fall still knocked me silly for a few moments. I heard a sound which brought me out of my stupor and I looked blankly toward the source.

It was a screaming sound, which seemed to slowly adjust in pitch until I recognized it for what it really was: a train whistle!

Just a few hundred yards away and barreling toward me at an unstoppable speed was a huge, green, diesel-powered freight train exactly like the hundreds of others I had seen throughout my childhood. I reached down to extricate my trapped shoe, but panic set in and all I managed to do was tighten the caught shoelace.

I looked back up at the oncoming train, which was less than fifty yards away. For a brief moment I considered sacrificing my leg, and just laying down flat on the railroad ties, hoping that my small body wouldn’t catch on the underside of the train as it went by.

“Aaron, stand up!” came my brother’s voice, and I turned around to see him running down the track from the opposite direction of the train, and he was just a few yards away!

I didn’t have time to think about it, so I did as my brother instructed and stood up as tall as I could with my foot trapped—which wasn’t really all that much higher more than I would have been by kneeling. It was in that moment that I realized I could have probably jumped into the ditch between the tracks and the train wouldn’t have even touched me, but I had been addled from my fall and unable to think clearly.

Adam juked to his left at the last step and drove off the far rail, hurtling himself across the tracks into me with everything he had. He smashed into me, knocking the wind from my chest and driving our combined bodies into the ditch between the parallel sets of tracks as he grabbed me in a flying bear hug. I felt my ankle pop as we flew a few yards away from where I had been stuck, but frankly I didn’t care about my foot as the massive, green train hurtled past where I would have certainly died if not for my brother.

I didn’t even care that my head had struck a football-sized rock when we landed with my brother’s body on top of mine. He was clutching his knee after coming down awkwardly, but in that moment all I cared about was that my brother had saved me from certain death, and I would never be able to repay him.

Those were my last thoughts as I lost consciousness to the sound of my brother desperately calling my name as the rumbling, screeching, train wheels went past one by one.

I sat bolt upright, my heart beating quickly but the pain in my chest had thankfully gone. My body was covered in cold sweat, which was altogether familiar following yet another trip down memory lane that I would have preferred have never taken place.

We would never again talk about that day, and we certainly didn’t tell our parents about it. We made up some story about me slipping on a rock on the way to the pond which broke my ankle and knocked me unconscious, and how Adam had hurt his knee trying to help me up.

We never went back to that pond, either. And I never wanted to have that particular nightmare again.

I suddenly realized that Antolin’s robe was warm, and quite comfortable. I knew it was a risk to keep the robe on, but I decided against my previous judgment. I was pretty sure that it made my physical ineptitude somewhat less crippling, and I still needed it to decipher the scroll.

Desperate to put my most haunting nightmare in the rearview mirror, I reached into my pack and pulled out the scroll tube. I carefully removed the cap and pulled out the sheaf of papers, laying them down on my old robe to keep them dry.