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"The Ancient Winds of Trouble"
"The Ancient Winds of Trouble"
8/22/2020
I.
He could not force the beer down to save his life. It was crazy. He had been downing Heinekens since his sixteenth birthday and had never regretted a sip. Carlo Ventura turned the dark-brown dew-wet bottle around in his hand and stared accusingly at it.
At twenty, not quite six feet tall, Carlo had been steadily losing weight over the past few months until he looked alarmingly thin. Under the wiry black hair, the long surly face showed cheeks which had become concave, with deepset dark eyes above a wide flat nose. Without warning, he drew back his arm and flung the still-full bottle to crash against an elm ten feet away.
"Nice! Thanks for broken glass in the yard," Stacey grumbled. "I can see my barefoot summer days are over." A year older than Carlo, Stacey Streiber was a sturdily built, almost chunky young woman with solid curves under her ragged jeans and loose maroon sweatshirt. Her frizzy dark blonde hair stood out in a permanent explosion around her face, adding to the expression of mild surprise she usually wore.
Her friend since childhood, Carlo swung around and tried to subdue his irritation. He took a few deep breaths, folding his arms across his chest. For the past few months, he had been wearing white jeans and yellow shirts on a daily basis. This velour shirt in particular had a golden sheen to its fabric. "Sorry, Stacey.. Dylan. I'm sorry. It's just.. I'm changing more and more inside and I'm afraid I won't know myself at some point.
Stretched out on his side, supporting his head on one upturned palm with his elbow digging into the lawn, Dylan Brodie kept his voice mild. "Something wrong with the Heinie, bro? Mine's okay."
"It's not the beer, it's me." Carlo clapped his right fist into his left palm sharply enough to make his friends jump at the sound. "My mouth closed when I tried to drink it. It was like my lips were glued together. That's not all. Lately, I'm finding it hard to get meat down. I keep spitting it out."
"Oh my God," laughed Stacey. "You, of all people, turning Vegan?!"
"Ah. What the hell. Nebel never came right out and explained anything clearly." Carlo began pacing back and forth, hands clasped behind him and head down. "He was always so vague! Nothing but hints and teasing that I would understand when the time was right."
Stacey sat up straighter. "I wasn't being serious, buddy. You know me. But since you started carrying that damn helmet everywhere, you have been going through major changes."
Crawling over to plop down next to his girlfriend, Dylan had prudently left his own beer behind. He was used to being cautious when Carlo was in a bad mood. "Say, what exactly did happen to that Nebel guy anyway? He said he was going to be your teacher and guide in that Midnight War craziness. But then he just vanished."
Carlo Venture got a grip on himself and visibly relaxed, lowering his shoulders. He dropped down to the grass and easily assumed a full lotus posture with his back straight and his hands opened with palms up. "All I can figure is that he went to Tel Shai. He talked about it sometimes, it's a sort of mystic Shaolin Temple or something that trains magicians and fighters. Nebel did say that when he felt his work was done, he wanted to retire to Tel Shai."
"I've been doing a lot of reading about this Midnight War stuff," Dylan said. "There's not much about it online, but the library will order any book that another library in the Mid-Hudson System has, so I've been learning a little."
"That's too true," added Stacey. "I never saw Dylan read so much as he has since you got that helmet."
"It's mind-blowing. The Seven Races, gralic magick, so far out." Dylan made a scoffing noise. "But I dunno, all I can find is more hints than outright information. Kind of frustrating, if you wanna know the truth."
"I bet you know more about it than I do," Carlo said. "I understood half of what Nebel said. He left me an envelope with a few addresses and phone numbers. And a debit card with five thousand dollars on it. That's more than the three of us ever scraped together at one time before."
Dylan got to his feet and offered a hand to Stacey, helping her stand as well. "I wish there was someone we could get some answers from. I dunno about you two, but I think we need to make plans for this future. Should we try and find some full time jobs? Go on a road trip and try to figure things out? We are absolutely clueless, man. You've been given an absolutely powerful gift but none of us have a clue what you should do with it. "
"There is one Source for all answers," Carlo announced in a voice suddenly calmer and more assured than before. He rose smoothly to his feet and turned toward a gleaming object which had been sitting on a rocky outcropping as if listening to the conversation.
"Leave that thing alone for a while," said Stacey. "Come on, Carlo, please! Stay yourself at least for tonight."
"Black clouds boil in the night sky. The ancient winds of trouble howl," whispered Carlo Ventura. He dropped to one knee in front of an eyeless helmet crafted of pale gold that shimmered as if reflecting a light source no one could see. "When the horns blow, who will answer?"
"Stop talking like that!" screamed Stacey as loudly as she could. "You scare the pants off me when you get all weird like that."
Lifting the golden helm, which had only outlines etched where eyeholes should be, Carlo Venture raised it overheard with infinite slowness. "Danger creeps unseen around us. Sighted eyes are of no avail against intruders from the spaces between spaces."
"Dude! Stop it!" yelled Dylan, who had stepped protectively in front of his girlfriend as if expecting an explosion. "I don't think you realize what you're messing around with."
Lowering the helmet down over his head, Carlo let out a deep steady exhalation. "The best hope for the world of the living is Sagehelm." A blinding sunburst of clear pure light flashed to cast vivid shadows across the lawn as he assumed his burden.
II.
Just before nine that night, the three friends rolled up to the Winchell Corners intersection where the general store had sat for more than fifty years. One wing was dedicated to souvenirs, arts and crafts supplies and general knick-knacks for tourists passing through upstate. The main building was still all about cold beer and soda, canned food, light bulbs, batteries and auto supplies and minor household items. From the outside, the place looked more like a summer home than a store, with a deep shady porch and a pleasantly rough wood exterior. Two gas pumps had been taken away years earlier, but their concrete base remained.
Pulling up to the front of the store, Stacey shut off her mother's twelve year old Ford Taurus. "Remember, we have to be back by eleven or Mom won't let us keep cruising around like this."
Next to her, Dylan stretched and fought back a yawn. "I got my heart set on a bag of Doritos. Fiery hot. And a twelve-ounce energy drink! How's about you, Carlo?"
From the back seat, a disinterested voice answered, "Hmm? Oh, nothing. I'm good."
"At some point, your pants are gonna fall right off you," scoffed Stacey as she got out. "Come on, at least get a sandwich or something. I don't think you ate at all since yesterday this time."
"Okay." When he squeezed out of the back seat, Carlo was carrying a battered old bowling bag his father had left before running off. On the sides, it read BRUNSWICK NJ.
