by Clayton Wood
Kyle could feel the panic gripping him, as it had gripped Ampir so long ago.
He pictured Ampir's son rising upward toward the shrinking portal, saw it close just as he made it through. Saw something small fall from where the portal had been, striking the dais and bouncing onto the stone floor below.
A toe.
Kyle frowned, opening his eyes. He lifted his gaze, seeing Darius staring back at him. He could still see that severed toe in his mind's eye.
It had been the boy's big toe.
Kyle felt goosebumps rise on his arms, felt his heart hammering in his chest. He stared at Darius's blue eyes, for the first time noticing how similar he and his long-lost son had looked. Darius's words came unbidden to Kyle's mind.
Blood vessels in your brain burst...your lungs collapse...
The big toe amputated.
“My dad,” Kyle blurted out, feeling suddenly dizzy. His legs wobbled, then gave out, but Darius caught him before he fell, gently lowering him until he was sitting on the warm rock below. Kyle stared right through the bodyguard, feeling numb. His father had been found in the middle of the street as a boy, his face bruised and swollen, with a bleeding stump where his left big toe should have been. He'd had bleeding in his brain and both of his lungs had collapsed.
Darius said nothing, staring at Kyle.
It made perfect sense now. Ampir had been trying to tell him all along, through Kyle's dreams.
He shook his head. How could he not have seen this? It'd been right there, staring at him, waiting for him to see it all along.
Darius dropped to one knee in front of Kyle, his golden armor glittering in the sunlight, Kyle's distorted reflection rippling across that polished surface. Kyle gazed up into Darius's eyes, his mouth open. He realized he was hyperventilating, and tried to force himself to slow his breathing.
“I'm...” he blurted, stopping as Darius's gauntleted hand rested on his right shoulder.
“You're my grandson, Kyle.”
* * *
“What?” Kyle blurted out. He stared at Darius, his jaw slack with disbelief. Darius said nothing, staring back at Kyle with his customary flat expression. Kyle just stood there, his mind racing. If he was Darius's grandson, then his father was Darius's son...but Darius had been born over two thousand years ago. Kyle's father was what, forty-four? The timing was all wrong...it simply wasn't possible that Darius could be Kyle's great-great-grandfather, much less his grandfather. He said as much to Darius.
“That would be true,” Darius replied calmly, “...if it weren't for the time rate difference between Earth and Doma.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” Kyle asked.
“Remember that time travels at different rates depending on how fast you're moving compared to another planet,” Darius explained. “Here on Antara, for every minute that passes on Doma, three pass here. So if you spent one year on Doma, three years would have passed here.”
Kyle nodded; that much was simple enough, as long as he didn't think about it too hard.
“On Earth,” Darius continued, “...for every minute that passes there, roughly 40 minutes pass on Doma.”
“Wow,” Kyle mumbled. “That's a lot.” Then he frowned. “Wait, so how much time has passed on Earth since I left?”
“A few hours.”
“That's it?” Kyle exclaimed. He felt a sudden elation, realizing that to his parents, he'd only been gone for a short time. While they would still be frantically looking for him, at least he hadn't been gone for weeks. Heck, he'd only have missed a day of school when he got back, if that. He couldn't remember what day of the week it'd been when he left, but if it'd been a Friday, he wouldn't have missed any school at all.
“That's it,” Darius confirmed.
“So you're really my grandfather, then,” Kyle mused. He stared at Darius, trying to find some resemblance there. He did look a bit like his dad, except his dad had hazel eyes, and lighter brown hair. In fact, now that Kyle realized it, the resemblance was hard to miss. How had he not noticed that before?
“Yep.”
“I still can't believe it,” Kyle admitted. It was hard enough to imagine that his dad was an alien from another planet, much less the son of an immortal being with god-like powers. It made sense, though; Kalibar had always maintained that Kyle produced more magic than anyone in Doma, which would certainly be the case if he was the (nearly) direct descendant of an Ancient.
