The Spark (39 page)

“More walking?” Gillard asked, kicking the snow off his boots against a nearby tree.

“Aye,” Julien said, adjusting his lenses to their normal setting. “But nothing like that. We head a few yards into the copse and we will find that which we seek.”

“If you say so.” Gillard cupped his hands and brought them to his mouth, blowing air into them for warmth.

“Come.” Again, Julien’s cane led the way.

True to his word, the pair truly did not need travel far. Merely a yard or so in they came upon a large boulder, which had been angled in such a way to seem non-existent from the entrance of the copse.

“Well I’ll be.” Gillard said starring at the seven-foot tall rock.

“Yes, quite a feat of illusory technique.” Julien smiled. “The kinetics of the time hired Vander Klee the Great – perhaps the most notable illusionist of the time. As you see he was able to place this large structure in a way that one would not be able to find it, despite it being so open. Remarkable.”

“I agree. What now?” Gillard asked, touching the frozen surface of the boulder.

“We enter.” Julien walked to the far side of the structure.

“How?” Gillard walked over to see what the old headmaster was about. “There is no door.”

“For wanting the ESP so badly, you are certainly very under educated about it.” Julien stated as he examined the side of the rock. “Which is perhaps more surprising since you are the librarian of the college.”

“I know well enough of the ESP and its chartered mandate.” Gillard puffed his chest with hurt pride. “I merely did not anticipate such clever deception.”

“If every kinetic knew the whereabouts of this entrance,” Julien said, running his hand over the rough surface of the boulder. “Then the risks of rogue kinetics causing trouble would only heighten, for they could enter Wynne with steel and iron under their direct control.”

“But the regiments are programmed.” Gillard said. “Much the same as the modern constructs.”

“No, they aren’t.” Julien’s voice was flat, almost disinterested in the conversation. “These constructs are old. They have a rudimentary, steam infused cortex that does not allow for the same level of conscience as our modern versions. Upon activation they will take one command, and one command only for that is all their antique processing will allow. If a rogue kinetic found this location, all he would have to do is command the legion to destroy everything, and so it would be. Aha! Here we are.”

Julien DiMarco inserted a lanky finger into a deep hole on the inside of a small fissure in the rock. At the base of the hole as a spring loaded button. Upon pressing it, a deep, terrible grinding filled the air as the rock gave in on itself, revealing a swirling stair into the bowels of the earth.

Gillard stood at the top of a flight of stone stairs, mouth agape. Julien was pleased just to see the damned thing still worked.

“Come, we must not lose any more time.” Julien stepped onto the steep stair, letting his eyes adjust the dim light of the everflame lanterns within.

It was a deep stair, with nothing but stone and soft light to pass the time. To Julien and his aching legs, it seemed as though they descended forever. His temper was shortening the longer the pair traversed with no sign of respite. Even the familiar, and often comforting
tap-tap-tapping
of his cane upon hard stone started to irk him. The sweat running down Julien’s drawn out cheeks and pointed chin proved to be another annoyance, causing his lenses to slide down his narrow nose on a more frequent basis.

Just when he thought he would scream out in frustration, Julien’s cane found solid floor.

“Thank Del Morte.” He puffed, tucking the ever-faithful cane under his arm to wipe the sweat from his face.

“Finally.” Gillard said as he rounded the final bend in the stair.

Julien smiled as the other man removed his spectacles to wipe the sweat from his own brow.

“That was torturous, Julien. Simply torturous.” Gillard said between breaths.

“Aye, but come, we are nearly there.” Julien agreed, heading into the corridor that lay before them.

“Do we need to take those stairs again?” Gillard asked, clearly despairing an ascending trip.

“No.” Julien turned to face the red-faced librarian.

“Then how do we get out of here?” Gillard’s voice betrayed a sense of dread and worry as it rebounded off the moss-covered walls.

“Patience, Gillard.” Julien turned away from the portly gentleman and continued down the corridor, relishing in the familiarity of the
tap-tap-tapping
of his cane again.

Julien led the way down the long stone hall. Tapestries of the kinetic people’s history hung damp and limp along the walls. Each piece chronicled an important part of their long, bloody story. Julien had read about these relics, but had never seen them for himself.

He was most intrigued in seeing the ones detailing events of the Great War. The first showed the first fires of war as kinetic people were hunted down and tried as witches and warlocks by the people of Wynne. Then there was the bonding of kinetics and the great rebellion, which ultimately led to the first true battle of the war.

