by Clayton Wood
“But,” Darius continued, “...I did figure out that the fish moved the same distance every time – regardless of direction. So I assumed that the changes in the fish's patterns had something to do with current position and direction of travel only. And I was right; when I finally tested one of the patterns on one of the books Renval was having me copy at the time, it worked...sort of. Only a blinkfish-sized piece of the book moved, and only a few inches away at that. But it proved that my theory was correct.”
“How did Renval find out about it?” Kyle inquired. Darius turned away from the fish-statue, stepping onto the stone walkway, then starting a slow walk away from the stairway they – or rather, Kyle – had walked down. Kyle joined the bodyguard, for the moment forgetting his anger toward the man, walking at his side.
“The book I had taken a chunk out of was one of Renval's father's notebooks,” Darius answered. “He was furious when he found out about the damage, and would have had me whipped if I hadn't revealed how I'd done it.” He shook his head at the memory. “At first, Renval was...unconvinced. But after a demonstration...”
“Funny that you ruined one of his father's books on teleportation by teleporting it,” Kyle observed. Darius smirked.
“Renval said the same thing,” he agreed. “And when I told him how I'd figured the patterns out, he nearly crushed every rib in my body embracing me. After that, I never copied another book; we worked together, Renval and I, spending the rest of my year with him attempting to create a runic machine that could duplicate the blinkfish's power.”
“The red crystal on the dais,” Kyle breathed. It had been there in his dreams – Ampir's memories – all along. A single red crystal embedded in a circular stone dais, the device that had teleported Ampir's son to Earth over two thousand years ago. It was all starting to make sense now.
“That was an advanced prototype,” Darius countered. “The initial prototypes were far less sophisticated. By the time I was done with my research year, we'd managed to teleport a stone some ten feet or so. I left to continue my Battle-Runic training, and Renval was already well on his way toward perfecting the technology.”
“Did he show everyone?” Kyle asked. After all, Renval's father had been mocked for his obsession with teleportation, and Renval had been forced to study the matter in secret. If he'd been Renval, he would have run into the streets, shouting at the top of his lungs. And pointing and laughing at his father's critics. But Darius shook his head.
“Nope.”
“Well why not?” Kyle pressed. “He could've been rich and famous!”
“He already was rich and famous,” Darius countered. “Besides, Renval's focus was never on teleportation for teleportation's sake,” he added. “It was only one step toward completing his ultimate goal...and he didn't want to reveal his findings until he'd reached that goal.”
“Which was?”
“Origin,” Darius answered.
“Origin?” Kyle asked.
“Origin,” Darius repeated. Kyle frowned, wondering if Darius would say it again if he did. But he resisted the urge, wanting the man to continue his tale. If there was one thing he knew about the man, it was that Darius had little patience for inanity.
“What is Origin?” Kyle pressed.
“Where magic comes from,” Darius replied. Kyle frowned; he'd always assumed that magic came from people, not from any particular place. He told Darius as much.
“True,” he replied. “But where do people come from?”
Kyle's eyebrows knitted together, and he frowned at Darius. The answer, of course, was obvious.
“Earth,” he answered. “We evolved there,” he added.
“There are people on Doma,” Darius countered. “And horses, and dogs,” he added. Kyle couldn't disagree; when he'd first seen Kalibar's levitating carriage, pulled by two powerful horses, he'd wondered how an alien planet could have horses and people on it. It had seemed unlikely that they both had evolved to be the exact same on each planet.
“How is that possible?” Kyle asked.
“You tell me,” Darius replied.
By this point, they'd been walking for quite some time, the paved walkway leading them forward and downward. The garden by the porch, with its blinkfish fountains, was far behind, replaced by tall trees with glowing leaves flanking the path. Kyle glanced at one of these leaves, seeing a familiar pattern of green and blue dots pulsing on its surface. They were identical to the trees that Kyle had seen when he'd first awoken on Doma. There was a veritable forest of them here, interspersed with short grass and the occasional bush. There were, he noted, no rip-vines or killerpillers here. Before long, the walkway took a sharp turn, and the forest suddenly opened up. Kyle stopped in his tracks, the breath catching in his throat.