“What color were my runes?” Darius asked suddenly.
“Huh?”
“What color were the runes on my armor?” he clarified. “My black armor,” he added. Kyle shrugged.
“Blue,” he answered. “Why?” But Darius shook his head.
“They're not blue.”
“What?” Kyle replied. “Of course they are,” he added, rather defensively. He wasn't colorblind, after all; he'd been specifically checked for that at school. Darius hardly seemed convinced.
“Nope,” he countered. Kyle crossed his arms over his chest.
“Well then what color are they?”
“They aren't,” Darius answered. Kyle rolled his eyes.
“You're killing me,” he grumbled.
“They aren't any color,” Darius insisted. “My armor is completely black.”
“Yeah, but its runes glow blue when...” Kyle began, but Darius cut him off with a gesture.
“Only to you...and me.”
“Okay,” Kyle grumbled, throwing his hands up in the air. “I give up. Why do they glow only for you and me?”
“Because of my gift,” Darius explained. “Your people would call it a mutation. Most people can only sense magic...a subtle vibration in the mind. I can see magic.”
“Okay...”
“And it's blue,” Darius added. “I passed that gift on to you, Kyle.”
Kyle frowned, staring at Darius for a long moment. Then he shook his head.
“But if I can see magic,” he countered, “...then why did I have to have Kalibar teach me how to feel it in Crescent Lake?” Darius smirked.
“I was wondering if you'd ever pick up on that,” he admitted. “You thought Kalibar's gravity shields were blue...and even told Kalibar that, but he told you they were clear. You never thought to question your teacher.”
“Oh, man!” Kyle breathed. Darius was right...Kalibar had told Kyle that his shields were clear. Ampir's armor, the gravity shields, the faintest trails of blue light every time he wove magic...he'd thought nothing of them. And Darius had stood there, probably rolling his eyes while Kyle blundered about completely oblivious to his own abilities. “Oh man,” Kyle repeated, slapping his forehead with his palm.
“You should be ashamed.”
“Thanks,” Kyle grumbled. Then he scratched his head. “So why me?”
“Why you what?”
“Why'd you bring me here?” Kyle pressed. “I mean, you could've brought your son – my dad – here and taught him magic.” But Darius shook his head.
“My son will never be able to use magic,” he countered. “If you don't have your Awakening...your first use of magic...in your teens, you lose the ability forever.”
“Oh,” Kyle mumbled. He vaguely remembered the Dead Man telling him that in the Arena, the first time he'd been kidnapped. “So why didn't you just go to Earth before my dad grew up?”
“I didn't find Earth until a few Earth weeks ago,” Darius explained. “The ring I gave your father generated a signal...one that shot out in all directions, then teleported a certain distance, creating a burst of signals in all directions again. This happened over and over, until the signal eventually reached Doma...a process that took over two thousand years on Doma...and only about forty years on Earth.”
“Wow,” Kyle breathed. Then he stared at Darius, his eyebrows raised. “You waited two thousand years?” he asked in disbelief. Then he shook his head. “Didn't you get bored?” he added. Darius smirked.
“Actually, I gave up on ever receiving the signal after thirty years or so,”
he admitted. “I had receivers planted all over Doma, but never expected them to pick up anything. You can imagine my surprise when they did.”
“So how did you find Earth?”
“It's complicated,” Darius answered. “Maybe I'll show you sometime...in your dreams, while I still can.”
“What do you mean?” Kyle asked with a frown.
“I can only send you my memories for a few more years,” Darius explained. “Something about how the brain changes with age...I haven't figured out how to communicate that way with adults yet. Not without permanently damaging their own memories.” Then he turned about suddenly, walking back the way they'd come. “Time to go back,” he declared. “We've been gone too long already.”
Kyle followed Darius through the narrow path back to the street beyond, winding his way through the lush vegetation. He felt a sudden pang of worry about his friends.
“Do you think everyone's okay?”
“I placed wards on your friends,” Darius answered. “They'll be safe enough.”