“The Battle of Fiery Dawn.” Julien said, stopping to admire the artistry.

“The start of it all.” Gillard echoed, coming to a stop beside Julien. “Many lives were lost, but it showed the world our people were strong and mighty when unified.”

“Yes, and it brought us, as a people, closer together.” Julien added. “It is a shame it took such tragic events to do so.”

A silence fell over the kinetics as each lost his thoughts to the history before them, and the history behind them.

“You know Gillard,” Julien kept his voice quiet, so as not to disturb the tranquility of the moment. “I do not fear war. I do not fear death. I am old, near the end of my time. Many have wondered why I have spoken so greatly against Lucian Margoux, and why I stick so strictly to the mandate signed over two hundred years ago. Let me tell you, Gillard, this is why.” Julien pointed to the tapestry.

It was the largest piece on display, bordered with gold trim and an array of colours. In the center was the image of a dozen weeping women, mourning on the field of battle over kinetic and non-kinetic alike. In the distance a sun was rising and inlaid within its glowing orb was the outline of Wynne. The realm was not divided by territorial lines, but was displayed as one nation, whole and at peace.

“I can see why,” the librarian nodded his head. “It is deeply moving. Tragic, sad, yet hopeful for a peaceful, united future.”

“And that is what I hope for.” Julien smiled, a small, sad smile. “I, too, hoped for a unified Wynne. My whole youth I grew up desiring the imagery to one day hold true for us. Yet when I came to the council…I learnt the world would never grow into the future our ancestors hoped for at the end of the Great War.”

“So you took it on yourself to fight for that future?” Gillard asked.

Julien admired the woven cloth before him, ignoring Gillard’s question. His ancient lips parted in a sad smile as he turned away from the antiquated art, cane leading the way.

The pair didn’t say another word as they traversed the remainder of the long path. Each step of the way their footfalls rebounded off of the walls, making their approach sound as if they, themselves, led an army into the bowels of the college. Before long the stone corridor began to transition into copper piping and steel girders. The dank dungeon feel of their approach soon gave way to an invasive, claustrophobic, greasy world of pipes, chains and machinery.

Julien suspected they were now under the college proper, and mentally prepared for the final leg of the journey.

“We are nearing the end.” He said as a burst of steam shot from an overhead vent. “I pray to Del Morte the constructs still work.”

“Do they have coal for their boilers?” Gillard asked.

“They do not need it.” Julien ducked under a low hanging chain. “That was misinformation they put into the ESP papers in the case rogue kinetics found this place.”

“How would that deter a possible threat?” Gillard asked ducking under the same chain as Julien.

“Simple.” Julien stated, cool and calm as his cane
tap-tap-tapped
against steel catwalks. “If you knew of a hidden lair full of constructs that could devastate the world, but also knew they all needed coal to function, how likely would you want to find a means of lugging that much coal into this deep place?” Julien asked, coming to a stop near an iron door.

“I suppose not very likely.” The librarian admitted. “How are they powered then?”

“Everflame.” Julien smiled proudly. “They found a way to harness the everflame to create a power source equivalent to the coal boilers of the time. Unfortunately, it was far to expensive to produce at the time.”

“Everflame eh? Who knew?” Gillard sounded impressed. Whether it was genuine or not, Julien couldn’t tell, but he let it go for the situation at hand. “This the final door?”

“It is.” Julien said.

“You would have expected something more grand?” Gillard looked at the door, curious. “You sure this is it?”

“Aye.” Julien said. “If you got this far, you would expect something grand yes? The hall of tapestries is a means of creating of a false sense of grandiose, making any intruder expect the next stage to be even more grand.”

Gillard laughed; “I see our ancestors meant this to be an extreme solution.”

“They did.” Julien agreed. “Now you understand why I wished to never have to see the ESP go into motion.”

“I do. Thank-you, ser.” Gillard gave a small smile. “Shall we?”

“Yes. Let’s get this over with.” Julien leaned on the door, pushing it inwards on its hinges.

Greeting them was a wide, circular room. The distance looked to be of a size with the great hall of the college. The walls were of tarnished silver and dirty gold frescos of ships and canons, horses and soldiers. Standing upon a floor of a white marble were dozens of tightly ranked golems, all of iron and copper. The design of the constructs was familiar yet antique at the same time. Each stood at least three heads taller than most men. Unlike the constructs of recent times, these beings wore plates of no design, no warrior masks or twisted grotesques, just simple, flat white enamel.

