by Clayton Wood
Kyle glanced down at the ring on his left thumb, realizing that he'd forgotten to leave it in his room that morning. He was supposed to leave it in his room's magical safe so that Erasmus's research team could study it during the day. Light glimmered off of the yellow crystal embedded on top. It had been Ampir's long ago, of that there was little doubt. So how had it ended up in Kyle's hands? He'd gotten the ring for his birthday...a lousy gift from his dad, or so he'd thought at the time. Sometimes he wished he'd never gotten it, never been taken from his family and friends back home. Then he remembered Kalibar, Ariana, and even Darius, and knew that he had to be thankful for having met them. They were the most extraordinary people Kyle had ever met, brave and loyal beyond measure.
“Kyle,” a kindly voice said from behind. Kyle turned about, and saw Master Owens standing behind the couch. The Weaver gestured to the empty seat on the couch beside Kyle. “May I sit?”
“Sure,” Kyle mumbled. Master Owens sat down, smoothing the wrinkles out of his black robes. He hesitated for a moment.
“Kyle, I've been thinking,” he stated, his tone suddenly solemn. Kyle felt a creeping dread twist his guts. When an adult mentioned that they'd been thinking, it was almost always about something bad.
“What?” Kyle asked.
“Well...to be blunt, I've been thinking that perhaps Weaving isn't the best fit for you.”
Kyle's mouth fell open. He sat there in stunned silence, waiting for Master Owens to laugh, to say he was just kidding. But Owens just sighed.
“I've been talking it over with Grand Weaver Kalibar,” he continued. “We both agree on this,” he added. Kyle shook his head, righteous indignation rising up in his breast.
“What do you mean?” he protested. “I'm good at weaving,” he added hotly. “I learned the patterns a lot faster than Ariana,” he added. “If anything, she should be the one...”
“Stop,” Master Owens ordered, his tone ice-cold. Kyle's jaw snapped shut, and he felt his cheeks turning hot with anger and shame. “I will not have you disparaging your friend,” Master Owens added, his tone uncharacteristically harsh. “You're better than that, Kyle,” he admonished. Kyle felt sudden, hot tears well up in his eyes, and he turned away in shame.
“I just don't understand,” he protested, shaking his head, then wiping the tears away with one sleeve. “I thought I was doing so well,” he added. He felt Master Owen's hand on his shoulder.
“You are doing well,” his teacher replied gently. “Incredibly so.”
“Then why...?” he asked. Master Owens patted Kyle on the knee
“Your ability to memorize patterns is remarkable,” he explained. “I've never met someone that had such a knack for learning them. But you...” he paused then, an apologetic look on his face.
“I what?” Kyle pressed, his dread returning. Master Owens sighed.
“Well, you're just not as strong at applying those patterns on the fly,” he replied. Kyle's eyebrows knit together, and he opened his mouth to defend himself, but Master Owens stopped him with one hand. “You are better than Ariana at learning patterns,” he conceded. “But you can't deny that, once she's learned them, she's better at thinking on her feet...using her patterns strategically, in real time,” he added. Kyle said nothing, lowering his gaze to his knees. Now it was his turn to smooth the wrinkles out of his pants, running his fingers over the coarse black fabric. He couldn't deny what Master Owens was saying; after all, he'd had the very same thought earlier that day. How often had Ariana burst into action during their last adventure, acting decisively while Kyle had frozen? Heck, everyone had been braver and more decisive than him. He'd just tagged along, a nobody surrounded by heroes. He'd hoped that becoming a Weaver would change that.
“So you're saying I can't learn magic?” Kyle asked. Master Owens chuckled.
“No, nothing as bad as that,” he countered. “In fact, I think you've got an amazing career ahead of you,” he added. “One that might be more suited to your strengths.” Kyle felt his hopes rise.
“As what?” he asked. Master Owens smiled.
“As a Runic.”
“A Runic?” Kyle almost spat. Master Owens chuckled again.
“Now, now,” he said, patting Kyle on the shoulder. “You make it sound like it's a bad thing.”
