Ascension: Children of The Spear: Book one

by Rhett Gervais

  “I shall enjoy this,” said the acolyte, stalking Arthur, his blade wet with blood. “I will cut you a thousand times and watch you die slowly, or maybe keep you alive while I kill your whore over there.”

  Arthur sucked in a breath from the sharp pain running up his leg, feeling a pang of fear as he stared at the weapon. It shouldn’t be able to cut him. “You like my little toy? It couldn’t cut your little slut over there, but it works just fine on you. Impressive, no?” said Rodrigo, eyeing his knife as they circled one another, Arthur’s leg leaving a sticky trail of blood on the white, tiled floor. He would have to be more careful now. He could not afford another gash like that. Steeling himself, he pivoted on his good leg and leapt straight up as he saw the telltale shimmer once again, tucking his legs beneath him as the Italian appeared behind him and thrust out with a grunt, his blade finding only empty air.

  Arthur cursed as a jolt of pain ran up his leg when he landed. Nearly slipping on his own blood, he reached out to balance himself on Gwen’s bed. Rodrigo came at him again, his blade striking out viper-quick, aiming for his exposed stomach. He desperately bent over backward, trying to avoid having the razor-sharp blade open his belly, only to have the weapon glance off his ribs and cut through his hardened skin like tissue paper, leaving a bloody trail running down his side. With a supreme effort, he kicked out blindly, his booted heel connecting with the other man’s chin, snapping it back. Arthur tensed, waiting for him to attack again. Arthur tensed as the acolyte backed away, the tall Italian’s eyes darting to the door. He vanished, only to appear an instant later behind Uriel, who had charged blindly into the room, glowing brightly as hundreds of tiny comets circled him, the look of determination on his robotic face quickly replaced with one of wide-eyed shock as the too-sharp blade plunged into his back, driving him painfully to the floor. Rodrigo stood over Uriel’s prone form, his plastic smile widening as he and Arthur locked gazes. Thinking quickly, Arthur took the moment of respite to reach out with his abilities. Finding the circuits that controlled the electricity in the area, he readily broke the circuit, plunging the room into darkness. Then, without missing a beat, he rolled over Gwen, falling to the floor and stifling a grunt just as the knife plunged into the bed where he had just been.

  He lay silently on the floor to get his bearings, fighting to control his breathing and remain silent, taking a moment to adjust his perspective. The change in his vision came much faster now, the mundane replaced with energy and light. He could see Rodrigo stalking around the darkened room, hunting for him, his energy looking like a dark stain instead of the brilliant arc of golden bio current that was the norm for ascended.

  “This is a neat trick you do with the lights,” he said, motioning with his knife toward the ceiling, “but you cannot remove the stink that clings to you. I can still smell your filth. You are only delaying the inevitable.”

  Looking over to Uriel, he could see the telltale signs of breathing as his chest rose and fell. He lay otherwise unmoving in a pool of blood slowly seeping from the wound on his back. Arthur shook his head in frustration, knowing they were running out of time. Gathering his strength, he crawled silently away from beneath Gwen’s bed, leaving a trail of blood from his leg and side while he racked his brains thinking of a way to end this before he bled out or Rodrigo found him and finished the job. Just as he reached the far wall of the room, the plastic-faced acolyte appeared in front of him, striking him hard across his face with the butt of his knife, causing stars to dance in his vision. Shaking his head, he came back to his senses in time to feel the sharp-bladed weapon pressed against his throat. Without thought, he grabbed at Rodrigo’s hands holding the weapon, fighting with all his strength to push it away, a thin line of blood rolling from his throat as the tip of the knife cut him. Rodrigo’s entire body seemed to be in the tip of the knife. His strength was remarkable, much greater than his own. Arthur shuddered, pressing his back to the wall for leverage while the other man pressed on, so close Arthur could smell his hot breath on his face. “See, I told you, little man. I told you your stink would lead me to you,” he said, sneering in the darkness, his voice dripping with disgust. “I have been terribly bored of late, so I think I will kill you slowly, let us see how much blood you can spill before I send you off to be with God.”