“They’re…”

“Terrifying.” Julien finished. Looking around the room, Julien noticed a large, steel crank. He couldn’t make out what it did, but if his suspicions were right, he expected quite the show.

“How do we activate them?” Gillard asked.

“We do not need activation.” The voice of one and of many spoke in joshed unison. “We need only command.”

“I thought you said their intelligence was less then this?” The librarian seemed confused.

“Have you not learnt the truth about the misleading nature of this place?” Julien asked. In truth he had been taken back by the sudden voices of the golems. Yet he could not let Gillard know.

“We are kinetics of the college.” Julien said, not giving any chance of hesitation to show, more for Gillard’s sake than his. “We have come to enact the Emergency Security Protocol and request the protection of the college and its grounds.”

The golems remained silent, as if in thought.

Without notice, the crank began to whir to life. A deep rumbling soon followed from above, and the floor began to rotate in slow progression, rising with each rotation. It became clear the ceiling was actually the floor of the great hall, which had been rigged to withdraw when the ESP was put into action and the metallic legions rose from the bowels of the school.

“We the ones agree.” The constructs stated as a bright crack ran along the length of the ceiling, growing wider apart as the floor rose to meet the shining light. “We the ones will protect the college and its grounds. We the ones will protect the residents and faculty of the college. No harm will fall on those under our care.”

T
he days since her waking had been as much a blur as the time she had been unconscious. Garius hardly called on her, for his war had finally come. For this, to an extent, Katherine was glad. There was a budding distrust in her heart for the man and his machinations. Where once she saw the humble origins of a noble pursuit, now she only saw the terrible truths that were before her.

There was more to Garius’ master plan than he led her to believe; that much was certain. Katherine spent many of her lonely nights dissecting every morsel of evidence and experience she had witnessed to try and string it all together. The task was monumental, for there had been so much revealed to her, and yet, at the same time, not nearly enough. Katherine knew she would have to confront Garius, sooner or later. To better the lives of the people of Syntar she did not doubt was the true ambition of her one time lover, but, somehow, she knew there was a hell of a lot more going on than Garius would have her believe.

And so she spent her days and nights, locked in the living compartments that had been Garius Syrah’s. The only companionship she knew were the bent old crones that fused over her. Katherine tried to converse with the elderly women, but, just as with the public bathhouse in the depths of complex, they remained silent. There was a routine, it seemed, when it came to her care. At the break of dawn one would enter the chambers and fill the washbasin with hot water. The woman would let it sit on the nightstand for Katherine to rinse the night’s filth away. By the time Katherine would rise, the water would be mild and tepid.

The next woman to come calling would bring her morning meal; typically a platter of fried eggs with crispy bacon and toasted sour bread.

Finally, on a morning when the sun rose with a light of foreboding reds, Katherine decided enough was enough.

“Madam,” she called when the hunched woman entered with the tray of food held within her gnarled fingers. “I wish to speak with Mister Syrah. It is quite important that I do.”

Katherine wasn’t surprised when the woman offered no response. She simply came into the room, placed the silver platter on the stand, and paused long enough to retrieve the washbasin for cleaning.

“Del Morte be good,” Katherine cursed when as the chamber door closed behind the elderly woman as she left the room.

Katherine took her breakfast out onto the adjoining balcony. The air was crisp and the smell of the salty waters of Fascile Bay greeted her, borne upon the tendrils of a gentle breeze. She looked out over the facility, admiring the stonework of the large building that made up the Imperial Order’s college. She had seen many young men and women come into that building as salters of Syntar; only to exit its doors wearing the black uniforms of the Imperial Order of Wynne.

But, there had been no new recruits since she had woken from her lengthy slumber. No new men or women proudly displaying the golden crest of the Order upon their breasts. All had seemed to grow silent – anxious almost – after the departure of the invasion force that had left for the Valvian town Le Clos Noire. Katherine knew not all of the Order’s numbers went into the west in that assault, yet, she could find no signs of those who remained. The stillness of the once upon a time airship port was unnerving. She wished she knew what was happening in the world. Katherine wished she knew where the men of the Order disappeared.

