by Unknown
“Not everyone,” Kalibar countered. The corner of the Councilman's mouth twitched.
“Granted.”
“I've no interest in running,” Kalibar stated firmly. The Councilman smiled, folding his arms over his chest, his eyes locked on Kalibar's.
“If I were you,” he replied coolly, “...I'd strongly consider it.”
He nodded at his guards then, then gave Kalibar a curt bow.
“Your Excellency,” he murmured. Then he left, striding down the hallway, leaving Kalibar, Darius, and Kyle standing there.
“Who...” Kyle began, but Kalibar strode forward before he could finish, forcing Kyle to sprint to catch up with the old man. Moments later, they stopped in the middle of the riser at the end of the hallway. It shot upward with unnerving speed, zipping past floor after floor of the Great Tower before slowing, then stopping. Kalibar stepped off of the riser, Darius and Kyle following alongside. They walked in silence to one of the doors on the left. It opened by itself, and Kalibar stepped through. They were, Kyle realized, back in Kalibar's suite; Kalibar walked up to one of the couches, sitting down and gesturing for Kyle to take a seat on a couch opposite him. Kyle complied, glancing at Darius, then Kalibar in confusion.
“What's going on?” he asked. “Who was that?” Kalibar leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His jawline rippled.
“That,” he replied, “...was Orik.”
* * *
Kyle stared at Kalibar in disbelief.
“That was him?” he asked incredulously. Kalibar nodded, rubbing his eyes.
“It was,” he replied wearily. “And we're in trouble,” he added, leaning back into his couch and staring off into the distance.
“What do you mean?” Kyle asked, feeling a sudden pang of fear. Kalibar focused on Kyle, then sighed.
“Orik practically announced his role in my attempted assassination,” he replied. “And I suspect he is going to make the attempt again.”
“What?” Kyle blurted out. “Why?”
“That should be obvious.”
“But he can't attack you here,” Kyle protested. Kalibar raised an eyebrow.
“And why not?”
“He'd get caught,” Kyle answered. Kalibar considered this for a moment, rubbing his goatee absently.
“He can't know whether I've told anyone else of his involvement,” Kalibar reasoned. “He has to assume that I have. He'll know that I've talked to Erasmus, and no one else thus far...which means Erasmus is also in danger.”
“You mean...” Kyle began.
“He might try to kill both of us,” Kalibar stated grimly. “And you, and Darius, for good measure.”
Kyle glanced at Darius, who didn't appear to be paying attention to either of them. Then he turned back to Kalibar, swallowing past a sudden lump in his throat. Kalibar drummed his fingers on the table between them.
“As I said,” he muttered, “...we're in trouble.”
“Can't we just tell everyone what Orik did?” Kyle pleaded. Kalibar sighed.
“We could,” he admitted. “But Orik has already prepared for that possibility.”
“What do you mean?”
“Orik is a very dangerous man,” Kalibar explained. “He's one of the best political strategists I've ever met. I've got no proof that he was involved in the attacks against me...only my word, and my reputation. And that,” he continued, “...was not enough the last time I tried to take him down.”
“Wait, what?”
“It's a long story,” Kalibar admitted. “But I'll make it short. It was ten years ago or so, while I was still Grand Weaver. At the time, Orik was running for governor of Stridon.” He gave a rueful smile. “Even then, he was enormously popular. He'd served as mayor of a nearby city already, with incredible success. You see,” Kalibar continued, “...Orik is unbelievably wealthy...one of the wealthiest men in the Empire. He spent massive sums of money donating to charities, building parks, renovating buildings, organizing events...that sort of thing. It made him incredibly popular with the general public.”
“Oh.”
“He also invested heavily in local businesses, and passed legislation to ease regulations on them, making himself popular with the wealthy,” Kalibar continued.
“Doesn't sound like a bad guy to me,” Kyle had to admit. Kalibar chuckled.