  Rodrigo’s eyes locked on Arthur’s, and he began slowly dragging the thin blade along Arthur’s neck. He could feel the tiny droplets of blood falling like tears on his red collar, panic threatening to overwhelm him. Arthur was so tired. He could feel his blood spilling out from the wound on his side, and his arms trembled with fatigue as he fought futilely to push the other man away. He closed his eyes, wanting to give up and sink into the void. His mind began to drift to thoughts of his father with his kind eyes and tight hugs, the major bishop with his stern gaze, who cared for him in his own twisted way, and finally to Gwen. She would be alone—they would kill her and throw her body out with the garbage as they did with children who didn’t ascend. He would fail everyone. He couldn’t do that, so he had to find a way. In his final moment, just before his strength failed, he did the only thing he could think of...he reached out with his ability to the only system that could make a difference, the circuit breaker for the ward, and he simply turned on the lights. Rodrigo flinched only for an instant, blinded by the sudden brightness. With the last of his strength, Arthur struck at the distracted acolyte, twisting the knife at his throat with all his might, reversing the blade and plunging it deep into Rodrigo’s throat. The other man’s eyes went wide with shock, his jaw slack like some horrible marionette. His head fell back, his life’s blood gushing in torrents, staining Arthur’s uniform and coloring the white tile bright red.

  Arthur’s breath came in ragged fits and starts as he tried to calm his thundering heart, his blood-covered hands reflecting the reality of what he had done. He had fought, been in combat with folks like the guards outside, even hurt some people pretty bad. But he had never killed anyone with his bare hands before and hadn’t thought he would have to for a long time. He could feel the weight of it settle on his shoulders like a mountain. A loud groan from Uriel brought him back to the moment. He was tired, his whole body trembling with fatigue. With a supreme effort he pushed Rodrigo’s dead weight off him and stood on legs that trembled as if he were a baby standing for the first time. Placing a bloody hand on the wall to steady himself, he limped painfully over to Uriel and rolled him over.

  “Uriel, you big idiot, are you ok? I seem to be bad luck for you. Every time you’re around me, you end up on your back,” said Arthur, gently shaking his friend. In that moment, he knew he had been wrong to dislike him. Uriel had always been nice to him, always a friend who had done his best to help out, just as he had done here—and almost paid the price for it. It wasn’t Uriel’s fault if Gwen liked him. Arthur would have to grow up and deal with that. “You can heal yourself, so what are you doing lying here bleeding? It doesn’t look very heroic.”

  With a grunt Uriel sat up, holding on to Arthur’s arm for support. Shaking off his stupor, a look of concentration appeared on his robotic face, tiny comets floating above his open palm, encircling him, darting in and out of his body, stitching his own wounds together before tiny points of light migrated over to Arthur. He could feel their heat as they danced along his throat, side, and calf, making him feel like he was on fire.

  “I’m sorry, Arty. I panicked, and everything happened so fast. I guess I’m not much of a hero, am I,” he said, bowing his head.

  Feeling much stronger, Arthur stood, helping the other boy to his feet and giving him a warm smile. “I say we did pretty good. We’re still here and he’s not,” he said, pointing to the acolyte’s body. “We won, so it doesn’t really matter how. If you hadn’t come in when you did, I don’t think we would have made it; you really took one for the team. Now, what about Gwen? Can...can you fix her?”

  Uriel walked over to the prone form lying on the hospital bed, still covered in ash, her breathing shallo
w. “I don’t know, Arty. I’m not even sure I understand what’s wrong with her...but maybe I don’t need to know what’s wrong with her. One of the cardinals had cancer, and I caused it to go into remission, made a wicked case of syphilis go away in another. In fact, since I woke up they’ve had me running ragged helping people in their little circle of holy men and sycophants.”

  Arthur shook his head, placing his hands behind his back, amazed at what Uriel could do. “I’m sorry, that’s awful, but the things you can do, so many people you could help, so many kids, I bet—”

  “No,” said Uriel with a bark of a laugh, shaking his head, “they don’t want me to do any of that. They told me they don’t want to risk me, waste me on people who don’t matter, overtax my abilities. It’s bullshit—we’re supposed to be saving people—that’s why I volunteered for this,” he said, standing over Gwen, the telltale spark of his comets surging around him.