“Even from Xanos?”
“They're far more sophisticated than the Dead Man's shard,” Darius replied. “Normally they send a distress signal if your friends are in danger, but the signals can't reach Antara.”
“Why not?” Kyle pressed. “Couldn't you just teleport the signals here?”
“I could, Darius answered, not even turning his head. “But then I might give away the pattern for teleportation to my enemies...like Xanos.”
“Ah, right.” That would be bad. “So you can't teleport around Xanos?”
“Or around the Dead Man,” Darius replied. “Or any of the Chosen.”
“But wait,” Kyle countered. “Didn't you teleport all those Death Weavers into orbit? The Dead Man saw that.” Darius nodded.
“I cut his communication with Xanos right after I 'died.'”
“Oh.” Then Kyle frowned. “How did you know how to do that?”
“I've been studying the Dead Man's shard.”
“Oh.”
“The Behemoth was controlled by a similar shard,” Darius added. “I cut its communications too.”
“So Xanos has no idea you're Ampir?”
“Nope,” Darius confirmed. “And I want to keep it that way.”
“But why?” Kyle asked. “Why don't you just reveal yourself and protect the Empire? You're so powerful, no one could possibly beat you...not even Xanos!”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean?” Kyle pressed. “We need your help!”
“When you get to be my age,” Darius replied, “You'll realize that people do best when they're forced to help themselves.”
Chapter 20
Kalibar woke with a start, the high-pitched wailing of the emergency alarm assaulting his ears. He bolted upright, his heart pounding in his chest.
A muffled boom echoed through the Tower, followed by distant screams.
Kalibar leaped out of bed, padding across his bedroom with his bare feet on the warm stone, reaching the door. He cracked it open, peering out.
The main suite was bathed in darkness.
He opened the door a bit wider, scanning the suite. The usual wards, once placed to help him blindly navigate the room, glowed a faint blue in the distance, but there were no other sources of magic visible.
No assassins hiding in the shadows, waiting to strike.
He turned back to the safe hidden in the wall of his bedroom, rapidly weaving the pattern to unlock it. The safe door swung open, and he grabbed his magic staff from it, and his old Battle-Weaver uniform. Black metallic vest over black shirt and pants, the golden triangle on the left breast, representing the pyramidal peak of the Great Tower. Magical armor, built by Erasmus himself, it had served him well through countless battles.
He pulled it on quickly, then walked back to the door, peering out again. Still clear. The sound of countless footsteps running down the hall outside of his suite was barely audible through the thick stone walls, followed by muted shouting.
He opened the door all the way, sprinting silently across the room. If they were under attack, he and Erasmus would almost certainly be the ultimate targets. That he was not surrounded by Battle-Weavers was a grave sign; activation of the emergency alarm should have brought a half-dozen to his suite in under a minute.
Ariana, he thought, feeling fear for his daughter grip him.
Kalibar made it across the large suite, reaching the front door. It was transparent, as always, and beyond he could see armored men rushing past, shouting loudly. There was another loud boom, accompanied by an almost blinding flash of light. Flashes of blue light – magic, Kalibar realized – flew from some of the men – his elite guards – toward an unseen opponent. One of the guards – wearing red armor instead of black – was barking commands to the others.
“Get in front of the Grand Weaver's door! Shields up, form a line, damn it!” He turned to Kalibar's door, slamming on it with one armored fist. Kalibar recognized the man immediately; it was the captain of his elite guards.
“Grand Weaver!” he shouted, pounding on the door again. “Come out! We need to bring you to safety!”
Kalibar hesitated, considering his options. If he went with his guards, he would gain their protection...but at the loss of the enormous number of wards protecting his suite.
The same wards they neutralized to get to Jax, he mused darkly.
He opened the door, and walked through into the hallway. The captain grabbed his left arm, pulling him away from a long column of elite guards filling the hallway beyond, their gravity shields forming an impenetrable barrier. They were, Kalibar knew, acting as human shields, allowing him and Erasmus to escape.