Sometimes, she wondered if they were burrowed in the depths of the tower, or the dungeons, going over a relentless bombardment of battle plans and tactics. Or, perhaps they had been relocated to the southern tip of the island to refurbish more of the antique airships that had been landed, and abandoned, when the new cortex technology became widely available.

As she looked out over the quite parade grounds, Katherine thought to have seen movement, off to the southwest. She hadn’t been sure, but it looked as if there had been shadows moving amongst an outcropping of rocks; the very same where she had fallen into her slumber. Katherine waited for a moment, straining her eyes; waiting to see if she would catch the peculiar movement again. The effort flared the pain in her skull. When the shadows didn’t reappear, she figured it had been nothing more than a figment of imagination brought on by her isolation.

“Del Morte be good,” she cursed for the second time this morning. “I am must truly be going Mad.”

Taking the silver platter of food, Katherine returned to the confined comfort of her bedchambers.

“Good morning, my love.” Garius’ voice was sudden. She had not heard him enter, nor had she seen him sitting at the desk.

“Garius.” She said, catching her breath from the fright. “I had not heard you.”

“No,” he said with a gentle smile. “I have many ways into these compartments. But I did not wish to disturb you. You looked radiant in the morning light, and deep in thought.”

“Yes, well.” Katherine flashed a quick smile, acknowledging his compliment. It had been so long since she had last seen her childhood love, she had forgotten how charming and handsome he was. It troubled her to think that she suspected something more sinister from this man when he was finally here in front of her.

“One of the women tells me you wish to speak with me.” His voice was flat, though he tried to mask it behind a thin layer of friendliness.

“She did?” Katherine bumbled. “I mean, yes, I did…do.”

“What of, love?” Garius gave that handsome smile he was known to give.

“I…” She sighed. “I am concerned, Garius. Concerned about where your men are. About you and your plans.”

“A woman as lovely as you should not have so many concerns,” he rose from his chair. “Certainly not after all you have been through.”

“I know.” Katherine agreed, letting Garius take the tray of food from her hands. She hadn’t realized how much she had been shaking until he took her hand in his. “I just can’t help it. Silly isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t say so.” Garius smiled again. “You are concerned for the man you love and for the course he trots. It’s touching.”

“Yes…I, yes.” She couldn’t understand why she was having such a difficult time speaking her mind with him. It was hard for her to imagine Garius as a cruel and sinister man. Every time she looked at the man she was reminded of the terrified young boy she had found in the cellars of her mother’s home.

“Yet, something troubles the madam.” Garius brought Katherine’s fingers to his mouth, and pressed his warm lips ever so gently upon her knuckles. “Speak, my love. Do not fear me.”

“Garius…” Katherine bit her lip, anxious, reminded of the moment he had snapped at her at the threshold of his secret entrance. “I am concerned. Thoughts of your plan bother me. I cannot understand why you have done all that you have for the goal you claim to work for.”

Garius made no motion, nor sound as an awkward air filled the room.

“How do you mean, love?” He said through forced niceties.

“I just…I don’t understand the women, the army. I don’t see why you need all of that when you strive to better Syntar.” Katherine spoke quickly, hoping to make her words obscure in Garius’ ears. This was the moment she had wanted for the past several days, yet, now that it was upon her, Katherine only wanted it to end.

“Did you not listen, Katherine?” He replied, almost amused. “I do not aim to better only Syntar. Wynne is the goal. The world in which we live needs to change into something far more grand than what it is. Perhaps, last time, I spoke too much. Perhaps letting you
see
things will make you better understand.”

Garius led Katherine to the heavy wardrobe along the far side of the room. The doors were spread wide, revealing a hidden doorway in the back of the boudoir. A descending stair illuminated by shaded everflame wicks beckoned the pair forward through the secret entrance. They took the stair slow, arm in arm.

“Wynne is poisoned by the beaucracy and politics fashioned after Valvius. The system fails, time and again. In order to have a world complete and just, we need to rid Wynne of the poison.” Garius’ voice echoed off of the stair wells stonewall. “But Valvius has power, wealth, and more allies than Syntar. To bring down a force as rooted as Valvius I need an army; an army that will be nigh on invincible in the field of battle.”

The stair came to sudden end with a large archway greeting them. On the other side was, to Katherine’s surprise, a nursery. Garius led her into the large, wooden room with that charming smile of his. There were dozens of children, all of varying ages. Each wore black garments of the Order. Caring for the children were all the women Katherine had seen.