  The glow around him made the brightly lit room seem dim by comparison. Arthur could see Gwen’s small bosom begin to rise and fall as a thousand points of light engulfed her, a vortex of energy that lifted her entire body. Uriel’s face was aglow, the thin segmented lines of gold and silver reflecting it all like the noonday sun. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, everything vanished, and she fell gently back onto the bed, the room dimmer, with Uriel taking a deep sigh.

  “I think she’ll be ok. It was weird, the more power I fed her, the more she was able to absorb. For now, I think she just needs rest.”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep her here,” said Arthur, looking around at the blood-soaked room. He walked over to the fallen acolyte’s body and pulled the crystal blade from his throat. He took a moment to look through his robes, finding a sheath for the weapon, then he strapped it to his own hip and gently slid the knife in place. “Cardinal Washington’s orders are to terminate her. I guess I’m going to have to convince him otherwise.”

  “I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Arty. I mean, he must have guards, secret service, and maybe more like Rodrigo over there.”

  “Don’t worry, I have a plan. I’m going to see Cardinal Washington and fix this,” said Arthur with a tight-lipped smile. “When I was searching through the servers for this place, I learned a lot. This place is massive, and not all of it is in use. I’m going to need you to hide Gwen until I sort this out.”

  “Hide her where? I may look like it, but I don’t talk to machines, you do! I have no idea where to take her. I’ll probably get lost and make things worse.”

  Thinking quickly, Arthur grabbed a chart from beside the bed. Reaching into the machine, he reconfigured the chart to function as a map, drawing a path to one of the areas he had described to Uriel. “Here, take this. It will show you where to go. And please...keep her safe.”

  “Yeah, sure, Arty. I’ll do my best,” said Uriel with a solemn look.

  With that, Arthur turned on his heel and left his friends, praying that they would find safety and praying that he knew what the hell he was doing.

  ***

  It was only later that Arthur realized how terrifying he must have looked, a small, curly-haired boy tearing through the corridors of Iron Mountain covered in blood and ash, a crystal blade bouncing off his hip. There were certainly gasps as he returned to the council chambers, the low hum of the place turning into an awkward silence as he strolled across the room toward the secondary chamber that he knew the cardinals used to seclude themselves. There were a dozen secret service agents scattered around the room, and the agents at the door to the cardinals’ private chambers had spotted him the instant he had entered. From the way their posture changed, it was clear there was no way he would be let in to see the cardinals, and certainly not with a weapon of any kind.

  Arthur slowed his pace and kept his face calm while in his mind he debated the merits of violence against these men. In that moment, he realized he had become far too used to people obeying his commands and punishing those who didn’t. These men were regular folk with a job to do, like his father. They had been given a command and were simply doing their best to follow it. With a deep breath, he pushed away the idea of forcing his way in. He would find another way to make them understand, to let him pass. Reaching out to the servers surrounding the room, he searched for their files. He needed to know who these men were. It was slower going without Uriel boosting him but easier now that he had already broken through the firewalls of the place. Agents Simpson and Cornwall. Their files were standard fare with not much to go on: personal details, background checks, but digging a little deeper he found multiple redacted reports, constant requests for reassignments. He had been around long enough to know what that meant; these men were not comfortable with what they heard and saw in the line of duty.

  Arthur stopped a few feet from the agents, raising his hands above his head, giving them a meek smile while trying to seem nonthreatening. The first agent, Simpson, simply raised an eyebrow and gave him a smirk. “You do know that we know who you are, right, and that it would be better if you weren’t covered in blood?”

  In that moment he was grateful that his uniform was mostly black. He hadn’t realized how bad it looked. Lowering his hands, he bowed slightly from the waist. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It’s been a long day; lots going on, but I need to get in there, a friend of mine...well, let’s just say she won’t see another day unless I can talk to Cardinal Washington.”

  The second agent, Cornwall, stepped forward, reaching into his jacket pocket and handing him a handkerchief. “Wipe your face, son; you look a mess,” he said, his tone kind and full of sympathy. He placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and shook his head. “You don’t want to go in there right now, they’re...busy.”

  The agent’s words resonated through every corner of Arthur’s mind. He swallowed hard, trying to force down the bile rising in his stomach. He locked eyes with both men, his gaze pleading, dancing back and forth between them. “We all know what’s going on behind that door is not ok. I can stop it,” he said bluntly.