“Whoa,” he breathed.
The stone walkway continued forward, meeting a much wider stone road some twenty feet in the distance. This road was flanked by large, well-kept buildings three stories tall, their perfectly white stone walls carved with ornate patterns. Stately windows reflected the sun's rays, the light shimmering as it reflected off of the golden, metallic roofs. Beyond these buildings stood a giant, U-shaped structure, a mansion some eight stories high, its walls constructed of the same white stone as the other buildings. In the center of the U-shape, between the arms of the mansion, there was a courtyard complete with an elegant, three-tier fountain made of solid gold. In the center of the fountain stood a golden statue some twenty feet tall, of a man clad in armor from neck to toe, a silver mirrored visor obscuring his eyes. The statue's right arm was raised high into the air, gauntleted hand with its palm facing upward. A miniature island – also made of gold – floated a foot or so above that outstretch hand, only slightly bigger than the palm itself. Kyle stared at the statue, giving a low whistle.
“Nice statue,” he observed, turning to glance at Darius. The resemblance was uncanny.
“A gift,” Darius grumbled. “They insisted.”
“Who?” Kyle asked. Darius gestured outward with one hand.
“Them.”
It was only then that Kyle realized there were people in the distance. An old man stood by one of the three-story tall buildings, staring at Kyle and Darius silently. A middle-aged woman sat on the front steps of the building across from the old man, staring at something in her lap. A few people could be seen walking in the courtyard of the mansion beyond.
“Who are they?” Kyle asked. “And why are they staring at us?” Darius waved at the old man, and the old man waved back, a smile brightening his face. He sprinted toward them with remarkable swiftness; The woman, on the other hand, stayed right where she was, apparently oblivious to their presence.
“They're not staring at us,” Darius corrected. “They're staring at you.”
* * *
“Ampir!”
Kyle watched as the old man strode purposefully toward them, extending a hand out to Darius. Darius extended his own gauntleted hand, and shook the other man's hand briskly.
“Nalin,” Darius replied. The old man – Nalin – looked to be about eighty, with short white hair scattered about his head. He had brown eyes, with tanned skin crisscrossed with wrinkles so deep that Kyle imagined he could fit quarters in them. He wore a simple white shirt and brown pants, and nondescript sandals, and by the looks of him, he wasn't one to care very much about his appearance. He sported a scraggly beard, and his clothes were impressively wrinkled.
“And who is this?” Nalin asked, gesturing at Kyle. Kyle smiled weakly at the old man, his nose wrinkling as it was struck by the sudden, pungent odor of armpit.
“This is Kyle,” Darius answered, patting Kyle on the shoulder. Nalin extended his hand, and Kyle shook it dutifully. The old man peered at Kyle rather disapprovingly.
“A bit young to come here, don't you think?” he asked, glancing up at Darius. “Was he struck by cancer?”
“No,” Darius replied. Kyle frowned at that; why would Nalin bring up such a horrible thing?
“He's visiting.”
“Visiting?” Nalin exclaimed, his untamed eyebrows rising, compressing his forehead into a dozen horizontal wrinkles. He glanced at Kyle again, his eyebrows furrowing. “I thought only you could do that.”
“Kyle's different,” Darius replied. “Where's Marcus?” he asked. Nalin shrugged, apparently unperturbed by the change in topic.
“At home, I think,” he answered, rubbing his grizzled chin. “We don't get many politicians here,” he added. “I wanted to hate the man, I'll admit it, but I can't. He's very personable.”
“He's valuable in his own field, as you all are,” Darius stated. Then he patted the old man on the shoulder. “Goodbye Nalin.”
“Ah, just a moment,” Nalin requested, holding up his left hand, within which he was clutching a large book. Kyle was surprised to see that he recognized the letters printed on the front cover; it was written in English, a language he hadn't read in weeks. After all, Doma's language – both spoken and written – was completely different than anything Kyle had encountered back on Earth. The only reason Kyle could understand anything people were saying was that he wore Kalibar's universal translator – a small yellow earring – on his right earlobe.