"Will you please leave that thing for two seconds!" Stacey said. "You know I lock the car. There's no one around. It's safe." Getting no answer, she dropped the subject. Once inside the cool dim interior of the store, they greeted Old Man Winchell, son of the store's founder, before wandering around. Dylan was easy to please with his snacks, but Stacey mulled over the assortment of pre-made sandwiches wrapped in cling film before settling on a ham and cheese on rye with mustard. She also grabbed a can of Arizon Iced Tea. Reluctantly, Carlo picked up a chilled plastic box of egg salad and a bottle of plain water.
After paying and telling Old Man Winchell he was looking good, the three friends went back outside. They plopped down in a row on the top step leading down from the porch. When she noticed that Carlo was grudgingly eating a small mouthful of the potato salad at a time, Stacey said, "Man, are you okay buddy? You used to devour a double cheeseburger with one bite."
"I'm fine." Keeping the bowling ball bag next to him, Carlo sipped the water with the same unhurried care. "Can you two feel the storm about to break?"
"Wait, what?" asked Dylan. "Look at that sky. More stars than you could count. There's no storm coming."
The lights in the window behind them clicked off. Winchell came out, tugging on a cardigan before locking the door. "Closing time. My back is killing me. Sorry, you kids better move along. If a cop rolls by and sees you sitting here, he might give you a hard time about trespassing."
As they got up and collected their debris, Carlo said, "I know you trust us, Mr Winchell. It's appreciated."
"Ah, you're good kids. Mostly. See you tomorrow." The old man sauntered over to the white panel vann that he used for deliveries and drove off with a wave of one hand.
"We might as well get rolling," Stacey said. "I wanna binge that Netflix show, YOU CALL THIS A LIFE. It's really funny once you get into it."
"Say, Carlo, what are you looking at?" asked Dylan.
Standing off to one side, Carlo was indeed gazing intently down the country road where nothing but trees could be seen on either side. A dark Ford Mustanf was parked facing them, far enough away that they could not tell if anyone was inside. Across the road from that car was a beaten-down clearing twenty feet to a side where people turned around.
Dylan persisted, "I think maybe that helmet is too strong for you to handle by yourself. Maybe you should let one of us hold it for you once in a while."
"The ancient winds of trouble have blown sparks to start a fire," Carlo replied as if to himself. "We must go closer."
"I don't think so," Stacey grumbled. "Talking all poetic and mysterious is one thing, but you're freaking me out. Let's go to my house and watch TV, okay?"
Unzipping the bag, Carlo reached inside and rested his hand on the warm metallic surface of the Eyeless Helmet and began walking without a reply.
Summer dusk was finally settling in enough that they had to walk cautiously along the pothole-riddled old road. The Mustang had not moved, but they could make out the black silhouette of an unmoving head behind the steering wheel. Without realizing it, all three friends had moved crossed over to the other side of the road and slowed as they reached the circular clearing.
The ground unexpectedly bulged upward in a dozen spots, rounded humps five feet long. Dirt cracked and fell away as if something was being forced upward from underground. "What the hell?" yelped Dylan, instinctively placing a protective arm across Stacey's chest and stepping in front of her.
Six wide bulky forms heaved upright, earth falling off their dead-white pulpy bodies. They seemed to be grotesquely deformed naked men with hairless heads and bright red eyes. Moving in unison, they lurched toward the three teenagers with stubby paws working eagerly in the air.
And a tall man in black crashed hard into the creatures seemingly from nowhere, sending them staggering back with brutal kicks and punches that cracked loud as whiplashes.
III.
For a few seconds, the three friends were confused by the sudden burst of violent action. They could hear blows being struck but the movements themselves were too quick to follow. "Get back!" the stranger snapped. "Don't let these Grubs touch your skin."
Stacey and Dylan did not move, too paralyzed by the situation to react. But Carlo placed the bowling bag on the ground, drew out the helmet and stood up as he lowered it over his head.
Brilliant as the sun rising over a cloud bank, warm golden light burst in all directions, filling everyone's eyes and leaving after-images. When they could see again, the Grubs were gone with a trace.
"I haven't seen Sagehelm flare up like that years," the ominous man in black said. "I have to say it was a welcome sight."
"What...who..?" Dylan stammered. "What did I just...?"
Lifting the Eyeless Helmet up off his head, Carlo smiled for the first time in weeks. "Mr Bane."
"Hello, Carlo," Bane responded. "Sorry I haven't been up here to check on you before but honestly I didn't expect Nebel to abscond the way he did. Stacey and Dylan, right? All of you get in my car and let's get some distance between us and these Grubs."
Not showing any signs of having recovered from the shock, Stacey and Dylan had to be tugged by the arms. The man called Bane had tugged off thin black latex gloves before half carrying them to his Mustang. He chirped the doors open and got the young couple in the rear seat. Before hurrying into the driver's side, Bane took a second to scrape his boots on the high grass to clear off any residue slime from the Grubs he had kicked.
In a minute, everyone was buckled in and the Mustang spun forward up the country road, whipping through the intersection where the Winchell Corners store stood. In the front passenger seat, Carlo secured the helmet in the bowling ball bag before laughing loudly.
"That felt good!" Carlo yelled. "It felt right. I need to leave doubt and uncertainty behind."
Behind the wheel, Bane said, "Your friends are very confused right now."
"Yeah, I bet," the younger man chuckled. "Stacey, Dylan, this is Jeremy Bane. Sometimes called the Dire Wolf by those in the know. Think of him as an investigator into the unknown, all right? You've heard me mention the Midnight War. Mr Bane here was fighting it before any of us were born."
"Way before," the Dire Wolf added with a rare tinge of wryness. He turned his narrow feral face back toward his passengers at a stop sign. Even in the deepening gloom, those pale grey eyes were startling under heavy black brows. "You guys were in real danger tonight. I wasn't expecting that outbreak of Grubs, to be honest. I came looking for Carlo because Garrison Nebel finally mentioned he had left and that Carlo might need some advice."
Clearing her throat, trying and failing to speak, Stacey finally squeaked, "What WERE those things?"
"No one really knows yet," Bane replied as calmly as if discussing seeing a squirrel in the yard. "I call them Grubs for the moment. Definitely not related to Trolls or to the Danarmyl or to any of the other Subterrans known. We don't often get something completely new in the Midnight War."
"Were they going to, you know, KILL us?" she went on.
"Seems likely," the Dire Wolf told her bluntly enough. "I came up here because I heard about two other incidents in the past month. Right within a few miles of where we are now. The first time, they were seen wandering around someone's backyard but left without making contact. The second incident was only three days ago. This is where it starts to get bad, kids. The Grubs brutally beat two brothers who were camping deep in the woods. Nothing was taken. No obvious reason for the assault, the two victims are going to be okay but one has a broken arm and the other lost a few teeth."
