Revelation (Seeds of Humanity: The Cobalt Heresy) (50 page)

I couldn’t tell for certain, but it looked like some sort of paper. I looked up at the field and saw the paint beginning to drip off the rest of the flowers, creating an ugly, horrid scene as the colors blended into a giant, monochromatic mess on the ground beneath the stems of flowers—flowers which had been revealed as nothing more than cleverly folded paper.

Something was very familiar about all of this, and for the first time since entering anyone’s dream world I wondered if what I was feeling was just a reflection of the dreamer’s own memories or experience.

That was when I knew I had to finish the job. I could feel that my energy reserves were nearly depleted, which meant I had spent far more time inside my enemy’s dream world than I thought I had.

I closed my eyes and relaxed my mind, keeping a tight grip on my weapon. I needed to pinpoint his location—and quickly.

At first there was nothing, but then I saw a beacon of light in my mind’s eye. I turned toward it and saw that it was the same deep, rich, blue color as the light that had poured out of the Iron Butcher’s mount just before it had died. It was all I had to go on, but I felt certain for some reason that I had found my quarry.

I carefully disconnected myself from the part of the dreamscape where I had been anchored and allowed myself to fall toward the blue light. The light grew brighter and brighter in my mind until I had to open my eyes to keep from being blinded.

And there he was. No more than ten feet from me was my quarry, complete with his perfectly shaped, smooth head devoid of any hair. He was seated on a stone block of some kind, and his naked back was covered in tattoos which pulsed and throbbed with that same deep, rich, blue light. The detail of his body was surprising to me, since one rarely ever envisions themselves so completely in their own mind, but I kept my focus on the task at hand.

I had appeared behind him, which was just fine with me. I regretted that there was no other way to end this but this man and his allies had purposefully laid siege to Coldetz, killing thousands in the process. How many more would die if they were allowed to continue such attacks unchecked?

I pulled the hammers back on the shotgun’s twin barrels and I was rewarded with a pair of clicks in rapid succession, confirming that my weapon was now armed.

I closed my eyes, summoning the energy needed to fire the weapon. My finger began to squeeze the twin triggers, and I prepared to end the spell anchoring me here as soon as I fired the weapon.

Then I hesitated. Something really did seem wrong here. I knew I had heard of paper flowers and purple skies somewhere before, but my mind was still clouded from the dream fog—and I was running out of time! What if my hesitation was merely an attempt by my opponent to delay me until I had exhausted my energy reserves? I knew I had to act decisively, or my one chance would be lost—along with my life, and the lives of everyone else who had depended on me. I gripped my shotgun tightly in my hands as I prepared to put an end to this conflict once and for all.

Then, unbidden by my conscious mind, a single image of a woman’s face appeared in my head and I felt my body go numb from the neck down. My mouth opened in shock as I considered what I had just seen flash through my mind. It was impossible. It was almost certainly a trick of some kind, and yet I carefully removed my finger from the triggers of the gun and lowered it until it pointed to the ground.

It was simply not possible…but I had no other explanation. I had only ever seen that woman’s face in one place, and seeing it in my mind’s eye had brought the entire scene of the dreamscape into perfect clarity—regardless of how unlikely it might have been.

Part of my mind was screaming at me that it was just the dream fog, and that I should fire the weapon to end this threat once and for all. But the part of my mind that I actually trusted told me there was no other explanation. I knew it was true, and yet I couldn’t believe it.

Then I felt numb all over, but it was a different sensation than anything I could remember feeling. It was like I had been disconnected from my own body, but I didn’t collapse to the ground or change my posture at all. It was a frightening feeling, and I immediately fought to break through the icy numbness permeating every inch of my being.

I tried to speak, but no words came out. I tried to scream, but nothing happened. Instead, I watched with horror as my finger slowly returned to the trigger of the shotgun, and the barrel slowly began to rise toward the man. I no longer had control of my projected body in this place; someone else was directing its movements!

I tried to scream, to warn the man whose back was to me, but nothing happened!

I fought to regain control of my arms, but they wouldn’t obey. Then I realized that if I cut the spell, I could send myself out of the dreamscape and back to my own body.

I closed my eyes and found the spell. I manipulated it with my mind in the same fashion I had done when exiting Mistress Tyreva’s mind, but nothing happened. It was stuck in its current configuration, and I was completely locked out.

I concentrated as hard as I could, summoning up every ounce of willpower and strength I had in an effort to break through the vice-like control my puppeteer was exerting over me. I repeated one word over and over at the top of my nonexistent lungs, hoping against hope that it would somehow find a way through to my voice.

