Runic Revelation (The Runic Series Book 2)

by Clayton Wood

  “There's something I want to show you,” their pale captor said without turning, his tall, black-clad form contrasting brilliantly with the perfect whiteness of the Void crystals surrounding him. They followed him down the long platform, until the tunnel opened up into a dome-shaped room, the walls and ceiling made of more huge, glittering white crystals. The floor was a continuation of the metallic platform from the tunnel behind them; in the very center of the floor, a series of green crystals of various lengths jutted out at a forty-five-degree angle. The Dead Man walked up to the green crystals, putting a hand on one of them. They began to glow faintly, bathing the Dead Man in their sickly light. He turned to face Kyle.

  “You're cold,” he observed, watching as Kyle shivered in the icy air of the Void. Kyle nodded mutely, crossing his arms over his chest and stuffing his hands in his armpits. He cleared his throat.

  “Can I make a fire?” he asked. “To warm my hands.” The Dead Man nodded.

  “Of course.”

  Kyle concentrated, pulling magic from his mind's eye...and couldn't find any. He frowned, concentrating harder, and pulled a thread of magic from his brain, twisting it into the fire pattern. Then he threw it outward, and...

  It vanished.

  He opened his eyes, giving the Dead Man a bewildered look.

  “Now you can see,” the Dead Man stated, gesturing at the white crystals all around them. “The Void crystals absorb all magic. You can't weave in this room...no one can. As soon as the magic leaves you, the crystals absorb it. Even now, the Void is drawing out the magic from your mind and your bones. It is a perpetual vacuum...in another minute, there will be no more magic left within you...or within the earring you wear.”

  Kyle touched the yellow earring in his right earlobe, remembering how it had stopped working the last time he'd been in the Void. He glanced up at the green crystal in the Dead Man's forehead.

  “What about your crystal?” he asked.

  “An excellent question,” the Dead Man replied. Then he sighed. “You have such potential, Kyle. If only we'd been able to realize that potential together.” He gestured at his black cloak. “My cloak prevents my bones from losing magic,” he stated. Then he lifted his right hand, bringing his fingertips to the gemstone on his forehead. “And there is a Void crystal in the center of my shard, as small as a grain of sand. It ensures that a small amount of magic will remain within, so that I can live to recharge my shard here, at that terminal,” he added, gesturing toward the green crystals jutting up from the metallic floor. “It also pulls in magic from my surroundings, should my crystal become critically low on power.”

  “But isn't the magic being pulled from it right now?” Kyle pressed. The Dead Man nodded.

  “Very astute,” he replied. He turned his back to them, gesturing at the small chamber with one hand. “I came here to show you something.”

  The platform beneath them vibrated, then began to rise. The domed ceiling above opened like the petals of a flower, revealing an utter blackness above. They rose through that opening, ascending into utter darkness. Soon, the ceiling of the Void closed below them, forming the floor upon which the platform rested. Without warning, their ascent stopped.

  Kyle glanced about; the green crystals continued to glow, illuminating a large circle in the gray stone floor below. The Dead Man turned back to face them.

  “You're about to witness something only the Chosen are privileged enough to see,” he declared, his deep voice echoing in the blackness. “It is Xanos's will that you see it,” he added, resting his hand on the green crystals.

  A sudden burst of light exploded before Kyle's eyes, forcing him to squeeze them shut. He thrust his hands in front of his face, grimacing against the unexpected assault. Slowly his eyes adjusted, and he opened them, squinting in the bright light.

  His breath caught in his throat.

  The room they'd entered was massive...as big as an airplane hangar. All around them were row upon row of huge, metallic constructions, standing at least ten stories tall, and as wide around as a large building. Kyle stared at one of the monstrosities, gazing at the jet-black metal, trying to figure out what exactly it was. The thing stood on four huge limbs, that much was clear, but beyond that, Kyle could only guess. There were nine of the monstrous contraptions placed in neat rows of three in the chamber.

  Kyle glanced at Darius, who was looking around the room; the bodyguard seemed just as perplexed as Kyle.

