by Unknown
They rode in silence.
A light rain began to fall around the carriage, pattering gently on the roof. The carriage picked up speed, the clip, clop of the horses' hooves sounding on the road below. Kyle turned back to his window, staring out of it absently.
“It makes sense now,” Kalibar stated suddenly. Kyle frowned.
“What?”
“It must be Orik behind all of this,” Kalibar explained. “It all fits.”
“Who's Orik?” Kyle asked.
“A man with plenty of reasons to want me dead,” Kalibar answered. He ran a hand through his short white hair. “If he's behind all of this, then I'm in more trouble than I thought.”
“Who is he?”
“A powerful man,” Kalibar replied. “Soon to be the most powerful man in the Empire.” He sighed again. “He's a politician, like I was. We go way back, him and I...it's a long story, I'm afraid.”
“Oh,” Kyle mumbled. Kalibar put a hand on his shoulder.
"You did well back there," he stated approvingly. Then he grimaced. “It's my fault that the man who attacked you was able to make it inside the carriage,” he added. “I just can't understand how the carriage's defensive runics were neutralized so quickly...”
“It's okay,” Kyle replied. “Darius saved me.”
Kalibar nodded, saying nothing more. The rain fell heavily now, pounding on the roof of the carriage. Kyle leaned forward in his seat slightly, taking the pressure off of his aching back. After a few minutes, Kalibar opened the sliding window at the front of the carriage, and leaned forward to speak through it.
“Let's make camp,” he shouted over the rain. Darius cocked his head, then nodded. The carriage veered to the right, bouncing as its wheels went off-road, making Kyle wish that he had a seat belt. He braced his palms on the ceiling, feeling the carriage slow, then stop. Darius jumped off of his perch, walking over to Kalibar's door and opening it. Kalibar got out, and Kyle opened his own door, knowing full well that Darius wouldn't extend him the same courtesy. He hopped down into the mud, his boots sinking in a few inches. All three squished their way to a clearing in the tall grass around them. Kalibar looked around, then nodded at Darius, who walked back to the carriage to grab a few packs. Kyle looked around, spotting the road far in the distance.
“Are we safe here?” he asked.
“As safe as we were in the carriage,” Kalibar replied. “But at least we'll be able to lay down and sleep out here.”
Kyle stared at the mud around them, rain dripping down his soaked hair and clothes. He gave Kalibar a skeptical look. Darius returned carrying a heavy pack in each hand, his golden boots squelching in the mud. Kalibar took the packs from Darius, handling their enormous weight with surprising ease. It took Kyle a moment to realize why; the packs were actually hovering a few feet above the muddy ground...more of Kalibar’s magic, no doubt. The old man rummaged through one of the packs, pulling out three sleeping bags. Darius took one of them, throwing it down. To Kyle's surprise, it too hovered a few feet above the mud.
“Are you doing that?” Kyle asked, looking up at Kalibar.
“They’re magical,” Kalibar replied. “They do it automatically.” Darius laid down on his sleeping bag, and it held the bodyguard’s weight without sinking. Kalibar walked back to the carriage, opening the side door and retrieving his staff from it, and what looked like a large stick. Then he made his way back to Kyle and Darius. Kyle threw down his own sleeping bag, half-expecting it to sink into the mud, but it didn't. He paused, then sat on it. The sleeping bag didn’t budge. He pulled off his muddy boots, then lay on top of it, pulling the covers over himself. It was quite comfortable, with soft, plush material on the inside.
Kyle turned to watch Kalibar, spotting the man standing in the mud nearby. First Kalibar jammed the large stick into the mud; it immediately started to glow a faint green color. Then he jammed his staff into the mud, then stepped back. A few symbols on the staff's surface flashed blue, and suddenly a faint, translucent blue dome appeared around them. Easily twenty feet in diameter and ten feet tall, the rain poured down its sides, leaving them dry.
“What is that?” Kyle asked. The old man sat down on his own sleeping bag, pulling off his black boots.
“I made a magical shield around the camp,” Kalibar answered.