Carlo swung around in his seat to watch his friends. "All this is scary, of course. But we've got good protection here. From what I've learned there is no one alive who can better handle this sort of thing than Jeremy Bane."
"I do my best," the Dire Wolf said. "Stacey, Dylan... we can go back to fetch your car tomorrow. Right now, my plan is to get you two in a place of relative safety. I've already rented a room at the KO-ZEE REST motel out on Route 212. That's fifteen miles from here."
"Ummm, okay." Dylan seemed to have gotten his bearings at this confusing situation. "Now that I've had a minute to catch my breath, I realize I've read about you, Mr Bane. You're a Tel Shai knight, aren't you? You started a team, the KDF, the Kenneth Dred Foundation. But one newspaper article said you had retired."
"It's my life's work," Bane answered simply. "I thought I was done with the Midnight War but I guess I was fooling myself."
After another ten minutes, they came out at the main highway Route 212, stopping at a traffic light and turning to approach a convenient mart. "Anyone need a bathroom break?" the Dire Wolf asked.
"Oh God yes!" squeaked Stacey. "Not a minute too soon."
While his friends hurried inside the mart, Carlo got out to watch Bane fill the Mustang's tank and quickly change tire pressure and oil. "Where did Nebel go anyway?" grumbled Carlo, "One morning I found his house locked up and an envelope left for me with a prepaid debit card... but no explanation!"
Bane got a roll of paper towels from the back seat and wiped the windshield inside and out. This had been an obsessive habit of his for decades. "I'm pretty sure he went to Tel Shai to discuss his future with the Teachers. Garrison is no kid, you know, he's getting on in years. Without the helmet and his mission, maybe he felt his work was done. He probably intends to meditate in the sun and help train new knights."
"He could have explained! I deserve that much," Carlo snapped. Out of reach of the Eyeless Helmet for more than a few minutes, his normal surly personality reasserted itself. "That was a dick move to do to me."
"Yeah, that's Garrison Nebel, all right," Bane agreed. "That helmet may have given him all sorts of cosmic wisdom and whatever, but he still got on my nerves all the time. Here come your friends."
Back on the road, the Dire Wolf brought his three passengers to a run-down L-shaped motel that stood at the foot of a nearly deserted mall. He pulled up to the far end and handed Dylan an old-fashioned metal key attached to a wooden plaque with the room number. "Wait a minute," he said. "Let me see how much cash I have on me. Four twenties and some singles. Well, if you need to get a taxi, that would be enough. This dive won't have room service of course but there's a vending machine up by the office."
"Carlo, what are YOU going to do?" asked Dylan, fiddling uncertainly with the key. "Are you staying with us?"
"I'm going with Mr Bane here."
Bane ordered the two younger people, "You both keep out of sight until we return. Stay safe. Cases like this usually wind up pretty fast."
Stacey started to get out of the back seat but hesitated. "I'm really freaking out. What if we don't hear from you guys?"
"Call for a taxi and go back to get your car. Then wait to see what happens next. I can't predict what that will be." Bane gesture brusquely with a thumb for them to get moving. "But I've always figured out a way to deal with worse children of the night than these Grubs."
IV.
After leaving Stacey and Dylan at the room, Bane swung his car around to circle the darkened mall and come up behind the motel. In the front passenger seat, Carlo made a scoffing noise.
"What's that all about?" the Dire Wolf asked.
"Being around the helmet so much has changed me, Mr Bane. I'm not a fancy big deal Sorcerer of Truth like Nebel was. But I'm much more quick on seeing misdirection. We're going right back to wait by the motel, aren't we?"
"Hmmm. You're picking up on patterns. Yes. I think there's a good chance the Grubs will attack your friends again tonight. I'm pretty sure the creatures work by scent."
Carlo Ventura cradled the bowling bag in his lap. "And you didn't tell my friends? You don't think they should know about that?"
Pulling over to a spot at the end of the mall parking lot and turning off the engine, Bane gestured at the rear of the motel at the bottom of a slight incline, not more than fifty feet ahead of them. "I'm not using them as bait, Carlo."
"Hey, I wasn't implying anything."
"But my guess is that once these Grubs imprint on an intended victim, they'll follow it. Better we intercept them now while the two of us are available."
Carlo grunted in grudging agreement. Long silent minutes crawled by before he spoke again. "So. Nebel told me the helmet is one of the most powerful talismans in the Midnight War. And that it would take years to learn how to use it."
"That's right."
"And then he skipped out on me. Like my old man did! Aw, drop that. That's not important now. How am I going to get anywhere with this helmet businsss now? Are there any books about how to use it?"
"Nothing useful," Bane said. His tone softened. "And I'm not going to be much help. I'm a fighter, not a mystic. I never understood half of what Garrison could do with that thing, and when he did try to explain, I just got confused and annoyed with him."
"So I'm screwed. Story of my life."
The Dire Wolf had unfastened his seat belt and shrugged out of the restraining strap. "Maybe not. From what I remember, the wearer of Sagehelm mostly learned through experience. You already know how to loose the light of Elvedal. You did that earlier."
"Yeah," Carlo admitted. "It's supposed to expose bad things and chase them away. I guess that part is true. Nebel also said that the golden light restores damaged people and animals to the way they were supposed to be."
"That's what I understood." Bane was studying the young man. "Within limits, the Elvedal light heals but it doesn't bring back youth or anything like that. Carlo, Garrison never mentioned your family or where you were living."
"Ahhhh," came the disgusted reply. "I don't really have a home. Stacey's mom has been letting me crash on a couch they keep on the back porch. But I earn it. I mow the lawn and I've starting painting the house."
"Carlo, I may have an offer for you. You know about my team, the KDF."
"Sure. Kenneth Dred Foundation. My pal Dylan has been studying the Midnight War. Really getting into it, ordering dusty old books and everything. He told me some wild stories about you guys. Somewhere between super-heroes and ghostbusters, with a little Men In Black thrown in. Very hard to believe."
Bane's voice had grown even more serious than usual. "I want you to meet them. Maybe stay for a few weeks at our headquarters building in the city. (Like many New Yorkers, when Bane said 'the city,' he meant Manhattan.) They'd understand the changes you're going through."
"I'll think about it," Carlo said without much enthusiasm. He was peering forward through the windshield at the rear of the motel. "Something funny is going on down there..."
Three of the ominous swellings in the dirt behind the building were rising quickly. Bane snapped, "Don't use the helmet, Carlo. I want to examine these things!" and was out of the car and flashing down the slope in an instant. Taking the helmet with him, Carlo followed a few seconds later.
As three of the gruesome creatures rose to their feet unsteadily, the Dire Wolf dove into their midst. In each hand, he gripped one of the silver daggers which sliced easily through the soggy flesh to lop one monster's head off cleanly and tore open another's chest so the being fell in unequal halves. Ensorcelled by the immortal Eldarin ages ago, the daggers were immensely potent against creatures of the night.
