by Unknown
"Not in battle," Kalibar agreed. "But there are many ways to kill someone. Even I have to sleep sometime," he noted. "And he could always poison my food, or my drink."
"Cheery thought," Erasmus grumbled, glancing at his wine glass.
"I've thought about this ever since the second attack," Kalibar stated. "I think the best course of action is for me to...disappear for a while."
"What?" Erasmus blurted. "You're going to hide away in some cave while that evil bastard wins the election? Great plan, old boy!"
"I'm going to Crescent Lake," Kalibar corrected. "And I'm going to bring Kyle there to teach him magic."
"Crescent Lake?" Erasmus pressed. "Where the hell is that?"
"Exactly."
"And what if Orik has you followed, and sends more of these red assassins after you?"
"I'll take precautions against being followed, of course," Kalibar replied, "...and I can protect myself quite well."
“That you can,” Erasmus admitted grudgingly. Then he chuckled. "Poor bastards wouldn't stand a chance!” Then he frowned, his expression troubled. "But I still don't like the idea of a celebrated Grand Weaver hiding from his political enemy, allowing a murderer to claim the throne!"
"Orik will win," Kalibar replied calmly. "And despite his lack of ethics, we both know he'll make a competent ruler," Kalibar added. "You have to admit he's done a great deal of good for the Empire."
"Yes he has," Erasmus admitted. "But we can't forget that he's in league with these red Weavers who're demolishing towns across the Empire...what about that?"
"They'll be stomped out eventually," Kalibar replied. "I assume the Council is already addressing the issue." Erasmus sighed, rubbing his bald head with one hand.
"This isn't right," he muttered. "I think you should fight back...you'd win, Kalibar. You always were the best."
"I lost to Orik before," Kalibar countered. "And besides, I'm retired now," he added. "It's not my fight anymore."
"Not your fight?" Erasmus snorted. "Not your fight? You spent your entire damn life fighting for the Empire! Now you're just going to hide away in the forest like some invalid while your life's work is corrupted by that slimy bastard?"
"The Empire must endure without me," Kalibar stated firmly. "I sacrificed the best years of my life for it. I'd like to enjoy what little time I have left."
"All right, fine," Erasmus grumbled. "So what do we do now?"
"We go to bed," Kalibar answered. "I'll meet you in the Runic Archives tomorrow. I need more of your wards for my carriage." He yawned, stretching his arms out to the sides. "You will of course take Kyle's ring?"
“Hell yes I will,” Erasmus replied, picking it up from his desk. Kyle stared at it, feeling suddenly uneasy. His ring was all he had left from Earth...his last link to his father back home. The thought of leaving it with Erasmus made him profoundly uneasy. But it was too late; Erasmus got up from his chair, walking over to a safe on the wall closest to his desk. Without a word, the safe opened itself – more magic? – and Erasmus deposited the ring inside. The safe door closed, again by itself.
"Thank you old friend," Kalibar stated, rising from his chair and walking up to Erasmus. The two men hugged, and then Kalibar turned to Kyle. "Let's go," he prompted. Kyle got up from his chair, then followed Kalibar out of Erasmus's office. The two black-armored guards were still standing on either side of Erasmus's door, and followed close behind Kalibar and Kyle as they made their way back down the hallway toward the magic elevator...the riser. Kalibar remained silent, seemingly lost in thought. It was just as well; Kyle could have hardly concentrated on anything Kalibar might have to say. He was still trying to process what had just happened, after all.
I can make magic!
He followed alongside Kalibar, feeling absolutely giddy with the possibilities. Imagine being able to make fire from thin air...to levitate above the earth! It hardly seemed possible that he could be capable of such things.
He snapped out of his reverie, realizing that they'd reached the riser at the end of the hallway. Kalibar turned to the guards.
"Thank you," he stated. "I'll go alone from here." The guards nodded, and Kalibar and Kyle stepped onto the center of the riser. It rose shortly thereafter, traveling upward a few more stories before coming to an uncomfortably abrupt halt. Kalibar stepped off of the riser, and Kyle followed alongside.
"Where are we going?" Kyle asked.