“So it won't rain on us,” Kyle reasoned. Practical magic, indeed!
“So no one kills us in our sleep,” Darius grumbled back.
Chapter 6
The wind whips through Ampir's hair as he flies over the wide expanse of the Great River, Vera clutched in his arms. He feels his son on his back, the boy's arms locked in a death grip around his neck. In the distance, miles from the fast-approaching shore ahead, the Behemoth stands in front of the Great Tower, nearly a third of the 42-story building's height.
The Behemoth's eye flashes.
A deadly green beam shoots outward from that eye, slamming into the mid-shaft of the Tower. Countless runes carved into the Tower's walls flare bright blue, the Behemoth's beam repelled by their power. Eventually the Behemoth's beam fades away, the Tower unharmed.
Then the monstrosity raises one metal fist, opening its fingers to reveal a huge white sphere imbedded in the center of its palm. The sphere pulses, and rays of blue light pull from the Tower toward the Behemoth's hand, converging on the white sphere.
What the...?
The Tower's runes fade, then go black.
"The Tower!" Vera cries. "Ampir, do something!"
Ampir says nothing, watching as the Behemoth's hand drops to its side, its eye focusing on the mid-shaft of the Tower once again. He's too far away to attack the Behemoth effectively now, and he knows nothing about its defenses. If he attacks, the Behemoth will know his position...and the enemy will realize he is still alive. He has no fear for his own life, not with his armor. But Vera and Junior's lives will be at risk.
The Behemoth's eye flashes.
A beam of deadly green light shoots outward from it, slamming into the side of the Great Tower. Without its protective runes, the Tower walls glow red-hot, streams of molten stone dripping down them. The beam cuts through the massive building rapidly, slicing it in half.
Ampir watches in stunned silence as the top half of the Tower begins to tilt toward the Behemoth. The monstrous machine steps to the side, and the upper Tower falls, breaking away from the lower half and slamming into the ground. A cloud of dirt and debris explodes upward from the impact, the glittering crystalline peak of the Tower shattering.
Seconds later, the shockwave reaches them, a tremendous boom that echoes in the night air.
Ampir stares at the remaining half of the Great Tower, watches as it crumbles, its foundation destroyed by the impact. In less than a minute, the Tower – the heart of the Empire, and his home for over half his life – has been destroyed.
He looks down, sees Vera staring wide-eyed at the devastation, tears dripping down her pale cheeks. He feels numb, unable to process what has just happened.
Dozens of dark shapes plunge through the thick clouds above the city, ships identical to the one that had bombed Ampir's home. They fly over the city at incredible speed, clusters of bombs dropping from their underbellies. Countless explosions rock the skyline in rapid succession, skyscrapers collapsing in plumes of fire and smoke.
Vera clutches onto Ampir, burying her face in his chest. He holds her close, watching as their city...their home...burns.
* * *
Kyle opened his eyes, squinting in the waning sunlight streaming through the windows of Kalibar's carriage. He stretched his legs, wincing as he did so. His back was stiff after three days of being cooped up in the carriage, and it was still awfully sore where the Ulfar had slashed him. Kalibar had checked Kyle's wounds a few times during the trip, changing the dressings periodically. After traveling together for so long, Kyle and Kalibar had settled into a comfortable silence; the old man had spent most of that time with his books. Darius, having nothing to say to either
of them, did just that.
Kyle looked out of his window, watching the fields of tall golden grass beyond the road pass by. The sun was a few hours from setting, hovering over the hills in the distance. He thought of the guards who'd died during the attack earlier, feeling a familiar glumness fall over him. He glanced at Kalibar, hoping for a distraction, but the old man was thoroughly engrossed in a book.
Kyle sighed, turning back to the window. In between reading his books, Kalibar had taught Kyle a great deal during the trip. He'd learned all about feathergrass extract – the stuff that Fintan had introduced him to earlier. A short, tough grass, it generated an anti-gravity field that prevented feet and hooves from crushing it. More importantly, most bugs that tried to eat it ended up floating away before they could take a bite. Savvier bugs with sticky legs could latch on and feed, however. The more grass they ate, the lighter they got...until they pooped, of course. That poop would float upward, high into the sky. Swarms of insects sometimes created huge clouds of excrement that flew up into the atmosphere. When the magic of the feathergrass eventually faded, the poop would fall to the ground in an unfortunate downpour. Kyle had heard his dad talk about poop-storms before, usually when talking about work...although his dad had used a more colorful word.