  “Behold my sacred duty,” the Dead Man declared, spreading his arms out wide. “Xanos has tasked the Chosen with serving as His avatars, so that He may maintain His army beneath the earth.” He lowered his arms, his black eyes staring into Kyle's. “We work in the darkness, unknown and unseen, guiding and protecting humanity from its greatest enemy.”

  “What enemy?” Darius asked. The Dead Man smiled.

  “Itself.”

  Darius said nothing, staring at the metallic constructs filling the chamber.

  “Xanos guides humanity,” the Dead Man continued. “He will bring it back to the power and sophistication of the Ancients...and far beyond.”

  “Right,” Darius grumbled. The Dead Man smirked.

  “Men fear what they don't understand,” he lectured. “They react to their fear with violence. Old men resist change, clinging desperately to their way of life, and old men carry the power in this world. Change is always accepted by the next generation...after their elders grow old and die.”

  “Or are killed off,” Darius countered. The Dead Man sighed.

  “That was not the original intent,” he countered. “Had Orik followed orders, he would have become Grand Weaver, and instituted sweeping changes to magic education, governmental policy, and every other aspect of life. The renaissance of runic technology would have continued at an incredible pace, transforming the world, bettering the standard of living for poor and rich alike.”

  “So why all this?” Darius asked, gesturing around the chamber.

  “This army,” the Dead Man answered, “...was created to protect humanity.”

  “From what?” Darius pressed.

  “Only Xanos knows.”

  “Isn't that convenient,” Darius muttered. The Dead Man ignored the comment, lowering his eyes to the platform below.

  “You think us the enemy,” he stated. “But we far from it. Xanos wished for a peaceful transition to Orik's rule...but Orik failed Him. Failed me. That necessitated my intervention. Kalibar was a casualty to preserve the original plan...one casualty to prevent millions. He, of course, did not see it that way. He is, after all, one of the old men I spoke of earlier. Despite my explaining what I've just told you to him, he remained predictably defiant.”

  “So you tore out his eyes.”

  “He presented a danger to my daughters, and resisted his duties...at first,” the Dead Man explained. “I couldn't guard him twenty-four hours a day, not with my other responsibilities. And he was most certainly planning to escape, to warn the Empire. And now that very thing has occurred, despite my efforts to stop it...and Kalibar himself is leading the Empire toward a pointless war with us.” He shook his head. We offered a peaceful solution. You chose war.”

  “We're not the bad guys!” Kyle protested. “You killed Ariana's parents. You kidnapped us. You ordered me to set Darius on fire!”

  “Ah yes, Ariana,” the Dead Man replied calmly. “A gifted student...something we have too few of,” he added. “We didn't have any difficulty getting such students before the New Empire was formed...and it wasn't until Kalibar's first term as Emperor that the Secula Magna's monopoly on children with the gift became complete.” He shook his head sadly. “The only way to get access to a pool of students was to take them before the Secula Magna could...none would go willingly to us with the incentives the Empire gave parents for allowing their children to be enrolled. We had no choice.”

  “You're wrong,” Kyle retorted. “You can say whatever you want, but you're still evil!”

  “You're young
,” the Dead Man countered. “You don't understand that there's no such thing as 'good' and 'evil,' Kyle.” He turned to Darius then. “Don't you agree?”

  “It's you versus him,” the bodyguard replied, gesturing toward Kyle. “I'm on his side.”

  “Fair enough,” the Dead Man replied. “I see I'm not going to convince either of you.” He placed his hand back on one of the green crystals in the center of the platform. “Again, you force my hand.”

  The green crystals glowed brighter, and the crystal in the Dead Man's forehead flashed briefly. The Dead Man removed his hand from the depression in the green crystals, and they went dark.

  “Xanos is...” the Dead Man stated, “...curious about the deaths of His Chosen. No Weaver alive should be powerful enough to destroy any one of them, much less several. So you can imagine how eager Xanos is to discover the identity of the person responsible.”

  Kyle said nothing, swallowing in a dry throat.