"To my suite," Kalibar answered. "As a former Grand Weaver, I have a room on the 41st floor of the Tower," he explained. "The current Grand Weaver and Grand Runic have suites on the top floor of the Tower, on the 42nd floor."
"Oh," Kyle replied.
"Have I told you about the Council?" Kalibar asked.
"No."
"The Council is composed of a dozen people," Kalibar explained. "They are the second-most powerful people in the Empire, below the Grand Weaver and Grand Runic," he added. "They have living quarters on the 40th floor."
"But why is Erasmus's office down below?" Kyle asked. After all, as a former Grand Runic, Erasmus should have a suite on the 41st floor, like Kalibar.
"He has a suite on this floor," Kalibar replied. "But unlike me, he hasn't retired yet. He's the Head Archivist for the Tower's runic artifact collection."
"The what?"
"We've collected thousands of runic artifacts in the last two hundred years," Kalibar explained. "Some of them as old as the Ancients. Erasmus oversees this collection – the Runic Archives."
"Wait," Kyle said, struck by a sudden pang of fear. "What about my ring? He's not going to keep it in the Archives, is he?"
"No," Kalibar replied. "Erasmus is one of the only men I would trust not to take the ring for himself.”
Kalibar strode down the hallway, and Kyle walked at his side, glancing about. There were painted sculptures of various men on the walls, but also of women as well. All had stern looks on their faces. One of the male statues looked oddly familiar for some reason.
“These statues were recovered from the ruins of the first Tower,” Kalibar explained. "We think they're of Ancient Council members," he added. He gestured for Kyle to continue down the hallway, until they reached a large, ornate door on the left wall. The door opened without being touched, just as Erasmus's had earlier. Kalibar walked inside, with Kyle following. They came into a large room – easily thirty feet square, with a ceiling twenty feet high. The room was ornate, almost beyond description. The floors were made of polished granite, and massive windows as tall as the ceiling lined the outer walls. Beyond these, the entire city lay spread out in a magnificent vista far below. Huge bookshelves lined the walls, filled with important-looking tomes. Numerous large white couches had been placed throughout the suite, surrounding glass-topped tables. Kalibar motioned for Kyle to sit on one of these couches, and Kalibar sat on the couch opposite Kyle.
"Well then," Kalibar stated. "You've been given quite a bit to think about." He leaned forward. "Do you have any questions for me?"
Kyle paused, then shook his head. He was sure he had a lot of questions for Kalibar, but he couldn't think of any at the moment.
"All right," Kalibar replied. "I suppose I should tell you more about the Empire...and about the Ancients." He leaned back on the couch, draping one arm over the armrest. "The Ancients were just like us," he explained. "Or rather, we modeled our government after theirs. They had an Empire with a Secula Magna, and a Great Tower like this one,” he continued. “Their empire flourished for thousands of years, until the Great War.”
He leaned forward, rubbing his eyes wearily.
“The Great War was the most devastating ever recorded. Back then, the Secula Magna was the center of civilization, the ruling body of a vast empire...one even larger than the Empire today. The political structure was the same as it is now, with a Grand Weaver and Grand Runic. However, back then, they ruled for life instead of just six years. The Grand Runic at the time – a man named Nespo – was middle-aged, making it unlikely that any Counci
l member at the time would ever achieve Grand Runic status in their lifetime. An ambitious Council member named Sabin wanted desperately to become Grand Runic, and arranged to have the current Grand Runic assassinated. The plot was discovered, and Sabin was arrested for treason.”
Kalibar leaned back in his seat.
“Our understanding of what happened next is somewhat hazy,” he admitted ruefully. “Most of the histories have been lost to time, or were destroyed in the war. What we do know is that Sabin was an unusually creative and powerful Runic, and managed to escape from prison before his execution. He fled to a rival country, and convinced their leaders to amass an army against the Empire. He trained their Runics and Weavers for several years. He was also a brilliant inventor, and created massive war machines of enormous power. He marched this army into Stridon, ambushing the city.”
Kyle's eyes widened. It was just like his dreams...the Behemoth destroying the city, killing everything in its path. But how could he possibly have dreamt of something that had happened two thousand years ago?