Only one remained standing when Bane took a fencer's hop forward and drove out a straight side kick to the chest. To his surprise, his boot sank to the ankle in that flabby body. As the monster fell, Bane had to go with it but he tugged his foot loose and was back up on his feet instantly. The Grub lay where it had fallen.
"These are not living creatures," Carlo said in a whisper. "I can tell. There is no lifeforce within them."
"No. I think I know what they are now." Bane ripped up a handful of grass and wiped gunk off the blades of his knives, then took more to clean his boot. "Targhuls."
"If you say so."
Bane resheathed his weapons. "Targhuls are shells of some substance, animated by gralic force and directed by the mind of the sorcerer. Usually, they're leather or stone or metal, hard stuff. I never heard of Targhuls being formed out of dirt in the ground."
"Like golems? I read about them."
"Yeah, golems are basically Targhuls made from clay." Bane stepped back. "Looks like they're falling apart already."
It was true. Even as they watched, the three prone forms deteriorated into loose mounds of damp earth, quickly bearing no resemblance to anything humanlike.
"You know, I'm not scared at all," Carlo said. "Shouldn't I be all panicky and babbling nonsense after witnessing things like this?"
"I'd guess the helmet has been affecting you. Not in a bad way. It's opening your perceptions the same way it did for Garrison." Bane had been watching in all directions to satisfy himself that no one driving by could have seen what had happened.
Carlo held up Sagehelm, its golden metal shimmering in the murky night as if reflecting distant lights. "I feel like I'm fighting it, to be honest, like I'm afraid I'm going to turn into someone else if I use it too much."
"Another reason you could use an expert teaching you. But right now, I want you to try something. Put the helmet on and tell me what you see where those Grubs were."
"All right." As he lowered Sagehelm down over his head, Carlo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This is hard to explain. There's a sort of red haze on the ground, leading around to the front of the motel."
"You're picking up on the gralic force that animated those things," Bane told him. "Red means hateful or destructive use of gralir, blue is when it's use for healing or protection."
"The gralic force itself bears no malice nor benevolence," Carlo continued. "Like the wind or the rain, it is a neutral aspect of reality. Only in the minds and hearts of sentient beings can such intent be found."
"Yeah, you do talk quite a bit differently when you have that helmet on. How do you feel?"
"Peaceful. Purposeful. Even though the ancient winds of trouble are stirring, we can channel them to do no harm." The blank faceplate turned to regard Bane, although the lack of eye openings made the movement seem eerie. "A trail of envy beckons us, Dire Wolf."
"Okay, let's follow it and we'll see how this works out." As Carlo walked firmly around the side of the motel and toward the door where Dylan and Stacey had their room, Bane kept right behind him. He was already unhappy over what he had concluded about this whole affair.
Standing in front of the door, Carlo hesitated and then yanked the helmet off and shuddered visibly. "I don't like this, Mr Bane. I don't like this at all."
"Me neither. But we have to see this through before the Grubs kill actually someone." The Dire Wolf rapped sharply with his knuckles on the door. A second later, Dylan peeked out so only one eye showed, then opened the door fully.
"Well, what's the story? What the hell is going on?" he said.
"I'm afraid you already know the answer to that," replied Bane.
V.
In the rather dingy and unimposing room, Stacey sat up on the double bed and clicked off the TV with the remote. She had taken her sneakers and socks off but was otherwise still fully dressed and alert. "Oh, THERE you are. At least you're safe."
Bane gestured for Dylan to seat himself on the edge of the bed, where Stacey scooted over to lean up against him. "This is not going to be pleasant for you two to hear. But I've had to break bad news before. Dylan, you said you have been studying the Midnight War since Carlo received the helmet. That was almost five months ago."
"Yeah? And?"
"There's good reason that the Midnight War is kept as secret as possible," the Dire Wolf said. He pulled over a plain wooden chair to sit down as if suddenly weary. "It's also called Forbidden Knowledge. I'm pretty sure you have read a few things that you may not have fully understood but which affected you subconsciously."
"Wait, what? I don't get it," Dylan snorted. "What are you trying to imply?"
"I've seen it happen a few times. Lots of people go through their lives never realizing they have latent gralic powers. A crisis, the threat of imminent sudden death usually, can trigger these powers. I think that's what happened to you."
Carlo was holding the Eyeless Helmet in both hands, turning it over thoughtfully. "Mr Bane, you're right. I see now I was not paying as much attention as I should. I was concentrating too much on the changes in me not to notice the changes my best friend was going through."
"Are you two nuts? I haven't been going through any changes!" Dylan slid off the bed and stood with his fists on his hips. "I certainly have not developed any strange powers. Stacey, I think we better get out of here."
"No, honey," she said. "I've noticed you getting moody after reading all those weird old books."
"I'm going to come right out and say it," Bane announced. "Dylan, whether you realized it or not, you were creating these Grubs. Your mind tapped into gralic force and shaped dirt and mud into animate forms. It was your anger empowering this."
Dylan waved one hand in an angry dismissive gesture. "Shut up! All of you, shut your mouths."
"I understand now," Carlo said. "It was envy. You coveted the helmet. You thought deep down that you deserved it more than I do. And you created those monsters without fully realizing it so they could kill me and bring the helmet to you."
"Will you listen to yourself, Carlo?! What sort of craziness has this guy been telling you? We've been friends since sixth grade."
Surprising everyone, Carlo extended the gleaming golden helmet to Dylan. "Here. Let Sagehelm itself decide."
Bane started to intervene, but caught himself. He had to trust his instincts here.
Dylan accepted the eyeless helm, glanced around at everyone in the room and then abruptly jammed it down over his head. The mystic artifact turned clear as glass as that warm golden light flooded the room and made everyone turn their heads away. A rush of displaced air stirred their hair and made the curtains flutter.
Then, slowly and gently, Dylan removed the helmet and handed it back. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head as if unable to face anyone. "It's all true. I saw it all. The gralic force was burned out of me just now. Carlo, Imthril, the burden is yours. I promise I will help you anyway I can."
"Get up," Carlo told him, "Rest for a few minutes. Mr Bane, let's step outside for a minute."
Once out in the warm darkness of that summer night, Carlo exhaled and fell rather than sat down to the walkway outside the rooms. "Some Sorcerer of Truth I'm gonna be. I'm a fool. Dylan was going through all that and I couldn't see it. Maybe Nebel DID give the helmet to the wrong person."
"There's always more to learn," Bane said.
"Yeah. I guess you're right. I think I'm going to accept your offer. I'll move to the city and train and study. I'll deserve the source of truth. No matter what, I won't get fooled again."