“He wasn't...until his money wasn't enough to make him win,” Kalibar replied. “As I said, after his turn as mayor, Orik ran for governor of Stridon. He would have won easily, but his opponent happened to be a popular and respected career politician...one with powerful friends.” Kalibar smiled then. “Including me.”
“I see.”
“My friend – Orik's opponent – was clearly going to win the election,” Kalibar explained. “But then evidence surfaced that implicated him in conducting illegal campaign activities.”
“Like what?” Kyle asked.
“Oh, like accepting bribes from various special interests,” Kalibar answered. “And men starting coming forward, claiming that my friend had...strayed from his marriage.”
“Like cheated?” Kyle asked, remembering Ben's father. Kalibar nodded.
“None of it was true,” he continued. “The evidence was entirely fabricated. But it was enough to destroy my friend's political career, and Orik won the election handily.”
“Oh.”
“My friend committed suicide shortly thereafter,” Kalibar stated, his tone solemn. “Leaving a wife and three children behind.”
Kyle said nothing, unable to meet Kalibar's gaze any longer. He stared at the table between them, not knowing what else to do.
“I suspected Orik immediately, of course,” Kalibar said. “My friend's wife made me promise to take Orik down. And as the most powerful man in the Empire at the time, I was one of the few people who could do it.”
“What did you do?”
“I launched a private investigation against Orik,” Kalibar replied. “I even had my informants investigate his past – his businesses, tax paperwork, business partners, records of his time as governor, even his school records and birth certificate – everything. And everything came back squeaky clean.”
“You didn't find anything?” Kyle asked.
“Nothing,” Kalibar agreed. “His record was impeccable. Perfect.” He shook his head. “But the fact that all of these allegations against my friend came up only after Orik started losing in the election was too obvious to ignore. Orik had to be involved...everyone in the Council believed it, and so did Erasmus and I.”
“So what happened?”
“I investigated the men who accused my friend of infidelity,” Kalibar replied. “And found that they'd been nowhere near my friend during the times they claimed to have...been involved with him.”
“So they were lying!”
“Right,” Kalibar confirmed. “But it was too late...the damage had already been done. Orik himself never endorsed the allegations against my friend. He even went as far as to insist that voters ignore the scandal. After my friend's death, Orik denounced the men who'd wrongly accused my friend, and revealed – from his own investigation, supposedly – that they had indeed been lying all along.”
“Oh.”
“The thing is,” Kalibar continued, “...that the evidence Orik supplied was identical, document for document, word for word, to the evidence my own investigation had revealed.”
“So?”
“So Orik was sending me a message,” Kalibar explained. “That he'd been aware of my secret investigation the entire time, and that he almost certainly had informants among the men I'd trusted to carry out that investigation.”
“What did you do?”
“I accused Orik of stealing classified documents, and implicated him in the smear campaign against my friend,” Kalibar answered. “I hoped that with my evidence and my reputation, I could force Orik out of office.” Kyle sighed then, shaking his head. “I was wrong.”
“What happened?” Kyle asked.
“Orik didn't get involved, as usual,” Kalibar answered. “But his supporters accused me of using my office as Grand Weaver to influence elections in favor of my personal friends. No one believed it, at first.” Kalibar lowered his gaze. “Then two high-ranking men – men I'd been friends with for decades, men I trusted – came forward to confirm those accusations...and to claim that I'd illegally influenced other elections as well.”
“What?” Kyle blurted out. “Why?”
“Good question,” Kalibar replied. “The accusations were false, of course. To this day, I can't fathom why those two men did that to me...whether Orik threatened them, or paid them. It doesn't matter now,” he added glumly. “The whole thing became such a scandal that I was forced to abandon my investigation of Orik.” He shook his head, a rueful smile on his lips. “Orik himself came forward to defend me after I agreed to let the investigation go. He 'found' evidence that my two former friends had lied, and they left Stridon, never to be seen or heard from again. My reputation remained intact, and Orik went on to be a highly successful governor.”
“Wow,” Kyle breathed.
“Wow is right,” Kalibar agreed. “So now you see what kind of man we're up against.”
