by Clayton Wood
“Why didn't you just kill the Dead Man right away?” he asked. “Why let him capture us like that? You're so powerful, you could have destroyed the Dead Man – or anyone else that threatened you – without even trying!” And it was true, Kyle knew. Even in Ancient times, Ampir had been formidably powerful, leaps and bounds above the skills of his peers. Weavers today were nowhere near as sophisticated or powerful as they were back then...and Ampir had had two thousand years to build his power. The man was a veritable ocean of magic, when he chose to reveal it.
“You tell me,” Darius replied.
“How would I know?” Kyle protested. Darius nodded.
“Right,” he agreed. “You're useless.”
Kyle blinked, then glared at the man.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“What'd you do when Kalibar's carriage was attacked?” Darius asked.
Kyle frowned, recalling the harrowing attack. He'd nearly been killed...would have been killed if Darius hadn't saved him.
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
“What did you do when the Dead Man's soldiers attacked us?”
“Nothing.”
“When the Dire Lurker attacked?”
Kyle glared at Darius, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Fine, I get it.”
“When the Ulfar attacked you?” Darius pressed.
“I blinded Mr. Tenson,” Kyle countered rather indignantly. “And I grabbed Ariana before she fell from the Tower!”
“Yup,” Darius agreed. “And then you dropped her.”
“I used your damn amulet so you could stab Xanos, didn't I?”
“Took you long enough,” Darius shot back. Kyle just stared at the man, his face burning with anger and shame.
“Fine, I'm useless,” he spat. “Why even bother with me?” Darius smirked, putting a hand on Kyle's shoulder.
“You're getting better.”
“Gee, thanks,” Kyle mumbled. But Darius turned away from the window, walking down the hallway once again. Kyle stared at the man's retreating back. “You didn't even answer my original question!” he protested.
“Did too.”
“You didn't kill the Dead Man right away because I'm useless?” Kyle pressed. “How is that an answer?”
“Were useless.”
Kyle gave up, trudging after Darius dejectedly. When the man didn't want to answer a question, there was no forcing him. But the thought that Darius had let himself and Kyle be captured by the Dead Man, then faked his own death back at the Tower...and with the Behemoth...it just didn't make any sense. In fact, now that he thought about it, it seemed incredibly – and unnecessarily – cruel.
“I thought you'd died back there,” Kyle protested. “Why'd you scare me like that?”
“You don't truly appreciate what you have until you lose it.”
“So you wanted me to appreciate you?” Kyle asked, unable to help smiling at the thought of the dour bodyguard craving some attention.
“The people you love can be taken from you if you don't fight back,” Darius replied.
Kyle sighed, following behind Darius, staring at the man's armored back. The countless runes adorning the armor, pulsing a faint blue in constant, random patterns, reminded Kyle a bit of the Dead Man's eternally rippling cloak. Even in death, the Dead Man's image raised goosebumps on Kyle's skin. It was remarkable how a mere few days with the dark Weaver had made a more powerful impression on Kyle than any other bad experience he'd had in his life. Particularly considering that the Dead Man had never once physically harmed him. His Death Weavers had, though. Right before Kalibar had been brought in, and held down on that table.
Right before he'd had his eyes ripped out.
Kyle shuddered; most of the memories of his life were a little vague, but his memory of that day was crystal clear. All he had to do was close his eyes, and he could see the Dead Man's pale fingers digging into Kalibar's eye socket, hear the muffled popping sounds as the Dead Man twisted his wrist, snapping the muscles anchoring the eye in place. Could see the brilliant white of the freed orb glistening in the glow of the Timestone above.
Kalibar falling off of the table and onto the dirt below, clutching his bloodied face, rocking back and forth in agony.
And Darius, standing there in the middle of the Arena, watching it happen.
Kyle felt a chill run through him, and he opened his eyes, staring at Darius's back. He'd completely forgotten that the bodyguard had been there the entire time. At the time, Kyle had thought him helpless to intervene. But now...
He stopped walking, standing there in the middle of the hallway, watching as Darius continued onward for a moment, then stopped. Darius turned his head, glancing at Kyle.
