Project Leviathan Chapter 22

<Project Leviathan>

Chapter 22

Viewpoint: Benny Benedict

It was a dream, I knew it was a dream; I could see again. It was the most control I’d ever had in a dream, a sense of clarity and control that shouldn’t have been there. I was in a boat, one that was rapidly sinking. Foaming waters rose to swallow the once-mighty vessel whole. All around was the cold, murky seas below, and the sunless storm-filled skies above. I was soon treading water, struggling to stay afloat amidst the churning waves and biting chill that threatened to subsume me should my will give out. 

Suddenly, a flash, and the briefest moment of light, illuminating a towering spire ahead, sat upon a rocky island. The crack of thunder followed, and the light was gone. I swam towards the vision, curiosity and fear beckoning me onward. 

I swam for what felt like hours, while I wasn’t a particularly great swimmer, it should not have taken me that long to reach the tower. But reach it I did, my knees scraped the sand below the water, and I was able to stand at last. I stumbled forward in the dark, tripping over every stone and stumbling on every incline. There was so little light that I couldn’t see my hands if I took them too far from my face, the intermittent lightning strikes keeping my eyes from adjusting to the dark. 

My hands brushed the wetted wood of a door, and I felt around its rough and flaking boards, ignoring the grain that threatened to splinter if I pushed too hard. A heavily corroded knob met my grasp and I finally pushed it open. 

The air inside was heavy and damp, the smell of mold and moss was thick, pungent, even. But there was a small flicker of light, trickling in from the upper levels, so I ascended the stairs to see a burning rod sat in a fireplace. 

I grabbed the rod before I had thought to do anything else and held it in my grip. The iron was warm, but not hot, despite the burning flame at the end. I felt compelled to bring it up to the top. I followed that compulsion, ascending the spiral stairs, the sopping steps thwaping against the wood. 

Higher and higher I climbed, the way only lit by the metal torch in my hand. The echoes of my feet against the wood and stone. Cinders danced to the floor from the flames of the rod that crackled intermittently. Soon the sounds of pounding rain, howling winds, and roaring thunder joined the chorus of sounds, a heady set that threatened to overwhelm. 

I crested the final flight, and saw darkness all around, only held at bay by the dying light of a torch. That thick blackness was all-consuming, and seemed eager to consume the last little bit of light here. I sheltered the dying flame with my shoulder, blocking the wind and rain for just a moment longer. At the center, a lamp sat, reflectors lying in wait to light up the night. Perhaps a spark was all that was needed to drive back the dark, I set the wick ablaze…

And fire burned on the horizon. 

Moments later, I was hit with the dull sensation of waking up as my sight once again faded. 

“Grand Thaumaturge! What an unexpected surprise. We were under the impression you were still out in the field…” The voice of Dr. Whats-his-name tepidly sounded out. 

“My duties have been fulfilled earlier than expected. You may leave now, I wish to speak to the novitiate,” the low and slow tone of the Grand Thaumaturge evoked power and a sense of calm. 

“Yes sir, right away sir.” 

“You are awake,” it wasn’t a question. 

“You talking to me?” I grumbled, the strange, formal thinking of my dream fading to my usual blunt self now that I was more awake now.

“Yes, novitiate, I speak to you now. Tell me, what have you dreamt on this night?” 

“What’s it to you?” 

The man chuffed, “I understand the desire for discretion. Very well, keep your secrets, I’ve no reason to deny you your privacy.” 

Silence hung for several moments. 

“At the end of tomorrow, there will be a test, a ritual, of sorts. A variation on a standard initial practice this organization has deployed for years. You’re likely to receive another vision during this ritual. Many describe it as the second half to the first one they have.” 

“Why are you here? I don’t imagine you’re here to tell me stuff without something in return.” No one in this place gave info for free, as the good doctor had showcased. 

“An unwilling hand is a burden, not a help, and people are far more willing when you tell them what is happening. An attitude my older colleagues disagree with, but I have final say in the field of Thaumaturgy, and they do not.” 

A heavy sigh came from the man and he began to walk away, the footsteps growing quieter. 

“I appreciate the heads up,” I said, feeling slightly guilty but not willing to admit it. 

“With pleasure, novitiate.” 

++++

WC: 864

Bonus words: N/A

Bonus Constraint: N/A

Theme: The Grand Thaumaturge is far more open with Benny than the Dr. 

-A Lonely Story. 

Author’s Notes: This was a slog to get done, but it’s out of the way now. As always, crit is greatly appreciated if you have any to spare. I don’t always get to respond, but I do read them.