“Isn't there something we can do?” Kyle pressed. Kalibar sighed.
“Orik beat me when I had the full power of a Grand Weaver,” he replied. “Now I'm just a citizen of the Empire, and he's even more influential now as a Councilman than he was as governor.” He shook his head. “There's no telling what lengths he might go to protect himself,” Kalibar added. “Trying to out him might put my friends and family at risk.”
“Like Erasmus,” Kyle reasoned. Kalibar nodded.
“Like Erasmus.”
Kyle stared at the tabletop before him, mulling it over. Then he sighed.
“So we just let him win?” he asked. Kalibar nodded.
“Yes.”
“But he's a murderer!” Kyle exclaimed. Kalibar shrugged.
“And he's a skilled public servant who's done a great deal for the Empire,” he countered. “You'd be surprised,” he added with a smirk, “...but most politicians aren't as concerned about morals and ethics as I am.”
"I still don't like it," Kyle grumbled.
"Neither do I," Kalibar agreed. "But I'm going to follow Orik's advice."
"What advice?" Kyle asked.
"He told me to run."
Chapter 9
The Behemoth stands near the ruins of the Great Tower, the city in flames around it. Dozens of airships zoom over the wreckage, laying waste to what remains of Stridon with barrage after barrage of bombs.
My god.
Ampir stares at the devastation, slowing his flight above the Great River. He looks down, seeing Vera turn her head to look at the carnage. She puts a hand to her mouth.
"Oh god," she cries. "Oh god!" Then she turns to Ampir. "Stop them," she orders. "You have to stop them!"
Ampir says nothing, scanning the remains of the city. The heart of the Empire has been crushed. There is no saving Stridon now.
"Stop them!" Vera yells, slamming a fist into his armored chest.
"It's over," Ampir retorts, his voice sharp and cold. Vera stares at him mutely, rage and disbelief in her eyes. He veers to the right, flying over the Great River, following its course now. "There's nothing left to save."
"You don't want to save the Empire," Vera retorts. "You wanted this to..."
"Shut up."
Vera stops, her mouth hanging open. Then she shuts it, turning away from him. Refusing to look at him. He feels the distance between them growing, and for a moment he doesn't care. Then he feels his son's arms tighten around him, hears the boy sobbing.
"I’m sorry Vera,” Ampir says, more softly now. “I've lost everything. My friends, our home. Dad," he adds. He sees Vera swallow. "I can't lose you."
Vera closes her eyes, taking a deep breath in. Then she turns toward him, putting a hand on his chest and resting the side of her face against him.
"I'm sorry," she says, almost too quietly to hear.
"I love you," he replies, pulling her up and kissing her on the forehead. She hesitates, then lifts her chin, kissing him on the lips.
"I love you too."
Then she grimaces, pulling away. Her face looks pale, fine beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. Ampir feels fear grip him.
"We need to get you to a surgeon," he says, accelerating as he flies low over the river. With the Tower gone, the nearest trauma center is nearly two hours' flight away.
Vera says nothing, gritting her teeth against the pain. She shivers, clutching her arms close to her chest.
Shit.
Ampir glances back at the Behemoth, then turns to gaze down the river. With his vision augmented by his visor, he spots a cliffside far in the distance, a mile or so from the main bridge leading to the city. He feels a sudden burst of inspiration.
Renval!
He aims for the cliffside, flying faster, the wind screaming in his ears. Renval had been his mentor, long ago. They'd invented a device nearly two decades ago, something that could teleport objects vast distances. It had only been a prototype the last time Ampir had seen it, but Renval had spent decades working on it since. He'd sent Ampir letters about his progress a few years ago...that he'd teleported himself hundreds of miles.
"Where are we going?" Vera asks. "Spero?"
"Too far away," Ampir replies. "I'm going to use Renval's device."
"The teleporter?"
"Yep."
"But that's near the evacuation tunnels," Vera protests. "We don't know if the tunnels collapsed when the Tower fell."
Ampir grimaces, realizing that she's right. Renval had built the device in a large underground chamber a quarter-mile from the Tower above.