“What?” he asked.
Kyle stared back at Darius, his eyes wide. Darius had been there all along, standing idly by as Kalibar got mutilated, even though he could have killed the Dead Man and every Death Weaver present with ease. And now Kalibar was blind – permanently handicapped – because of it.
“What?” Darius repeated, taking a step toward Kyle. Kyle backed up, shaking his head.
“You were there!” Kyle blurted out, taking another step back. “In the Arena,” he continued, pointing at Darius with one finger. “You were there when they took Kalibar's eyes!” Darius stood there, staring at Kyle with his intense blue eyes for a long moment. Then he nodded.
“I was.”
“You let it happen,” Kyle accused, his voice rising in anger. “You could have stopped it, but you let it happen!”
“I did.”
“How could you?” Kyle shouted, feeling tears spring unbidden to his eyes. “He was your friend!”
“I had my reasons,” Darius countered. His voice was gentle, but firm. If he had any remorse at all for what he'd done, however, he didn't show it.
“Like what?” Kyle retorted incredulously, raising his hands out to either side. “To find Xanos?” he added sarcastically.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“You'll know soon enough,” Darius promised. “Be patient.”
Kyle shook his head, turning away and wiping the moisture from his eyes. He suddenly wanted desperately to get out of this hallway, to get as far away from Darius as possible. He didn't even want to look at the man anymore.
“I want to go home,” he stated, his voice cold. He heard Darius's footsteps echo from behind, coming closer.
“You will,” came the reply.
“I want to go now,” Kyle insisted, not turning around. “To Earth,” he added firmly.
“We're not done here,” Darius countered. Kyle spun around, feeling a flash of anger course through him.
“I'm done here,” Kyle yelled, pointing at Darius again. “And I don't want anything to do with you!”
A sudden burst of blinding blue light surged outward from Darius, slamming into Kyle with such force that it nearly knocked him off his feet. Kyle reeled backward, feeling sheer power pulse through his skull, making it impossible to think – or feel – anything else. Then the feeling vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving Kyle feeling disoriented.
Darius stared down at Kyle, now only a few feet away, his blue eyes suddenly hard.
“You don't have a choice.”
Kyle froze, feeling a chill run through him. The way Darius had said it – cold and hard, almost cruel – there was no doubt that he meant it. Kyle felt his anger slip away almost instantly, replaced by something even more powerful.
Fear.
Darius stared at Kyle, the runes on his black armor pulsing lazily, a blue glow flowing from rune to rune in random patterns. The man's cold eyes held Kyle as if they were needles pinning a moth to a board. Then he turned away, continuing up the hallway.
“Come,” Darius growled, not even bothering to see if Kyle was following behind. Kyle watched the man stride up the hallway, swallowing in a dry throat. He thought briefly about staying where he was, of defying Darius – Ampir – once
again, but knew it was futile. Darius was right, of course...Kyle didn't have a choice. The only way he'd ever get home was through Darius. He was, in effect, the man's prisoner.
Kyle stepped forward, following Darius. This time, however, he allowed himself to lag behind, no longer making any attempt to walk at the man's side.
That, at least, was his choice.
* * *
The long spiraling hallway ended after a few long, silent minutes, terminating in a nondescript wall. Kyle had maintained his distance from Darius for the remainder of the walk, refusing to even look at the man. He could hardly believe that Darius had been capable of such a betrayal; after all, Darius had protected them – both as a bodyguard and as Ampir – from harm at every other juncture. Of course, Darius's escape from the Arena, and his heroic defeat of the Dire Lurker and the Dead Man, seemed diminished by the knowledge of his extraordinary power. Had Kyle known that Ampir himself had been there the entire time, their capture – and escape – would not have been nearly as harrowing.