5/10/2021
8/22/2020
I.
He could not force the beer down to save his life. It was crazy. He had been downing Heinekens since his sixteenth birthday and had never regretted a sip. Carlo Ventura turned the dark-brown dew-wet bottle around in his hand and stared accusingly at it.
At twenty, not quite six feet tall, Carlo had been steadily losing weight over the past few months until he looked alarmingly thin. Under the wiry black hair, the long surly face showed cheeks which had become concave, with deepset dark eyes above a wide flat nose. Without warning, he drew back his arm and flung the still-full bottle to crash against an elm ten feet away.
"Nice! Thanks for broken glass in the yard," Stacey grumbled. "I can see my barefoot summer days are over." A year older than Carlo, Stacey Streiber was a sturdily built, almost chunky young woman with solid curves under her ragged jeans and loose maroon sweatshirt. Her frizzy dark blonde hair stood out in a permanent explosion around her face, adding to the expression of mild surprise she usually wore.
Her friend since childhood, Carlo swung around and tried to subdue his irritation. He took a few deep breaths, folding his arms across his chest. For the past few months, he had been wearing white jeans and yellow shirts on a daily basis. This velour shirt in particular had a golden sheen to its fabric. "Sorry, Stacey.. Dylan. I'm sorry. It's just.. I'm changing more and more inside and I'm afraid I won't know myself at some point.
Stretched out on his side, supporting his head on one upturned palm with his elbow digging into the lawn, Dylan Brodie kept his voice mild. "Something wrong with the Heinie, bro? Mine's okay."
"It's not the beer, it's me." Carlo clapped his right fist into his left palm sharply enough to make his friends jump at the sound. "My mouth closed when I tried to drink it. It was like my lips were glued together. That's not all. Lately, I'm finding it hard to get meat down. I keep spitting it out."
"Oh my God," laughed Stacey. "You, of all people, turning Vegan?!"
"Ah. What the hell. Nebel never came right out and explained anything clearly." Carlo began pacing back and forth, hands clasped behind him and head down. "He was always so vague! Nothing but hints and teasing that I would understand when the time was right."
Stacey sat up straighter. "I wasn't being serious, buddy. You know me. But since you started carrying that damn helmet everywhere, you have been going through major changes."
Crawling over to plop down next to his girlfriend, Dylan had prudently left his own beer behind. He was used to being cautious when Carlo was in a bad mood. "Say, what exactly did happen to that Nebel guy anyway? He said he was going to be your teacher and guide in that Midnight War craziness. But then he just vanished."
Carlo Venture got a grip on himself and visibly relaxed, lowering his shoulders. He dropped down to the grass and easily assumed a full lotus posture with his back straight and his hands opened with palms up. "All I can figure is that he went to Tel Shai. He talked about it sometimes, it's a sort of mystic Shaolin Temple or something that trains magicians and fighters. Nebel did say that when he felt his work was done, he wanted to retire to Tel Shai."
"I've been doing a lot of reading about this Midnight War stuff," Dylan said. "There's not much about it online, but the library will order any book that another library in the Mid-Hudson System has, so I've been learning a little."
"That's too true," added Stacey. "I never saw Dylan read so much as he has since you got that helmet."
"It's mind-blowing. The Seven Races, gralic magick, so far out." Dylan made a scoffing noise. "But I dunno, all I can find is more hints than outright information. Kind of frustrating, if you wanna know the truth."
"I bet you know more about it than I do," Carlo said. "I understood half of what Nebel said. He left me an envelope with a few addresses and phone numbers. And a debit card with five thousand dollars on it. That's more than the three of us ever scraped together at one time before."
Dylan got to his feet and offered a hand to Stacey, helping her stand as well. "I wish there was someone we could get some answers from. I dunno about you two, but I think we need to make plans for this future. Should we try and find some full time jobs? Go on a road trip and try to figure things out? We are absolutely clueless, man. You've been given an absolutely powerful gift but none of us have a clue what you should do with it. "
"There is one Source for all answers," Carlo announced in a voice suddenly calmer and more assured than before. He rose smoothly to his feet and turned toward a gleaming object which had been sitting on a rocky outcropping as if listening to the conversation.
"Leave that thing alone for a while," said Stacey. "Come on, Carlo, please! Stay yourself at least for tonight."
"Black clouds boil in the night sky. The ancient winds of trouble howl," whispered Carlo Ventura. He dropped to one knee in front of an eyeless helmet crafted of pale gold that shimmered as if reflecting a light source no one could see. "When the horns blow, who will answer?"
"Stop talking like that!" screamed Stacey as loudly as she could. "You scare the pants off me when you get all weird like that."
Lifting the golden helm, which had only outlines etched where eyeholes should be, Carlo Venture raised it overheard with infinite slowness. "Danger creeps unseen around us. Sighted eyes are of no avail against intruders from the spaces between spaces."
"Dude! Stop it!" yelled Dylan, who had stepped protectively in front of his girlfriend as if expecting an explosion. "I don't think you realize what you're messing around with."
Lowering the helmet down over his head, Carlo let out a deep steady exhalation. "The best hope for the world of the living is Sagehelm." A blinding sunburst of clear pure light flashed to cast vivid shadows across the lawn as he assumed his burden.
II.
Just before nine that night, the three friends rolled up to the Winchell Corners intersection where the general store had sat for more than fifty years. One wing was dedicated to souvenirs, arts and crafts supplies and general knick-knacks for tourists passing through upstate. The main building was still all about cold beer and soda, canned food, light bulbs, batteries and auto supplies and minor household items. From the outside, the place looked more like a summer home than a store, with a deep shady porch and a pleasantly rough wood exterior. Two gas pumps had been taken away years earlier, but their concrete base remained.
Pulling up to the front of the store, Stacey shut off her mother's twelve year old Ford Taurus. "Remember, we have to be back by eleven or Mom won't let us keep cruising around like this."
Next to her, Dylan stretched and fought back a yawn. "I got my heart set on a bag of Doritos. Fiery hot. And a twelve-ounce energy drink! How's about you, Carlo?"
From the back seat, a disinterested voice answered, "Hmm? Oh, nothing. I'm good."
"At some point, your pants are gonna fall right off you," scoffed Stacey as she got out. "Come on, at least get a sandwich or something. I don't think you ate at all since yesterday this time."
"Okay." When he squeezed out of the back seat, Carlo was carrying a battered old bowling bag his father had left before running off. On the sides, it read BRUNSWICK NJ.