“The Secula Magna was surprised, but it had the finest Runics and Weavers, and thousands of years' worth of powerful runic technology at its disposal. The battle was fierce. Sabin's army demolished the city itself, but once they reached the Secula Magna, they met enormous resistance. Most of the rebel army was defeated by the Secula's superior Weavers, but the giant war machines were unstoppable. The Great Tower fell, and the remaining members of the Secula Magna fled. Those that survived went into hiding, but most were found and murdered. The Ancient Empire fell.”
Kalibar let out a sigh.
"When the Ancients died, their knowledge – thousands of years of technological advances – was lost. Only fragments of their works remain. Our most sophisticated runics are nothing compared to what the Ancients created."
"What happened after the Ancients lost?" Kyle asked.
"Sabin overreached," Kalibar answered. "He succeeded in destroying the Empire, but the majority of his forces were destroyed...even his Behemoths, although no one knows how. His forces were unable to defend their newly won territories from the countries bordering the Empire, and they were forced out."
"So the Empire was rebuilt?" Kyle asked. Kalibar shook his head.
"Not right away," he replied. "The Ancient Empire was carved into various countries. These degenerated into numerous tribes, each warring with each other to defend or expand their borders. The new Empire – and the new Secula Magna – weren't formed until about two hundred years ago. They were recreated in an attempt to bring human civilization back to its former glory and sophistication."
"Oh."
"But the Empire wasn't just created to mimic the Ancients' technological advances," Kalibar continued. "The Ancients represented the pinnacle of philosophy and ethics. Their Empire was one where all men were free, where human dignity was respected above all else. This Empire," Kalibar stated, gesturing around him, "...was built on those principles."
"So what happened to the tribes?" Kyle asked.
"Some of them joined the Empire voluntarily," Kalibar answered. "Others rebelled, declaring war. I fought against the last of the tribes during my stint in the military, and Erasmus and I finally defeated them during our tenure as Grand Runic and Grand Weaver."
Kalibar stopped then, and Kyle's stomach growled so loudly that even Kalibar heard it. Kalibar smiled.
"I forgot we haven't eaten since breakfast," he stated. "Let's order dinner.” Kalibar leaned over the side of the couch, resting his hand on what looked like a glass orb laying on an end table. The orb glowed faintly when touched, then turned clear again. Moments later, a knock came at the door. Kalibar touched the glass orb again, and the door opened, a man dressed in a blue shirt and black pants stepping through.
“Good to see you again, Jenkins,” Kalibar greeted. The man in the blue shirt froze in his tracks, looking startled. He quickly regained his composure, closing the door behind him.
“Your Excellency,” he replied, bowing deeply. "Young sir," he added, giving Kyle a shallower bow.
“Jenkins," Kalibar stated, "...my young friend and I would like to order dinner. I'll have the roasted duck with a salad. Kyle here will have the same.” Jenkins bowed again, then left as quickly as he'd come. Kyle watched him go, then turned to face Kalibar.
"Why did he look so surprised?" Kyle asked.
"Jenkins?" Kalibar asked. Kyle nodded. "Well, I met Jenkins only once, over a year ago," Kalibar explained. "I made a point to remember his name. Now, I certainly didn't have to...I was a former leader of the Empire, and he was just a servant."
"So why did you?" Kyle pressed.
"Because Jenkins is a person, just like you and me," Kalibar answered. "As the leader of the Empire, my duty was to serve him...and everyone else. And I've found that if you treat people as if they're important to you, you will become important to them."
"Oh."
“That is how you win loyalty," Kalibar declared. "It can be as simple as caring enough to remember someone's name.” He raised an eyebrow then, reaching into his pants pocket. "Or as simple as keeping a promise," he added, pulling out a small, dark brown bottle.
"What's that?" Kyle asked.
"The feathergrass extract I promised you," Kalibar replied with a wink. Kyle's eyes widened, and he broke out into a huge grin.
"All right!"
"I'll let you try it out later," Kalibar promised, placing the bottle back in his pocket. A knock came at the door then, and they both turned to see Jenkins walking back into the suite, his arms overloaded with silver platters. Kalibar got up to help the butler – despite Jenkins' protests – taking a platter and placing it on the table. Jenkins whisked the covers from the platters, and poured a red liquid into two cups. Kalibar thanked the butler, who bowed and left as efficiently as he'd come.