When Darius reached the end of the hallway, he stopped by the wall, turning about and watching Kyle as he reluctantly trudged up alongside. Or rather, ten feet away or so. Those blue eyes regarded Kyle silently for a long, uncomfortable moment. The man's expression, as usual, was unreadable. Then he turned back to the wall, putting his hand on it. His armor lit up, runes on his forearm glowing blue just as they had in the Gateway before, the light fading quickly. The wall in front of them rippled, a hole appearing in the center, then widening. Beyond, Kyle saw another gray stone wall some five or six feet away, with a granite tiled floor leading up to it beyond the rift. Darius stepped through without hesitation, then turned, gesturing for Kyle to follow. Kyle hesitated, then stepped through, feeling a sudden rush of warm air as he did. The air – oddly sterile in the hallway and Gateway before – was suddenly sweet, bringing to mind late spring afternoons in his mother's flower garden. He inhaled deeply, feeling invigorated despite himself, then glanced at Darius; the bodyguard – Kyle had a hard time thinking of him as anything but – was standing in front of Kyle, facing him silently.
Kyle frowned, feeling uncomfortable under that intense gaze. He glanced past Darius's shoulder, at the nondescript stone wall only a few feet away. Overcome by curiosity, or perhaps the sheer pleasantness of the air around him, he momentarily forgot his anger.
“Where are we?” he asked, then gestured at the wall in front of him. “What's this?”
Darius said nothing, but his eyes shifted, now looking over Kyle's left shoulder. Kyle frowned, then turned around.
His jaw dropped.
They were standing on a wide, stone-tiled porch perched at the base of a mountain, staring out at a lush valley lay far ahead in the distance. A small city could be seen in the distance, perhaps a half-mile away, white buildings with golden roofs shining under the light of the sun above. Looking upward, Kyle saw a brilliant blue sky, puffy white clouds floating far above their heads, the sun's rays peeking out from between them. A long staircase led from the porch to a lush garden some twenty feet below, with two large stone water fountains flanking a wide stone walkway.
Kyle stared out at the wondrous sight, his eyes sweeping across the landscape. Then he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He turned about, and saw Darius standing at his side, gazing off into the distance.
“This,” he stated, gesturing with a broad sweeping motion of his arm, taking in everything around them, “...is my home.”
Kyle nodded mutely, a warm, gentle breeze massaging his scalp. He glanced at one of the stone water fountains below; it had a tall statue of a fish in the center, its mouth agape. Water shot from that mouth high into the sky, spreading outward in all directions, then falling in a dozen small streams back to the ground. Each stream curved through the air as it fell, undoubtedly under the influence of magic, creating a twisting mid-air waterfall around the fish statue. The streams flowed back into the wide bowl of the fountain, only to be sucked up by the fish statue once again.
“Did you make that?” Kyle asked, pointing to the fountain. Darius nodded. “You sure like fish,” Kyle observed, almost hypnotized by the endless flow of water. He never would have pegged the surly bodyguard as a marine enthusiast. Then he frowned. “Hey, it looks the same as those fish in that tank.”
“They're blinkfish.”
“Oh,” Kyle replied. “How'd they go extinct?” he asked. Darius said nothing, staring at the fountain for a long moment. Then his mirrored visor appeared out of thin air, hiding his blue eyes.
“Blink,” the bodyguard ordered. Kyle frowned, his eyebrows furrowing.
“What?”
Darius lunged forward suddenly, right toward him. Kyle lurched backward in surprise, closing his eyes and throwing his hands up to protect himself. He cried out, falling onto his rear on the hard stone below. Then he opened his eyes, realizing at once that Darius was no longer standing in front of him. In fact, the man was nowhere to be seen.
“Come on,” a voice shouted from below. Kyle scrambled to his feet, rubbing his bruised posterior with one hand. He glanced about, but still couldn't see Darius. Then he turned, looking down from the porch, and saw the man sitting on the edge of one of the fountains twenty feet below – and some fifty feet away – his arms crossed about his armored chest.
“How'd you...?” Kyle asked. Darius gestured for him to walk down the stairs, and Kyle did so numbly, descending step-by-step down the stone stairs until he was only a few feet from where the man stood.
“The blinkfish,” Darius stated, “...is the only known creature that can create bridges across spacetime.”
“Bridges across what?”
“Teleportation,” Darius clarified.
