by Clayton Wood
But despite the extraordinary risk they'd taken by having the creature brought in – the risk to the hunters who'd gone out to find it, not to mention the personal danger to Kalibar and Erasmus themselves – everything had gone smoothly. With the specimen secured, the first round of testing had gone remarkably well. A few dozen rune fragments had lit up, and Erasmus was busily combining the fragments to form complete runes.
During the majority of this, Kalibar had found himself to be mostly useless. Erasmus was far more creative and skilled in developing the sensory array, and Kalibar had left to attend to the running of the Empire. As expected, Councilman Ibicus had been sworn in as Elder, and the opposition had chosen a new Runic to replace Jax that was not particularly fond of either Kalibar or Erasmus. The power of the Council had shifted in Councilman Goran's favor 7-5, with Ibicus as a tiebreaker.
Not that a tie vote was very likely any longer.
Kalibar sighed again. He couldn't help but hold a grudging respect for Xanos, whoever or whatever the man was. Despite possessing extraordinary power, Xanos had effectively neutered the highest levels of the government in the Empire in a matter of days, without a single battle being fought. Kalibar had expected an epic battle with a massive army, a show of overwhelming force; instead, the self-proclaimed god had shown himself a superior tactician.
It was all exceedingly depressing.
He glanced at a timekeeper hanging on the wall by his bed; it was a few minutes before midnight. Erasmus had promised to meet Kalibar here at midnight, to give an update on his progress. Sure enough, there was a knock on the front door to his suite. Kalibar stood up quickly, walking to the door to answer it. But when he opened the door, it wasn't Erasmus standing on the other side...it was Councilman Ibicus.
“Grand Weaver,” Ibicus greeted, bowing slightly. Kalibar recovered quickly from his surprise, gesturing for the Councilman to come in.
“Councilman Ibicus,” he replied. “Come in.” He walked Ibicus to a pair of couches facing each other, sitting down opposite the Councilman. “And please, call me Kalibar in private,” he insisted.
“Thank you,” Ibicus replied. “I apologize for visiting so late, but I admit to having a hard time sleeping,” he added. “We both know that my appointment has changed the dynamic of the Council.”
“We're hamstrung,” Kalibar stated bluntly. Ibicus grimaced.
“Not quite the way I would have phrased it, but yes, I suppose so.”
“You know so,” Kalibar corrected. Ibicus frowned, but Kalibar smiled. “I don't enjoy the artifice of politics, Ibicus,” he stated gently. “We've never seen eye to eye, and we each have different views on how to take the Empire forward. I do believe, however, that we both want the same thing...what we feel is best for the Empire.”
Ibicus paused for a moment, then nodded. “Agreed,” he replied. “That's why I came tonight. And while we're being honest with each other,” he added, “...I've always felt that your decision to go to war with our neighbors, instead of attempting a more diplomatic solution, was immoral.”
“I still lose sleep over that decision,” Kalibar admitted. “I often wish I were a less introspective man.”
“So you didn't come by it easily?” Ibicus pressed. Kalibar shook his head.
“I've seen what war does,” Kalibar stated. “It's a tragedy for everyone involved. I knew that declaring war with the remaining tribes would create horrors that would echo through generations. But I did not declare war without provocation, and I weighed the consequences of war against my vision of a lasting peace for the Empire.”
“A lot of people disagreed with you,” Ibicus countered. “Populists and Elitists both. Goran, myself, even Jax fought you on that,” he added. “I don't know how or why Jax made peace with you, but he did.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose that's why I couldn't sleep tonight,” he added. “Jax started off like me – he was one of your bitterest opponents – and yet somehow he became a staunch ally. As his successor, I feel like I owe it to him to find out why.”
Kalibar frowned, lowering his gaze for a long moment, then looking back up at Ibicus.
“I respect your candor, and your temperance,” he stated. “But Jax never gave me a reason for his support. I can only guess as to his motives.” And that, Kalibar knew, was true; the late Councilman had been sparse with his words, telling more with his actions, much like Darius. Kalibar regretted not having more conversations with the Elder Councilman.