"Will you please leave that thing for two seconds!" Stacey said. "You know I lock the car. There's no one around. It's safe." Getting no answer, she dropped the subject. Once inside the cool dim interior of the store, they greeted Old Man Winchell, son of the store's founder, before wandering around. Dylan was easy to please with his snacks, but Stacey mulled over the assortment of pre-made sandwiches wrapped in cling film before settling on a ham and cheese on rye with mustard. She also grabbed a can of Arizon Iced Tea. Reluctantly, Carlo picked up a chilled plastic box of egg salad and a bottle of plain water.
After paying and telling Old Man Winchell he was looking good, the three friends went back outside. They plopped down in a row on the top step leading down from the porch. When she noticed that Carlo was grudgingly eating a small mouthful of the potato salad at a time, Stacey said, "Man, are you okay buddy? You used to devour a double cheeseburger with one bite."
"I'm fine." Keeping the bowling ball bag next to him, Carlo sipped the water with the same unhurried care. "Can you two feel the storm about to break?"
"Wait, what?" asked Dylan. "Look at that sky. More stars than you could count. There's no storm coming."
The lights in the window behind them clicked off. Winchell came out, tugging on a cardigan before locking the door. "Closing time. My back is killing me. Sorry, you kids better move along. If a cop rolls by and sees you sitting here, he might give you a hard time about trespassing."
As they got up and collected their debris, Carlo said, "I know you trust us, Mr Winchell. It's appreciated."
"Ah, you're good kids. Mostly. See you tomorrow." The old man sauntered over to the white panel vann that he used for deliveries and drove off with a wave of one hand.
"We might as well get rolling," Stacey said. "I wanna binge that Netflix show, YOU CALL THIS A LIFE. It's really funny once you get into it."
"Say, Carlo, what are you looking at?" asked Dylan.
Standing off to one side, Carlo was indeed gazing intently down the country road where nothing but trees could be seen on either side. A dark Ford Mustanf was parked facing them, far enough away that they could not tell if anyone was inside. Across the road from that car was a beaten-down clearing twenty feet to a side where people turned around.
Dylan persisted, "I think maybe that helmet is too strong for you to handle by yourself. Maybe you should let one of us hold it for you once in a while."
"The ancient winds of trouble have blown sparks to start a fire," Carlo replied as if to himself. "We must go closer."
"I don't think so," Stacey grumbled. "Talking all poetic and mysterious is one thing, but you're freaking me out. Let's go to my house and watch TV, okay?"
Unzipping the bag, Carlo reached inside and rested his hand on the warm metallic surface of the Eyeless Helmet and began walking without a reply.
Summer dusk was finally settling in enough that they had to walk cautiously along the pothole-riddled old road. The Mustang had not moved, but they could make out the black silhouette of an unmoving head behind the steering wheel. Without realizing it, all three friends had moved crossed over to the other side of the road and slowed as they reached the circular clearing.
The ground unexpectedly bulged upward in a dozen spots, rounded humps five feet long. Dirt cracked and fell away as if something was being forced upward from underground. "What the hell?" yelped Dylan, instinctively placing a protective arm across Stacey's chest and stepping in front of her.
Six wide bulky forms heaved upright, earth falling off their dead-white pulpy bodies. They seemed to be grotesquely deformed naked men with hairless heads and bright red eyes. Moving in unison, they lurched toward the three teenagers with stubby paws working eagerly in the air.
And a tall man in black crashed hard into the creatures seemingly from nowhere, sending them staggering back with brutal kicks and punches that cracked loud as whiplashes.
III.
For a few seconds, the three friends were confused by the sudden burst of violent action. They could hear blows being struck but the movements themselves were too quick to follow. "Get back!" the stranger snapped. "Don't let these Grubs touch your skin."
Stacey and Dylan did not move, too paralyzed by the situation to react. But Carlo placed the bowling bag on the ground, drew out the helmet and stood up as he lowered it over his head.
Brilliant as the sun rising over a cloud bank, warm golden light burst in all directions, filling everyone's eyes and leaving after-images. When they could see again, the Grubs were gone with a trace.
"I haven't seen Sagehelm flare up like that years," the ominous man in black said. "I have to say it was a welcome sight."
"What...who..?" Dylan stammered. "What did I just...?"
Lifting the Eyeless Helmet up off his head, Carlo smiled for the first time in weeks. "Mr Bane."
"Hello, Carlo," Bane responded. "Sorry I haven't been up here to check on you before but honestly I didn't expect Nebel to abscond the way he did. Stacey and Dylan, right? All of you get in my car and let's get some distance between us and these Grubs."
Not showing any signs of having recovered from the shock, Stacey and Dylan had to be tugged by the arms. The man called Bane had tugged off thin black latex gloves before half carrying them to his Mustang. He chirped the doors open and got the young couple in the rear seat. Before hurrying into the driver's side, Bane took a second to scrape his boots on the high grass to clear off any residue slime from the Grubs he had kicked.
In a minute, everyone was buckled in and the Mustang spun forward up the country road, whipping through the intersection where the Winchell Corners store stood. In the front passenger seat, Carlo secured the helmet in the bowling ball bag before laughing loudly.
"That felt good!" Carlo yelled. "It felt right. I need to leave doubt and uncertainty behind."
Behind the wheel, Bane said, "Your friends are very confused right now."
"Yeah, I bet," the younger man chuckled. "Stacey, Dylan, this is Jeremy Bane. Sometimes called the Dire Wolf by those in the know. Think of him as an investigator into the unknown, all right? You've heard me mention the Midnight War. Mr Bane here was fighting it before any of us were born."
"Way before," the Dire Wolf added with a rare tinge of wryness. He turned his narrow feral face back toward his passengers at a stop sign. Even in the deepening gloom, those pale grey eyes were startling under heavy black brows. "You guys were in real danger tonight. I wasn't expecting that outbreak of Grubs, to be honest. I came looking for Carlo because Garrison Nebel finally mentioned he had left and that Carlo might need some advice."
Clearing her throat, trying and failing to speak, Stacey finally squeaked, "What WERE those things?"
"No one really knows yet," Bane replied as calmly as if discussing seeing a squirrel in the yard. "I call them Grubs for the moment. Definitely not related to Trolls or to the Danarmyl or to any of the other Subterrans known. We don't often get something completely new in the Midnight War."
"Were they going to, you know, KILL us?" she went on.
"Seems likely," the Dire Wolf told her bluntly enough. "I came up here because I heard about two other incidents in the past month. Right within a few miles of where we are now. The first time, they were seen wandering around someone's backyard but left without making contact. The second incident was only three days ago. This is where it starts to get bad, kids. The Grubs brutally beat two brothers who were camping deep in the woods. Nothing was taken. No obvious reason for the assault, the two victims are going to be okay but one has a broken arm and the other lost a few teeth."
Carlo swung around in his seat to watch his friends. "All this is scary, of course. But we've got good protection here. From what I've learned there is no one alive who can better handle this sort of thing than Jeremy Bane."