“Oh.”
“When I was ten, I finished my training as a Runic, and started my graduate studies as a Battle-Runic,” Darius stated. Kyle's eyebrows rose.
“Wait, ten?” he exclaimed. Master Owens had said that Runics and Weavers – in Ancient times as in the present – were only allowed to graduate when they turned eighteen. Darius smirked.
“I was...different,” he explained. “Anyway, it was mandatory to choose a mentor for a year of research, so I chose a man named Renval.”
“The guy who invented teleportation,” Kyle recalled. Kalibar had mentioned about Renval in the Tower library long ago, a few days after they'd first met. Apparently Renval's father had been ridiculed for his obsession with teleportation, and Renval – a well-respected Runic – had hidden his own passion for continuing his father's research.
“No, that was me,” Darius corrected. “Renval had already spent twenty years researching teleportation, reading his late father's notes, and searching for a clue as to how it could be accomplished.” Darius shook his head. “He got nowhere.”
“Wow,” Kyle mumbled. Twenty years was a long time...having nothing to show for it must have been devastating.
“When I first started working with him,” Darius continued, “...Renval could only see a little kid, an inconvenience to be suffered. He set me to doing simple, mind-numbing tasks...like copying textbooks. I used magic to make quick work of it, and spent the rest of my time bored out of my mind.”
“Like school,” Kyle observed. Darius ignored the comment.
“Renval's uncle had been a naturalist,” he continued. “Searching the world for new species. Renval enjoyed tropical fish, so his uncle would often send shipments of rare specimens from across the seas. Renval had several tanks in the basement of his lab, and one day, a shipment came in, a fish I'd never seen before.”
“Let me guess,” Kyle ventured. Darius nodded.
“A blinkfish,” he confirmed. “It was tiny – a fraction of an inch from mouth to tail, just as you saw. I watched it as you did, floating motionless in the water, then darting forward a few inches through that huge tank, moving so fast it was impossible to track. It kept doing that, standing still for a long time, then moving in the blink of an eye.”
Kyle
frowned, remembering the tiny fish in the aquarium he'd seen earlier. He wanted to ask Darius if those were the same blinkfish Renval had owned, but, as this was the most he'd ever heard Darius say in the last month or so, he stifled the urge to interrupt the man, not wanting to give the taciturn bodyguard any reason to clam up.
“I must have stared at that fish for weeks,” Darius continued. “I spent more time studying that fish than anyone alive – even Renval's uncle, who had discovered it. It took that long for me to realize the fish wasn't just darting forward...it sometimes moved to the side, or even backward. The blinkfish was too small to see if it was using its fins to move, so I did the obvious.”
“What's that?” Kyle asked, nothing obvious coming to mind.
“I created a gravity sphere around it,” Darius replied, “...trapping it in place.”
“Oh,” Kyle mumbled. It was obvious, he supposed, but only after Darius had mentioned it. Kyle recalled his failure as a Weaver, and wondered again if he had any real talent in the magical sciences. Memorizing runes and making lots of magic weren't very useful in and of themselves, not without skill in using magic.
“The fish darted right out of it,” Darius continued, seemingly oblivious to Kyle's sudden despair. “As if it weren't even there. So I deduced that the fish had either nullified my gravitational field, or it wasn't swimming at all...it was teleporting.”
“Ohhh,” Kyle breathed.
“Right,” Darius replied. “Luckily, with my...gift, I quickly confirmed that the fish wasn't nullifying my gravitational field. So, over the next few weeks, I figured out how the fish was teleporting, and mimicked the pattern.”
“That's how you invented teleportation?” Kyle asked. Darius smirked again.
“It wasn't that easy,” he countered. “First of all, the blinkfish masked the teleportation patterns with other, nonsense patterns sprinkled in between...a tactic I used later with the runes on my armor. And the patterns were always slightly different, depending on where the fish was at the time – and which direction it was traveling in.” He stood up from the edge of the stone fountain, turning around and facing the fish statue. It was over eight feet from water-spouting mouth to underwater tail...far larger than the pipsqueak of a fish it represented.