by Clayton Wood
“Wait, what?” Kyle asked. “I thought the Ancient Empire was destroyed two thousand years ago.”
“True,” Marcus agreed. “But Ampir created Antara less than a thousand years after that,” he added. “And remember, for every year that passes on Doma...”
“Three passes here,” Kyle finished. “Got it.” Then he frowned. “You still call him Darius too,” he realized.
“I met him as Darius,” Marcus explained. “And lived with him for over nine years before he revealed his true nature. I have a hard time thinking of him as Ampir.”
“Yeah,” Kyle mumbled. It was difficult to reconcile the surly bodyguard with the heroic, but tragic, man in his dreams. Especially when he remembered what Darius had done...standing idly by while Kalibar had been tortured. And allowing Rivin and Bartholos to die.
“What's wrong?” Marcus asked.
“Nothing,” Kyle muttered.
“Something's on your mind,” Marcus observed. “I can tell you, a terrible secret does far more damage untold...and you'll find that in telling it, it loses its power over you.”
“Kalibar said the same thing about dreams,” Kyle said, smiling despite himself. Marcus smirked.
“He had a good teacher.”
“It's just...” Kyle began, then stopped, grasping for the right words. Then he sighed. “Did you hear about what happened to Kalibar?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, when we were captured by the Dead Man, he...tortured Kalibar.” He swallowed, willing the image of Kalibar's mutilated face from his mind. Marcus nodded.
“Yes, I know,” he replied, his tone suddenly grave. “They took out his eyes.”
“Yeah,” Kyle mumbled. “And Darius watched the whole thing. He didn't do anything.”
“Yes, I know,” Marcus repeated. Then he gave out a long sigh. “A difficult choice, to let that happen...but the right one, I think.”
“What?” Kyle blurted out. Marcus leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He said nothing for a long moment, staring at the tabletop. Then he looked Kyle in the eye.
“Kalibar was...stuck,” Marcus stated. Then he shook his head. “He had a wife, long ago. He'd married her after becoming a Weaver, but before he'd met me. They had a child, and it died at birth.”
Kyle nodded; he remembered the night Kalibar had told him, at the roadside camp. It seemed like forever ago.
“Kalibar's wife blamed him,” Marcus continued, “...and became terribly depressed, as some women seem to do after giving birth. She killed herself soon after.” He shook his head again. “I can only imagine the pain and guilt he felt after that.” Marcus took a sip of his ambrosia. “I think he's been punishing himself ever since. Entering the military, his stint on the Council, his spectacular term as Grand Weaver...he took on as much responsibility as he could, and sacrificed everything – his time, his freedom, his dreams – to prove that he could do it without letting anyone else down.”
“You think he was making up for what happened?” Kyle asked. Marcus nodded.
“I don't think he ever let go of that guilt,” he explained. “He never dared to remarry, or think about starting a family. When he retired, he'd already accomplished everything he'd set out to do...and, instead of enjoying his retirement, he decided to spend all of his time locked up in his mansion, rarely visiting his friends, bent on discovering the great mystery of how magic works.”
“Another responsibility?”
“A distraction,” Marcus corrected. “For all the years I knew him, Kalibar rarely displayed the one emotion I consider the most critical of all.”
“What's that?”
“Joy,” Marcus answered. “Tell me, have you ever seen Kalibar laugh so hard he couldn't breathe? Or tell jokes?”
“He's pretty serious,” Kyle admitted.
“He's boring,” Marcus corrected. “He wasn't always that way...in fact, he was quite the happy-go-lucky young man before...the tragedy. I myself implored him, after his term as Grand Weaver ended, to take a wife and settle down...to have children and set his guilt to rest.” He sighed then. “When Darius told me about you, I immediately thought of Kalibar. You see, Darius's original plan was to have me act as your mentor.”
“Wait, what?” Kyle blurted out. Marcus shrugged.
