Transcendence, page 5
part #6 of The Beginning After The End Series
After one glance at me, Art sighed and closed his eyes. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough,” I answered matter-of-factly.
My grandfather took a step forward, his face furrowed in concern. “Child—”
I cut him off, saying, “Take me to her, please,” as I slipped out of bed to find something to wear over my nightdress.
I stayed silent as we descended the flights of stone stairs, the only sound coming from our echoing footsteps. My grandfather led the way and Art trailed closely behind me.
My grandfather kept glancing back at me, but he didn’t say anything until we reached the bottommost floor, where the dungeons and cells were.
“Why is Master Cynthia holed up in such a filthy and degrading place?” I demanded. “These rooms are for murderers and traitors.”
“We don’t have a burial ground in this castle, Tessia. We’re keeping her here until circumstances permit us to safely give her a burial,” my grandfather answered patiently. “And the dungeon has been empty since the start of the war, when we moved all the prisoners to more remote dungeons on the ground.”
While the rest of the castle was well-cared-for, the dungeon level seemed purposely designed to repulse those who might be held here. Dim light, provided by a handful of artifacts attached to the walls along the main corridor, revealed fungus growing between the stone blocks and thick nets of dusty webbing draped from the ceiling. Foul, musty smells blended with the near-toxic odor of decay and waste, and I, despite my father’s words, felt again that this was hardly a fitting resting place for such a renowned conjurer. At least she wasn’t also surrounded by the screams and moans of prisoners—only a hollow silence lingered.
At the farthest end of the corridor, there was a single metal door with a soldier standing guard.
“Open the door,” my grandfather ordered.
The armored guard nodded, his expression hidden underneath his helmet, as he stepped to the side and turned the rusted handle without turning around. The metal door screeched against the uneven ground. A flawless stone casket lay in the center of the empty cell with a small pile of flowers resting on top.
“Only a few people know of her death,” my grandfather explained, walking up and gently laying a hand on the top of the stone coffin.
“She deserves a public ceremony. All her students, the professors who taught at Xyrus… she doesn’t deserve to be here,” I muttered.
My grandfather nodded. “I know—”
“Then why?” I said harshly. “Why is my master rotting away in a corner of this foul dungeon? For everything she did for this continent, she deserves a diamond coffin and a countrywide funeral! She—she deserves anything but… this.”
“Tessia…” Grandpa rested his hand gently on my back, perhaps hoping to quell my anger.
“How could you keep this from me, Grandpa? If I hadn’t heard you through the door, when would I have found out? After the war?” I scoffed, shrugging his hand away as tears blurred my vision. “Is there anything else you’re hiding from me? Despite everything I did to show you that I was mature, you still treat me like a child—”
“That’s because you are a child,” Art snapped.
“What?” I blurted, my face going red with anger. “How can you—you should know better than anyone else how I’m feeling, but you call me a child? You, of all people?”
Arthur’s face settled into a hard-edged mask as I huffed in frustration, the stern eye with which he regarded me casting into doubt my memory of yesterday’s affectionate hug.
“Maybe I’m saying this because I know both you and Grandpa Virion so well, Tess. What you’re doing right now—needlessly putting yourself in harm’s way just to prove a point—is no better than a child throwing a tantrum,” Art continued.
“Arthur,” my grandfather cut in. “Enough.”
“How dare you!” I seethed, tears rolling down my cheeks.
“If you took a minute to think this whole situation through, you’d realize why your grandfather had to keep it a secret. What do you think would happen if he were to announce that someone had been killed by our enemy in what’s supposed to be the safest location on the continent?” Art said, his gaze unrelenting.
“Well, I’m sorry that not everyone is as smart as you!” I retorted.
Art’s gaze softened. “You’re only seventeen, Tess—”
“And you’re only sixteen. Yet Grandpa, Master Aldir, and even Master Cynthia have never treated you like a kid, even though you’re younger than me,” I argued.