“It is,” Kyle countered, pulling his shoulder away. “Runics are boring,” he added vehemently. It was true; all of the Weaver students said it. Runics were all loners, hunchbacked nerds wasting their lives making little trinkets for other people to use. Weavers, on the other hand, led exciting lives, filled with action and adventure. While Runics stayed safely behind enemy lines making swords sharper and armor stronger, Weavers led the way, flying through the air and blasting enemies left and right. “All they do is draw runes all day,” Kyle complained, “...while Weavers go out to battle and get all the glory.”
“You should ask Grand Weaver Kalibar who saved him from dying in battle a dozen times over,” Master Owens retorted gently. “Or did you think he did everything himself?”
“He did,” Kyle shot back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Kalibar was, after all, the greatest Battle-Weaver the Empire had ever produced.
“He most certainly did not,” Master Owens countered. “Now, I'll admit that he certainly held his own later in life...and that now there are few who could stand against him – with or without runics. But in his earlier days, Kalibar was every bit as dependent on his Runic as any other Battle-Weaver...or soldier, or citizen of the Empire.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ask Grand Runic Erasmus,” Master Owens replied. “He's the one who made Kalibar's weaving glasses, his warding staff, the wards for his carriages, the rings he always wears on his fingers, that crisp black uniform with those rows of runic medals...need I go on?”
“Oh,” Kyle replied, grudgingly realizing that Master Owens was right. Kalibar had accumulated a vast collection of runic items, all of which he'd used to make himself a more effective Weaver. And of course, as a Weaver, Kalibar couldn't have made any of it himself.
“The dawn breaks,” Master Owens said with a grin. “By the way, those 'boring' old Runics built everything you see around you,” he added, gesturing up at the upside-down lobby above their heads. “This Tower was entirely built by Runics,” he explained. “The levitating carriages on the streets? All made by Runics. Every sword, every scrap of armor each of our soldiers and guards wear?”
“Made by Runics,” Kyle answered. “I get it,” he added glumly.
“The point is that, well, you're really good with patterns.” Master Owens stated. “Memorizing them, understanding them, understanding how one pattern can affect another...these are your strengths. Not to mention your unheard-of ability to produce magic. These are the talents of someone who is better suited to learn the art of rune-linking.”
“Rune-linking?” Kyle asked. He'd never heard of the term.
“Linking sensor and effector runes together in novel ways,” Master Owens explained. “It's a process that requires a great deal of creativity, Kyle...and frankly, it can be a lot of fun.”
“Uh huh.”
“Talk to Grand Runic Erasmus later today,” Master Owens urged, patting Kyle on the knee. “I think he'll be able to ease your mind about all of this.”
With that, Master Owens stood up, turning to give Kyle one last smile, then walking away. Kyle sat there on the couch, staring at the floor in front of him. Not cut out to be a Weaver! He suddenly wanted to cry. On Earth, he'd never been particularly good at anything. An average student, and the second-shortest kid in his grade, he'd hardly stood out. Then he'd come here, and learned that he had enormous magical potential – even greater than that of the mighty Kalibar, at least when he'd been a kid – and now, after weeks of dreaming of becoming an all-powerful Weaver blasting his way through his enemies with unfettered ease...
Kyle sighed. He should've known that it was too good to be true. He'd failed...and now he was being
shipped off to tinkering school. He would never have a chance to be a hero like Kalibar.
“Hey,” a voice called out. Kyle snapped out of his morbid thoughts, watching as Ariana sat down next to him, her slender frame sinking into the plush white fabric of the couch. She was scowling, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Hey,” Kyle mumbled back. Then he sighed. “I'm sorry for...”
“Forget about it,” Ariana interjected, shaking her head. “It's not your fault. I'm just frustrated, that's all.”
Kyle couldn't help but smile. Ariana talked – and acted – like a grown-up, even though she was only a year or so older than Kyle. She was quick to forgive and forget, much like himself. As such, they didn't argue much...and when they did, they didn't fight for long.
“What's wrong?” Kyle asked. Ariana's scowl softened, then disappeared.
“Master Owens told me,” she confessed.
“Oh,” Kyle mumbled, his cheeks flushing. He felt Ariana's warm hand on his shoulder.
“I told him he was wrong, you know,” she added. “You're really good at magic, Kyle...really good. You're just...” She trailed off then, grimacing slightly. Kyle frowned.
“Just what?”