  “Look, Arthur, is it? Me and Cornwall, we got families, bills, more debt than I know what the hell to do with. I need this job—we both do. You get into that room, and we’re out on the street.”

  Arthur’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. “You guys got families, kids? Well, what if it were your kids in there? Would you want me to go in there or not?”

  Neither man could meet his gaze. Arthur could understand their fears; a well-paying government job that could afford you enough to raise a family was a rare thing, and it would be almost impossible to find a job if it was found that they had left their post without orders...orders, they needed orders. Both men were taken aback for a moment as a giant grin appeared on his face. “Gentlemen, I have an idea,” said Arthur, reaching out once again to the servers, delving deep. It was simple enough—he was already in their files and knew enough about the systems here to reassign them both while leaving no evidence of his tampering. He even had the distinct pleasure of making the order come from Rodrigo D’Agostino, assistant to Supreme Cardinal Washington himself.

  Both men paused for a moment, bowing their heads while listening to a voice in their earpieces, smiles growing on their faces the longer they listened. “Well, it seems that the assistant to Cardinal Washington has ordered us to deal with a riot at the front gate. What a shame we can’t stay here,” said Cornwall, nodding to his partner with a knowing smile. “Don’t know how you did it, son, but just so you know, there are two more agents in the room. Those are the ones who don’t mind...watching. Good luck, kid. See you around.”

  And with that they left, leaving the heavy oak door the only barrier between the cardinal and himself. Arthur took a moment to wipe his face and hands with the cloth Cornwall had given him, doing his best to straighten his uniform to appear somewhat professional at the very least.

  When he opened the door he had no clue what he was going to find, and the truth was far worse than anything he could hav
e imagined. The room had been originally designed to serve as a rest area and lounge for the day-to-day staff, with comfortable utilitarian furniture, sofas, rugs, and even a few sleep tubes built into the walls. Several of the council members were there, and although he had expected it, children, more than Arthur wanted to count. From where he stood, everything appeared normal, friendly even, but what would a large number of young children be doing in the company of old men? Something about it all caused his heart to jump to his throat, making him feel ill. Everything about the room felt wrong. It was alright when it was just him, but—

  “What are you doing here, boy!” said the major bishop in a harsh whisper, appearing suddenly from nowhere, his frail hand gripping Arthur’s elbow tightly. “You shouldn’t be here. Get out, get out before they notice you, child.”

  “I need to speak with Cardinal Washington,” he said, trying to appear calm, a storm raging just beneath the surface. “There were orders to kill Gwen. If I hadn’t stopped it she would be dead now.”

  “This is not the way, child!” he said, shaking his head, his voice trembling, his eyes darting nervously around the room. “Whatever you may think of me, Arthur, I’ve always done my best to protect you, always told you the truth, but these men. I don’t know if I can make you understand what they represent. You have to go. I will talk to them about the girl!” Arthur was taken aback by his intensity as the old man pushed him back toward the door.

  “Bobby!” bellowed a booming voice from across the room. “Bring the boy. It’s past time we met.”

  The major bishop swore under his breath, running a trembling hand through his thinning hair. “You’ve gone and done it now, boy. I can’t protect you in here. I pray that you’ll keep your mouth shut, for both our sakes. Do you understand me?” he said as he fell in beside him.

  With a brief nod, Arthur shrugged off the major bishop’s claw-like grip. Raising his chin high, he strode purposefully toward Cardinal Washington, who sat sprawled out on a deep-cushioned lounge chair, his tall stocky frame covered by reams of red silken robes. He didn’t bother to stand as Arthur stood in front of him. He simply extended his cardinal’s ring, waiting for Arthur to show reverence. With a sigh, he bent at the waist, placing his lips ever so lightly on the gaudy jewel. “That’s an interesting look you’ve cultivated, my child,” said the cardinal, leaning forward, steepling hands on his knees. He stared at Arthur intently, drinking in every detail before he spoke. “I thought that I saw you here not long ago. You were a little dusty, but nothing like this. I’m sure it’s an interesting story, so let’s start at the beginning, shall we? What do you want from me?”