  “I have been tasked with solving this mystery,” the Dead Man continued. “There is a pattern to their deaths. Only three people were present for the first killing, four for the second...mine, in fact. We believe that one of you three...Kalibar, Darius, or you, Kyle...is responsible.” He turned to Kyle, staring with those unblinking eyes.

  “You, Kyle, are very special indeed,” he stated. “And you are gifted, if inexperienced, in magic. While it is unlikely, it is still possible that you are the one.”

  “I'm not,” Kyle protested. The Dead Man ignored him, turning his glittering eyes on Darius.

  “You,” the Dead Man continued, “...I have consistently underestimated. No magic ability, yet you managed to kill many of my soldiers...and mastermind Kalibar's escape from the Arena. And despite being mortally wounded by one of the Chosen at the Tower, here you are, alive and well.”

  “You skipped my favorite part,” Darius replied with a smirk. The Dead Man's mouth twitched, and he reached one hand to the angry scar on his neck.

  “Indeed.”

  “We had some help,” Darius countered.

  “Ah yes, you must mean Kyle's ring,” the Dead Man replied. “A magical relic of enormous power, they say. A lost artifact from the Ancients.” He turned to Kyle. “When you wear it, it protects you from any serious harm...am I right?”

  Kyle nodded silently, feeling the blood drain from his face.

  “I can't help but notice that you're not wearing it now,” the Dead Man murmured. Then he sighed. “Not that it matters,” he continued. “Xanos has examined your ring. It does nothing you claim it does.” He turned his gaze back to Darius. “Kyle has been lying to you all along.”

  Darius turned to Kyle, staring at him silently. and Kyle lowered his gaze, shame coming over him. He had been lying to his friends all along...and they'd believed in him, in his ring's ability to protect them. They'd counted on it.

  “You knew it, didn't you,” the Dead Man murmured. Kyle said nothing, his eyes locked on the floor. The Dead Man turned to Darius. “Kyle's ring didn't heal you,” he stated. “It didn't defeat me, or the other Chosen.”

  Darius continued to stare at Kyle, his jawline rippling.

  “Which means that something else did,” the Dead Man continued. “Someone else.” He stepped forward, lifting Kyle's chin with one icy hand. Kyle stared up into those cold, dead eyes, his stomach twisting into knots. “Who?”

  Kyle said nothing.

  “Perhaps it was Kalibar,” the Dead Man murmured.

  “It wasn't,” Kyle blurted out, pulling away from the Dead Man's touch. “It wasn't him, I promise!”

  “And why should I believe you?” the Dead Man inquired. “You're a liar, Kyle.”

  Kyle glanced at Darius, realizing the bodyguard was still staring at him. He swallowed in a dry throat.

  “Yes, Kalibar could be the one we're looking for,” the Dead Man continued. “Especially considering how he – a blind man – managed to kill the highly skilled assassin we sent to his room.”

  “He's not,” Kyle insisted.

  “We'll see,” the Dead Man countered.

  “Wait, what does that mean?” Kyle asked, a chill running down his spine.

  “Kalibar will be tested,” the Dead Man answered. “As will you both,” he added, gesturing at Kyle and Darius.

  “Tested?” Kyle pressed. The Dead Man smiled, turning to Darius.

  “You decapitated me, Darius...based on Kyle's admission to the Council.”

  “Wait, how do you...?” Kyle began.

  “Xanos knows all,” the Dead Man interjected.

  “Not all, apparently,” Darius retorted. The Dead Man gazed at the bodyguard impassively.

  “Given that you beheaded me, and that, by all accounts, you beheaded the third Chosen...” he paused, placing one hand back on the shallow depression formed by the green crystals beside him. “I cannot rule out the possibility that you are the one Xanos is searching for.”

  “I saw my opportunity and took it,” Darius replied.

  “Indeed,” the Dead Man agreed. “That appears to be your talent.” The crystal on his forehead flashed bright green for a moment, then faded, the green crystals in the center of the platform responding with their own burst of green light. “I'm going to give you one more opportunity to use it,” the Dead Man stated.