“And what would be your guess?” Ibicus pressed. Kalibar shrugged.
“I told Jax that in conquering our neighbors, I would be preventing countless future wars...by taking nations that had been warring with each other for centuries and making them one people. But I don't think that was what swayed him. I simply think Jax knew that I was genuine,” he continued. “That I was thoughtful, and considerate of the impact of my decisions. I do think he disagreed with me – and Erasmus – on many things, but he never took our disagreements personally. And when we disagreed, we talked through it until we understood each other.”
“Until you convinced him?” Ibicus asked. Kalibar snorted.
“Hardly. Just until we knew where each other stood. We never had to guess, or assume the worst about each other. We spoke our minds, kept it professional, and went from there.”
“I see,” Ibicus stated. He regarded Kalibar for a long, silent moment, then nodded slightly. “I hope that we can have a similar relationship, Grand Weaver.”
“Kalibar,” Kalibar corrected. Ibicus smiled.
“Kalibar.”
“I don't expect you to change your opinions – or your vote – to maintain our relationship,” Kalibar said.
“I had no intention of doing so,” Ibicus replied with a wry smile. Then he stood up, and Kalibar stood with him. Ibicus reached out with his right hand, and Kalibar clasped it in his own.
“Good night, Ibicus,” he said. Then he smiled. “I'm glad you came.”
“Good night, Kalibar.”
“I think,” Kalibar ventured, “...that Erasmus would appreciate a visit like this.” Ibicus winked.
“Already done,” he replied. Then he turned and left the room, leaving Kalibar standing by the couch, staring at his translucent door long after the man was gone. After everything that had happened between them, he'd never expected Ibicus to extend him an olive branch.
Kalibar couldn't help but think that if he had been a better Grand Weaver, he would have done it first.
Chapter 17
Kyle stood beside Darius on the yellowed stone of the open pit mine, a strong breeze whipping through his hair. All that remained of the Behemoth was the massive impression it had left in the ground after it had fallen, a pit nearly three feet deep in the shattered rock. Kyle stared at Darius, clad in Ampir's armor, his mirrored visor reflecting a panorama of the landscape before them.
“We're going to your home?” Kyle asked. Darius nodded, the runes on his armor no longer glowing their customary blue. Kyle thought the legendary armor looked strange without that constant, pulsing glow. “Where's that?” he pressed.
“It's complicated,” Darius answered. “Come on,” he added, gesturing for Kyle to step closer. Kyle did so, and Darius wrapped a cold, metallic arm about his shoulders. “Don't move,” he ordered.
Suddenly there was a flash of brilliant blue light, followed by a vibration deep within Kyle's mind, building in intensity until it was so powerful that he felt his brain would explode. He cried out, clutching his head with his hands, trying to keep his skull from flying apart. He felt something squeeze his shoulders, and he opened his eyes, seeing Darius looking down at him, the runes on his armor glowing so brightly that Kyle's eyes ached. The bodyguard glanced upward, and Kyle followed his gaze, his eyes widening.
The sky above their heads rippled like waves from a rock thrown into a pond, then split open, an expanse of infinite black growing from the tear. The void grew ever larger, chewing through the bright blue sky and
fluffy clouds. At the same time, tiny points of light flashed against the darkness, then streaked outward in all directions from the center of the void, until they expanded and coalesced into a single, blinding white light. Kyle shielded his eyes with one hand, squinting against the glare, then saw a bright gold disc appear in the center of it all. The disc grew downward and outward, forming a dome some twenty feet above their heads. Still it grew, blotting out the bright white light that had come before it, until it surrounded them on all sides. The open pit mine, the forest – they were gone, replaced by walls of gold.
Then Kyle felt a shift, and there was darkness.
* * *
The pain was sudden, and agonizing.
There was an unbelievable pressure in Kyle's chest, as if someone had stepped on it, pain lancing through his chest and back, then shooting up his neck. He tried to yell out, but no sound escaped his lips. He opened his eyes wide, but he could not see; the world was bathed in blackness. His hearing went next, followed by a loud, high-pitched ringing. He clutched his chest, feeling his legs threaten to give out on him.