“If they see me as an adult, that’s something they’ve come to realize on their own. I haven’t been deliberately trying to prove it,” he answered.
“How is that even fair?” I choked back a sob. “You get to do what you want because you’re good enough, but no matter how hard I try or what I accomplish, I’ll always be some damsel in need of protection!”
“That’s not it, Tessia. Your grandfather and I—”
“What?” I cut in, my face numb with anger. “You want me cooped up and isolated from anything potentially dangerous or distressing so badly that you can’t even tell me my own master was killed? Or is it because—”
“Because if we told you, the first thing you’d try to do is find the Vritra that killed Cynthia so you could take revenge, and get yourself killed!” Arthur exploded.
This was the first time I had ever heard him raise his voice to this extent. It stunned not just me and Grandpa, but even the guard standing outside.
“You… you don’t know that,” I denied.
“Don’t I?” Arthur pressed. “Because I know for a fact that you acting this way isn’t because Virion didn’t tell you about Director Goodsky dying. You’re not mad at him, you’re mad at yourself for leaving your master to go prove to everyone how strong and helpful you’d be to the war.”
“This isn’t about…” But I couldn’t finish my sentence. I broke down, falling to my knees and sobbing uncontrollably.
“Arthur! I think you’ve said enough,” my grandpa growled. “Guard. Escort him out.”
I didn’t look up as Art left. I didn’t know what kind of expression he had on his face, or whether he was sorry. It was too much.
“Tessia. Let’s take some time together to pay our respects to Cynthia. I’m sure that, instead of having millions of people at a ceremony, she’d rather have the few she truly cherished mourning for her.”
Mustering up a shaky nod, I whispered hoarsely, “Thank you.” We both turned to face the smooth stone casket that my master resided in. Waves of emotion continued to toss and turn within me.
Grandpa knelt down beside me, gently stroking my trembling back. “After this, I’ll tell you everything.”
Chapter 6
Invaluable Allies
GREY
“I understand your problem, Grey, but I’m not sure I’m the best person to help you with this,” the headmaster said. “No matter how lacking your ki pool may be compared to most kids your age, you’re still a child with plenty of time for that to change. However, and I say this as a general life lesson, if you find yourself lacking in resources, save what you have for when you need it the most.”
I pondered over her cryptic solution to my ki problem.
“Thank you, Headmaster Wilbeck,” I grinned before heading out the door.
“Oh, and Grey?” the headmaster called from behind her desk.
I halted, peeking my head around the doorway. “Yes?”
“How is Cecilia getting along with you and Nico?”
“Well…” I paused. “Besides her little accidents, I’d say we’re slowly getting through to her.”
“She hasn’t said a word to you two, has she?” Headmaster Wilbeck sighed.
“Nope. Not a single one.”
“Very well. I really do hope you keep trying to break her out of her shell, though. If anyone can do it, it’s you two.”
I came back into her office. “Headmaster?”
“Hmm?”
“Why are you pushing so hard for us to be friends with Cecilia?” I asked.
The headmaster’s lips curled into a gentle smile as she stood up from her chair. “That, my child, is a story that I’m hoping she’ll tell you herself.”
“I mean, she looks normal enough, but everyone’s scared of her because of those accidents, even though they only happen every once in a while.” I scratched my head. “Not that Nico and I are scared or anything but… you know. A few kids have been sent to the infirmary because of her, so I just thought it’d be better to know more to help her.”
Walking around her desk, Headmaster Wilbeck tousled my hair. “Your job isn’t to help her; it’s to be her friend. Let me take care of helping her.”
“Yes, Mother.” I saluted.
The headmaster’s gentle, downturned eyes widened in surprise at my words.
“It’s Headmaster Olivia or Headmaster Wilbeck to you, Grey.” Her voice was firm but her eyes betrayed her.
I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay in her office and help her with the pile of papers that never seemed to diminish, but I knew she would never let me. Like a broken record, she always said that it was her job, not mine.
