Original Souls (A World Apart #1) (67 page)

They weren't home free yet for two reasons. First, the door wasn't fully opened, but Anvard had that covered. He began positioning himself to kick out again. Second reason, Lindle noticed that water wasn't just coming from the center of the floor in the room they were trapped in. The wall to wall bottom level of the entire temple was flooding with the waters of the North Lake.

"Don't open that!" Lindle yelled frantically.

It was too late. Lindle opened the map in his hands not long before Anvard thrust his legs forward again. He peered at the startling sight for too long to be able to stop the second blow that knocked the door off its hinges. Though they both heard the hinges snap, the door barely moved, because there was a wall of water on the other side of it. Instead of liberating them, the door was forced back into the cavernous room. Bringing with it all the new waters that rushed from behind. The boys were flung back toward the far wall, where all the coffins floated in a neat little group. They caught themselves up on those dead men's chests as best they could.

"See
!
” spitting out water
,“
maps do come in handy when properly used," Anvard told a half-submerged Lindle. He struggled to pull Lindle up with him. The curly-haired boy went under when they crashed into the rather cushiony coffins. He got him, lifting him from sinking with only his left arm. The other arm firmly gripped a wobbling coffin.

Lindle surfaced with a barrage of questions that Anvard couldn't possibly answer. "What's going on? Where are we going to go? Why's there so much water everywhere!?"

Anvard stared at him unsympathetically. "Hey, you volunteered for this."

Lindle stared back for a second as they both clung to the same coffin. It stabilized its wobble shortly, with them at either end, creating a fine balance across the length. "I wasn't complaining. But I'm definitely concerned, you numbskull!" Lindle slapped his hand down on the coffin, losing grip. Anvard again pulled him up. When he resurfaced, face to face with his second time savior holding him up, he donned a new attitude. He looked down as he spoke. "Maybe I'm a numbskull too." Anvard nodded to that sincerely. "But what are we going to do!? The water is almost near the ceiling now."

They both looked up with dreadful expressions. Neither of them envisioned themselves drowning, not ever. Well, except when they plummeted toward the lake a few hours ago on a fiery death cart. But they didn't have much time to think on that one. And now they just stare at nothing but a flat rock ceiling looming above, as the waters continue to rise. "We could swim down and out of here. Le
t’
s see if the map has any unfilled areas on it. Maybe we can find our way to air by going back down!" Anvard seemed optimistic.

"Yeah, but what if we can't hold our breath that long?" Lindle countered, while looking down at the clear rising liquid.

"It doesn't matter, we have to try. Just give me back the map."

"U
m—
about that." He put a finger to his mouth with his free hand. "I sort of ripped it in two when we got pushed back by the incoming water behind the door."

"What! Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack." Lindle pointed to the two soaking pieces of beige parchment that floated a few yards away from them.

"Great, just freaking great!" Anvard splashed water Lindl
e’
s way. "I gave it to you for two-seconds, and it's ruined!"

"Well, let me remind you that you kicked in a door that unleashed a whole lake's worth of water onto our heads during those
‘
two-seconds
,
’ pal!"

"Okay, okay we both blew it. I get it." Anvard leveled with him. But Lindle felt like it was more Anvard's fault than his own.

"I
t’
s no use anyway!" Lindle exclaimed over the roaring sound of water splashing wildly on the circular walls around them. "I saw it on the map. The entire bottom level was filling from all directions."

"But how?" Anvard asked.

"You said it yourself. The map said it. The translations have been wrong all this time. It wasn't
‘
beyon
d
’ the North Lake, it's beneath it!" Lindle was bewildered and confused. Waiting to die a horrible death wasn't what he initially planned for the evening. Not at least before he noticed Corinth and Anvard talking in the Library. He was just going to eat some Smoldering Golds chocolates, fall to sleep on his bed, with a good book in hand. That is, if his roommates decided they wouldn't be massive jerks for the night. "We're screwed!" Lindle dropped his head down on the coffin and heard a welcoming sound. "They're hollow! They're hollow, Andy!" he shouted out with glee, grabbing Anvard's shoulders, then suddenly realizing he had no support when he started sinking, yet again. He pulled himself up this time, using Andy's shoulders, which didn't settle too well with the athlete once the coffin started rocking around.

"Steady yourself, and stop flipping out," Anvard's strong jaw grumbled at him. "Now what's all this hollow stuff about?" He questioned quickly as he took another look around to see the waters were getting ever closer to that flat ceiling nearing their heads.

"They're floating and they're hollow. That means they're air tight, I think? To some degree, at least. We can get inside of them. And live, Anvard. W
e’
ll live!" he shouted in his face with his brown eyes seeming to glow like the sun. He could
n’
t contain the glee in his heart. Not dying was a much better plan than waiting for death.

"How do you know if they even open?"

"Um, I don't," said Lindle flatly. Then he heard the coffin cracking open while he looked away at the waters still filling the cavern.

"Well, what do you know," Anvard said with a huge grin. "Hop in, Curly
,
” he smiled at a wet and wavy Lindle
,“
you may have just saved our lives."

"Wait, what if we sink?"

"What?" Anvard impatiently questioned.