And then it all stopped.
Kyle's senses returned, the pain in his chest vanishing instantly. He stumbled to one side, his legs still wobbly, but Darius caught him with one black-clad arm. Kyle righted himself, then looked around, his eyes widening.
They were standing in a circular room some twenty feet in diameter. Above their heads was a large dome made of hundreds of thick, golden metal bars arching upward toward a brightly glowing disk above, in the center of the dome. The bars were set back against equally glowing walls with countless runes etched into them, each rune glowing a soft blue. As Kyle watched, the runes began to fade, until their light went out altogether. The disc above continued to glow bright white, illuminating the room.
Looking down, Kyle saw another glowing disk at his feet, as large as the one above, surrounded by a jet-black metallic floor. The runes between the metal bars of the ceiling continued on the floor, forming hundreds of lines of runes radiating from the disc on the floor, like the rays of a dying blue sun.
“Whoa,” Kyle breathed, feeling goosebumps rise on his arms.
Darius said nothing, letting go of Kyle and stepping off of the glowing disc on the floor, toward the wall in the distance. Kyle hesitated, then hurried to catch up with the man.
“Where are we?” Kyle asked as he reached Darius's side.
“The Gateway,” he answered. “This room is a gateway to the outside world, the only way in – or out – of my home.”
Kyle glanced back at the glowing disk in the center of the floor, marveling at how futuristic the room looked. It was very unlike the architecture of the Tower, which was rather old-fashioned with its granite floors and ornate trappings. The Gateway, Kyle decided, looked more like something out of a science fiction movie.
“Did you build this?” Kyle asked. Darius nodded, walking up to the wall, which was simply a continuation of the ceiling, made of the same alternating golden bars and inset strips of carved runes. Darius's armor lit up suddenly, runes on his right forearm glowing bright blue for a moment before fading quickly. A curved section of the wall in front of them rippled, a hole appearing in the center. The hole widened quickly, revealing a long, curved corridor beyond. Darius stepped through the hole into the corridor, gesturing for Kyle to follow. Kyle hesitated, then stepped forward until he'd cleared the hole. There was a sudden rush of air at his back, and he turned about, seeing...a long hallway behind him.
“What the...” he blurted. “Where did the room go?”
Darius said nothing, putting a hand on Kyle's shoulder and pushing him forward. Kyle began walking down the long hallway, Darius at his side. The walls and floor were nearly identical to those of the Gateway, but instead of a glowing disk above their heads, a long glowing strip ran down the length of the ceiling. As they made their forward, Kyle realized that the floor angled upward slightly, curving gently to the right. There were a few large glass windows on either side, and Kyle stopped at one of the windows on his left, peering through the glass. He saw a large room beyond, with big, squat tables. The tables were littered with countless metallic contraptions, most of which were unrecognizable. A few, however, looked rather familiar.
“Are those guns?” Kyle asked, pointing at a few black, gun-shaped objects lying on one table. They looked vaguely like long, black rifles, only they were covered in glowing runes.
“Something like that,” Darius replied.
Kyle peered more closely at the room beyond, noting what appeared to be black suits of armor hanging on the walls. They looked suspiciously similar to Darius's – or rather, Ampir's – armor.
“Are those...?”
“Come on,” Darius grumbled, pulling Kyle away from the window and back down the hallway. Kyle frowned, but didn't resist, knowing that with Darius resistance was futile. They made their way ever upward and rightward, traveling in a loose spiral.
“Where are we going?” Kyle pressed. But Darius said nothing. Kyle sighed, following the taciturn warrior. They passed more windows, but with Darius's quick pace, Kyle only had a moment to glance through them. To the left, there were more rooms, also with tables strewn with strange contraptions. To the right, however, there was an expanse of pure yellow-green. Kyle slowed, peering out of the window, trying to figure out what exactly he was looking at.
“Come on,” Darius prompted, pulling Kyle away from the window. Onward they went. Kyle pushed down a rising annoyance, unable to help feeling slighted by the man's silence. He rubbed his chest, remembering the pain and crushing pressure he'd felt when traveling from the pit mine to...wherever this was. Not to mention the blindness; the experience had been terrifying, even if brief.