Dragging my feet as I left the small office, I trudged down the hall toward my room.
I often imagined my life as Headmaster Wilbeck’s son. Her stern, yet loving voice scolding me every time I got into trouble. I’d do what I could to help her around the house: do the dishes, take out the trash, mow the lawn. And when she came home, I’d massage her shoulders, which she always seemed to be rubbing.
Nico said it was weird for me to want to do so much for her, saying it was usually a daughter’s job to spoil the mother, but I didn’t agree. If I had a mother like Headmaster Wilbeck, I’d make sure to pamper her. I’d help dye the white streaks of her brown hair, and once I was old enough I’d make a lot of money and buy her fancy clothes, and even a car and house.
Maybe that was the difference between someone who had known their parents, like Nico, and someone like me. I didn’t have a single memory of what my parents looked like. Nico hated his parents; just the mention of his last name, Sever, would set him off like a fuse. But I didn’t even have a surname. For me, there was an odd comfort imagining myself as Grey Wilbeck, son of Olivia Wilbeck.
The sharp creak of the floorboard underneath my feet snapped me out of my fantasy, and Ipuffed out a long, defeated breath. I kneeled down over the old, misaligned floorboard and snapped it back into place. Testing the floor with my feet, I gave a satisfied nod at the plank’s silence.
A group of kids came running through the hall, chasing one another. “Grey! I’m going to tag you!” a little girl named Theda giggled as she skirted toward me with her arms stretched out.
“Oh yeah?” I stuck out my tongue. “I bet you’re not!”
Theda accepted the challenge and picked up her pace. As soon as she was within range, she swiped at my waist, hoping to grab my shirt, but I easily twirled out of reach.
I laughed victoriously. “You’re going to have to try harder than—”
I swayed to my right, just in time to avoid Odo’s hand.
The rest of the kids Theda had been playing with joined in, deciding that they were all “it” in this impromptu game of tag.
The boys and girls flocked toward me with arms stretched wide to cover more ground, but I easily dipped and weaved around them. They flailed desperately and tried to use every part of their bodies in hopes of tagging me, but it was useless.
Finally Theda and her friends got smart and circled around me, slowly closing in on me as they giggled excitedly. Once they got close enough, they got impatient and sprang at me.
But just as they were about to touch me, I jumped up, grabbing the broken chain that had supported the old chandelier before it had to be sold. Using the momentum of my leap, I swung from the chain, gripping tightly so I wouldn’t slip.
Theda, Odo, and their friends bumbled amongst themselves, surprised to have missed their target.
Launching myself from the old chain, I landed a few feet away and planted my hands on my hips, laughing victoriously. “You guys are five years too young to best the mighty Grey!”
“Not fair,” Odo groaned, rubbing his head.
“Yeah! You’re too fast,” Theda agreed, prying herself out of the tangle of kids.
“Shush. Only weaklings complain when facing defeat,” I said, deepening my voice. “Now off I go! My heroic powers are needed elsewhere.”
I dashed away as the kids laughed amongst themselves.
“The mighty Grey has arrived!” I announced, opening the door to my room.
“Yeah, yeah. Close the door on your way in,” Nico replied, not even turning to look at me. He was fumbling with something on his cluttered bed.
“The kids are more fun than you,” I said, and clicked my tongue. “What are you doing anyway?”
Nico held up his right hand, covered in a fuzzy black glove. He had a proud grin on his face.
“You’re into knitting now?” I asked with a smirk, reaching for the glove.
Nico stretched out his gloved hand, gripping my forearm. A sudden wave of pain, like an intense muscle cramp, radiated up my arm from Nico’s grasp. My roommate immediately let go, but he had a smug look pasted on his face. “Never underestimate the power of knitting.”
“What the hell?” My gaze shifted from his glove to my sore arm and back again.
“Pretty neat, right?” Nico stared contentedly at his gloved hand. “After the run-in with those thugs, I was researching a way to defend myself in case something like that ever happened again. And after compiling the notes I took on a rather interesting book I found about ki-conducting materials, I was able to design this glove.”