But this book's title he recognized. “Introductory Physics” the cover read in bold capital letters. How on earth had Nalin gotten a copy of a physics textbook, written in English no less?
“I have to thank you again for getting me this,” Nalin said, beaming at Darius. “We've all been spending months trying to learn the language. Fascinating stuff, really.”
“Thought you'd like it,” Darius replied.
“Oh I do,” Nalin agreed. “But the theories aren't even the best part,” he added, opening the book and flipping through the pages rapidly. He stopped suddenly, rotating the book around, and showing it to Darius and Kyle. “Look at these paintings!” he gushed, pointing to a photograph of a city – Manhattan, it looked like – on one of the pages. “Such incredible detail! The artist must have painted them with a magnifying lens.” He shook his head then, glancing up at Darius. “Do you suppose such cities actually exist?”
“They do,” Darius confirmed. Nalin gave a low whistle, rotating the book again and peering at the photograph.
“What I wouldn't give to go there,” he murmured. Then he looked up at Darius. “I suppose you've been there, haven't you?” He shook his head. “You've lived a hell of a life, Ampir.”
“We should go,” Darius stated. The old man shut his book with a loud clap, and shook hands with Darius one more time.
“I want to show you my newest creation before you leave again,” he stated, his eyes bright. “I've been playing around with magically powered electrical circuits ever since I learned about the things. Genius, using electricity to make lights!” he exclaimed. “I'm also working on an electric motor,” he added. “Powered by magic, it could conceivably run for weeks without recharging. Imagine the applications!”
“I'll stop by later,” Darius promised. Then he ushered Kyle away from the unkempt old man, walking past the middle-aged woman still sitting on the front steps of one of the buildings. She was hunched over what looked like a thin sheet of stone. Unlike Nalin, the woman made no attempt to talk with them.
“Who's that?” Kyle asked, trying not to stare at her.
“Samb,” Darius answered. “She designed the city.”
Kyle stared at the thin sheet of stone in the woman's lap, standing on his tip-toes to get a better look. To his surprise, there was an intricate carving on the surface of the sheet, of a house, it appeared. As he watched, the thinnest of lines carved itself into the stone as the woman stared intently at its surface.
“Is she doing that?”
“Similar process to carving runes in crystals,” Darius affirmed. Kyle nodded, then frowned at the woman – Samb – as they passed by her. She hadn't so much as moved since they'd arrived.
“Does she even know we're here?” he asked.
“Doubtful.”
They made their way down the street to the courtyard, turning left toward another street paralleling the giant mansion nearby. More buildings lined this street, colorful banners hanging from golden poles jutting out from the second-story walls. There was lettering written down the length of the banners, but Kyle couldn't understand the language. The streets were mostly deserted, with only one elderly man sitting in a chair on the sidewalk next to one of the buildings. The man waved to Darius as they walked by, stroking his long gray beard slowly as he stared at Kyle.
“Ampir!” the man shouted, rising from his chair and intercepting them on the sidewalk. “Where have you been? It's been what, three months?”
“Something like that,” Darius replied. The two men shook hands, after which the elderly man turned his gaze back to Kyle. The man was dressed in a simple gray cloak, with sandals similar to Nalin's.
“My name is Tek,” the old man introduced, holding a wrinkled hand out to Kyle. Kyle paused, then clasped it in his own, trying not to wince at the dry, leathery feel of the man's skin. “And who are you, young man?”
“Kyle.”
“Well,” Tek stated, “...it's nice to meet you.” He let go of Kyle's hand, turning to Darius. “Been a long, long time since I've seen someone so young,” he added. His expression became grave. “Was it cancer?”
“He's just visiting,” Darius corrected. Kyle frowned at Tek, then glanced up at Darius. Why did everyone think he had cancer? But Darius didn't seem to notice Kyle's questioning look.