“I was the perfect choice, as far as Darius was concerned,” he replied. “After all, I mentored Kalibar...and he'd known me for over a decade before he found you.”
“So why Kalibar?” Kyle pressed. He felt quite uncomfortable with the idea that this man would have been his 'Kalibar'...that he might never have met his adoptive father if things had gone differently.
“Oh, it was all Darius's idea, really,” Marcus confessed. “Apparently, I couldn't stop talking to him about Kalibar. I was proud of my protégé’s accomplishments, of course.” He took a sip from his ambrosia, then shrugged again. “I was also worried about him, and Darius must have picked up on that. A few weeks before my 'death,' he told me he had changed his mind, and was going to use Kalibar instead of me.”
“Why?”
“Probably because he saw that you would have far more value to Kalibar,” Marcus guessed. He smiled at Kyle's puzzled frown. “He knew that Kalibar would see you as the son he never got to raise...if he was put in the position of having to protect you. He spent his entire life making up for his failure to protect his first son, after all. It was Darius's genius to realize the inevitability of Kalibar's bond with you...and how that would lead to his salvation.”
“What do you mean?”
“As I said, Kalibar was stuck. He couldn't move on after failing to save his son's life. That is, until he got to save yours...by sacrificing himself.”
Kyle's eyes widened, and he felt a sudden chill run down his spine. An image of Kalibar laying there as the Dead Man's fingers gouged into his eyes came unbidden to his mind.
“Oh...” Kyle murmured. Marcus sighed.
“I rarely agree with Darius's methods,” he admitted, scratching his temple with one hand. “But I can't deny their efficacy. It is easy to forget how truly ancient he is...and the wisdom that so long a life would yield. He plans everything, that one...everything. Plays us all like instruments, tuning us and forcing the sweetest of notes from us.”
“But he crippled Kalibar,” Kyle countered. “He didn't have to let it go that far,” he added. Marcus smiled.
“You'll find Darius is not as heartless as you think,” he countered. “Because of him, Kalibar went from a retirement filled with regret, stepping aside apathetically as an impostor vied for the throne, to discovering a reason to fight for his country...and his family.” Marcus stood then, pushing his chair back and walking around the table to Kyle's side. The old man put a warm hand on Kyle's shoulder. “Can you imagine what he has in store for you?”
Marcus walked away then, his back to Kyle, moving across the large room toward the hallway Kyle had walked in from a short time ago. Kyle paused, unsure of what to do, then stood up, following Marcus into the hallway. The old man stopped suddenly halfway to the front door of the house, and Kyle stopped beside him.
“It's time for you to go,” Marcus stated gently. “It was a pleasure meeting you.” He gave one last smile. “Darius believes in you, Kyle,” he added. “And so does Kalibar. You should too.”
Kyle lowered his gaze, mumbling a “yes sir.” Marcus pushed him gently but firmly toward the door.
“Tell Darius I said hello,” he called after Kyle. “And tell him I said congratulations, would you?”
* * *
When Kyle opened the front door of Marcus's house and stepped out into the sun, Darius was waiting for him. The bodyguard had changed back into his characteristic golden armor, his huge sword strapped to his side. Kyle wondered how he'd gotten a hold of his armor after the Dead Man had confiscated it, then remembered who he was dealing with.
“Come on,” Darius prompted, motioning for Kyle to follow him. They walked silently over the s
tone walkway leading back to the street ahead, sunlight glimmering off of Darius's armor as he moved. Kyle realized that his feelings about the man had changed since his talk with Marcus; he still resented what Darius had allowed to happen to Kalibar, but he no longer hated the man. Darius's intentions had been noble, but a lifetime of blindness was too extreme a price to pay for Kalibar's so-called salvation.
They continued down the street, the line of tall trees to their right now, the tall black fence with trees beyond to their left. Kyle began to worry that his continuing silence might make Darius think he was still mad, and the urge to break it soon became overwhelming.