  The underground chamber shuddered then, a loud, deep vibration resonating through the air, so powerful that Kyle felt it in his bones. There was a piercing shriek, and then one of the massive metallic structures near Kyle began to move. Kyle stepped backward, watching as metallic limbs slowly unfolded, a dome-like structure the size of his house back on Earth swinging upward between two massive pillars. The thing rose higher into the air as it unfolded, until the huge dome had swung all the way upright. Kyle made out two gargantuan feet, each four times his height, attached to massive jet-black legs that rose to meet at a torso over a hundred feet up. They supported a squat body and a huge, domed head that nearly touched the ceiling far above.

  Kyle stared up at the thing, his eyes widening. Sheer terror gripped him.

  A single, green, diamond-shaped eye gazed outward from the center of the domed head. A beam of light shot from the eye, forming a massive spotlight on one of the walls beyond. The beam narrowed, then swept down the wall, traveling across the floor until it locked onto Kyle and Darius.

  Kyle felt his legs turn to mush, and he fell onto his butt on the metal platform below, his heart hammering in his chest. He tried to scream, but nothing would come out.

  The Dead Man stared at Kyle impassively, removing his hand from the crystals beside him.

  “Behold,” he proclaimed, gesturing grandly upward, “...the destroyer of the Ancients.” He gazed upward at that massive domed head, at the diamond-shaped eye far above, his own green crystal glittering in its spotlight.

  “Behold the Behemoth!”

  Chapter 12

  The traitor walked slowly down the long hallway, his feet padding silently on the rug overlaying the gray granite floor below. He glided past door after door, making his way toward the end of the hallway.

  Second-to-last door on the left, he knew. He'd long ago memorized the maze-like passages of the Great Tower, having worked there for decades now. It had been highly successful, this charade. Mingling seamlessly with the elite of Stridon, coming in and out of the Great Tower with ease, an enemy in the perfect disguise...one that made him effectively invisible to everyone around him. And given his occupation, there were few places that were closed to him. He went everywhere without being questioned, allowed into every room without arousing suspicion. He found it fascinating, how people took him for granted. He imagined what it must be like, for those who lived their lives like this, toiling for those who thought themselves superior, doing so much for so little recognition.

  It was pathetic.

  The traitor reached the second-to-last door on the left, pausing before it. He closed his eyes, sending a pulse to the churning cauldron of magic in the center of his forehead
. A few seconds later, he felt his will, his very being forced into a corner of his mind. His limbs went rigid as he lost control of them, as he became a spectator in his own body. He remembered the first time he'd felt that sensation, so alien at the time. Now he witnessed impassively as his arms moved without his volition, as the great God took control. He felt Xanos's mind there inside of him, a fragment of the great one's consciousness. He could not sense the God's actual thoughts, but what he did feel was alien, and ancient.

  It was a privilege, to have such a mind within him...and to have been freed of the eternal prison of the Void.

  He watched as the door's magical locks and wards were dismantled, a process that would have taken the traitor days, but took Xanos seconds. And this from a divided consciousness; he shuddered to think of what Xanos could do if He were to apply His full will.

  The traitor felt Xanos leave him, felt his own mind regain control, his limbs once again his own. He pressed one palm against the door, silently pushing it open.

  The room beyond was blanketed in shadow, but he could see easily...another gift from Xanos. He could feel the wards all around the room, and knew at once that they had been neutralized by his Master.

  The traitor stepped into the room, allowing the door to close slowly behind him. He made it all the way to the other end of the room without making a single sound, stopping before a closed door. This too had been locked only moments before, he knew. Xanos had unlocked all doors, and neutralized all wards, in a matter of seconds.

  He felt a chill run through him, feeling like a lowly insect next to his God. And grateful that he had been granted such an important role in preserving His kingdom.

  The door opened under his touch.

  He passed silently through the doorway, guiding the door to a silent closing with one hand. Beyond, there was a bed pressed up against the back wall of the room, centered between two tall windows. No light passed through the windows. They were made of magical glass that, with a thought, could turn opaque, blocking all light from coming through.