“Garius…” Katherine didn’t know what to say, for the sight was so profoundly curious, yet terrifying at the same time. As she stood amongst the room full of children, Katherine’s skin ran rank with gooseflesh as the prophetic words the shade of her daughter warned now surrounded her.

“These children will be the future of Wynne.” He said, bending over, picking an infant of fifteen months up. “Children are such a delight.” Garius looked at Katherine as the baby sucked on its hand. “I will be honest with you my love. These children were born of the Valvian women we have taken. Well…those that remain to us.”

“You have taken their babies from them?” Katherine’s stomach churned, knowing full well what it was like to lose a child.

“They are not
their
children.” Garius clenched his jaws. “These children belong to the Order, bred from the mating of my men with the whores in our care.” He handed the child to one of the many caretakers. “I am breeding the future. You see, Katherine, I have spent many hours researching the kinetic phenomenon. It would seem the children of both Syntaran and Valvian descent have a higher probability of being born with kinetic triggers.”

“Are you trying to create a telekinetic?” Katherine blurted.

“No. I am breeding a future that will be safe and full of kinetic people that will live in harmony with the rest of Wynne.” Garius stepped forward, grabbing Katherine’s arm with an iron grip. “If I happen upon the penultimate attunement than so be it.”

“Garius, please.” Katherine said, trying to pull away from his grip. “You’re hurting me.”

“My apologies.” Garius kept his grip for a moment longer before releasing his grasp. “Though, these children will not be ready for the war at hand.

Garius led the way through the core of the children’s room, setting a brisk pace. Fear coursed through Katherine’s veins as she realized how very different Garius was compared to the man she had known. What frightened her most about Garius’ recent change of person, was how much he reminded Katherine of her brother Frederick. To be sure, she had loved her brother like any dutiful sister, but he was not cut from any cloth of decency. There were many times when he would confront Katherine in some secluded room away from their mother and beat her. Usually the strikes were Katherine’s fault, she knew how Frederick was and yet she always managed to anger him.

The worst had been the night he came to her room drunk. He had tried to force himself on her, saying that if she would let dirt like Garius touch her, than the touch of nobility shouldn’t bother her any. Instead of rape, her brother ended up beating her with the ferocity of a beast, frustrated for not being able to get himself hard.

That had been the last time she had seen her brother. The next morning she had left to meet her betrothed in Ynoux.

Exiting the children’s room, Garius led Katherine through a dark tunnel. It was damp and smelled of mildew, which reminded her of the cell she had woken to all those ages ago. Katherine wondered what happened to the lovely girl she shared the cell with. Katherine wondered if any of those children had been born of her loins. Before long, the smell of mildew gave way to something more rancid and rank. It was an unhealthy odor that grew in a violating way within Katherine’s nostrils.

“That is the smell of victory.” Garius said, not looking back to Katherine.

The tunnel came to an end and entered into a wide, deep chamber that was lit with the glow of the orange everflame wicks and dozens of blue, electrically powered turbines. The smell of a sweet putridity hung to the air like a thick perfume. It was all Katherine could do not to vomit.

Beyond the turbines was an array of tables, all adorned with leather straps and harnesses. There was a handful of electrokinetics in white laboratory coats fussing over something upon the furthest table. They had all sorts of different tools at their disposal.

“What is this place?” She asked.

“This is the Pit.” Garius extended his arms, rotating with a proud grin. “Here are the final pieces to my weather device.” He pointed to the large, glowing turbines. “But, more importantly, it is where we create the real winning military might of the Imperial Order.”

Katherine’s brow furrowed, trying to understand. Garius walked to a small control panel as she tried to figure out what he was talking about.

“You wanted to piece everything together Katherine.” He said, hand resting on a lever. “Then let me tell you more. The men that make the Imperial Order what it is are merely the first wave. They are tasked with taking key locations in our name, and to hold those positions until they are reinforced.” With a large grin, Garius pushed the lever.

Suddenly, large ceiling mounted everflame braziers sparked to life to Katherine’s right. She was amazed at how far back these braziers ran, but, perhaps, not as amazed at what she saw standing before her. In ranks that ran as deep as the over heard light, were men and women. Though, to tell it true, they were not men and women as Katherine had known, for these were cadavers, living again.