“What was that feeling when we came to the Gateway?” Kyle asked. “It really hurt, and I couldn't see.”
“Traveling between times,” Darius answered. Kyle's eyebrows raised.
“Wait, we just did time travel?”
“No,” Darius replied. “Time travels faster here than it does in Doma.”
“Doma?”
“The planet we just came from,” Darius clarified.
“So it is another planet,” Kyle stated. “How far away from Earth is Doma?” Darius shrugged, which made Kyle's brown furrow. “Wait, how can't you know?” he asked. “You traveled there to get me, didn't you?”
“I just followed the signal from my ring,” Darius explained.
“Your ring?” Kyle asked. Then he remembered who he was talking to; he was so used to thinking of Darius as...well, Darius...that he'd forgotten he was also speaking to Ampir. And of course Kyle's ring was really Ampir's ring. Ampir had sent the ring with his only son to Earth over two thousand years ago...and it had somehow gotten into Kyle's father's possession.
“How did my dad get your ring?” Kyle pressed. That had confused him ever since he'd learned the ring had been Ampir's. It had been over two thousand years since Ampir's son had been sent to Earth, after all. A hundred generations had passed since then.
Darius continued to lead Kyle further up the curved hallway, not answering the question. Kyle sighed, trudging forward. To his dismay, it seemed that, other than his armor and his extraordinary power, Ampir was exactly like Darius...a jerk.
Another set of windows – one on the left, one on the right, appeared ahead. Kyle glanced out of the rightward window as he passed by, seeing another expanse of yellow-green. He heard Darius stop, but this time the man didn't tell Kyle to keep moving. Kyle stared into the endless greenness for a long moment, then turned to Darius.
“What's in there?” he asked.
“Milarite,” Darius answered. Kyle frowned.
“Milarite?” he pressed. “What's that?” But Darius didn't elaborate, turning away from Kyle and continuing forward down the seemingly endlessly curving hallway. Kyle sighed, giving one last glance out of the window, then joining Darius. Upward and onward they went, passing yet more windows on either side. The rightward one
s always showed the same expanse of yellow-green, while the left held various rooms, among other things. One window appeared to be an aquarium, with tiny silver fish darting about randomly in the blue water. Kyle paused before the tank, staring at the fish; most were of the same type, with streamlined silver bodies, far smaller than a goldfish. Their bodies were so small that they were translucent, and they glowed the faintest blue at the edges. For the most part they just floated in the water motionlessly. But from time to time, one would dart through the water so quickly that if he blinked, he'd miss it.
Kyle sighed, thinking of his grandfather – on his mother's side, of course. He was an avid fisherman, having learned the trade in Vietnam before coming to the states to save his family from the Communists. Kyle suddenly wished his grandfather were here now, so that he could see this. Or at least that he had a camera to record his adventures. As it was, he had nothing to show for the last few weeks, no proof that anything he'd seen or experienced had been real. If he ever got home – to his real home, on Earth – no one would ever believe his wild stories.
“They're extinct on Doma,” Darius explained, nodding at the fish. “I preserve them.”
“Why?”
“I owe them.”
“Huh?” Kyle asked, perplexed. Darius stared at the fish tank for a moment, then turned back to Kyle.
“I learned more in a few weeks from those fish than others have learned in a lifetime.”
“From their magic patterns, right?” Kyle guessed. “That's what I was telling Master Banar,” Kyle added, recalling his idea for the sensory rune array. Then he sobered, remembering what had happened to the poor Runic. Darius must have noticed Kyle's somber expression, slipping a hand off of the window and placing it on Kyle's shoulder.
“By the time I'd found you, he was already dead,” he apologized. “Even I can't bring people back to life.”
Kyle nodded silently, feeling suddenly choked up. He closed his eyes for a moment, a vision of the Dead Man standing over Master Banar's corpse burned into his mind's eye. Then he opened his eyes, looking up at Darius questioningly.