"I do my best," the Dire Wolf said. "Stacey, Dylan... we can go back to fetch your car tomorrow. Right now, my plan is to get you two in a place of relative safety. I've already rented a room at the KO-ZEE REST motel out on Route 212. That's fifteen miles from here."
"Ummm, okay." Dylan seemed to have gotten his bearings at this confusing situation. "Now that I've had a minute to catch my breath, I realize I've read about you, Mr Bane. You're a Tel Shai knight, aren't you? You started a team, the KDF, the Kenneth Dred Foundation. But one newspaper article said you had retired."
"It's my life's work," Bane answered simply. "I thought I was done with the Midnight War but I guess I was fooling myself."
After another ten minutes, they came out at the main highway Route 212, stopping at a traffic light and turning to approach a convenient mart. "Anyone need a bathroom break?" the Dire Wolf asked.
"Oh God yes!" squeaked Stacey. "Not a minute too soon."
While his friends hurried inside the mart, Carlo got out to watch Bane fill the Mustang's tank and quickly change tire pressure and oil. "Where did Nebel go anyway?" grumbled Carlo, "One morning I found his house locked up and an envelope left for me with a prepaid debit card... but no explanation!"
Bane got a roll of paper towels from the back seat and wiped the windshield inside and out. This had been an obsessive habit of his for decades. "I'm pretty sure he went to Tel Shai to discuss his future with the Teachers. Garrison is no kid, you know, he's getting on in years. Without the helmet and his mission, maybe he felt his work was done. He probably intends to meditate in the sun and help train new knights."
"He could have explained! I deserve that much," Carlo snapped. Out of reach of the Eyeless Helmet for more than a few minutes, his normal surly personality reasserted itself. "That was a dick move to do to me."
"Yeah, that's Garrison Nebel, all right," Bane agreed. "That helmet may have given him all sorts of cosmic wisdom and whatever, but he still got on my nerves all the time. Here come your friends."
Back on the road, the Dire Wolf brought his three passengers to a run-down L-shaped motel that stood at the foot of a nearly deserted mall. He pulled up to the far end and handed Dylan an old-fashioned metal key attached to a wooden plaque with the room number. "Wait a minute," he said. "Let me see how much cash I have on me. Four twenties and some singles. Well, if you need to get a taxi, that would be enough. This dive won't have room service of course but there's a vending machine up by the office."
"Carlo, what are YOU going to do?" asked Dylan, fiddling uncertainly with the key. "Are you staying with us?"
"I'm going with Mr Bane here."
Bane ordered the two younger people, "You both keep out of sight until we return. Stay safe. Cases like this usually wind up pretty fast."
Stacey started to get out of the back seat but hesitated. "I'm really freaking out. What if we don't hear from you guys?"
"Call for a taxi and go back to get your car. Then wait to see what happens next. I can't predict what that will be." Bane gesture brusquely with a thumb for them to get moving. "But I've always figured out a way to deal with worse children of the night than these Grubs."
IV.
After leaving Stacey and Dylan at the room, Bane swung his car around to circle the darkened mall and come up behind the motel. In the front passenger seat, Carlo made a scoffing noise.
"What's that all about?" the Dire Wolf asked.
"Being around the helmet so much has changed me, Mr Bane. I'm not a fancy big deal Sorcerer of Truth like Nebel was. But I'm much more quick on seeing misdirection. We're going right back to wait by the motel, aren't we?"
"Hmmm. You're picking up on patterns. Yes. I think there's a good chance the Grubs will attack your friends again tonight. I'm pretty sure the creatures work by scent."
Carlo Ventura cradled the bowling bag in his lap. "And you didn't tell my friends? You don't think they should know about that?"
Pulling over to a spot at the end of the mall parking lot and turning off the engine, Bane gestured at the rear of the motel at the bottom of a slight incline, not more than fifty feet ahead of them. "I'm not using them as bait, Carlo."
"Hey, I wasn't implying anything."
"But my guess is that once these Grubs imprint on an intended victim, they'll follow it. Better we intercept them now while the two of us are available."
Carlo grunted in grudging agreement. Long silent minutes crawled by before he spoke again. "So. Nebel told me the helmet is one of the most powerful talismans in the Midnight War. And that it would take years to learn how to use it."
"That's right."
"And then he skipped out on me. Like my old man did! Aw, drop that. That's not important now. How am I going to get anywhere with this helmet businsss now? Are there any books about how to use it?"
"Nothing useful," Bane said. His tone softened. "And I'm not going to be much help. I'm a fighter, not a mystic. I never understood half of what Garrison could do with that thing, and when he did try to explain, I just got confused and annoyed with him."
"So I'm screwed. Story of my life."
The Dire Wolf had unfastened his seat belt and shrugged out of the restraining strap. "Maybe not. From what I remember, the wearer of Sagehelm mostly learned through experience. You already know how to loose the light of Elvedal. You did that earlier."
"Yeah," Carlo admitted. "It's supposed to expose bad things and chase them away. I guess that part is true. Nebel also said that the golden light restores damaged people and animals to the way they were supposed to be."
"That's what I understood." Bane was studying the young man. "Within limits, the Elvedal light heals but it doesn't bring back youth or anything like that. Carlo, Garrison never mentioned your family or where you were living."
"Ahhhh," came the disgusted reply. "I don't really have a home. Stacey's mom has been letting me crash on a couch they keep on the back porch. But I earn it. I mow the lawn and I've starting painting the house."
"Carlo, I may have an offer for you. You know about my team, the KDF."
"Sure. Kenneth Dred Foundation. My pal Dylan has been studying the Midnight War. Really getting into it, ordering dusty old books and everything. He told me some wild stories about you guys. Somewhere between super-heroes and ghostbusters, with a little Men In Black thrown in. Very hard to believe."
Bane's voice had grown even more serious than usual. "I want you to meet them. Maybe stay for a few weeks at our headquarters building in the city. (Like many New Yorkers, when Bane said 'the city,' he meant Manhattan.) They'd understand the changes you're going through."
"I'll think about it," Carlo said without much enthusiasm. He was peering forward through the windshield at the rear of the motel. "Something funny is going on down there..."
Three of the ominous swellings in the dirt behind the building were rising quickly. Bane snapped, "Don't use the helmet, Carlo. I want to examine these things!" and was out of the car and flashing down the slope in an instant. Taking the helmet with him, Carlo followed a few seconds later.
As three of the gruesome creatures rose to their feet unsteadily, the Dire Wolf dove into their midst. In each hand, he gripped one of the silver daggers which sliced easily through the soggy flesh to lop one monster's head off cleanly and tore open another's chest so the being fell in unequal halves. Ensorcelled by the immortal Eldarin ages ago, the daggers were immensely potent against creatures of the night.