Kalibar took his cup, and motioned for Kyle to take the other. They clinked glasses in a silent toast, and drank. Kyle almost spewed the red liquid onto the table – it was terribly sour and bitter. Kalibar laughed.
“Sorry," Kyle apologized. He glanced down at his glass with disgust. "What is this?”
“It's wine,” Kalibar answered. “You've never had wine before?”
Kyle gasped, recoiling in horror. He was drinking alcohol? He pushed his glass far away, leaning back in his seat. Kalibar frowned, pushing the glass back toward Kyle.
“Drink it! We're celebrating,” the old man insisted.
“I'm not supposed to,” Kyle countered. “I don't want to get drunk,” he added sagely. Kalibar snorted.
“Ridiculous!” he exclaimed. “It's good wine, and you won't get sick with such a small glass. I insist you drink it, and enjoy the warmth and cheer it brings.” But Kyle folded his arms in front of his chest. He'd heard about such tactics in school. He wouldn't give in to peer pressure!
“Oh for pity's sake,” Kalibar grumbled. He finished his own glass, then focused on his dinner. Kyle did the same, his stomach growling almost painfully. The aroma of roasted duck was mouth-wateringly good...especially compared to the stale bread and dehydrated meat they'd been eating for the last three days. Kyle dug in, devouring the meal. It tasted every bit as good as it smelled, and it wasn't long before he'd cleaned up every morsel from his plate. When he looked up, he found Kalibar finishing his own meal. The old man leaned back in his chair afterward, dabbing his lips with a napkin. Then he let rip a loud burp, making Kyle laugh.
"Your turn," Kalibar proclaimed.
"Uuuuuuhhrp!" Kyle belched.
"Impressive!" Kalibar exclaimed. "A good, strong belch is considered a compliment for the meal," he explained. He touched the clear orb at his side again, summoning Jenkins. The butler arrived with remarkable alacrity, removing plates and silverware. Then he offered Kalibar more wine, which the former Grand Weaver accepted graciously. When the butler had finally left, Kalibar turned to Kyle, raising his glass – now filled with wine – in front of him.
"To fond memories already made, a
nd those still to come," he toasted, motioning for Kyle to raise his own glass. Kyle did so, clinking the rim against Kalibar's. Kalibar sipped from his own glass, then set it down. Kyle paused, holding his glass up in the air. Kalibar smiled.
"You know," he stated, "the trick to drinking wine is to have enough to raise your spirit, and not a drop more.” He glanced at Kyle's glass, then at Kyle. Kyle hesitated, then shook his head, pushing the glass away.
“I've had enough,” he stated. Kalibar nodded.
“I believe we both have,” he replied, standing up from his couch and gesturing for Kyle to do the same. “Come, I'll show you to your room, and your bed. Enjoy it...we'll be back on the road soon enough.”
Chapter 8
The next morning, Kyle was awakened by the sound of knocking on his door. He yawned, stretching his arms out wide, grimacing as his back twinged. It was much less painful than it'd been a few days ago, but now it was itching...maddeningly so. He resisted the urge to scratch his bandages, rolling carefully out of bed and walking up to the door. It took him a moment to remember where he was: in one of the several guest bedrooms in Kalibar's suite. He reached the door, grabbing for a knob that wasn't there. Then he remembered; most of the doors here were magically opened and closed. There was a blue crystal imbedded into the center of the door, glowing a faint blue to indicate that it was locked. There was no way for him to open it.
"Come in," Kyle called out.
The blue light vanished, and the door swung open, revealing Jenkins. The butler gave Kyle a short bow.
"I trust you slept well, young sir?" he inquired.
"Uh, yeah," Kyle answered. "Yes, thanks."
"His Excellency requests that you join him for an early lunch," Jenkins stated. "If you will get dressed," he added, gesturing to a neat stack of folded clothes on a nearby bureau, "...I will take you to him."
Kyle nodded, and Jenkins shut the door. Kyle took off his pajamas – an amazingly soft set of silver pants and a shirt – and changed into the clothes Jenkins had provided. A simple gray shirt and loose pants, they fit perfectly.