“Well, you're unsure of yourself,” Ariana answered. Kyle immediately felt the heat return to his cheeks, and he turned away abruptly. Ariana was right, and he knew it.
“Master Owens says I can't think on my feet,” Kyle blurted out. “I'm slow,” he added bitterly.
“Only with some things,” Ariana replied with a twinkle in her eyes, shoving Kyle's shoulder playfully. Kyle blinked, wondering what the heck that meant. “Besides,” she added, “...the Dead Man thought you'd make a great Weaver...and he was a teacher for a lot longer than Master Owens.”
Kyle had to smile at that. It was true, after all; the Dead Man, for all of his extraordinary faults, had been the most skilled teacher he'd ever learned from. And at the same time, the most unpleasant. But Ariana's point held; the Dead Man had seen something in him that maybe, just maybe, Master Owens had missed.
But the Dead Man, of course, was dead.
“It doesn't matter,” he replied dejectedly. “Master Owens says I'm better off being a Runic, so that's what I'm going to be.” Ariana grinned wickedly.
“A lowly tinkerer,” she mocked, parroting the typical insults Weaver students lobbed at their Runic counterparts. “Staying at home with the women while the men go off to war!” Kyle scowled.
“You mean while you go off to war,” he grumbled. Ariana laughed.
“You know, staying home with the women doesn't have to be so bad,” she teased. “You might even like it!”
“Whatever,” Kyle shot back. But his cheeks flushed yet again, making Ariana laugh even harder. Oh, how he hated his body!
“I'm just kidding Kyle,” Ariana said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You know I'd take you with me,” she added, a smile playing at her lips.
“Oh yeah?” he replied warily. Ariana nodded, trying desperately to keep a straight face – and failing.
“I'll need someone to fix my stuff if it gets broken,” she blurted out, then burst out into laughter again.
“Oh, go drown yourself,” Kyle grumbled back. Ariana kept laughing, her face turning pink, tears rolling down her eyes. At length she stopped, rubbing her moist cheeks with the back of her hand.
“Oh come on,” she said. “You know, I think being a Runic could be really cool,” she added. Kyle scowled. “No, I'm serious,” she insisted. “You'll get to create anything your mind can come up with...anything at all. Think about how amazing that could be! Maybe you'll make those flying machines you were telling me about.” Kyle had told Ariana about airplanes yesterday, when she'd asked, as she did every night, about Earth. She never tired of the stories he told about his home world, of guns and computers, of television and cars. It was all as magical to her as...well, as magic was to him.
“Thanks,” Kyle mumbled, “...but I never really saw myself sitting in some room, spending all day carving runes and charging gems.”
“Just give it a chance,” Ariana urged. “For me,” she added sweetly. Kyle glanced up at Ariana, at her big brown eyes, strands of brown hair having fallen fetchingly over her face. He felt his anger and shame melt away...as it always did when he was around her. Ariana made everything better, just by existing; she had a special magic all her own.
“Okay,” he agreed. He gave a grudging smile. “Thanks,” he added. Ariana smiled back, standing up from the couch suddenly.
“Anytime,” she replied. “I have to go again,” she added, “...but I'll be back later.”
“Where are you going?”
“Master Owens wanted to finish teaching me those patterns you already memorized,” she answered with a wink. “Don't worry,” she added, “I'll catch up to you eventually!” With that, she bolted, running across the lobby toward the double-doors in the distance. Kyle smiled again, shaking his head. Then he felt a pang of guilt. While he had been bad-mouthing Ariana's skills to Master Owens, she had done nothing but support him. What a terrible friend he was! He grit his teeth, vowing to do better by her in the future.
Suddenly a horrendously loud screeching sound echoed throughout the lobby. Kyle heard shouting, and spotted a group of black-armored guards running into the Tower through the lobby's double-doors. The men rushed past Kyle, vanishing down one of the hallways beyond the lobby. Kyle stood up, noticing that everyone else in the lobby was doing the same, staring nervously down the hallway the guards had sprinted down. Kyle heard footsteps behind him, and felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He turned about, seeing a man in black armor – a member of the elite guard – standing behind him. The guard pulled him close, the runes on the man's armor flashing blue. Two more elite guards flanked Kyle, their armor activating similarly.