Only one remained standing when Bane took a fencer's hop forward and drove out a straight side kick to the chest. To his surprise, his boot sank to the ankle in that flabby body. As the monster fell, Bane had to go with it but he tugged his foot loose and was back up on his feet instantly. The Grub lay where it had fallen.
"These are not living creatures," Carlo said in a whisper. "I can tell. There is no lifeforce within them."
"No. I think I know what they are now." Bane ripped up a handful of grass and wiped gunk off the blades of his knives, then took more to clean his boot. "Targhuls."
"If you say so."
Bane resheathed his weapons. "Targhuls are shells of some substance, animated by gralic force and directed by the mind of the sorcerer. Usually, they're leather or stone or metal, hard stuff. I never heard of Targhuls being formed out of dirt in the ground."
"Like golems? I read about them."
"Yeah, golems are basically Targhuls made from clay." Bane stepped back. "Looks like they're falling apart already."
It was true. Even as they watched, the three prone forms deteriorated into loose mounds of damp earth, quickly bearing no resemblance to anything humanlike.
"You know, I'm not scared at all," Carlo said. "Shouldn't I be all panicky and babbling nonsense after witnessing things like this?"
"I'd guess the helmet has been affecting you. Not in a bad way. It's opening your perceptions the same way it did for Garrison." Bane had been watching in all directions to satisfy himself that no one driving by could have seen what had happened.
Carlo held up Sagehelm, its golden metal shimmering in the murky night as if reflecting distant lights. "I feel like I'm fighting it, to be honest, like I'm afraid I'm going to turn into someone else if I use it too much."
"Another reason you could use an expert teaching you. But right now, I want you to try something. Put the helmet on and tell me what you see where those Grubs were."
"All right." As he lowered Sagehelm down over his head, Carlo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This is hard to explain. There's a sort of red haze on the ground, leading around to the front of the motel."
"You're picking up on the gralic force that animated those things," Bane told him. "Red means hateful or destructive use of gralir, blue is when it's use for healing or protection."
"The gralic force itself bears no malice nor benevolence," Carlo continued. "Like the wind or the rain, it is a neutral aspect of reality. Only in the minds and hearts of sentient beings can such intent be found."
"Yeah, you do talk quite a bit differently when you have that helmet on. How do you feel?"
"Peaceful. Purposeful. Even though the ancient winds of trouble are stirring, we can channel them to do no harm." The blank faceplate turned to regard Bane, although the lack of eye openings made the movement seem eerie. "A trail of envy beckons us, Dire Wolf."
"Okay, let's follow it and we'll see how this works out." As Carlo walked firmly around the side of the motel and toward the door where Dylan and Stacey had their room, Bane kept right behind him. He was already unhappy over what he had concluded about this whole affair.
Standing in front of the door, Carlo hesitated and then yanked the helmet off and shuddered visibly. "I don't like this, Mr Bane. I don't like this at all."
"Me neither. But we have to see this through before the Grubs kill actually someone." The Dire Wolf rapped sharply with his knuckles on the door. A second later, Dylan peeked out so only one eye showed, then opened the door fully.
"Well, what's the story? What the hell is going on?" he said.
"I'm afraid you already know the answer to that," replied Bane.
V.
In the rather dingy and unimposing room, Stacey sat up on the double bed and clicked off the TV with the remote. She had taken her sneakers and socks off but was otherwise still fully dressed and alert. "Oh, THERE you are. At least you're safe."
Bane gestured for Dylan to seat himself on the edge of the bed, where Stacey scooted over to lean up against him. "This is not going to be pleasant for you two to hear. But I've had to break bad news before. Dylan, you said you have been studying the Midnight War since Carlo received the helmet. That was almost five months ago."
"Yeah? And?"
"There's good reason that the Midnight War is kept as secret as possible," the Dire Wolf said. He pulled over a plain wooden chair to sit down as if suddenly weary. "It's also called Forbidden Knowledge. I'm pretty sure you have read a few things that you may not have fully understood but which affected you subconsciously."
"Wait, what? I don't get it," Dylan snorted. "What are you trying to imply?"
"I've seen it happen a few times. Lots of people go through their lives never realizing they have latent gralic powers. A crisis, the threat of imminent sudden death usually, can trigger these powers. I think that's what happened to you."
Carlo was holding the Eyeless Helmet in both hands, turning it over thoughtfully. "Mr Bane, you're right. I see now I was not paying as much attention as I should. I was concentrating too much on the changes in me not to notice the changes my best friend was going through."
"Are you two nuts? I haven't been going through any changes!" Dylan slid off the bed and stood with his fists on his hips. "I certainly have not developed any strange powers. Stacey, I think we better get out of here."
"No, honey," she said. "I've noticed you getting moody after reading all those weird old books."
"I'm going to come right out and say it," Bane announced. "Dylan, whether you realized it or not, you were creating these Grubs. Your mind tapped into gralic force and shaped dirt and mud into animate forms. It was your anger empowering this."
Dylan waved one hand in an angry dismissive gesture. "Shut up! All of you, shut your mouths."
"I understand now," Carlo said. "It was envy. You coveted the helmet. You thought deep down that you deserved it more than I do. And you created those monsters without fully realizing it so they could kill me and bring the helmet to you."
"Will you listen to yourself, Carlo?! What sort of craziness has this guy been telling you? We've been friends since sixth grade."
Surprising everyone, Carlo extended the gleaming golden helmet to Dylan. "Here. Let Sagehelm itself decide."
Bane started to intervene, but caught himself. He had to trust his instincts here.
Dylan accepted the eyeless helm, glanced around at everyone in the room and then abruptly jammed it down over his head. The mystic artifact turned clear as glass as that warm golden light flooded the room and made everyone turn their heads away. A rush of displaced air stirred their hair and made the curtains flutter.
Then, slowly and gently, Dylan removed the helmet and handed it back. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head as if unable to face anyone. "It's all true. I saw it all. The gralic force was burned out of me just now. Carlo, Imthril, the burden is yours. I promise I will help you anyway I can."
"Get up," Carlo told him, "Rest for a few minutes. Mr Bane, let's step outside for a minute."
Once out in the warm darkness of that summer night, Carlo exhaled and fell rather than sat down to the walkway outside the rooms. "Some Sorcerer of Truth I'm gonna be. I'm a fool. Dylan was going through all that and I couldn't see it. Maybe Nebel DID give the helmet to the wrong person."
"There's always more to learn," Bane said.
"Yeah. I guess you're right. I think I'm going to accept your offer. I'll move to the city and train and study. I'll deserve the source of truth. No matter what, I won't get fooled again."
5/10/2021