"Renval warded the chamber," he counters. The room was heavily fortified with magical defenses...and powered by backup magic generators. "We have to try."
"Okay," Vera replies. She gives him a weak smile. "I trust you."
Ampir smiles back. He spots something in his peripheral vision, a ship zooming toward them hundreds of feet above. Dark shapes fly out of the sides of the ship, arcing downward toward them.
What the...
He magnifies the image with a thought, his visor zooming in on the dark shapes. They're men in black uniforms, surrounded by translucent blue shields.
"Shit," Ampir swears.
"What?" Vera asks, alarmed.
"Weavers," he answers. "They've spotted us."
"Well kill them."
Ampir grits his teeth, flying ever-faster over the Great River. The Weavers follow, gaining on them slowly. He knows Vera is right...he can kill them, and easily at that. But if these Weavers identify him, the enemy will know where he is...and that he’s still alive. Even if he kills the Weavers, more will come. The enemy won't stop until he's dead. And while they almost certainly won't be able to kill him, they will be able to slow him down.
He looks down at Vera, at the sweat pouring down her temples. At the rapid pulsing of the vessels in her neck. He feels his own pulse quicken, fear gripping his heart.
Time was of the essence...and hers was running out.
* * *
Kyle cried out, bolting upright in bed. He clutched his blanket to himself, his heart hammering in his chest.
Jesus!
He let go of his blanket, wiping the slick sweat from his forehead with one hand. He closed his eyes, then opened them, staring into the murky darkness of his room. Suddenly his bedroom door burst open, and the room was instantly flooded in bright light. Kyle cried out again, throwing up his hands to shield his eyes.
"Kyle!" he heard a voice shout. "Kyle, are you okay?"
It was Kalibar's voice, Kyle realized. He lowered his hands, squinting against the light. Indeed, it was Kalibar standing beside his bed, his eyes wide, a ball of white light floating above the old man's head.
"Are you alright?" Kalibar repeated, his voice tense.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Kyle answered sheepishly. "I just had a nightmare," he added. Kalibar visibly deflated.
"Hell boy, I thought you were being attacked!" he exclaimed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He ran a hand through his short white hair. "You scared the daylights out of me," he added. Kyle's cheeks flushed.
"Sorry," he mumbled. Kalibar's expression softened.
"Must've been a hell of a nightmare," he mused. He reached over, patting Kyle on the shoulder. "Come, tell me about it, and it will lose its power over you."
Kyle hesitated, staring at Kalibar. He'd never actually told anyone about his dreams...not in any detail. He'd told his mom and dad that he'd been having nightmares, and that was about it. But he remembered how Kalibar had listened – truly listened – to him when he'd recounted his harrowing adventure in the forest with the Ulfar. He remembered how good that had felt.
"Well..." he mumbled. Kalibar just sat there, giving Kyle an encouraging smile. Kyle sighed. "Okay," he said at last. And then he told Kalibar everything. Every nightmare, down to the last detail...except for the black-armored man's name. For whatever reason, he couldn't remember it. When he was done, he felt utterly drained...but also, somehow, better. Kalibar sat there for a long moment after Kyle was finished, staring off into space. Then, without warning, he stood, and started pacing back and forth before Kyle's bed.
"When did you start having these dreams?" he asked.
"Um, three weeks ago, maybe four now," Kyle replied.
"Fascinating," Kalibar murmured. He stopped pacing, staring at Kyle for a few uncomfortable moments. Then he sighed. "I want to hear more about your dreams later," he added. "I was hoping for a few more hours' sleep, but seeing as we're both up anyway, we should get going."
"Get going?" Kyle asked. "What do you mean?" Kalibar grimaced, running one hand through his short white hair. He had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and his beard was starting to grow in haphazardly.
"We need to leave," he answered. "Wash up and change into these clothes," he ordered, pointing to a neatly folded pile of clothes Jenkins had placed on his end-table. "Meet me in the living room in ten minutes."