In any case, farmers grew the grass, then harvested it, cutting very carefully from the edge of the lawn inward. Careless harvesters had been known to have their blades fly up and lop off bits of their faces. Then, as Fintan had said, the feathergrass could be woven into clothes and armor, making them extremely light. Or it could be ground up and pressed, making a juice that, when swallowed, would make a man weigh a fraction of his normal heft. Feathergrass wasn't the only magical plant, of course. There were countless others...and animals used magic as well. Alchemists used extracts of plants and animals to create a wide variety of potions.
All in all, despite the soreness of his body, Kyle had found the trip rather refreshing. He couldn't remember ever having spent three full days doing nothing but talking to someone, much less an adult. Kalibar didn't seem to mind their conversations, and appeared truly interested in teaching Kyle...and hearing what Kyle had to say. The old man shifted from talking to reading to resting without any frustration whatsoever, and seemed to enjoy all three whenever they occurred.
It was...different.
Kyle glanced out of the window again. The road here was wider, made of flat, interlocking stones instead of dirt. The tall golden grass became sparser as the carriage moved ever forward, giving way in the distance to a truly massive river...maybe the widest he had ever seen. In the distance, the road led to a huge bridge that formed a long arch over that river.
"That," Kalibar stated suddenly, making Kyle jump, "...is the Great River."
Kyle nodded. On the other side of the river was the skyline of a large city – nearly as large as Boston back home. There were no real skyscrapers, although several of the buildings were quite tall. One of them stood head and shoulders above the rest...a tall, stately stone tower in the center of the city. It looked to be at least forty or fifty stories high, and was topped by what appeared to be a glass pyramid. Its facets glittered in the sunlight like a massive diamond.
“That,” Kalibar said, pointing to the tower, “is the Great Tower of the Secula Magna.” The carriage angled upward slightly as it passed onto the bridge. Kyle turned to look out of Kalibar's window on the left, spotting carriages traveling in the other direction. A few of them were like the carriage Kalibar's late guards had ridden a few days ago, in that they didn't have wheels.
"They're becoming more common every year," Kalibar informed him. "A young Runic named Banar reinvented them a few years ago." He stretched his arms, his book falling to his lap. "We're having a renaissance in runic technology now. Archaeologists discovered artifacts in Ancient ruins on a small island to the west a few years ago. Some of them contained detailed descriptions of advanced runic technology. We've managed to recreate a few of them, but we've got a long way to go before we match the sophistication of the Ancients.”
They rode over the remainder of the bridge in silence, and Kyle turned to look out of his own window. Beyond the bridge were crowded city streets; throngs of people traveled on the sidewalks, stopping at various shops. Peddlers stood over bins of brightly-color fruit by the side of the road, while butchers laid out cuts of meat for passers-by to purchase. It was like a scene out of a movie, riding in a horse-drawn carriage, with people in strange clothes milling about in the streets. And while Kyle could understand everything people were saying, the writing on signs by the shops was gibberish to him. The magical earring had its limits, he supposed. He wondered if there were magical glasses that would allow him to read foreign languages.
“This is Stridon, the capitol city of the Empire,” Kalibar explained as they went. “The campus of the Secula Magna is in the center of the city. It's surrounded and protected by a magical dome.” Kyle nodded absently, only half-listening as he took in the scenery. He noticed a few men standing at the edge of the roof of one of the buildings, three stories up. Suddenly, right before his very eyes, one of the men jumped!
Kyle yelled out, tugging on Kalibar's shirt. The old man started, then chuckled as the roof-jumper sailed slowly and gracefully downward and forward, crossing the busy street in mid-air and landing on a red square tile on the sidewalk on the other side.
