The House of Grey- Volume 4 (28 page)

Monson nodded.

“Good
.
But
manipulation isn’t the only thing that AOI can do. It can also be an indicator of the potential or residual power of a given individual.  The most powerful non-scripting magic user currently
alive
is a man named Graven. He’s head of our tactical forces. On this scale he is considered a
seventy-five.
T
here were two power users in
the
past
, former members of H.U.M.A.N.E. in fact,
who
had great
er
raw power. We don’t know what happen
ed
to them, but they were both at
one hundred
. So that
’
s how our scale works
—
based on our strongest reference point. Understand so far?”

Monson dipped his head on
c
e in a sort of half
-
nod.

“Good, now understand
that
the readings we got on Baroty’s
B
ridge were
hundreds
of times high
er
th
a
n
seventy-five
.
They were s
o high
, in fact, that
they
broke the Counter.”

Grayson
paused
briefly to let
Monson think about this
. “Monson, you are the only
known
survivor from Baroty Bridge, which means
the readings had to have been from
you. Look
,
t
o be completely straight with you, I’m not even really sure what all
..
.”
—h
e point
ed
to everything in his room
—
“this means
,
but my grandfather work
ed
very hard to get this journal, information and relics to us. I gotta believe there is something to this.”

“I don’t know
,
Grayson,” said Monson
,
looking around the room
and
trying to
make sense of
his feelings. “If I’m supposed to be some kind of prophetic savior for worlds unknown,
then
why am I here
,
living a normal life?”

“I wouldn’t call freezing a huge fountain in the middle of a heated Atrium
‘
normal
,
’
Monson
.
”

Monson scowled
.
“
N
o, I wouldn’t either, but what you
’
re saying doesn’t make sense
!
Why am I doing
here
at Coren
i
f I am who you think I am
?
I don’t know anything about
magic
.
H
eck
,
up until yesterday I didn’t
even
believe it existed. Grayson
,
if I’m supposed to be some kind of hero
who
se
destiny is to save millions of people
,
then wouldn’t you think that I would be locked up somewhere in some bunker protected by… protected by
...
” Monson stopped talking. He remember
ed
something, which made him feel like he had been punch
ed
in the gut.

“Grayson
?
” said Monson
,
looking straight into
his
eyes
.
“
D
oes the word
‘
Guardian
’
mean anything to you?”

“Guardian...
g
uardian
…
” Grayson whispered reflectively
,
his eyes straying towards the journal
.
“
H
ang on.”

He
grabbed the journal and open
ed it
to one of the last pages
, which showed a simple
drawing
of
a grouping of symbols
surrounding
one central large
symbol
.

“These seven symbols
,
” said Grayson
,
pointing to the
ones
placed evenly around the large center symbol
,
“correspond with the seven murals I mentioned earlier
. If you reexamine the pictures you can see their faint outline next to the individual beings.
I think they may be the name
s
of the being
s
shown in each painting. But these two
...
”
he said as he
pointed to two large symbols on the
edge
of
the page,
“
a
ren’t included in any of the murals
.
B
ut look at this
.
” He flipped the journal back to
the page with the
Tower
and
central chamber
,
then
reached behind
his chair
and grabbed
a
magnifying
glass
.
H
e turned back towards Monson and the journal. “Look here
,
” he said
,
pointing at the very base of the drawing
.
“What do you see?”

Monson looked closer
,
sweeping his eyes along the bottom border of the drawing. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be seeing. “All I see are statues
,
carved pillars
,
and some drawings of people fighting
.
”

“Exactly
,
” Grayson said smiling
.
“Do you see anything special about these pillars?”

Monson looked again. What
was
he was supposed to be seeing? Think...
t
hink
...
He knew that most of what
he
saw
were
symbol
s
of some sort. There was some sort of hidden meaning behind all this. There had to be. He closed his eyes
a
nd pictured the drawing
, t
rying to
mentally
place himself in
side
it
,
t
rying to place himself there. He touched the journal
, resting
his hand on the cover
,
trying to focus, trying to bring it to life. He felt some
thing
swirl within him
,
something that was of him but at the same time not. He concentrated on that motion
.
As h
e unconsciously traced the symbol on the cover of the journal
,
Monson heard something within the distant echoes of his brain.
Suddenly a
flash of blinding
light
lit up the room
and then
p
ain,
that
familiar burning
sensation
,
seared
him before dying out
as the light overcame it.

Monson opened his eyes and realized that he could not see anything
. I
t was
like
a strobe light had been place
d
front of him
;
the flash of light
was
such a contrast to Grayson’s
dim
room. He blinked again. Still nothing.
He felt exhausted, like his body was at the breaking point.
He put his hands on his chair intending to get up. Under
neath
him he felt cold stone.

“What the
...
” said Monson
a
loud as he
felt
the cold
,
grainy texture.
He
lifted
his hands
and set them gently on his face. “Take a deep breath
,
” he said to himself
,
closing his eyes and
collecting his thoughts.
Grayson.

“Grayson?”
he
said in a quiet voice. He heard nothing.

“Grayson?”

Monson stood up.

Whatever happens
,
you are
not going to freak out
.
You have experienced all kinds of freaky crap. Something weird is going on but you will remain calm
.

He
opened his eyes
,
looked around at his surroundings
, and
suddenly wished the lights and even the pain would come back.

He
was now standing in the middle of
the
huge hall
. Ratty, disheveled
men who were running in different directions in a great hurry
simply
ignored
him
.
He
spun on the spot
,
taking
in the whole of his surroundings. He
gawked
at
a large
,
multilevel
,
three
-
dimensional
mosaic
on an edifice
located in the exact center of
the chamber.
S
uddenly
,
Monson knew where he was
:
 
in a cave in the Alps, standing in front of t
he Tower, a place recorded in a journal written more than
sixty
years ago. Monson fell to his knees letting his shock consume him.

Chapter 4
4 - Truths

Monson felt like screaming.

Why can’t anything be normal?

He
had just been
having a weird but pleasant conversation
with Grayson,
a
nd he was finally getting some answers. 

“Howdy!”

Monson spun to see
himself
leaning calm
ly
against a pillar a short distance away.

“Dawn!” exclaimed Monson
,
moving quickly towards
him.
“
W
hat are you doing here? Wait
—
never mind that. Where
am I
?  How did I get here? If you tell me I am
where I think I am, I’m going to hit you
,
even if you do look like me
.
”

“Calm
d
own
,
Monson
.
” Dawn straightened up and
walked
towards him. Before
he
had taken more th
a
n a few steps
,
however, one of the dirty men came scampering by
,
totally oblivious to their presence. He
was
rushing p
ast
just when Dawn stumbled
forward
. Monson closed his eyes
,
expecting a crash and a stream of swearing. When this did not
happen,
he
opened his eyes to see Dawn’s head sticking through the man’s chest as if he were a ghost.

“Well
,
if that’s not the freakiest thing I
’
ve ever seen,”
commented
Monson.

“You need to relax
.
” Dawn extricated himself from the man’s chest
,
apparently finding it very humorous
.
“
Y
ou will live longer
,
you know.”