"What if we sink?" Lindle said again. "Our weight is going to make this thing a lot heavier."

"Whatever," Anvard barked, "once we close it that won't matter. Water obviously ca
n’
t get in, otherwise these things would have never surfaced like buoys when the water came flooding in. Besides, look," he gestured with his head toward the velvet interior of the empty and dry coffin
,“
they would, at the very least, be damp if they were
n’
t waterproof
.
”

Most likely true, thought Lindle, but his nerves made him hesitant. He looked down at the gray coffin and its plush velvet looking insides, and wondered if it would serve as his deathbed.

Anvard was in a hurry. The water wasn't going to wait for them to think this one through. He tried convincing his partner of the benefits concerning the floating coffin. "Look at it this way. If we don't get in, we drown for sure. If we do get in, we live . . . until we ultimately run out of ai
r—
or something equally horrific. But at least we got a shot." Anvard thought about it as he spoke. An airtight compartment would eventually choke them out. But it was the only option available. Lindle would
n’
t budge though. Anvard glanced again to the water. He was seconds from freaking out on Lindle if he didn't just get in the darn coffin. "Look! Either way we're screwed. Le
t’
s just get screwed later, okay!" He smiled at his new friend encouragingly, then took both hands and steadied the coffin as best he could. "No
w—
ho
p—
in, Curly!"

Lindle pushed his wet, dark hair away from his face. "If we die, I can't promise that my ghost won't haunt Corinth for bringing us here." He smiled, slightly.

"I understand," Andy said with a half-nod. He truly did understand Lindl
e’
s quip remark. He only hoped Corinth was safe and sound enough that he'd at least make it out of here alive. Wherever he may be inside the temple? Otherwise, there'd be no turquoise-eyed boy to haunt. Lindle tried his best to keep the coffin from rocking as Anvard got in as well. There was no sinking problem as he laid down. The coffin was like a mini-boat. Not an ocean liner, but definitely a big enough coffin for the both of them.

Just before they closed the lid up, Anvard wrapped his pinky finger around Lindle's. "Till death do us part!" They both forced uneasy smiles as they took one last gulp of fresh air, and sealed the lid up tight.

May 23, 1002 ~ Nightfall

The waters that filled the lower levels of the temple came from the lake. Anvard and Lindle had yet to experience the full throttle after affects of the mountain that rose from deep down inside its depth. Their coffin didn't have enough air for that long, but enough to wait out the bulk of the flood. Once the mountain reached its apex, the waters would descend beneath it, clearing out the lower levels again. Still, the grand question was whether the
y’
d want to be alive for the true spectacle of Sebastia
n’
s dark mind? His treacherous plans for the institution, protected by an indestructible force field, weren't much more promising than running out of air inside a floating coffin.

The magnificent sight mystified students and staff of Aurora Boreal alike, as they watched from the Olympus Grounds and indeed every sector of the school. The submerged mountain that formerly kept the Shattered Temple locked inside the lake grew taller than any of the other Angora Mountains behind and in front of it. It rose from the waters clear into the night sky, and into the vantage points of, yes, everyone in Hyperborean.

Sena. Hendrix watched from her office, knowing the dreaded truth. Totally realizing that there was nothing she could do from this point on. Through a bowling ball sized crystal sphere on her desk, she looked on as the mountain smashed to bits the lingering portions of the Northern Coaster's track. From the center of the lake, it ascended to eventually loom over them all as it came to a slow, but steady halt.

The lower levels of the Shattered Temple drained, while Corinth felt himself steadily weakening. The transfer had already begun. Sebastian lied when he said it wouldn't hurt. They began the process that would rip the Nexus from his mind. He opened the Creative Window without a clue to what its purpose meant to the Worlds of old.

All the shards of glass that were plastered to the walls were torn from their positions. They now floated in midair all throughout the temple. They passed through the walls and all objects, just like Corinth noted similar looking shards doing when his father took on the hand of fate weeks ago.

"
Ahhhhh!!!
" Corinth screamed from atop the altar. The leather straps kept him restrained as his back arced into a crescent, sending his body upward. He pulled vigorously with his arms, but they would
n’
t budge. He cried and screamed as the final leg of the transfer began.

The traitor, Camil, or Lilith, read from a small book in her hand. On its front cover it said; The Secretist: Chains of Divinity. Quite a strange title, and the words she uttered in Maledictus were even more curious.

"SEMINA PLANTASTIS NUNC RADICEM EIUS ACTIBUS PROFERET PRAEMIUM ET FRUCTUS"

She spoke of the seeds planted now taking root. She requested that the Creative Window bring forth the rewards and the fruits of these horrific deeds. If there were any balance for justice within the windows capacity, it would destroy Sebastian, and her too. But there is no such thing. The window will only bring into existence what was thought to be impossible. It will create a way for anything within its grasp to be made possible. Camil repeatedly yelled the phrase out while standing directly in front of the altar. Corinth laid there, drained of his energy. Sebastian to his left, bent on both knees with his eyes glowing a brighter blue than ever before. His arms were spread out from his chest, into the air, as he sucked in the Nexus. Ripping me clear from the mind of the turquoise-eyed b
o
—

<*>