“How does it work? Why did my arm suddenly cramp up when you grabbed me?” I asked, my fingers itching to grab hold of Nico’s newest creation.
“It’s pretty cool, actually,” Nico said, slapping my hand away. “There are these microfibers on the palm of the gloves that can conduct ki to a certain degree. The microfibers lengthen in reaction to my ki and reach into the muscles when I grab someone. There’s a small conducting stone on the inside of the glove that harnesses the ki I emit, and it shoots out through the microfibers and into my enemy’s muscle. In this case, it was your arm.”
“That is pretty neat, but why don’t you just learn how to fight like me?”
“First of all, you never learned to fight. And I need to have toys like these because, unlike someone,”—his eyes darted to me—“I don’t have the reflexes of some primitive carnivore. If I had to say, my reflexes range somewhere between a sloth and a turtle.”
I chortled at the comparison. “Well, the glove looks useful and all, but it seems like it’d only buy you some time,” I pointed out, flexing my cramped hand.
“Yup. And another downside is that the microfibers are expensive, and don’t last very long.” Nico said as he took off the fuzzy black glove. “I spent some of the money we got from pawning the jewelry to buy the materials.”
I looked at the stacks of books piled all over his side of the room. “I’m sure you’ll think of some way around it. How did you get the rest of the money to the headmaster?”
“Ah! I gave it to a guy I know. He gave it to Headmaster Wilbeck as a ‘generous donation’ in return for a percentage as his cut.”
I groaned. “How much of the money actually ended up in the orphanage anyway? With you buying your books and material and giving a cut to ‘a guy you know,’ I doubt even half of it made it to the headmaster.”
“I didn’t have any other choice. No way in hell would Olivia take money from us. She’d just start bombarding us with questions.”
“It’s Headmaster Wilbeck,” I corrected, thumping my friend’s head.
“Besides, I got a few books that you can use too. Check it out!” Nico exclaimed, using his thumb to indicate the small pile of books behind him.
“Oh!” I could feel my eyes light up as I reached for the books. “Very well. This magnimous gentleman will forgive you.”
“It’s magnanimous,” Nico said, shaking his head.
Unable to think of a witty comeback, I decided to let it go. Just then, the room began shaking.
I groaned. “Don’t tell me—”
“Yup, Cecilia again. She’s having another accident,” Nico said.
We remained in our beds while the rhythmless waves of shaking continued. “It’s longer than usual this time,” I pointed out.
Nico got up and put on his glove. “Let’s go check it out.”
“It’s dangerous! Remember what happened to that volunteer who tried to hold her down?”
“Yeah. He couldn’t even make it near her. He was a bear of a man, too.” Nico shook his head at the painful memory. “I just can’t stand having to wait like this until she passes out. I can’t imagine how much it’s hurting her.”
I got up with a resigned sigh, ready to join him; then a thought struck me. “You like her, don’t you?”
“No way! I don’t even know the girl.”
I didn’t respond, but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto my face.
Nico’s brows twitched. “All right, I just think she’s a little pretty. That’s all!”
“Mhmm.” I dodged a slap from my friend.
Pieces of broken plaster fell from the ceiling, raining down the hallway as the entire orphanage shook.
On our way to Cecilia’s room, I spotted Theda and Odo hiding underneath the dining table with some of the younger children.
Veering left at the end of the hallway, Nico and I stopped in front of an iron door that stood isolated, away from all the other rooms in the giant house. Headmaster Wilbeck was already there, with a few of the adult volunteers who helped clean and maintain the orphanage.
The shaking had intensified. One of the volunteers, Randall—a kind and burly man in his prime, who helped out with the garden—prepared to go inside while another worker tried to open the heavy door.
But with the intensity of this episode, there was no way Randall would be able to make it to Cecilia. Snatching the glove off of Nico’s hand, I bolted for the door.