“What's going on?” Kalibar demanded. The captain shook his head, breaking into a run toward Erasmus's door further down the hall, pulling Kalibar with him.
“They came through the underground evacuation tunnels,” the captain replied darkly. “Killed all the guards there, and somehow managed to open all of the doors.” Kalibar saw the door to Erasmus's suite burst open suddenly, saw two elite guards pulling a befuddled-looking Erasmus out into the hallway.
“Kalibar!” he shouted, trying to resist as the two guards forced him into a run down the hallway, toward the riser ahead. “Wait you fools, we're going the wrong way!”
“The evacuation route is compromised,” Kalibar shouted back.
A boom echoed through the hallway, bits of dust falling from the ceiling far above. The floor shuddered under their feet.
Kalibar glanced back, saw the door to the evacuation route at the far end of the hallway, the column of guards standing ready. He stared at that door, seeing the blue tint of magic within it, a hint of the numerous defensive wards – and locks – he'd had added only a week ago.
Then the blue light faded...and disappeared.
Kalibar shouted a warning, activating his own gravity shields in an instant. The door burst open...but there was no one behind it.
Kalibar and Erasmus made it to the riser at last, the captain instantly activating it. Erasmus's two guards stood in front of the portly Runic, their shields forming a barrier protecting him. The riser began to descend slowly. They all stared down the hallway.
Something small and round rolled across the floor into the hallway from beyond the door, a small white sphere no bigger than an orange. It stopped at one of the guard's boots, then jumped into the air suddenly.
Kalibar's eyes widened.
Bright rays of blue light shot out from the column of guards, the walls, the doors. The light pulled into the levitating white sphere, vanishing inside of it. The guards' shields vanished one by one, the magic-powered lanterns on the walls winking out, leaving the hallway in complete darkness.
The riser descended, cutting off Kalibar's view of the hallway just as the screams started. Horrid, ripping sounds echoed through the hallway and down the riser shaft. Something small fell onto the riser from above, and Kalibar glanced down at it.
It w
as a finger.
Then Kalibar saw the blue light rise up from the floor of the riser, from the crystal on his staff, from his very body. Rays of it arced up toward the hallway above, toward that white sphere.
The riser began to pick up speed.
“My shields,” the captain shouted, turning to stare at the two guards next to Erasmus. “I've got no magic!” The two guards turned to Kalibar, who realized that his own gravity shields had vanished. He tried to weave magic, but couldn't.
He had no magic at all!
The riser continued to pick up speed, shooting down the well-lit shaft, toward the lobby forty stories below. Kalibar grit his teeth, planning his escape route. If the guard had readied an armored carriage for them, they might have a chance to make it across the city. With a contingent of Battle-Weavers covering their escape...
Kalibar slid to the left, and caught himself right before his shoulder slammed into the wall of the riser shaft.
“What the...”
The riser dipped further to the side, falling even faster now, one edge scraping the wall of the shaft, a horrible screeching sound assaulting his ears as sparks flew from the impact. One of Erasmus's guards lost his balance, sliding down the riser and slamming into the shaft wall.
He flew upward into the air in a spray of red.
“Drop to the ground!” Kalibar shouted, following his own advice. The three remaining men did so immediately, spreading their arms and legs wide across the riser floor. Kalibar dug his fingertips into the shallow depressions in the riser's stone, straining to prevent himself from sliding down its angled surface. He felt panic grip him as he realized what had happened.
The riser had lost its magic. It was in free-fall!
Kalibar grit his teeth, closing his eyes and willing magic to form in his mind's eye, to weave the gravity pattern. But there was almost nothing there...only an empty void, one that he had never felt before.
So this is what it's like to live without magic, he thought.
He looked up at the men around him, lying spread-eagled on the floor, and realized that his suggestion had been futile. Even if they didn't slide into the walls zooming past them, they were still going to die when they struck the ground.