“Marcus seems nice,” Kyle offered. Darius said nothing, but turned his head ever-so-slightly Kyle's way. Kyle glanced at the man's expressionless face, then sighed. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled. Darius still didn't respond. Kyle took a deep breath in, feeling rather annoyed that the man was making this so difficult for him. A normal person would have said something, after all. But he tried again. “Marcus...”
“I know,” Darius interjected. Kyle frowned.
“I haven't even told...” he began.
“No need,” Darius replied. Kyle grit his teeth.
“But can't I just tell...”
“No.”
Kyle fought down a wave of frustration, kicking a loose pebble on the street.
“You suck sometimes,” he muttered. Then, to his surprise, he felt a metallic arm drape around his shoulders. He turned to see Darius smiling at him.
“So do you,” he countered. But he gave Kyle's shoulders a squeeze, then let go, lowering his arm to his side. Then he made a turn toward a small, nearly invisible dirt path to their right between the trees, and Kyle followed close behind. The path was too narrow for them to fit side-by side, and had short bushes lining either side. The path wound through a thick copse of trees, twisting this way and that, until it stopped, opening up abruptly to a large, rocky ledge. Darius stepped to one side, giving Kyle an unhindered view of what lie beyond.
Kyle's jaw dropped.
The rocky ledge was just that...a narrow outcropping that ended abruptly, dropping into a sheer cliff some ten feet from where it started. Beyond, there was endless blue sky...at least until he looked down. Hundreds of feet below, there was a mass of angry, churning gray clouds unlike any Kyle had ever seen. Bolts of lightning flashed in the depths of that roiling maelstrom, the clouds circling the cliffside in a narrow belt. Beyond, there was only blue sky and fluffy clouds...and a hint of darker blue miles below. Something that looked suspiciously like an ocean.
“Whoa...” Kyle blurted out, grabbing onto Darius's metal-clad arm. No matter how long he'd practiced flying with his gravity boots, he was still wary of heights. He turned to the bodyguard. “Wait, where are we? Are we in the sky?”
“Yep,” Darius replied. Kyle shook his head, staring downward at the ocean below, barely able to believe his eyes.
“The entire city is floating?”
“Yep.”
“Wow,” Kyle breathed. Then he frowned. “What are those clouds there?” he asked, pointing to the dark, angry clouds surrounding the cliffside far below.
“It's complicated,” Darius replied. He pointed to the border between the blue sky and the dark clouds. “This island – Antara – floats above the surface of a planet far from Doma, on the other side of the galaxy. The dark clouds are from that planet's atmosphere...mostly substances you know as sulfuric acid, carbon dioxide, and nitrogen.”
“Wait, but we're breathing oxygen,” Kyle observed. Darius nodded.
“Beyond the dark clouds is Doma's atmosphere,” he explained. “This island exists in the other planet, but a continuously open spacetime bridge supplies breathable air...and a view of Doma's ocean.”
Kyle frowned, staring down at the roiling clouds, then at the blue sky beyond.
“I don't get it,” he admitted. Darius smirked.
“No one does at first,” he replied. Then he dropped to one knee on the rocky ground below, gesturing for Kyle to do the same. With the tip of one gauntleted finger, Darius traced out the following, the rock below turning a smoky black color as he went.
“That,” he stated, is the island we're on now.” Then he continued to “draw,” his finger leaving a dozen or so indentations in the rock. “This...” he added...
“...is the planet's poisonous atmosphere, and the surface is a few miles below that.” Then he drew another, arcing line around the island:
“This,” he explained, “...is the shape of the spacetime dome connecting Doma and the other planet. As you can see, only Doma's atmosphere can get through to the city...and if you look out at the edge of the island like we are now...” He drew another two lines, representing their field of vision:
“...you can see the alien planet's atmosphere circling the island, and Doma beyond.”
“Wow,” Kyle replied, staring at the drawing on the ground, then at over the edge of the cliff. “That's pretty amazing.” Then he frowned. “Wait, you're floating an entire island miles above an alien planet? Doesn't that take a lot of magic?” He had a hard enough time levitating himself for any extended period of time, after all...particularly after his visit to the Void.