And miraculously, it did. My lips began to work, slowly and silently at first, but after a few seconds they were rapidly repeating the same movements which were then joined by my voice which screamed one word:

“Duck!”

The man stood and whirled around in a blur of motion, an immediate look of recognition and shock coming over his face when he saw the shotgun. He lunged for it, but it was too late.

The weapon discharged point-blank into his lower half, and the infinite field of paper flowers instantly exploded into a raging, red-hot inferno…where I could hear nothing but the sound of my screaming.

Chapter XXXIII: Decisions and Consequences

I was lying on the ground in the same spot where I had cast the spell. I tried to stand, but I couldn’t move. I waited a few seconds, assuming that my pathetic body would respond after a while but when I tried again…again nothing happened.

Then I noticed my hand (which was the only part of my body I could see from my current position) was surrounded by the same strange, grey aura that had wreathed the Iron Butcher.

I wanted to scream in frustration when I realized I had handed Pryzius the perfect opportunity to spring his trap. He had successfully deceived me into thinking that maintaining the spell required all of his focus and energy, and now it appeared that I would suffer the consequences of my overconfidence.

But that wasn’t the only development to greet my eyes. I saw Pi’Vari kneel beside me, and he began to untie the Spell Key from my hand! Then I heard footfalls coming from the direction where Pryzius had been.

“Well done, Pi’Vari,” I heard Pryzius say as his footsteps came closer. “You have taken your first step into House Tyrdren,” he congratulated, his voice full of self-important satisfaction. “I believe you will find yourself more richly rewarded in our employ, which is no less than a man of your obvious talents deserves. Assess Gaeld next, for I fear he may not be long for this world after such a struggle…and I would hate to have to explain his loss to my father. Gaeld’s relationship with my father has existed for longer than my own.”

I caught Pi’Vari’s eye as he finished undoing the leather straps which fixed the Spell Key to my hand, but it was just a momentary glimpse.

“I live to serve, Master,” replied my herald in that same smooth, silky voice I had heard him use on dozens of occasions in my behalf. He stood and handed the Spell Key to Pryzius, who turned the circular object over in his hands a few times before being overtaken by a fit of maniacal laughter. Pi’Vari then made his way down the stairs and out onto the main deck of the airship.

“You truly have no idea what this is, do you?” Pryzius asked in mock bewilderment after regaining control of himself. “And to think that both you and your pathetic excuse of a Master could have been part of what is to come,” he sneered, placing the device carefully in his pocket which he secured with a drawstring.

“I told my father it was a fool’s plan, including your ‘House’ in the grand design,” he continued, like a villain in the final scene of a movie who was drunk with victory, “but he believed your Master would realize his error and attempt to make amends.” Pryzius shook his head. “The past has a way of clouding one’s judgment in such matters, would you agree?”

Pryzius knelt beside me, a mock expression of surprise on his face. “Oh, I apologize,” he lied, “I forgot you were unable to speak!” He held the odd staff in front of my face so I could focus on it, and I was momentarily confused.

It looked almost exactly like Master Antolin’s staff, except that it was grey and more metallic than Antolin’s white, stone version. Another difference were the veins adoring the staff’s surface: where the lines of marbling on Antolin’s staff had alternating, natural-looking patterns of red and blue, this one had rigid lines that looked exactly—and I mean
exactly—
like digital circuitry patterns, and they were the same dark, odd color somewhere between grey and black as the field imprisoning me.

“Do you like it?” he taunted. “It took House Tyrdren’s artificers twenty years to complete. And even though my father’s memory is legendarily eidetic—even among the ranks of Veldyrian’s High Wizards—he was unable to perfectly duplicate some of the finer details.”

Pryzius stood slowly, and I felt my body being lifted up as though I were a puppet hanging on strings. He raised the staff slowly until I was floating nearly ten feet off the main deck, then with a snap my head jerked around to face him as he apparently had complete control of my body.

“He instructed me in the use of some of its more basic functions,” he continued after we were essentially face to face, as he was standing on the landing where I had made my Dream Casting while I hung helplessly in the air on the other side of the rail. “My father said that if something appeared which Gaeld was unable to dispatch, I should use the staff’s primary spell—a spell whose effects will only take hold on a creature from another realm of existence.”

Pryzius turned the staff over in his hands before spinning it like a baton twirler, causing my own body to do cartwheels in midair. I was unable to stop the inevitable bout of emesis caused by the ensuing vertigo, and the contents of my stomach splattered all across my clothing and the deck below.

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!”