“What's going on?” Kyle asked, his voice rising with alarm.
“There's been an assassination attempt,” one of the guards answered tersely. Kyle frowned.
“On who?” he pressed, fighting back a sudden wave of panic.
“Grand Weaver Kalibar,” the guard replied.
Chapter 2
The screeching alarm continued to sound throughout the Tower, so loud that Kyle had to cover his ears with his hands. It was an all-too-familiar sound...he'd heard it when Rivin and Bartholos were murdered over a week ago.
Kalibar!
Kyle had tried unsuccessfully to bolt from the guards surrounding him, wanting nothing more than to run all the way up to Kalibar's suite. He'd asked his guards whether or not Kalibar had been killed, but no one knew the answer. The Grand Weaver had powerful wards to protect him, but with a being as powerful as Xanos...
Kyle stood there helplessly, his heart thumping in his chest. He squirmed under the elite guard's grasp, fearing the worst.
“Kyle!”
Kyle turned to find Ariana running up behind him, a duo of elite guards sprinting after her. She stopped beside him.
“What's going on?” she asked.
“Someone tried to kill Kalibar,” he answered, his voice trembling. Ariana's eyes widened, and her hand went to her mouth.
“Is he okay?” she pressed. Kyle said nothing, afraid his voice might crack. Ariana shook Kyle's shoulders. “Come on!” she urged, pulling him toward one of the hallways beyond the lobby. One of the elite guards put a hand out, blocking their path.
“You have to stay here,” the man declared. “We're still sweeping the Tower for enemies.”
“Kyle's ring is the only thing that can save Kalibar,” she retorted, pointing to the ring on Kyle's thumb. Kyle frowned; everyone thought that his ring was an enormously powerful runic, a magical device that protected him from any source of harm...and killed anyone who tried to hurt him. In reality, it had been Ampir himself who had protected Kyle; the ring was just a glorified transmitter. No one else knew that Ampir was still alive...and that's apparently how the man wanted it to stay.
“I don't know,” h
e mumbled. But Ariana would not be denied.
“Remember Darius?” she retorted. Kyle saw the guards waver at that. Darius had been mortally wounded by Xanos, a sword driven through his chest...until he'd been saved by Kyle's ring. Or rather, by Ampir. The guards knew about that, too...and they were likely thinking that if Kalibar had been mortally wounded, then perhaps Kyle's ring could bring him back.
“All right,” the guard grumbled. The guards led the way, striding quickly down one of the hallways off of the main lobby. Kyle and Ariana followed, making their way down the wide corridor, which ended with a large, circular platform – the riser. Within seconds of standing on it, the riser began to ascend, catapulting them straight upward with gut-twisting speed. There were no elevator doors to block the view as they sped forty-two floors upward; luckily, gravity fields prevented anyone from stepping off of the platform while it was moving.
The riser came to a halt, the guards leading Kyle and Ariana down a narrow hallway toward Kalibar's chambers. Kalibar spent most of his time there, for two reasons. One, it was the most secure room in the Tower – and perhaps in the Empire. Two, he still had a hard time getting around with his blindness. Without his sight, he was not the warrior he'd once been. If the assassin had somehow managed to get past Kalibar's wards...
They halted at Kalibar's door, and one of the guards pounded on it. Within seconds, the door began transparent, another elite guard peering at them from the other side.
“We have Kyle,” the first guard stated, stepping aside so that Kyle was visible. “And his ring,” he added. The other guard glanced at Kyle, then turned about, the door becoming opaque once again. A few moments later, the door swung inward, revealing the guard standing beyond.
“Come in,” he said, ushering Kyle through. Ariana pushed past as well. Their guards, however, were blocked from coming in, the magical door swinging shut as soon as Ariana had passed.
“Where's Kalibar?” Ariana asked, rushing into the massive suite. Massive glass walls towered over their heads, tapering to a pyramid-shaped peak far above their heads. A dozen black-armored elite guards stood in several clusters around the room. A short, balding man with an impressive white beard draped over his equally impressive belly stood in the center of the room, conversing with one of the guards. The man turned his blue eyes toward Kyle and Ariana as they entered, his bushy eyebrows rising slightly.