“You could say that,” Darius replied with a wry smile.
“Where does the magic come from?”
“From the milarite Core,” Darius answered. Kyle frowned, vaguely remembering Darius having mentioned milarite before. “Remember when you were looking out of the windows earlier?”
“Oh, the green stuff,” Kyle realized.
“Milarite is a mineral,” Darius explained. “It's great at storing magic. The Core you saw was only a small column of the total. That column extends down into the island itself, and makes up most of the inside of the island.”
“Wait, so the entire island stores magic?” Kyle asked. Darius nodded. “But it's like, ten miles long!” he exclaimed. A one-carat diamond could store enough magic to last Kyle for a full day's worth of training...an entire island of storage? It was inconceivable. “Who refills the Core?” he asked.
“Who else?”
“But Antara must use a ton of magic every minute,” Kyle protested. “How could you possibly...”
“I make a lot of magic,” Darius interjected. “And I'm more clever than you realize.”
Kyle sighed, realizing that he wasn't going to get any more information out of Darius about that particular issue. He stared out over the edge of the cliff, at the rim of alien atmosphere below.
“Why not just float the island above Doma?” he asked. Darius stood up.
“Time,” he replied. “For every three minutes that passes here, one minute passes by in Doma...a useful advantage.” He gestured for Kyle to stand up. “And no one can find us here,” he added. “As far as I know, I'm the only human being who knows how to teleport. And even if someone from Doma were to fly above the island, they wouldn't be able to see it...a gravity field warps light around Antara, making it invisible.”
“But what if someone accidentally flew into it from above?” Kyle asked, pointing up at the sky. Darius smirked.
“They would die.”
“Wait, what?”
“If half of your body were to experience time at three times the rate of the other half, what would happen?” Darius asked. Kyle frowned, thinking about it. Then he shrugged; it was too hard for him to visualize. “Image traveling between worlds,” Darius continued. “Say you're going through headfirst. As your brain passes through the border between worlds, time is traveling three times as fast for one part of your brain compared to the other. Blood is moving three times as fast, the heart is pumping three times as fast compared to your brain.”
“Okay,” Kyle mumbled.
“Your brain cells can't communicate with each other,” Darius continued. “Your blood vessels engorge with blood, because your heart is beating 270 times a minute instead of 90...the pressure in your vessels spikes, and they burst.”
“That'
s bad,” Kyle admitted.
“You have a seizure as your brain malfunctions,” Darius continued. “The vessels in your face burst. And when your lungs pass through, part of them experiences three times the number of breaths as other parts...and they pop.”
“I think I get it,” Kyle stated, feeling suddenly queasy.
“Next,” Darius continued, ignoring Kyle's comment, “...your heart passes through. Some chambers are beating three times faster than others, and your heart goes into an abnormal rhythm.”
“And then you die,” Kyle interjected, having heard quite enough at this point. Despite his parents both being doctors, he was still a bit squeamish.
“So I assumed,” Darius murmured. Kyle frowned.
“Wait, what do you mean?”
Darius sighed, turning away from the cliff-side view and facing Kyle, his blue eyes unblinking despite the sudden breeze blowing through his hair. He stared at Kyle for a long moment.
“One person survived it,” he clarified. Kyle continued to frown, but lowered his gaze, unnerved by Darius's piercing stare.
“Who, you?” he pressed. Darius shook his head.
“My son.”
Kyle thought back to his dreams, those memories Ampir...or rather, Darius...had shared with him. He could still close his eyes and see the images in his mind as if it were a movie, each detail as crisp as if he were experiencing it firsthand. The large underground chamber with the stone dais in the center. The ceiling cracking under the weight of the Behemoth. His son standing on the dais, gazing upward as the air ripped open, forming a passage to another world...a portal that had been too small for Ampir to fit through.