By P D M Harrison
There were twelve. There would always be twelve.
Six who serve to preserve the extinguishing.
Six who strive to start the great fire; once again.
Cobalt
As blood leaked between his fingers, it quickly occurred to Cobalt that he might not survive this latest adventure. Wounded and terrified, it was only fear now that kept him going. Fear of what would come to pass if his story were never told. He’d discovered an alarming truth in the depths of the Khufu Pyramid and was now paying for it with his life. For the creature that stalked Agent Jake Cobalt through its ancient catacombs was not of this world.
His army-issue Webley revolver is holstered and empty. Every bullet was spent in a futile attempt to stop the unnatural beast. He’d hit the brute with every shot, which had only intensified its rage. It’d rushed at him, slashing and swiping with its outstretched, elongated limbs. A dagger-like clawed hand had caught him in the midriff and torn through his abdomen. The only reason Cobalt was still alive was down to pure luck. The assault had knocked him back into a cavity too small for the creature to follow, but it had also caused him to drop his flaming torch and, in doing so, his only source of light.
Now disorientated in subterranean darkness, he desperately searches for a way out. The dark, so intense, powerful and pure, completely overwhelms his sense of sight. After a fair amount of blind fumbling with his free hand, Cobalt’s fingers finally find a stone shelf protruding from a wall. He quickly discovers that this is no lonely shelf but the first step of what appears to be a steep, stone staircase. With newfound hope, he starts to climb the stairs.
As he climbs, each step is more degraded than the last; eventually becoming nothing more than a steep, gritty slope. He looks up and sees a small glimmer of moonlight piercing through from the outside. He knows that this is it. This is his only chance to exit this cavernous tomb. As he continues up the slope, the ceiling above him starts to get lower and lower. It becomes so cramped that it forces Cobalt to crawl on his stomach, causing him agony each time he drags his wound against the unforgiving, gravelly ground. Cobalt stops and takes a moment to get some respite and regain his senses. He can now clearly see the moon and smell the cool Egyptian night air. A high, horrid shriek rises from the deep black below. Shocked into action, Cobalt resumes and hastens his painful crawl.
Below, it has found the stairs. Below, it begins to climb.
With his last ounce of strength, Cobalt pulls himself out of the Pyramid, gets to his feet and stumbles forward into the moonlight. As he staggers, clutching his wound, he hears something travelling at high speed towards him. A large golden arrow sails straight past his head, just narrowly missing his left ear. It puts him entirely off balance, and in one fluid motion, he turns, trips, and falls flat onto his back.
There’s another shriek from below, but it’s one of pain, anguish and defeat. Cobalt lifts his head and looks directly towards the Pyramid. Suddenly there’s a vast underground explosion, followed by a tower of blue flame that jets out from the entrance to the stairs. The earth starts to shake beneath him, and the ground splinters. The same blue flame begins to erupt and illuminate through the cracked ground ahead of him. Scrambling back to his feet, he turns to run away from the Pyramid and the apocalyptic scenes. Directly in his path is a cloaked figure holding a golden bow. A brilliant, bright green flash temporarily blinds Cobalt. All time freezes for what seems like an age, but in reality, it’s only a second. Everything then fades to black, and he loses all consciousness.
*
Cobalt wakes to find that he’s sat alone in a frosty, private train cabin. It’s so cold that he can see his breath turn to vapour as it hangs in the air. The only warmth in the cabin seems to be emitting from two incandescent, electric light bulbs aggressively humming away on the wall opposite.
The train is in motion and feels like it has been for some time. Cobalt looks to the condensation-coated window on his right for clues, but the dark featureless landscape he’s presented with provides little to no help. He notices that some things have changed, his Webley revolver is missing, and the pain in his abdomen has almost completely gone. He checks down to see that his wound has been treated and is now wrapped in clean white bandages.
He takes a look around the cabin. An exquisitely crafted, heavily tarnished Corinthian helmet sits perched on the seat adjacent to him. At first glance, it looks ancient, but on closer inspection, Cobalt could see that it has details that made it modern, even slightly futuristic.
He goes to pick up the helmet but stops when he sees a black envelope attached with surgical tape to its back. He detaches the envelope, and on its front, “DO NOT BE ALARMED” is printed in bold, green, metallic type. He carefully opens it and takes out what appears to be a very standard typed letter. It reads:
“The blood of the just will commit a fault at London. Burnt through lighting of twenty threes the six. The ancient lady will fall from her high place. Several of the same sect will be killed.”
Cobalt instantly recognises the quote. It was an English translation of a famous prophecy written by the French astrologer Nostradamus way back in the 16th century, and it was thought to have predicted the Great Fire of London. He’d been studying this exact text only a few days ago in relation to the infamous Wilt case that he'd been tasked to investigate. But who would’ve ever known that? He had yet to report any of his findings back to the Branch.
As his eyes scan the last words of the quote, something truly remarkable happens. As if by magic, a new section of hidden text is revealed just below. It reads:
“This legendary helmet is a divine gift that Apollo now bestows upon you, Jake, son of Harold. Wear it well and wear it wisely. It will reveal more to you than you can possibly imagine.”
*
Meanwhile, the year is 205 BC.
Just off the coast of the Greek island of Antikythera, a large merchant ship is under siege. On board, one of its crew frantically fiddles with a bronze device. The ship is no match for the ferocious onslaught of the attacking vessel, which only seeks to destroy. Suddenly a blue flame engulfs the merchant ship causing the hull to burst open. Overwhelmed by the sea, the ship sinks entirely beneath the waves. All the crew are lost. All but one.
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