“How did he do that?” Kyle asked.
"He's wearing a jumpsuit," Kalibar replied. "Densely woven with feathergrass fibers. The red squares are where he can land; the other pedestrians know to walk around the squares." Kyle looked, and realized it was true; the pedestrians avoided the red square expertly. Then he looked around, noticing lots of other red and blue squares on the walkways. "The red squares are for jumping down to, and the blue squares are for jumping up to," Kalibar continued. "There are squares on balconies, and rooftops," he added. "With a jumpsuit or feathergrass extract, you can get around most of the city without setting foot on the street."
Kyle's mouth fell open. To be able to jump fifty feet down without being hurt...he suddenly wanted very much to get a jumpsuit for himself! Kalibar must have noticed his expression.
"I'll get you some feathergrass extract so you can try it out," he promised.
At length, they left the roadside shops behind. The buildings became larger and taller, most built of stone, some up to eight stories high. They passed a massive building on the left, with wide stone steps leading up to a set of enormous double-doors. Huge columns on either side held up a stone overhang some twenty feet above. The building looked quite imposing, the few windows it had armed with rows of vertical bars.
“What's that?” Kyle asked.
“Stridon Penitentiary,” Kalibar answered. “A prison for Weavers and Runics. Some of the most dangerous men in the Empire are held there.”
“Right in the middle of the city?” Kyle inquired. “Isn't that dangerous?”
“It's the most advanced prison in the Empire,” Kalibar replied. “It's quite secure...and we've found that making prisons visible makes people less likely to end up in them.”
They passed the massive structure, the buildings becoming fewer and farther between as the carriage rolled along. After a few more minutes, they reached a tall fence. Its thick black bars rose three stories high, each terminating in a viciously sharp spike. Countless runes were carved into the surface of the bars, some glowing faintly blue. The fence extended to either side as far as the eye could see, curving backward in a huge circle. Directly in front of the carriage, two massive, stately doors wrought of the same black iron bars formed a closed gate. Just beyond the fence, the air shimmered ever-so-slightly, with a faint blue tint. Kyle's eyes drew upward, and his breath caught in his throat.
“That,” Kalibar explained, “...is the Gate shield.” A shimmering blue dome that rose hundreds of feet above the fence, the Gate shield entirely covered the territory beyond the fence...like the dome of an indoor football stadium, but mil
es wide. Its size was beyond comprehension, larger than anything Kyle had ever seen.
“Whoa,” Kyle breathed.
Darius stopped the carriage before the double-doors of the gate, and Kyle stared out of his window, spotting two small guard shacks, one on either side. Men in jet-black armor stood by these shacks, their faces and heads covered with intricate – and incredibly cool-looking – helmets. One of these men strode forward quickly, stopping about a dozen feet from the left side of the carriage. He turned to face Darius, his eyes invisible behind the black translucent visor forming the front of his helmet.
“Identify yourselves,” the guard ordered brusquely. Darius, being Darius, didn't so much as turn to look at the guard. Instead, he pulled out a piece of fruit from a sack sitting beside him and bit into it, juice spilling down his chin.
The guard's lips drew into a tight line, his gauntleted hands balling into fists. He took a step back from the carriage.
“Identify yourselves,” he repeated, “...now.” He brought a finger up to the side of his helmet, and the visor snapped back up inside of it, revealing scowling brown eyes. Darius continued to ignore the guard, taking another bite out of the fruit. Kyle's heart skipped a beat; what was Darius doing? He slouched down in his seat, half-hoping the guard would have Darius arrested for his insolence. After a complimentary beating, of course.
“Step down from the vehicle!” the guard commanded angrily, a faint blue sphere appearing around him. Kyle's heart skipped a beat; was the guard talking to all of them, or just Darius? Before he could find out, Kalibar opened his door, stepping down to the ground below.
“Good morning, officer,” he stated calmly. The guard turned his baleful glare on Kalibar, then jerked backward as if he'd been slapped. His face turned very pale, and he dropped to one knee before Kalibar, lowering his eyes to the ground. The blue sphere surrounding him vanished.