“Isn't that against the rules?” Tek pressed.
“Kyle's different,” Darius explained. Tek frowned, grooming his beard with his fingers.
“Oh really?” he asked. “How so?”
“Later,” Darius promised. That seemed to be enough for Tek, who shrugged amicably, then stepped out of their way.
“Well, I look forward to hearing more about that,” he said, gesturing for them to be on their way. “Nice to meet you, Kyle,” he added. Kyle mumbled goodbye, then followed Darius down the street once again. The road curved to the right, the buildings lining it painted in bright colors. This area of the city appeared to be abandoned; despite a good five minutes’ worth of walking, they ran into not a single other person.
“Where is everyone?” Kyle asked as the road ended suddenly at a tall black gate. It was made of black metal bars some twenty feet high, and was at least a hundred feet across. The road terminated at T-shaped intersection, and Darius turned leftward. Another empty street greeted them, with tall trees lining the left side. The black gate continued as a tall fence on the right.
“Working,” Darius answered.
“Working?” Kyle pressed. “Everyone here's really...old.” And it was true; Tek had looked to be at least eighty years old, and Nalin...well, if he was younger than ninety, Kyle would have been shocked.
“Age doesn't matter here,” Darius replied.
“What do you mean?”
But Darius, being Darius, said nothing. Which of course, meant that he wouldn't say anything, even if Kyle pressed the matter. The man was hard-headed, that was for sure. Of course, for being two thousand years old and possessing god-like powers, yet being forced to spend all of his time babysitting a bed-wetting kid, Kyle supposed Darius was doing pretty well.
The road curved to the left slightly, and they followed it silently for the next few minutes, until at last it ended in a small cul-de-sac. At the end of this stood a one-story home, light brown in color. It was well-kept, surrounded by a short white fence with a small gate. Darius led Kyle up to this, opening the gate and gesturing for Kyle to walk through. Kyle did so, but Darius did not, closing the door behind Kyle.
“Wait, aren't you coming?” Kyle asked, feeling suddenly apprehensive.
“I'll be back,” Darius replied. He gestured down a small path to the front door of the house with one gauntleted hand. “Go on,” he urged
. “He's been waiting for you.”
“Who?” Kyle asked, not budging. The thought of not having Darius at his side made him feel...vulnerable. Darius said nothing, only staring at him with his intense blue eyes.
And then he vanished.
Kyle blinked, staring in disbelief at the spot where Darius had been standing. A sudden cool breeze whipped through Kyle's hair, then abated as quickly as it had come.
“Darius?” he called out. But there was no answer.
He turned about, staring at the front door of the ranch before him, feeling fear twist his innards. Then he glanced back at the gate, wondering where Darius had gone. Why had he left? And who was waiting for Kyle beyond that door?
Kyle took a deep breath in, then forced himself to walk forward, his gravity boots clicking on the stones of the walkway. Tiny insects buzzed about his face, thirsty for the sweat that had begun to drip down his forehead. He swatted them away, reaching the door. It was a simple wooden door, with a brass doorknob and no keyhole. He paused before it, glancing back over his shoulder, hoping to see Darius standing there by the gate. No such luck.
“Do come in,” a deep voice bellowed. Kyle jumped, backpedaling hurriedly from the door, glancing about. The voice seemed to have come from the door itself, but no one was there.
“Don't be afraid,” the voice called out, again coming from the door. “Darius is far more likely to hurt you than I,” it added with a chuckle. Kyle couldn't help but smile at that. Still, it was with trepidation that he walked back up to the door and twisted the doorknob. The door swung open, revealing a long, narrow hallway beyond. The interior of the house was remarkably cozy, with wood floors and white-painted walls. A tall ceiling with bare wooden beams formed a triangle above his head. He stepped forward into the hallway, the floor creaking under the soles of his gravity boots. There were closed doors on either side of the hallway, and a partly open one at the end, some ten feet away. Kyle walked up to the partially open door, and gathering his courage, pushed it open with one palm.